Threadfall - 33. Luduth's Flight

It was another bright, hot morning as D’gar walked out onto the weyr ledge. Zurinth slept, her legs and tail twitching slightly. Her hide had taken on a faint glow. J’rud had also begun to be affected by her readiness to mate, judging from how he’d behaved the previous night once they’d got back to the weyr.

Luduth sleeps, too, Herebeth informed him. When she wakes, she will rise.

There was a familiar feeling in the air; a tension similar to the heavy oppressiveness before a storm. D’gar was almost as nervous as on a Fall morning, except that he wanted to pace around the weyr instead of throwing up. Be careful, he told his dragon. I know you want to catch Zurinth. I want you to. But don’t do anything too risky.

I will try not to. But when I am chasing, nothing else matters.

D’gar wondered if there would be time to grab breakfast before it all began. If Luduth’s flight was a long one, then it might be a fair while before the greens rose. He went back inside to wake J’rud.

‘Come on. We’d best get something to eat.’

J’rud rubbed his eyes. ‘Don’t need food. Need you back in bed.’

‘After breakfast, eh? You should try to keep your strength up for the flight.’

J’rud stretched up, put both arms round D’gar’s neck and pulled him down. ‘But I want you so much,’ he said, Zurinth’s desires enveloping him.

D’gar gave up trying to stop him. It was true. J’rud only needed one thing right now and would be impossible until his lust was quenched at least temporarily. S’brin had always been the same before a gold flight and having your own dragon ready to mate at the same time just increased the itch. Perhaps S’brin and M’rell were doing the same right now?

They finally got to the dining hall, having to ride down on Herebeth as Zurinth still slept restlessly. Luduth lay in her weyr mouth, her gold hide almost as bright as the sun.

D’gar managed to get J’rud to drink some klah and eat a piece of toast, although he kept muttering about needing to drink blood. Trouble was, none of the greens were going to get the chance to do that today. They’d be stuck in their weyrs until Luduth let them go. Green flights following a gold rising never lasted too long. That was one mercy, he supposed.

Wing affiliations broke down under these circumstances. All of the green riders whose dragons were in the same state sat together, some talking non-stop, some fidgeting and others huddling in quiet misery. He led J’rud over to join them. It was the best place for him. Just a short while later, M’rell appeared with S’brin.

‘Zemianth’s going to rise, too,’ he explained. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Is Toth going to chase her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then look after S’brin.’

‘I’ve never been in one of these before.’

‘Neither have I. First time for everything.’

‘What if he gets hurt?’ M’rell went pale. ‘It’ll be my fault, like with Rina.’

‘That wasn’t your fault.’

‘I got her pregnant. That’s what killed her.’

‘She wanted to have your baby. You didn’t force her to. So don’t blame yourself.’

‘Everyone says that.’

‘Then listen to them. Even my mum said nothing could have saved her. It just happens, sometimes. Like people getting scored, or falling and breaking their neck. Horrible, but an accident.’ He led M’rell back across to the Wing table and sat him down. ‘None of us want anyone to get hurt today, but statistically, some dragons and some riders will. It’s no one’s fault.’

Even before a kitchen worker rushed in to tell everyone Luduth was waking, the riders knew. Any who wanted to leave had just a few minutes to get themselves and their dragons away. Mardra and Tirelle would have been gone a long while ago, not wanting to risk the unthinkable; gold dragons fighting.

Herebeth sat out on his ledge. D’gar was already beginning to see through his eyes, so although his physical body sat in the dining hall, he didn’t miss the spectacular show of a queen about to rise; bronzes blooding their kills, Luduth flying out to the feeding grounds, the crowds gathering out in the Bowl.

Maybe it was the novelty value of having a new queen at Fort that had attracted so many bronzes. D’gar didn’t remember so many even for Gemalth’s first flight, while Loranth only ever drew a handful of serious contenders for the Weyrleadership.

