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Levalla since she had been able to recommend to M'barak that he remain in the
Bowl with Arith. Both Weyrleaders looked tired and she wished that she did not
have to tax their resources further, but there was no way one Weyr could
manage to distribute the vaccine.
"Orlith's a reason for coming here?" K'dren grinned. "Ah, yes, of course.
Candidates for your Hatching. Never fear that I will go back on that pledge.
There are some promising fosterlings in our caverns. All have now been
vaccinated, "
"That's the other reason I'm here." Moreta had to blurt out her real mission
at the first opportunity he gave her.
K'dren and Levalla heard her out in weary silence, K'dren scratching at his
sideburns, Levalla sliding a worry-wood piece through her fingers, its surface
smooth from long use.
"What we don't need is another epidemic. I quite see that," Levalla said when
Moreta had finished outlining the plan. "We didn't lose that many runnerherds
here in the east but I'm sure Lord Shadder would be glad of the vaccine.
Imagine Alessan being able to produce it with all he's been through!"
"I don't like asking riders to time it, Levalla."
"Nonsense, K'dren, we'll only ask those who do it. Only last Turn, Oribeth had
to discipline V'mul, and he's only a brown rider. Bone lazy, the pair of them.
You know how brown riders can be, Moreta. And you know perfectly well, K'dren,
that M'gent makes time whenever it suits him."
"Then we'll put him in charge of the Benden riders assisting the Healer
Hall," K'dren said with a snap of his fingers. "Just the sort of challenge to
keep him out of mischief. He was annoyed, you know," and he winked at Moreta,
"that I recovered from the plague so quickly. He enjoyed Leading to Fall.
He'll make Weyrleader soon enough, won't he, mate?" He cast such a ludicrously
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suspicious look at his beautiful Levalla that it was obvious he had no
anxieties on that score.
Levalla laughed. "As if I had time for any dallying these days.
You're looking exceedingly well, Moreta. Any injuries in your Weyr from
yesterday's Fall?"
"A few Threadscores and another dislocated shoulder. I'd say that this
consolidation puts each wing on its mettle."
"My thoughts, too," K'dren said, "but I shall be eternally grateful when we
can resume our traditional regions. It isn't Sh'gall, I'll have you know, he's
a bloody fine leader; it's that sour excrescence from Telgar."
"K'dren ..." Levalla spoke in firm remonstrance.
"Moreta's discreet, but that man ..." K'dren balled his fists, setting his jaw
as his eyes flashed with antipathy for the Telgar Leader. "He won't assist in
either of your requests, you know, Moreta!"
"He might not." Moreta took out the lists. K'dren exclaimed in surprise at
seeing them.
"So they will serve a purpose after all. Let me have a glance." He flipped the
sheets till he came to the angular backhanded scrawl of M'tani's.
"T'grel would be the man to contact at Telgar. Even if he weren't a
responsible rider, he'd do it in reprisal for some of M'tani's tricks. And you
must have riders from each Weyr, ones who know how to find the
hole-in-the-hill cots that aren't well marked. Well, you can be sure of Benden
support. I wondered why our healer was bloodletting again!" He rubbed his arm
with a rueful smile.
"And Capiam's sure about this vaccination of his?" Levalla asked. Her fingers
betrayed her anxiety by the speed with which she flipped her worry-wood.
"He likens it to Thread. If it can't get a grip, it can't last."
"About your Hatching, now. We do have a very keen young man from a Lemos
highlands minehold whom we found on Search two Turns ago," Levalla said,
reverting to Moreta's ostensible errand. "I don't know why he didn't take, but
we'll have him back if he doesn't find a mate on your Ground. Dannell's his
name, and he's eager to keep up with his mining craft if he can."
"Are you Searching more among the crafts than the holds these days?"
"With the end of Pass in sight, it's best to have men who can occupy their
spare time profitably for the Weyr."
"We receive the tithe whether there's Pass or not," Moreta said with a frown.
K'dren looked up from his perusal of the names. "To be sure, but once a
Pass is over, the Lords may not be quite so generous " K'dren's expression
indicated that his Lords had better sustain the quality of their tithes. "I've
underlined the riders who, I suspect, do time." His grin was raffish. "It's
not something anyone admits to but T'grel must have to use it to cope with
M'tani. Don't bother with L'bol at Igen. He's useless. Go directly to Dalova,
Allaneth's rider, She lost a lot of bloodkin at Igen Sea Hold. She'd know who
among her riders time it. And Igen has all those little cotholds stashed in
the desert and on the riverbanks. Surely you've got a few good friends left at
Ista. You were there ten Turns. Have you heard that F'gal's bad with kidney
chill?"
"Yes, I'd planned to speak to Wimmia out of courtesy. Or D'say, Kritith's
rider."
"You have a son by him, don't you?" Levalla said with a tolerant smile.
"Such ties seem to help at the most unexpected times, don't they?"
"D'say is a steady man and the boy Impressed a brown from Torenth's last
clutch," Moreta said with quiet pride. She rose. She would have liked to stay
longer with the Benden Leaders but she had a long day ahead of her.
"We'll give Dannell time to pack up and send him on to you at Fort tomorrow,
with M'gent. You can use the opportunity to go over any details with him.
Shall I have a discreet word with my Lords?"
"Master Tirone is supposed to be sweetening them but your endorsement would be
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a boon."
As K'dren escorted Moreta to the stairs, Levalla waved an indolent
farewell, still worrying the wood in her left hand.
The encouragement that Moreta received from the Benden Weyrleaders did much to
sustain her during her next three visits. At Ista, F'gal and Wimmia were in
her weyr, bronze Timenth on the ledge, the tacit signal for privacy.
So Moreta directed M'barak to land Arith at D'say's weyr, where Kritith
greeted Moreta with shining blue spinning eyes, rearing to his hindquarters
and extending his wings. He peered out to the ledge, patently disappointed
that Moreta had arrived on a blue instead of with her queen. Then D'say
emerged from his sleeping quarters. To her chagrin she had obviously awakened
him from a much-needed sleep. He was one of the few who had not succumbed to
the first wave of illness, and he had ridden Fall continuously, nursed other
sick riders, and tried to bolster F'gal's leadership during the latter's
kidney ailment.
As she argued with D'say on the necessity of once again cooperating with the
Healer Hall, she wished that he had had the plague; then he would not be so
slow to comply. D'say resisted her presentation in such a glum silence that
she was becoming depressed when their son M'ray suddenly charged up the steps.
"I beg your pardon, D'say, but my Quoarth told me that Moreta is here."
The boy, in his height he was more manly than boyish, paused just long enough
in the threshold to receive permission to enter. Then he rushed to Moreta,
embracing her with a charming enthusiasm. He peered anxiously into her face
with eyes the color of her own, set in a head with the same deep sockets and
arching brows. Yet he was far more D'say's child in build and coloring. "I
knew you were ill. It's very good to see you well."
"Orlith has clutched. I've had little to do except repair scored riders and
dragons."
M'ray opened his arms, looking from sire to dam, hopeful of answers to his
outspoken questions.
"Moreta needs help, which I don't think she'll get from F'gal in his state of
health." D'say replied noncommittally. He refilled Moreta's cup with klah,
tacitly giving her permission to tell their son.
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