Тодд Маккефри: Dragonheart

“Kelsanth . . .” Fiona repeated, indicating that she was unfamiliar with the name and mortified. “Oh! She’s the other queen here!” “We sleep next to you,” Tannaz informed her, adding, “I’m surprised her snores haven’t kept you awake at night.”

Fiona shook her head, her hand rising to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’ve no trouble sleeping,” she confided. “It’s staying awake . . .”

“That’s always a problem with a hatchling,” Tannaz agreed passionately. She cocked her head thoughtfully at Fiona. “Though I’d say you’ve got it worse than most.”

Belatedly, Fiona noticed Tannaz’s hand and reached for it, shook it quickly, and let it go.

Tannaz frowned at the motion, wondering what had gotten into the girl that she’d gone so cold so quickly. “What?” she demanded hotly. “Is my hand not good enough for a Lady Holder?”

“No,” Fiona replied, her face crumpling in despair, “It’s just that everyone says I’m lazy.” And she surprised herself by bursting into tears. The tears streamed unchecked down her face, her oily hands hanging limply at her sides as her sobs wracked her body.

Tannaz didn’t deal well with tears or crying girls — her first tendency was to run away or slap them. But this girl’s behavior was different and Tannaz felt strangely moved by it.

“Fiona,” she said gently. When the tears continued and the girl’s body started to shake more violently, she tried again. “Fiona.”

In the end, much against Tannaz’s inclinations, she hugged Fiona close to her, whispering the gentle shushing noises that she’d used only with her own hatchling Turns earlier. Slowly Fiona’s sobs quieted and her tears dried up. Tannaz could measure the girl’s recovery by the hardening of her body and the way she slowly pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Fiona said, her eyes cast to the ground. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“I do,” Tannaz told her gently, surprised at herself. “It’s not just that you’re tired.”

Fiona looked up at her.

“You’re afraid you won’t measure up, that we’re all judging you.” Tannaz shook her head, smiling. “And it doesn’t matter.” Fiona’s brows furrowed in puzzlement. “No one can take your dragon away from you.”

Fiona chewed her lower lip nervously before saying in a quiet voice once more close to tears, “But what if I can’t keep her?” Tannaz gave her a puzzled look and Fiona replied with a wave of her hands to the pail of oil and the sleeping dragon, “What if I don’t have the energy? What if — is it possible that she got the wrong person? I can’t seem to — can a person be allergic to Impressing?”

“Allergic?”

Fiona’s face worked through a range of emotions as she groped for the words. “I just seem so scattered, so lost. I never thought I couldn’t do this.” Fearfully she turned to her sleeping dragon and back again to Tannaz to whisper, “She can’t hear me, can she?”

Tannaz eyed the sleeping dragonet carefully before answering. “No, she’s fast asleep,” she said. “But you have to watch your thoughts — they can disturb your dragon even when she’s sleeping.”

Fiona’s eyes widened fearfully. “Now?”

“No,” Tannaz assured her. “She’d be twitching.”

Fiona heaved a sigh of relief but she persisted with her question, asking in a whisper, “So, could I be allergic?”

“I’ve never heard of such of thing,” Tannaz told her. “And I don’t think so in your case.” She paused for a moment before confiding to Fiona, “You’re not alone. All the weyrlings, even those from the last hatching, are behaving oddly.”

“They are?” Fiona repeated. Tannaz saw the way the girl’s whole body seemed to shift as she absorbed the news. “The ones from the Turn before, too?”

“Yes,” Tannaz assured her.

“Does anyone know why?” Fiona asked after a moment. Tannaz shook her head. Fiona looked down to the ground thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up again, asking, “Is anyone else acting this way?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Tannaz told her. Out of curiosity, she asked, “How would you find out?”

Fiona pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, if this were back at Fort Hold , I’d ask our healer if anyone had complained about feeling poorly.”

Tannaz nodded in agreement, then shook her head. “But dragonriders aren’t holders.”

“They might not want to admit to feeling poorly,” K’lior agreed that evening when Tannaz discussed her findings with the Weyrleaders.

“Hah!” Cisca snorted. “Getting you to admit to a head cold took — ”

K’lior silenced her with a warning look.

“No rider wants to be grounded,” J’marin growled. “Even that silly D’lanor.”

K’lior gave the Weyrlingmaster a questioning look.

“That’s the one who couldn’t get his harness sorted . . . twice, ” J’marin explained.

“Riders are a healthy lot,” T’mar remarked.

Cisca snorted, looking squarely at K’lior. “Even healthy riders get sick sometimes.”

“The older weyrlings have been this way for over a Turn,” T’mar pointed out, his tone suggesting that perhaps the issue wasn’t that important.

“It’s affected their training,” J’marin objected. “And they are sicker than most.”

“ ‘There’s always better,’ ” T’mar repeated the old saw with a sour look toward the Weyrlingmaster.

“As you’ve said yourself,” K’lior reminded the wingleader in a lighter tone. He turned his attention back to Tannaz. “So what do you think of our newest Weyrwoman?”

Tannaz pursed her lips in thought, then said tersely, “She’ll do.” K’lior raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Oh, she’s got her plate full with all the things bothering her — not the least that she’s little more than thirteen Turns to her name — ”

“And we all know how difficult that can be,” Cisca inserted with a sympathetic wince.

“That’s a harder age for girls than boys,” J’marin observed.

“But it’s a good age to Impress, boy or girl,” T’mar said.

K’lior waved the conversation aside. He had his answer, not that there was much he could do — the dragon had chosen her rider and that was that. “Did Kentai have a chance to talk with her?”

“I brought her down to his quarters for lunch,” Tannaz said. She smiled, adding, “We fed her a full mug of hot, strong klah — that woke her right up. Anyway, Kentai told me later that her knowledge of Holder duties was well advanced, and she knows more about the Weyrs than most of our weyrlings.” She turned to Cisca, concluding, “I don’t think she’ll need much training from the harper.”

“Good.” Cisca gave the other Weyrwoman a firm nod. “You and I will manage her then.”

K’lior smiled at his mate, then turned back to the others. “In the meanwhile, I want us all to be alert for any similar signs in our riders.”

“If they’re like D’lanor, you should have noticed already,” J’marin noted sourly.

“So we should be looking carefully at those who are not like D’lanor,” K’lior observed affably, rising from the table and terminating the discussion.

Afterward, in their quarters, Cisca turned to K’lior. “You know, everyone expected T’mar’s Zirenth to fly Melirth.”

“Yes, I know,” K’lior replied, one brow quirked irritatedly, adding, as he snuggled in closer to her, “You choose an odd time to remember that.”

Cisca shook her head, a gesture that was more felt than seen in the darkened room. “That was not a complaint,” she told him. “It’s just that before then, everyone was certain Zirenth would outfly Rineth, but not long before, T’mar started acting odd.”