Luduth spent quite a while taunting the male dragons. After blooding her first herdbeast she paced up and down, intermittently spreading her wings to make them think she was about to rise. There were several false starts before she killed a second time, her hide beginning to glow from within as her mating frenzy sent out waves of desire. As always, people began to slink off to find secluded places. Most of the bronze riders had already left the dining hall and would be waiting at the mouth of Luduth’s weyr now the dragon had gone. D’gar noticed P’ton wasn’t at the Wing table, either. He didn’t recall when he’d left, but that wasn’t important right now.

Just after Luduth finally leaped into the air, bronzes trailing after her, Herebeth flew up to the heights.

Zurinth is awake and restless, he said. I do not want to be in her way when she rises, but I can see her easily from here.

Sensible, D’gar told him. Just be careful when they all take off together. Try not to get yourself tangled up.

I know what I am doing.

The dragonlust swirled around the weyr, intense and insistent. M’rell put his head down on the table and started to sob.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Last time…’ he sniffed, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. ‘Last time there was a gold flight, Rina and I were together.’

Of course. Everything would conspire to remind him. D’gar wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t make it worse. Ah well, at least after today he’d have new sets of memories to replace the old ones.

‘I didn’t mean to take your weyrmate,’ he went on.

‘I know, I know.’ D’gar patted him on the back. ‘It’s all right.’

‘We’re not going to stay together. He knows that too. He’s really sorry.’

‘I’m sure he is.’ Now S’brin was facing the consequences, he would be.

‘Are you going to stay with J’rud?’

That was the difficult question he’d asked himself a few times. ‘We didn’t intend for that to be permanent, either. We get on well, but… he’s not S’brin.’

M’rell nodded slightly, as if he understood. ‘There’ll never be anyone else like Rina for me, either.’ Saying her name obviously brought back more memories and tears streamed down his face. ‘Why can’t I forget her?’

‘Because you loved her.’ D’gar remembered some of the things Zalna had said, after K’torl died. ‘It’s still a fresh wound. Eventually, it’ll heal, although you’ll always have scars to remind you. One day, you might love someone else again, but it won’t be quite the same.’

N’rir brought a mug of klah over to the table. ‘Getting reminders, is he?’

D’gar nodded.

‘First Turn without them’s always the worst,’ N’rir said to M’rell. ‘You try not to, but you’ll always be thinking about what you did together this time last Turn. After that, it gets easier.’ He looked up to the rocky vaults above them. ‘Wish Luduth would get on with it. All this waiting around’s no good for anyone.’

‘Should we get them to the flight cave?’ D’gar asked, gesturing toward the green riders.

‘They’ll have more of an idea what’s happening than any of us. When they start to move, that’s our cue as well.’

‘Is Jalolth keen on anyone in particular?’

N’rir gave a quick shake of his head. ‘He’s not fussy. So long as she’s green and flying, he’ll chase. Could be any of them.’ He sipped his klah. ‘The chances of any of us catching today isn’t good. Bronzes will pick off a good few of them. You lads watch out for the bronze riders, too. They’ll be all on edge and fired up. That’s when it can get rough in the flight cave.’

D’gar got himself and M’rell some more klah and went back to the table. M’rell was sitting up drying his eyes while N’rir told him stupid jokes he’d probably heard a thousand times. It passed the time, although time seemed to have become suspended as they waited and waited. And waited. The mugs were long since empty when N’rir suddenly said, ‘Watch out.’

A couple of green riders stood up and began making their way out of the dining hall, like sleepwalkers. The older ones gave a hand to their younger fellows, who were too much wrapped up with their dragons to care if they walked into furniture or doorways.

‘We’d better get over there, too,’ N’rir said. ‘Some of ‘em will get caught almost as soon as she lets them go.’

