back in time and took Igen Weyr.”
Zenor gave T’mar a questioning look that turned into one of surprise when the bronze rider nodded in acknowledgment.
“We ought to take Telgar, too,” Fiona declared in a murmur to herself. “It’d serve them right.” The idea appealed to her so much, she caught T’mar’s gaze and continued, “When we get back, why don’t you go there for their next mating flight? You’d make a great Weyrleader.” She had a moment to marvel at the words pouring out of her mouth before she added, “Better than D’gan, better than H’nez.”
“This is not like her,” T’mar said to Zenor, his mouth set in a frown.
“It’s stress,” Nuella said. “She has been through a lot and the bite has — ”
“ — added physical stress to her mental exhaustion,” Zenor finished.
“I can’t be exhausted,” Fiona declared, trying to rise on her feet and stopping as a sudden pain tore up her left leg. “Ouch, that hurts!”
“Fiona, you must rest,” Nuella said. “Lie back down and rest.”
Zenor ran a quick hand over Fiona’s forehead and nodded gravely. “You’re flushed, and peaked.”
He rose quickly and crossed the room to a side table, quickly emptying several containers into a mug and returning with it. “Drink this.”
Fiona took a sip and made a face. “It’s wine and fellis juice.”
“You need your rest,” T’mar said. “You heard the healer.”
“He’s not a healer,” Fiona said even as a frantic part of her fought to get control of her mouth. “He’s a goldsmith.”
“Goldsmith!” Nuella repeated. She heard T’mar’s gasp of surprise and her expression grew thoughtful.
“You must rest,” Zenor said to Fiona, gently easing her back down to the bed. “I’m sorry that we distressed you; your recovery will be delayed because of it.”
“T’mar, tell them, make them understand,” Fiona begged, fresh tears somehow forming at the edges of her vision. “Tell them whatever they want to know.”
“As you wish, Weyrwoman,” T’mar agreed, leaning down toward her to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.
“You kissed me!” Fiona declared in muzzy surprise. “I like that.”
Exhaustion overcame her before she could say more, and she slipped into a deep sleep with a contented sigh.
T’mar’s voice greeted the moment her eyelids fluttered open. “The egg has hatched.”
“Oh, Shards! I’d hoped to be there,” Fiona exclaimed.
“Don’t sit up,” T’mar said warningly. “Your wound is still healing.”
“Nuella . . . ?”
“She says that the queen is the most beautiful creature she’s ever known,” T’mar told her, his tone conveying both wistfulness and sardonic surprise.
“And?”
“She and Dalor — did you know they are twins? — have agreed that she and Zenor can leave as soon as the queen is able.”
“What about the rest of it?”
“What rest of it?” T’mar asked, surprised. “Isn’t that all we need?”
“No,” Fiona said. “They have to form the wherhold, they have to take Arella, Jaythen, and all the other watch-whers.”
“I know nothing of this,” T’mar said, sounding somewhat aggrieved. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
“Oh, I’m too tired to think straight!” Fiona complained grumpily. “I — ”
“Rest,” T’mar ordered, rising from his chair. “We can talk more later.”
“No,” Fiona said, “I need to get back. I miss my dragon; I miss the warmth of the Weyr.”
“It’s warmer here than at Fort Weyr,” T’mar said. Before Fiona’s irritated groan escaped her lips, he continued, “But I know what you mean: Igen is a better place for you.”
“Can you take me?” Fiona asked hopefully. “I can come back later.”
“Let me check with Zenor,” T’mar replied, heading for the door.
It seemed like forever to Fiona before the door opened again. T’mar entered, followed by Zenor, Nuella, Renna, and another man.
“Tevris and Tesk will manage,” the new man answered Nuella. “And, to be honest, we’re better off with fewer mouths to feed.”
“Do you want us to take Larissa?” Nuella asked.
“I don’t know if it’d be safe for her — ” Zenor replied doubtfully.
“I’m sure it will,” Fiona interjected. “The wherfolk have loads of kids.”
“And we could use the practice,” Nuella added. From his lack of response, Fiona guessed that Zenor was growing red.
“
So the other man was Dalor, Fiona thought. She could hear the blush in his voice as he asked, “We do?”
There was a moment’s awkward silence after which Dalor, probably reeling from Renna’s glare, corrected himself. “I mean, we do!”
“Fewer mouths,” Nuella reminded him quietly.
“Renna?” Dalor said, passing the decision off to her.
“Well,” Renna said with a sigh, “she’s probably closer to Nuella.”
“She could come back later,” Zenor suggested.
“Yes, she could,” Dalor agreed, happy to find a workable compromise.
“We should go now,” Fiona said, rising painfully from the bed. She was surprised when no one stopped her.
“We can loan you some crutches,” Zenor said.
“We can’t go until dark,” Nuella said.
“Isn’t your watch-wher sleeping?” Fiona said. When Nuella nodded, she turned to T’mar. “Zirenth can carry her, can’t he?”
“Easily,” T’mar agreed. “Shall I send for the weyrlings?”
“Yes,” Fiona said, smiling at Nuella. “I don’t doubt you’ll have some things you’ll want to bring with you.”
“If you don’t get them all now, you can come back for them,” Renna said.
“I’m not sure we want to attract too much notice from D’gan,” T’mar objected.
“One trip or two won’t be a problem, will it?” Fiona said, daring T’mar to object. The wingleader frowned but reluctantly agreed.
“Good!” Fiona said, and turning once more to Nuella, added, “I think you’ll like Igen Weyr.”
“The Weyr?” Nuella repeated in surprise.
“We’ll go there first,” Fiona said. “Then, when it’s dark enough, we’ll go to Aleesa’s.” She smiled. “We’ve found, with the heat, that our hardest work is best done in darkness, like the watchwhers.”
“What about the hold you promised?” Zenor demanded. “I can’t see us staying at a Weyr forever.”
“And you won’t,” Fiona promised. “But we’ve still some things to arrange.”
“Such as . . . ?”
Fiona noticed that T’mar was also intent on her answer. “We’ll need smithcrafters to help with the gold, so we’ll have to visit the Smithcrafthall.”
“Smithcrafters?” Nuella asked, puzzled. Inspiration struck. “Oh, I suppose Zenor is enough of a miner that we needn’t worry on that account.”
“You need the smiths to refine and work the gold,” Fiona explained.
“And we still need to negotiate with the holders,” T’mar added. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Fiona said.
“We’ll take that jump when we come to it,” T’mar allowed.
It took some time, more than Fiona wanted, for Nuella and Zenor, ably aided by Renna and less ably aided by the infant Larissa, to assemble their belongings.
