Тодд Маккефри: Dragonheart

“That’s a possibility, Weyrwoman,” T’mar agreed. A moment later he added, “But it’s a possibility for the future. For now, we’ve got other concerns.”

“Like mating greens who haven’t chewed firestone,” Fiona said.

“Precisely.” T’mar turned to J’nos, saying, “Organize a party to start loading the dragons. We’ll take this load back between. ”

The work was hot and sweaty, but in less than two hours, each of the dragons was loaded with five sacks of firestone — Zirenth and Talenth each carried eight — and the tired riders mounted their dragons.

T’mar says that you are to give the coordinates, Talenth told her as they rose into the hot midday air. Fiona swelled with pride at the honor, then set the image of Igen Weyr at midday firmly in her mind and sent the image to Zirenth for confirmation. She caught T’mar’s pumping arm gesture of acknowledgment, had Talenth send the image to the rest of the wing, then said, Let’s go.

They burst out into the sky over Igen precisely where and when Fiona had chosen, were greeted cheerfully by the watch dragon, and descended swiftly to a landing in the Weyr Bowl near the unused firestone shed.

With the rest of the weyrlings to help, unloading proceeded more quickly than loading and they all retired to the Dining Cavern for a well-deserved late lunch.

“We’ve got ninety-six sacks of firestone,” T’mar said to Fiona as they started in to their meal of cold cuts and bread, “so we can afford to use two sacks each.”

“So that’s enough to flame for about an hour and a half?” Fiona asked, piling some cold chicken onto her bread and liberally spreading it with one of the marvelous curry pastes that Mother Karina had introduced to the Weyr.

T’mar nodded, watching Fiona’s behavior with an amused look.

“What?” Fiona demanded, seeing his look. “Can’t a girl be hungry?”

“Of course,” T’mar responded smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “But it would be a shame if Talenth strained herself.”

“I am not fat!” Fiona declared hotly, suddenly folding the bread in two and forcing it into her mouth.

“Merely a growing girl,” T’mar agreed, his grin belying his demure tone.

“Hmph!” Fiona snorted around her mouthful. She chewed quickly and took a long swallow from her mug of iced water. “Flying that far is hard work.”

“For a dragon,” T’mar responded.

“You’re just afraid that I’ll get taller than you!”

“I like tall women.”

Fiona fumed, her lips thin, but realized that any further response would only fuel the wingleader’s jest.

“So we’ll start with the firestone after lunch?” she asked, desperate to change the topic.

“Not you, unless you want to make Talenth sterile,” T’mar replied.

“I thought I might watch.”

“I’m sure you’d be welcome,” T’mar said, adding with his former humor, “and you could use the exercise!”

Talenth was sleepy after lunch and lay inside her weyr peering out at the activity.

Lazybones! Fiona chided her.

You didn’t fly this morning, Talenth reminded her haughtily.

I helped haul the firestone, Fiona countered. Talenth made no response, but Fiona caught a faint hint that her queen felt none was necessary.

“I’m not fat, am I?” Fiona asked Terin, who stood nearby, eager to watch.

Terin eyed her for a moment then said, “Well, you’re taller than me.”

“So I’m fat?” Fiona demanded, horrorstricken.

“I don’t know,” Terin replied thoughtfully. “You might just be growing. I think you’d have to ask Mother Karina.” She shrugged. “But what if you are?”

Fiona had never thought of herself as fat; she’d always been skinny — everyone at the Hold had pestered her to eat more. “You’re only skin and bones!” they’d always said.

But perhaps her time here in Igen had put more than meat on her — and she just hated the idea. Especially, she hated the way T’mar teased her about it.

“Look!” Terin cried as a gout of flame erupted from the throat of one of the greens. Fiona and Terin both watched, excited, as T’mar proceeded along down the line of dragons, signaling each in turn to flame.

Apparently satisfied, T’mar mounted his bronze Zirenth and signaled the rest of the dragons to rise with him.

T’mar asks if we’ll take watch, Talenth relayed, lifting her head and snaking it between Terin and Fiona where they stood.

“Certainly!” Fiona replied. “T’mar wants us to take watch, want to come?” she said to Terin.

Terin readily agreed and, shortly, the two were mounted on Talenth as she beat swiftly up to the watch heights and daintily landed beside the blue watch dragon. The rider, his face barely visible under his wide sun hat, waved cheerfully, hefting one of the two firestone sacks at his side, and eagerly joined the rest of the weyrlings.

“I suppose from now on we won’t be able to call them weyrlings,” Fiona said.

“They’ve still got to learn how to fight as a wing and as part of a larger Flight,” Terin pointed out.

“That won’t take long,” Fiona replied.

Fiona was right; in less than three months the dragons and riders were drilling as groups, wings, and even as a small flight.

They returned to the firestone mine several times for more firestone, finally sending a half wing down under J’nos for a sevenday to mine more.

“We were very careful,” J’nos explained. “We only worked where it was easy and never dug too far in.”

At the same time, T’mar arranged for Fiona to resume her lessons flying between, often inviting her to join him as referee in the wing and flight exercises.

Spurred by T’mar’s comments earlier about her weight, Fiona took to flying every day, often helping the traders by carrying loads slung under Talenth to their various depots scattered around central Pern. She was careful to arrange that such favors were returned in full, particularly ensuring that Terin was never left to bear the burden of the Weyr’s management unaided.

T’mar had taught and drilled Fiona and Talenth on all the recognition points throughout Pern from the massive Red Butte to the spires of High Reaches Weyr — from a safe distance — from Nerat Tip to Southern Boll, from Ista Hold to the icy Far Watchers until Fiona could instantly and accurately recall the images for any place at any time.

“We’re drilling now,” T’mar explained as they planned for a night jump to Fort Hold not long after Fiona’s “sixth” Turn, “because you’ll need to know this when we return to our time, and with Thread falling, there may not be any chance to practice.” He did not add, but Fiona guessed, that the other reason he wanted her and Talenth fully trained was in case something happened to Cisca or her Melirth. “We must pay particular attention to time,” he reminded her.

Fiona nodded and took a steadying breath to still her racing heart. She was going back to where she lived, when she lived there.

T’mar says for us to send Zirenth the image, Talenth told her.

“All right,” Fiona replied, concentrating on the image in her mind.

T’mar says we will lead them, Talenth reported a moment later with unalloyed pride in her voice.

Fiona’s eyes widened and she took another deep breath before nodding to herself.

Ready? she asked Talenth. When her gold dragon rumbled in acknowledgment, Fiona said, Let’s go!

The cold, dark nothingness of between enveloped them. Fiona scarcely noticed it, she was concentrating so hard on her destination. In a moment they burst out into the sky above Fort Hold, the Harper Hall visible to their left, and Fiona ordered Talenth to start a slow rightward spiral down, checking over her shoulder to be certain that Zirenth had followed them. She smiled as she caught sight of the bronze trailing behind her, his multifaceted eyes barely returning the moonlight.