Dragonheart

Talenth?

When are you coming back?  Talenth asked. I itch!

Oh, I’m sorry!  Fiona replied. Can you ask Terin to oil you? I’ll be back soon.

She heard a noise in the room and craned her neck around. In the dim light that slipped past the shutters, she made out someone sitting beside her. It was a woman with gold hair.

“You must be Nuella,” Fiona said, starting to roll on her side and then thinking better of it as a stabbing pain reminded her of her wound.

“Why are you here?” The question came out of a voice husky with disuse and despair.

“I heard about Nuelsk,” Fiona said. “I’m sorry.”

“But you want me to take the queen egg,” Nuella said accusingly. She heard Fiona’s surprised gasp and added, “I hear very well — better than Zenor thinks.”

Fiona spent a moment absorbing the young woman’s words. How old was Nuella, anyway? Fiona wondered. She’d seemed very old when she met her at Fort Weyr, but that was ten Turns in the future . . . Nuella was about the same age as Kindan . . . she’d have about sixteen Turns now.

“You said you had a queen of your own,” Nuella said proddingly.

“Talenth,” Fiona replied unable to keep the warmth out of her voice.

“Could you imagine losing her?”

“I lost my fire-lizard,” Fiona replied. Fondly she recalled Fire, and her breath caught.

“How?”

Fiona hesitated before responding. “I think it’s dangerous for people to know too much about their future.”

“We’re talking about your past.”

“My past is your future,” Fiona said. “Did you hear me when I was talking in my sleep?”

“No.”

Fiona decided that she really hated thinking face down. “Will you help me sit up?”

“No,” Nuella replied. “If Zenor has you lying down, then I think you’d best stay that way.”

“But it’s so hard to think !” Fiona complained. It was hard enough to think at all, and had been ever since she’d Impressed Talenth. From that moment on she’d been fighting the dizziness and fatigue that she’d come to associate with being twice in the same time. Was it because she’d timed it back here, to this now? Or was it something else?

Fiona forced herself to focus. Now wasn’t the moment to consider this issue. Nuella. She had to talk to Nuella. She was here, now. She wished she had some klah.

“How did you survive the Plague, then?” Nuella demanded.

“I was a baby; I don’t remember much of it,” Fiona replied instantly without thinking. She groaned as she realized what she’d said and then let out a deep sigh.

“I wish I hadn’t said that,” she said then. “I come from ten Turns in the future. In my time, there’s been no hint that we came back in time to here. I hate having to ask so many people to keep this secret.”

“Well, if nobody knows in your time, you must have chosen wisely,” Nuella observed.

Fiona mulled on that for a moment, started to nod, felt the pillow against her face and thought better of it. Besides, Nuella couldn’t see her movement anyway. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said. “Kindan trusted you, so — ”

Nuella snorted derisively. “Kindan!”

“What?” Fiona asked, surprised at Nuella’s tone. “Are you angry with him? I thought you wanted Nuelsk.”

“Do I have her now?” Nuella cried, her voice breaking. “Is she here with me now?”

A door opened and light spilled into the room as Zenor strode in angrily.

“Nuella!” he exclaimed. Then, to Fiona, he said, “What have you said to her?”

“Stop, stop, it’s not her fault!” Nuella cried.

“What did you say?” Zenor persisted, shutting the door and pounding up to Fiona’s bedside. “Don’t you know she’s been through enough?”

“Stop protecting me!” Nuella insisted.

This is too much! Fiona thought miserably. Her wounded calf throbbed horribly and she felt nauseated by the emotions whipping around her.

Talenth! Send T’mar,  Fiona called to her queen. Just the act of reaching out calmed her. Send him now!

He comes!  Talenth replied. You sound sad.

A loud bugle, muffled by thick walls, announced the arrival of the bronze.

“That’s T’mar,” Fiona said. “He’ll take me back.” She started to rise, wondering how she would find her things and where they had put the queen egg. “I can’t handle this anymore.”

A hand gently pushed her back down as Nuella said, “Stay.”

“You need to rest,” Zenor declared.

“I can’t rest here,” Fiona said, resisting Nuella’s hand. She bit back a sob. “I’m sorry, I’ve done you nothing but harm since I came here.”

“Tell me about the future,” Nuella said, her hand still resting gently on Fiona’s back.

“Why should I?”

“Nuella, she’s probably lying!” Zenor declared.

“No, she’s not,” Nuella told him. “How many people do you know who can order dragons around?” She said to Fiona, “You can tell T’mar that — ”

A loud noise outside announced T’mar’s presence.

“This place is nothing but children!” T’mar shouted, his anger obvious. “Out of my way! Out of my way, all of you! Where is Fiona!”

“In here,” Fiona called. Zenor rose and opened the door.

“Fiona!” T’mar cried, shoving Zenor out of his way and rushing to her side. Taking in her bandaged leg, he asked, “What happened?”

“A dog bit me,” Fiona told him. And then, suddenly, it was funny to her. She started laughing.

“A dog bit  me, can you imagine?” It was the funniest thing she’d ever said, she decided. Her chest hurt from laughing while lying on it and her leg twinged every time her chest heaved. “Oh, Shards! It hurts to laugh!”

T’mar turned wide eyes to Zenor. “She’s not feverish?”

“No,” Zenor said, eyeing Fiona with concern. “She wasn’t the last time I checked.”

“It’s the strain,” Nuella said. “She’s laughing to relieve her emotions.”

“That’s it!” Fiona agreed, then proceeded into another round of laughter. “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry!”

Suddenly that seemed like a very excellent idea and tears started streaming down her face.

Nuella’s hand on her back became firmer, moving more slowly. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Weyrwoman, we believe you. We believe you now.”

“What, all I had to do was cry?” Fiona demanded through her tears. “Or was it laugh?”

“Both,” Nuella said. “Zenor, I think she should sit up, maybe drink something.”

“I want to feel her temperature,” Zenor said by way of agreement. “Fiona, if you can sit up for a moment, you might feel better.”

“I don’t know,” Fiona said, even as Nuella’s hand moved to her far shoulder and applied a gentle upward pressure.

“I think they’re right,” T’mar said, his voice approaching her. His strong hands grabbed her shoulders and gently guided her upright.

“Most of them died in the Plague, T’mar,” Fiona said as soon as she saw his face, lined with a harsh look that seemed ready to turn into an unbridled anger. “Telgar sent no aid, nothing.”

T’mar sucked in air in a hiss. “I’d heard,” he said shortly. He turned to Zenor and Nuella. “I cannot tell you how sorry — ”

“But we stole their Weyr!” Fiona exclaimed, her eyes suddenly dancing once more with humor. “We came