D’gar followed him out to the Bowl. He’d never paid too much attention to what happened in the mass green flights, always having been otherwise occupied before. It felt very different to an ordinary mating flight. He was aware of both himself and Herebeth being forced to wait, against all of their instincts. He felt irritable for no good reason. If someone got in his way, he’d be very tempted to push or even hit them. And he was fairly placid, normally. Some of those with short tempers might be even quicker to strike someone.

A few weyrfolk stood outside, scanning the sky with their eyes shielded against the sun. Some of them would have made bets on which would be the first green to get caught and were eager as any participating rider to see them away. Several green heads and necks protruded from weyr mouths as dragons stood poised, ready to fly. D’gar’s eyes were drawn to both Zurinth, waiting in resigned stillness and Zemianth, who snapped at the air in irritation.

As they drew close to the flight cave, Luduth was caught, out of sight but still within emotional range of all those in the Weyr. The stillness was broken abruptly by shrieks and the noisy flap of wings as at least nine greens launched themselves from their perches and struck out for the open sky. Almost at the same time, the losing bronze riders began to stream out from Luduth’s weyr. A few of them made for the dining hall, where wine and sprits would be provided. A couple stopped by the group of Lower Caverns women who were waiting for exactly that opportunity. The rest made their way into the flight cave, as their dragons stayed in contention, if not for the main prize, then the green consolations.

Herebeth was aloft already, his sights set on Zurinth’s dark green hide. A flurry of other males left disturbed air in their wake. Through his dragon’s eyes, D’gar saw the jostling for position, larger browns nudging blues aside in their frantic pursuit. As he stepped inside the flight cave, much the same was going on in the semi-darkness. The greens huddled in a group, while other riders snatched at them, or pushed each other out of the way. Even as he watched, one of the bronzes threw a punch at a young blue rider who was in his way. The youngster ducked and the man’s fist drove into the wall. He cursed loudly, blood running from his damaged knuckles.

A couple of brown riders mimicked their dragon’s actions, grabbing at S’brin. They must be close to Zemianth, then. S’brin didn’t hesitate in shoving one away with such force he fell into the other, knocking them both to the floor. D’gar heard a yelp of pain as someone was trampled in the melee.

Half of his mind was with Herebeth, half still earthbound. He had enough human presence of mind to be glad this hadn’t happened in those early days when he still lost himself utterly during a mating flight. He also noticed that P’ton was in the middle of the mob, clearly unaware of where he was or why, being jostled around to the extent D’gar feared he might be pushed over and get trodden on. He fought his way through and guided P’ton toward the right hand wall, out on the edge of the action, where he’d be safer. It was unlikely Charinth would catch anyone today.

As he turned back, he heard a roar. The first green had mated. A blue grabbed her rider and dragged him over to the lone bed in the cave. A few extra mattresses had been flung on the ground for everyone else to use. Probably not enough, given the numbers.

Herebeth had got clear of the pack, finding clear sky away from the main hustle and bustle. Most of the greens were heading in their own favoured directions and those chasing split off to follow their preferred mate. But bronzes were coming into the picture now; returning from the gold flight and picking off the nearest greens. Herebeth saw Lilith snagged by bronze Helorth, perilously low over the mountain range. That flight wouldn’t last long; the larger dragon already looked tired from his exertions.

There were several battles taking place above the weyr and mountains. Two of the bronzes were in hot pursuit of Zemianth, Toth attempting to get past them. One flicked a tail in his face and as he flinched away, barged him sideways. M’rell stumbled and fell. The two bronze riders then began shoving each other. Neither S’brin nor Zemianth were well pleased. The dragon twisted and turned in the air, trying to shake them off. Z’los made a grab for S’brin, just as Rolth did the same. S’brin hit him. Z’los hit him back. In a moment, both were rolling on the floor, making others jump back instinctively.

Through Herebeth’s eyes D’gar saw Zemianth fighting to free herself, but he was only minimally interested as blue Regath was getting far too close to Zurinth. Much as D’gar would have liked to help S’brin, he couldn’t, drawn instead to Herebeth’s battle. He pushed his way across toward J’rud, through a slightly thinned out crowd. Another fight broke out, which he had to avoid.

