Dragonheart

landing point. Azeez had assured them that they were out of sight of the wherhold but less than a kilometer away.

“I wouldn’t linger, all the same,” Mother Karina had observed when they had discussed the plan.

Fiona glanced back up at T’mar, shaking her head. She’d made her pledge; she wouldn’t back out. “I’d know.”

“I’ll bet your father wishes you were a boy,” T’mar replied, shaking his head in admiration.

“I’m quite happy being a woman,” Fiona said, smiling.

T’mar looked ready to respond but thought better of it. “Zirenth and I can be here whenever you need.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fiona assured him, reaching up for the carisak that she’d handed him as she’d clambered down. T’mar handed it over to her and she hoisted it, scampering away from Zirenth.

“Circle around north,” T’mar instructed her, “so that if they see me leaving, they won’t suspect you were brought here by dragon.”

Fiona waved in acknowledgment and started off. As the wind from Zirenth’s wings buffeted her, she turned back to sketch a quick salute to T’mar, but she wasn’t sure if he saw it before he went between.

She turned back again to resume her trek and paused with a deep sigh.

Talenth?  she called.

I’m here.  Her queen’s instant response calmed her in a way that no words of her own or any other’s could.

How are you doing?

Well,  Talenth replied, her tone surprised that Fiona need ask. But if you’re going to be gone much longer would you ask Terin to oil me?

Of course,  Fiona responded, grinning to herself. She was becoming accustomed to Talenth’s draconic ways, particularly the young queen’s fading memory. She didn’t bother to explain to Talenth that it would be easier for the queen to ask Terin directly, preferring to send the request to Seyorth, who’d agreed to listen for her. The older bronze sounded both quite pleased that she’d asked him and quite amused with the young queen’s self-absorption.

It is done,  Seyorth told her. He added humorously, The headwoman was surprised to hear from me.

Thank you,  Fiona told him, a smile crossing her lips as she imagined Terin’s frightened squeak when the bronze dragon spoke in her mind.

Anything, Weyrwoman,  Seyorth responded. Fiona was stirred by the depth of commitment the bronze’s reply involved and thrilled to hear him so easily label her Weyrwoman.

With one parting mental nod, Fiona turned her attention back to the ground in front of her. It was wild, uneven, and took her longer to traverse than she had expected. By the time she was near the wherhold, she was hot, sweaty, and thirsty.

She debated digging into her carisak for her flask and wondered why she hadn’t hung it from her side the moment Zirenth had gone between,  but finally decided that she should wait and ask for water when she met someone.

She had just started forward again when an arrow flew across her path.

“Now that is just enough!” Fiona shouted loudly, her anger and irritation echoing around her. Dimly, in the distance, she heard the strange bugle of a watch-wher, answered by several others. Shaking her head, she said to herself, “Shards, I didn’t mean to wake them!”

She glanced around for a sign of the bowman who had shot at her but saw nothing.

“I need to talk with Aleesa!” Fiona shouted toward where the arrow had originated. “It’s important.”

“You need to leave,” a man’s voice responded, not from where the bowman had fired, “while you still can.”

“What makes you think Aleesa is here?” a woman’s voice demanded from where the arrow had been fired.

“Oh, this is too much,” Fiona muttered angrily to herself. She was scared, but she was angrier than she was scared and she knew that that  meant someone was going to come off the worse for it — and not  her. Loudly, she said, “Look, I’m sorry about the fire-lizards but — ”

Another arrow whizzed past her, this time coming from the man’s position.

“No, by the First Egg, you will not  scare me!” Fiona shouted, her voice echoed by the bugles of watch-whers. Her anger flowed from her like a storm as she raged on, “I am Fiona, Talenth’s rider, Weyrwoman of — ”

“Of what?” the woman’s voice demanded.

“We have no use for a Weyrwoman,” the man added.

“You have use for me !” Fiona roared back.

“I know all the Weyrwomen’s names, there is no Fiona,” the woman declared.

“I am Lord Holder Bemin’s daughter,” Fiona snapped back.

“Your first story was better: Bemin’s daughter can’t be more than two Turns,” the woman said bitterly.

“I come from the future,” Fiona said, backtracking. “I am  Bemin’s daughter and I Impressed a queen dragon.” She couldn’t help adding, out of a sense of honor, “And, anyway, in this time I’ve just turned four.”

“You?” the woman snorted. “A queen?”

“Is she here?”

“Of course not!” Fiona snapped. “She’s not old enough to fly.” “So, Fiona from the future, rider of a gold and daughter of a Lord Holder,” the woman began, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “if your dragon is so young, how did you get here?”

“What’s your name?” Fiona asked. She guessed that this person was Arella; she’d heard Kindan speak of her. The man was probably Jaythen.

An arrow whizzed by her in response. “You need to stop asking questions and leave.”

Didn’t Kindan say something about Arella having a watch-wher?

Talenth, would you bespeak Arelsk and say who I am,  Fiona thought to her dragon.

Arelsk is a green, did you know that?  Talenth asked conversationally, indicating that she’d passed the message. She is quite nice, really.

“If you are Arella, as I think, then check with Arelsk,” Fiona said out loud, sending a mental appreciation back to Talenth. “My Talenth has spoken with her.”

A moment later, bushes parted in the distance and a woman rose with a bow in her hand. She strode toward Fiona, her bow still cocked, but the arrow pointed to the earth.

“Why are you here?”

“Your mother is dying,” Fiona said, not knowing how much time they had, “and Aleesk has clutched a gold.”

Arella stopped midstride, raised her bow toward Fiona, then lowered it again, her face the picture of surprise. “How did you know?”

“For me, it’s already happened,” Fiona told her. “I did not lie: I am from the future, I Impressed a queen, and I am Lord Bemin’s only surviving child.” She was surprised at how important this last statement was to her. She gestured to the other bowman’s position. “Is that Jaythen over there? Or Mikal?”

Some of Arella’s wariness returned. “Mikal is dead.”

“The Plague?”

Arella shook her head. “It weakened him, but he survived. Old age took him.”

“He was babbling about something from the future,” Jaythen said as he rose from his hiding place. He glanced askance at Fiona as he added, “ ‘A queen too young to fly.’ ”

“Those were his last words,” Arella said, eyeing Fiona carefully.

“No, his last words were: ‘You must listen to her,’ ” Jaythen corrected her, striding toward the other two, glancing up and down at Fiona. “I couldn’t see how a queen could talk,” he admitted. “Now I wonder what you have to say?”