Dragonheart

holders. The news there is not so good. They are shorthanded from the Plague and many of their fields lie fallow. What food they get they either consume themselves or give in tithe to Telgar Weyr. They have nothing to spare.”

T’mar shifted uneasily in his chair, his expression dark.

“What about the wild beasts, those that were left to roam after the Plague?” Fiona asked.

“Those that you can find, you can have,” Azeez said with a shrug. “None could stop you.”

“But how will you find them?” Karina asked. “If holders see you herding them on your dragons, they are quite likely to count them as tithe to the Weyr.”

“And I suspect D’gan will not be happy,” T’mar observed.

“He’ll probably accuse them of lying, which will cause them further hardship,” Mother Karina said.

“So we are on our own for cattle,” T’mar surmised.

“No,” Azeez said shaking his head. “But you cannot expect to get cattle from the local holders.”

“We could buy them somewhere else?” Fiona asked.

“You could trade for them,” Karina agreed. “If you had something to trade.”

Azeez held up a restraining hand before T’mar or Fiona could speak. “Ice will only go so far,” he told them. “It is a luxury, and if there is too much of it, questions will also be asked.”

“What about the watch-whers?” Fiona wondered. “If we get them, what then?”

“You could trade a watch-wher egg for a quarter-herd or maybe even a half-herd of livestock,” Azeez said with a shrug of his shoulders. “But can you get one?”

“What if we could get gold?” Fiona asked.

The two traders abruptly sat upright and leaned forward. “Gold would buy many things,” Azeez agreed. “It might not buy cattle directly, but it could buy things that could buy cattle.”

“Where would you get gold?” Karina asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Fiona smiled at her and tapped her nose knowingly. “Craft secret.”

“How soon could you get it?” Azeez asked.

“Not any time soon,” Fiona admitted. “For the time being, we’ll have to trade in ice.”

“That will work for a month, maybe two, but for Turns . . .” Azeez shook his head.

“We will need to do most of our trading at night,” Mother Karina said. “Not only to keep your ice cold but to keep our trades from prying eyes.”

Fiona saw T’mar sit bolt upright and was convinced that he had the same startling thought that crossed her mind, but she glanced at him warningly as she said, “Well, if you want us to trade at night, you’ll have to teach us how to navigate by the stars.”

Azeez and Mother Karina exchanged a quick look, then Azeez shrugged in acquiescence. “It will be our pleasure.”

“That knowledge has already been traded for,” Karina said as she caught Fiona’s look of surprise. She and Azeez exchanged glances, and then the old woman sighed sadly.

“It made sense for us to trade on the knowledge we gained from you,” Karina admitted, her eyes downcast. “But it gives us mixed feelings.” She paused, consideringly. Finally she raised her eyes to meet Fiona’s. “We traded some fire-lizard eggs, knowing what we know of the future. One was a queen egg.”

“It wasn’t mine,” Fiona said, her eyes all the same blurry with tears. Quietly she continued, “I got my fire- lizard eight Turns later. I named her Fire and loved her very much.” She wiped her eyes and shook her head to clear her mood. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was from your queen’s clutch. Do not regret it. I don’t.”

“Well,” Mother Karina said, wiping her eyes as well. “It was a wrench to let the egg go.”

“And,” Azeez said, “as we traded on the knowledge you’ve given us, we consider that we owe you trade.”

“I see,” Fiona said, glancing toward T’mar.

“We come from a time ten Turns in the future,” T’mar reminded the Traders. “Don’t make the mistake of trading on that too much.”

“I’m not sure you made a good trade,” Fiona said by way of agreement. “Not only did you lose a chance at many clutches, but you also lost the joys of a fire-lizard.”

“Your dragons will not accept fire-lizards near them,” Azeez said. “We decided to resist the temptation.”

“Beside,” Karina added, “without fire-lizards, we will need to develop different means of communications.”

“Not to mention that they hate the sandstorms,” Azeez reminded her drily.

“We should talk more of trade,” Fiona said, gesturing for Terin to bring her slates. “We have a list of things we can offer.”

“And a list of things you need, no doubt,” Mother Karina added with a gleam in her eyes.

T’mar waited until the next morning, when the traders were gone, to ask the question he had for Fiona. “What is it that you didn’t want to say in front of the traders?”

“Well,” Fiona said, her lips curved upward with satisfaction, “it’s just that I realized that these traders have spent Turns navigating the desert by the stars.”

“And?”

“Well, we know that the Red Star is one of those stars,” Fiona continued, “and that the moons and planets and other stars all move in the sky in determined patterns.”

“Yes,” T’mar agreed impatiently.

“So,” Fiona continued, smiling sweetly, “why can’t we use the stars to tell us when  as well as where we are?”

T’mar stared at her for a long moment and then, slowly, his lips curved up in a grin to match hers.

“And with the stars to guide us, we can come back to Fort Weyr three days after we left!” he exclaimed. He grabbed Fiona in a great hug. “I couldn’t use the Red Star for such accuracy, but I’ll bet the traders can teach us how to use the planets! Well done, Weyrwoman, well done!”

Fiona basked in his praise.

Weyrwoman.

FOURTEEN

First flight,

Wings delight.

Weyrlings soar,

Dragons roar.

Igen Weyr, Morning, AL 498.7.8

“The weyrlings want to start gliding off the queen’s ledge again,” Fiona said as she met T’mar for breakfast two days later.

T’mar frowned thoughtfully then shrugged. “They’re your  weyrlings, do with them what you will.”

Fiona mouthed “my weyrlings” in surprise and T’mar laughed at her.

“Good training,” he told her teasingly. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

Fiona tried to come up with some response but was so overwhelmed that all she could do was splutter while T’mar watched her with dancing eyes.

“You know,” she finally managed, “you’re absolutely right, wingleader. They are  my weyrlings.”

“They won’t be ready to really fly for another ten months,” he reminded her. “That much I will not countenance.”