F’gil had his hands all over J’rud and J’rud didn’t look at all pleased about it. Regarth kept grabbing for Zurinth’s tail, slowing them both down while Herebeth came in on an angle from her right. He knew Zurinth was endeavouring to get herself closer to him, even as she tried to avoid Regarth.

Then, suddenly, the world spun crazily and his fight for Zurinth turned into one to recover himself from a plummeting spin towards jagged peaks. By the time he managed to level off, he knew Zurinth had been caught. The other blue who’d careened into him had missed the prize as well and it was Regarth who flew on, entwined with Zurinth.

Herebeth’s emotional pain at seeing another dragon mating with the one he’d wanted, made D’gar stumble to the side of the cave, letting the wall support him.

It’s not your fault, he assured his dragon.

That makes it no easier to bear.

Winning a flight was glorious. Losing was like getting kicked. D’gar felt as if he’d let J’rud down. He wanted to crawl away and get drunk, like some of the bronze riders earlier on.

All around him was chaos. In the dim light it wasn’t always apparent whether people were having sex, or fighting. S’brin! He suddenly remembered S’brin and Z’los struggling. Where were they now? Cautiously, he tested his legs, still feeling as if flying was a more natural means to get around. There were more people towards the back of the cave, where the mattresses had been thrown down. He tried not to look at F’gil and J’rud, caught up with the passion of their dragons. Then he spotted S’brin, pinned beneath Z’los, who had an arm across his throat. S’brin wasn’t fighting back, nor apparently moving at all.

D’gar didn’t hesitate. ‘Get off him!’ he shouted, pulling Z’los away. Able to breathe again, after a few seconds S’brin gasped a couple of times, coughing.

Then Z’los started on him. D’gar didn’t consider himself a bad fighter, but he’d never encountered such rage. In moments, he felt as if he was fighting for his life. Z’los hit him. He tasted blood as his teeth dug in to his cheek. He blocked the next punch, then tripped over something and stumbled. He fell backwards, heavily. A flare of pain radiated through his skull. Then Z’los was on top of him, raining down more blows as D’gar tried to protect his face. Instinct took over. He used a wrestling move S’brin and he had often practiced and managed to roll Z’los off to one side.

Then S’brin was there. He got hold of Z’los and dragged him over to one of the mattresses, ripping off clothing as they went. D’gar knew at that point Rolth must have caught Zemianth. There wasn’t anything else he could do. Still, at least S’brin seemed all right and the dragonlust would quench Z’los’s rage more effectively than anything else.

He walked unsteadily from the flight cave. His head ached. His mouth hurt.

Are you all right? Herebeth asked.

I think so. How about you?

I did not get into a fight.

Good for you, then. D’gar made his way to the dining hall, still feeling slightly dazed. He knew it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to drink alcohol, so poured a klah, then went across to the Wing table.

M’ta looked over. ‘Tough flight, huh?’

‘You could say that. It was mayhem in there.’

‘You look like you’ve gone a couple of rounds with a Gather boxer.’

‘That bad?’ D’gar gently felt around his face. It was tender. He took a sip of klah and winced as hot liquid came into contact with the cuts in his mouth.

‘Is it all over?’

‘I think so. Most of them seemed to be paired up when I left. F’gil’s Regath flew Zurinth. And Zemianth was caught by Rolth.’

M’ta nodded. ‘She’s always liked bronzes, that one.’

‘Any idea who caught Luduth?’

‘Think it was Sh’viel’s Nilath, but we won’t be certain until they get back.’ M’ta looked toward the doors. ‘Here come a few more casualties.’

P’ton was helping N’rir to limp unsteadily towards the Wing table. As they came closer, N’rir scanned D’gar. ‘You look worse than me.’

‘Thanks. What happened to you?’

‘Someone jumped on my foot. Sharding hurts.’

