Тодд Маккефри: Dragonheart

“Is that enough?”

“It’s all we can afford,” T’mar told her simply.

Fiona narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Talenth will have three Turns then,” he explained.

“What’s that — oh,” Fiona responded, breaking off in chagrin. “She’ll be ready to rise.”

“I thought you would want to have the largest choice possible,” T’mar told her softly. “She deserves no less.”

It was a moment before Fiona could find her voice. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, that’s very considerate.”

T’mar made a slight half-bow in his chair. “I try, Weyrwoman.” He finished his klah, rose, and said to her, “And, with your permission, we will drill this morning and clean after midday.”

“Yes, that seems good,” Fiona agreed, also rising from the table. Karina, who had sat at the far side watching them in silence, glanced from one to the other and shook her head sadly. Fiona noticed and shot her a challenging look.

“You will be leaving in thirty days,” Karina told her, pushing back her chair. “We must get ready.”

Fiona grinned at her. “Last chance for ice!”

The cleaning, as Fiona had expected, was tiring and irritating. None of the riders were pleased with her as they sat for their evening meal, especially faced, as they were, with the knowledge that they would be repeating their efforts in other weyrs for the next sevenday at the least.

F’jian groaned as he stretched after dessert, glancing apologetically toward the Weyrwoman, but he was less out of sorts than many of the others who had not had to do such menial duties for the better part of a Turn.

“We need to leave the Weyr better than we found it,” Fiona reminded, trying vainly to suppress a glower.

“I know Weyrwoman,” F’jian replied apologetically. “It’s just that my muscles forget.”

“It’ll be easier tomorrow,” she assured him.

“Or the next day,” J’keran muttered sardonically from his seat at the far end of the table.

“Or the next,” Fiona agreed.

“They grumble but they’re not upset.” T’mar’s voice coming from right beside her was startling; he had been silent throughout dinner. He seemed ready to say more but restrained himself.

“What?” Fiona prompted.

T’mar hesitated before replying, “I only wanted to say that I think you’re doing a great job as Weyrwoman.” He paused, again obviously weighing his words carefully, and seemed ready to remain silent until Fiona gave him a challenging look. “I hope you won’t be angry at this, but I wonder how you will handle becoming a Weyrwoman when we return, and you are not the Weyrwoman.”

“It’ll be a relief,” Fiona responded impulsively. T’mar raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, and Fiona reassessed her feelings. “I’ll miss it, certainly, but I think I’m too young — ”

“Once, maybe,” T’mar interjected softly, shaking his head in firm denial. Fiona found herself meeting his soft brown eyes, really looking into them, and felt herself flush.

“Excuse me,” she said hastily and rose from the table, moving as quickly as she could without attracting too much notice through the Dining Cavern and out into the still night of the Weyr Bowl.

She didn’t know what she was doing; her feet moved instinctively until she found herself in Talenth’s lair, her head leaning on the hinge of her beautiful gold’s jaw, just in sight of her calmly whirling green eyes.

How long she stayed there, she couldn’t say. It was only when she heard boots softly climbing up the queen’s ledge and entering T’mar’s weyr that she realized her purpose, and with a final caress of her beautiful queen, Fiona stepped out onto the queen’s ledge and turned left, toward Zirenth’s lair.

A noise, the sound of her shoe dislodging a rock, alerted him to her presence.

“Weyrwoman,” T’mar said, coming from his bathroom, dressed in his sleeping tunic, “you startled me.”

Fiona’s eyes were wide, her breath rapid as she forced herself to cross the distance between them and looked up at him.

“Talenth will rise soon,” she blurted, not saying the words she’d rehearsed before.

T’mar’s eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the queen’s weyr in alarm, then he looked back down at her. “Not today, surely.”

“Soon,” Fiona repeated. She raised a hand to stroke his cheek and was surprised at how smooth it felt. “I — I don’t want her first time to be . . . my first time.”

“I see,” T’mar replied softly into the silence that stretched between them. He regarded her silently for a moment. “What about Kindan?”

Fiona shook her head soundlessly and buried her face against his chest, her arms loose around him.

T’mar drew back, raised a hand, and gently drew her chin up until she was looking into his eyes once more. And then he leaned down, draped one arm around her waist, and kissed her.

Much, much, much later, as T’mar lay breathing softly beside her, Fiona leaned over and twitched his chest sharply. T’mar’s eyes flew open and met hers in surprise as she leaned over him, her hands moving toward places she had never been before. “You always say that to get it right, you must do it three times.”

The bronze rider had only time for a startled smile before Igen’s Weyrwoman leaned heavily into him for another kiss.

Drifting through euphoria and back to mere consciousness the words were said:

“I love you.”

“I know.”

But Fiona could never remember who said them, or if they were spoken simultaneously, or even uttered aloud.

Igen Weyr, Evening, AL 501.3.18

“I will miss you so much!” Fiona cried as she buried her head once more against Mother Karina’s chest.

The last of the traders were gathered in their caravan, ready to return to their depots.

“It is likely you will never see me again,” Karina told her softly, causing Fiona’s tears to redouble in intensity. Fiona resisted as Karina pushed her away from her, forcing her to look her in the eyes as she said, “My life is richer for knowing you, child, and knowing that you will be there in the future to protect my children and their children.”

“And theirs,” Fiona vowed, her voice strong even through her sorrow.

“And theirs,” Karina agreed, hugging Fiona tightly once more before parting again. “Do you know what a gift that is?”

Fiona shook her head and wiped her eyes free of the latest rain of tears.

“You will, one day,” Karina foretold. She shoved Fiona toward her dragon and the assembled dragons and riders.

Fiona paused and turned back, pulling the heavy leather jacket off her shoulders.

“I almost forgot,” she said, as she handed the Igen Weyrwoman’s jacket to Azeez, who stood with an arm draped over his mother’s shoulders. “Would you put this back in the Records Room for me? It belongs to the Igen Weyrwoman.”

“I’ll put it back for you,” Azeez said, raising his eyebrows to add emphasis to his double meaning.

Fiona shook her head at him ruefully. “The next group will be from Benden Weyr. They’ll probably trade with you, I’ve left a complete Record behind.”

“They might trade,” Azeez agreed, waving for her to join the waiting dragonriders. “We’ll be certain to give them the chance, and we’ll leave them goods to start with, as we agreed.”

“Fair trade?”

“More than fair,” Azeez said with a smile. “We are in your debt.”

“If you get the chance, come visit us at Fort Weyr,” Fiona begged.