‘I said he should go to the infirmary,’ P’ton chipped in.

‘You’re just making a fuss, lad. It’ll be fine after a while. D’gar looks like he needs it more than I do.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until I know everyone’s safe and sound.’ J’rud would probably be all right, but he was still concerned for S’brin.

‘Our newest bronze almost caught himself a queen today,’ N’rir said proudly.

‘We weren’t that close,’ P’ton said. ‘There were two others ahead when she was caught.’

M’ta sat up. ‘Did you see who it was?’

P’ton shrugged. ‘Wingleader’s dragon, I think, but I’m not familiar with them all yet. The dragon was pale bronze with a threadscore on the left side of his face.’

M’ta thumped the table. ‘Nilath! T’garrin owes me some marks.’

D’gar drank some more klah. His head had begun to ache, which wasn’t surprising given the force he’d hit it when he fell. He was starting to feel bruised in his back and shoulders too.

P’ton sat next to him. ‘I saw you on the floor with that Wingleader bashing you in the face.’

‘Wingleader?’ N’rir asked, perking up. ‘Which one?’

‘Z’los. I thought he was going to kill me. He was close to strangling S’brin when I pulled him off.’

‘Is S’brin all right?’

‘As it was him who dragged Z’los off me, I assume so. Just want to be sure.’ At least if Z’los tried anything after the dragons had mated, S’brin would be in enough of his right mind to stop him. If he hadn’t been away with Zemianth earlier, Z’los would never have been able to overpower him in the first place.

Gradually, riders and weyrfolk emerged. Most of the Wing came back to the dining hall and D’gar found himself repeating his tale over and over. R’feem frowned when he heard it. ‘Think I’m going to have a word with Z’los later. He’s old enough to have more control over himself.’

By the time the first pairs of riders returned, D’gar felt a lot worse. He needed numbweed. Maybe some willowsalic too. Toth had caught a green from ‘H’ Wing, so M’rell gave them all a wave before going over to join his mate for the traditional drinks. There was some noisy celebration over on that table already, as their Wingleader’s dragon had flown Luduth.

S’brin came in alone, limping slightly. The crazy greens cheered. B’thun shouted out, ‘If you look like that, what sort of state is other fellow in?’

S’brin grinned at them, rubbing his knuckles. ‘He won’t be trying that again for a while.’ He bypassed their end of the table and leaned close to D’gar. ‘Thanks for helping me.’

‘Someone had to do something. Are you all right?’

‘I’ll live. Might not have done if you hadn’t got that bastard off me when you did.’

‘Where is Z’los?’ R’feem asked.

‘Think he was heading in the direction of in the infirmary.’

‘Right.’ R’feem stood up. ‘We all know mass flights can get rough, but if I’ve got several injured men in my Wing, I want to know why.’ He pointed at D’gar. ‘You’d best get over there and have your head checked over. And you, N’rir. If you can walk, that is?’

N’rir got to his feet, wincing. ‘It doesn’t hurt that much,’ he said, his words contradicting the obvious pain on his face.

‘What about J’rud?’

‘He’s fine,’ S’brin said. ‘I saw him and F’gil leaving the cave just after I did. Come on.’ He helped D’gar to his feet. Standing made him feel slightly dizzy, but S’brin helped him along slowly.

R’feem and P’ton supported N’rir between them. The small group began a slow procession over to the infirmary.

Half way across J’rud met them. ‘I heard you were hurt…’ he said to D’gar in a concerned tone.

‘It’s not too bad. How about you?’

‘Fine. Zurinth’s all right, too. Is Herebeth?’

D’gar nodded carefully. ‘You go and have a drink with F’gil. I’ll see you later, all right?’

They walked a little further. ‘You’re sharing his weyr, aren't you?’ S’brin said.

‘At the moment.’

S’brin didn’t say any more for another few steps. ‘It must have been shitty at Telgar.’

‘It was, at first. Then it got better.’

‘All thanks to you, I’ve heard.’

‘Not exactly. But I was involved with the negotiations.’ D'gar concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. His headache grew steadily worse as had all of the other aches and pains. But S’brin was obviously suffering, too. ‘Why was Z’los trying to strangle you?’

‘Rolth tried to grab Zemianth so he did the same to me. I hit him, so he knocked me on the floor. I was too wrapped up in the flight to be able to fight back.’

‘Still, Zemianth got her bronze.’

‘Rolth was about as gentle with her as Z’los was with me. That's why I gave him what for afterwards, not just because of what he did to you.’

They were almost there by now. D’gar hated the infirmary at the best of times, but it was much quieter than after Fall, therefore almost tolerable. One of the healers came over to meet them; a tall woman with the reddish coloured hair that usually indicated Ruathan roots. ‘More mating flight casualties, I take it?’

R’feem nodded. ‘My Wingsecond here and these two lads.’

She glanced at D'gar and S’brin. ‘They look nearly as bad as the other one who just came in.’

‘Z’los,’ R’feem said, ‘I need a word with him.’

‘Once we’re finished treating him, you’re welcome.’ Her tone of voice made D’gar wonder if Z’los might have been an awkward patient, on top of his other failings as a person. She turned to the injured. ‘So, you two have been in a scrap and this one can’t walk.’

‘Someone trod on me,’ N’rir held up his foot.

‘I got in a fight,’ S’brin said.

‘I hit my head.’ That was the worst of it, anyway.

‘Z’los was on top of him, punching him in the face,’ S’brin added.

The healer raised her eyebrows. ‘Sometimes I’m very relieved not to have a dragon.’

D’gar thought of all the horrors she must have seen, working in here. No wonder she felt like that.

‘Right,’ she said, professional again. ‘You with the bad foot, sit yourself down on the bench and someone will be out to look at it. Fighters, come with me. And you two,’ she turned to R’feem and P’ton, ‘Wait here and I’ll tell you when you can go through.’

D’gar and S’brin went with her into the next room. Z’los was seated further down, while another healer stitched up a cut across his eyebrow.

‘Nice one,’ he said to S’brin.

‘Didn’t half hurt my hand.’ S’brin smiled. ‘Worth it, though.’

‘You’d better stay here,’ the tall healer said. ‘I don’t want anything starting up in my infirmary, understood?’

‘If he keeps away from me, I’ll do the same,’ S’brin said.

‘Good. Now, who’s the worst off of you two?’

‘He is,’ they both spoke more or less at the same time. ‘I can wait,’ D’gar said. ‘Honestly.’ Now he was sitting down, he didn’t feel so bad.

‘If you’re sure?’ She sat next to S’brin and began examining his face. ‘Don’t think you’re going to need any stitches, but I’ll clean you up and get some numbweed. Any injuries anywhere I can’t see?’

S’brin blushed slightly. ‘Well…’

‘It won’t be anything she’s not seen before,’ D’gar said. ‘You’re not usually so modest.’

‘Are you his weyrmate?’ she asked.

D’gar paused a moment. ‘I… well, yes.’ No point in complicating things.

S’brin glanced at him and gave a slight smile. ‘He is,’ he confirmed.

D’gar watched as she carefully wiped the blood off S’brin’s face. He kept having to blink, as there was something wrong with his eyes. He couldn’t seem to focus properly. The headache was back, too. He felt slightly sleepy, but not in a good way.

Herebeth must have noticed, too. Are you all right? Your thoughts are fuzzy.

I hit my head when you were flying. Where are you?

Herebeth sent him back a picture of the view from Zurinth’s ledge. Zurinth is with Regath. She does not like him as much as she likes me. Will you be coming back later?

Once I get some numbweed. I hurt. D’gar felt conflicted. He wanted to cuddle up with J’rud. He also didn’t want to leave S’brin. He blinked again.

The healer noticed. ‘Are your eyes all right?’

‘I feel a bit funny,’ he admitted.

‘You’re the one who hit his head?’

‘Yes.’

‘Take your boots off and lie down while I finish up with this one.’

Getting them off was more of an effort than it would usually be. Mind you, his back was hurting, too. Lying back on the pallet felt surprisingly good. He shut his eyes. It only seemed like a few seconds later when he woke to someone gently shaking him.

‘Let’s have a look at you, then. Can you tell me what happened?’

For a moment, he felt confused. Then he remembered the mating flight. ‘I fell. Hit my head on the floor.’

‘Sit up then.’ She felt his head. He winced when she hit the tender spot. ‘You’ve got a bit of a lump there. Any headache?’

‘Sometimes.’ There wasn’t right now.

‘Visual problems?’

‘It’s hard to focus.’

‘I think we’ll keep you here for a while, just to make sure there’s nothing wrong.’

‘I’m fine, really. I can go back to my weyr and rest there.’

‘We’d like to keep an eye on you. Sometimes, there can be after effects when someone’s had a head injury. Have you heard of concussion?’

‘I think I got that once when I was little and accidentally ran into a wall.’

She nodded. ‘Well, there’s a possibility you’ve got it again. Now, let’s clean up your face. Have you got any injuries anywhere else.’

‘A few bruises, I think.’

‘We’ll get some numbweed on those. And I’ll fetch you some willowsalic for the headache.’

‘You need anything from your weyr?’ S’brin asked.

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘R’feem’s giving that bastard what for.’

D’gar glanced down the room. R’feem stood over Z’los, talking quietly but firmly. He had a grim expression on his face. ‘Good.’ He didn’t like to think of what might have happened if he hadn’t been in the flight cave.

S’brin sat on the other bed. ‘Look, I know you didn’t think much of my effort to apologise the other day. But I really am sorry. I’ve treated you badly and even then you went out of your way to save my life…’

D’gar shrugged. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’

‘Well, they didn’t.’ He squeezed D’gar’s hand. ‘If you want to stay with J’rud, I’d understand it. He’s more like you than I am.’

‘That’s true. And I like him a lot.’ He’d thought about it enough to realise he did love them both, just in different ways.

‘Right,’ said the healer, interrupting the conversation as she returned. ‘Drink this. And then take your shirt off so I can put some numbweed on your bruises.’

R’feem stopped by on his way out. ‘Are these two going to be fit for Fall tomorrow?’

’S’brin might be, if he feels up to it. This one,’ she nodded at D’gar, ‘Probably not. With that head injury, he needs to take it easy for a few days. No violent exercise or stress and Threadfall’s both of those.’

‘Z’los has kindly agreed to lend us a couple of riders.’ R’feem said. ‘I’ll make sure one of them’s a brown or bronze. N’rir’s broken two toes, apparently. Says he can still ride, even if he can’t walk, but that remains to be seen.’ He turned to S’brin. ‘Are you and your dragon fit?’

‘We’ll be fine by tomorrow.’

‘Good. Look after yourself,’ he said to D’gar.

‘Favouritism,’ S’brin said after he’d gone. ‘He didn’t say that to me.’

‘Because he knows you wouldn’t take a blind bit of notice. When have you ever looked after yourself, you crazy green?’ D’gar winced slightly as the cold numbweed touched his skin. Within seconds it had done its job. He sighed in relief.

‘I’ll tell your mum you’re in here. She’ll make you something special.’

‘Yes, and you’ll eat most of it on the way over.’ It felt good, bantering with S’brin. At least they were talking in a civil fashion. D’gar wasn’t sure if he could just forgive and forget, as he had before. In fact, in his confused state, he wasn’t sure about anything any more except that talking was better than not talking. ‘Could you… could you ask J’rud to come over? I want to see him.’

S’brin looked slightly hurt, but after a few seconds he recovered himself. ‘If that’s what you want, then of course I will.’