Threadfall - 36. Recuperation

‘Never seen a Fall as bad as that before,’ N’dru said, as the Wing assembled for dinner.

‘I have, once. Almost in the same area, too.’ I’grast looked up to the ceiling as he tried to pinpoint the memory. ‘Back in thirty-four, I reckon. Anyway, it wasn’t the Fall that was the problem. It was the sharding storm.’

R’feem looked grim. ‘Bad day,’ he said, glancing towards D’gar, then to the empty seat further down the table. ’N’rir, I’grast. Fill the cups, please.’

D’gar had been assured Herebeth would be in good hands while he got himself something to eat. He hadn’t expected they’d also be drinking to a lost colleague. N’rir placed the cup in front of him and filled it. Once everyone was supplied, R’feem stood and raised his own cup. ‘Whenever it’s my duty to perform this task, I’m reminded of the courage of dragons and their riders. No one should have to die so young, but while we have to fight Thread, it’s a bitter tithe we must bear. T’mudra and Jassainth had only been with us for five months, but they’d proved their worth many times. Please join me in drinking to the pair of them. T’mudra and Jassainth!’

Everyone repeated the names, then knocked back the fiery spirit. Around the dining hall, the same ritual was being performed on two other tables. It had been a hard day.

‘There goes another one of our clutch,’ S’brin whispered. ‘You know, he wasn’t so bad since he joined “C” Wing.’

‘Did anyone see what happened to him?’ J’rud asked.

‘I heard an updraft got him. Sucked ‘em both up into the cloud. Don’t know if he was hit by Thread, or what, but I’m guessing they went between and didn’t come back.’

D’gar stared at his empty cup. If it wasn’t for Herebeth’s swift reflexes, he might not be sitting here tonight. He imagined Jassainth and T’mudra floating endlessly in black between, cold and dead. The thought made him shudder. It had been so close…

‘Have another drink, lad,’ I’grast encouraged, tipping the flask.

‘Just the one, then.’

I’grast looked at him slightly askance. It was traditional to drink yourself into a stupor when a wingmate died, whether you’d liked them or not.

R’feem intervened. ‘D’gar will be needed over at the infirmary,’ he told I’grast. ‘Herebeth’s wing is damaged. A joint injury.’

I’grast winced slightly. ‘Sorry about that. Finger joint?’

‘No, elbow.’ After stitching together the tattered hide and wrapping cloths soaked in ichor around the joint, the healer had taken him aside. ‘He’s a young dragon, so he’s got a good chance of healing well. Not perfectly, mind. I can’t promise that. You know how old dragons get stiff in the wings?’

During a Pass, there weren’t so many old dragons or riders about, but D’gar had seen a few of them. They could get off the ground and land without too much difficulty, even climb and glide, but the joint stiffness meant they couldn’t manoeuvre as they once had. ‘He’s going to be like that?’

‘Hopefully not. It’ll never be quite as flexible as the right wing again and when he does eventually become an old dragon, it might cause him problems. Now, if he were a green, or even a blue, losing that degree of manoeuvrability would really be an issue. As a larger dragon, his Threadfighting ability isn’t so much about quick turns, so he’ll probably manage to fight again. Mating flights…’ the healer made a face. ‘He’s probably not going to find so easy.’

‘We’ll deal with that when the time comes. So long as he can fly again…’ Herebeth would still get the urge to mate, but for male dragons, the flight itself brought a certain degree of relief, albeit tempered with disappointment if they didn’t win.

He’d listened to the advice from the healer and knew he had to keep the dressings moist with ichor every few hours night and day. Both Zemianth and Zurinth had donated some of their own, now in a bucket surrounded by ice to keep fresh. He also needed to remind Herebeth to drink frequently, as if he became dehydrated it could affect healing.

‘I’ll be joining you later. Need anything from the weyr?’ S’brin leaned across.

‘It looked like they’d provided everything. Bed, furs, the lot. Just bring me a few clothes. I’ll take some snacks over.’ He had a sudden thought. ‘How’s Herebeth going to eat if he can’t fly?’

‘We’ll get our two to catch him something fresh whenever he wants it. You’ll be back to moving dragon dung in barrows again, though.’

D’gar hadn’t had to do that since they were in the barracks and not for Herebeth since he learned to fly. Dragons were generally fastidious creatures who didn’t like to foul their living quarters. In the back of his mind, he felt Herebeth dozing. Not a bad thing, really. He’d had a stressful day.

The Wing were beginning to recount stories about T’mudra. They didn’t have as many as usual, as he’d not transferred long, but as D’gar was leaving, some of his former colleagues from the disbanded ‘I’ Wing came over to join in. He’d have a decent send off.

Out in the Bowl it was quiet. The sun had set, but the air was still warm. He glanced instinctively over to the benches outside the kitchen entrance and saw Agarra sitting there with Leanna, one of her colleagues. He thought he’d better tell her what had happened before she heard some garbled version over the grapevine.

‘Hi, mum.’

‘Hello, love. You’re out a bit early.’ She gestured toward the dining hall, noisy as it always was post-Threadfall.

‘I’ve got to get back to Herebeth. He’s in the dragon infirmary.’

Agarra rose to hug him. ‘Oh no! Is he badly hurt?’

‘He’s comfortable now, but he’s damaged a wing.’

Leanna put her hand over her mouth. ‘He wasn’t the one Luduth rescued this afternoon?’

‘She rescued a few, but I think it might have been one of the more dramatic ones.’

‘I thought you were both goners for sure.’ Realising what she’d said, she looked away from Agarra. ‘Well, that’s how it seemed to me.’

‘Good job you were wrong. She brought us down in the lake for safety. And he’s had his wing repaired, but I want to stay with him.’

‘Of course you do,’ Agarra said. ‘Leanna, could you go and get my son some snacks.’

She disappeared back into the kitchen. Agarra ran her hands over his arms as if to make sure he really was in one piece.

‘That’s why I wanted to tell you, before you heard an over-dramatised version of events.’

‘I know a few didn’t come back today.’ She sighed. ‘I try not to think too much about it, when you’re up there.’

‘Best way. But we’re all right. Herebeth will be out of it for a couple of months…’

‘Good.’ She blushed. ‘I know that’s a dreadful thing to say, but at least it will keep you both safe.’

Leanna returned with a bag. ‘There you are. Should keep you going overnight.’

‘Thanks. I’ll see you at breakfast and let you know how he’s getting on.’

He walked over to the infirmary weyrs through the gathering dark. No moon had risen yet, but a few glow baskets had been placed along the path.

Where are you? Herebeth had woken. I did not know you had gone.

On my way back to you right now.

Zurinth is with me. She says she will catch me some wherries when I want them. I am not very hungry now.

Don’t forget to drink. The healers said you must keep drinking.

I have drunk all the water here.

I’ll get you some more, then.

Thus began the endless round of fetching water, re-applying ichor soaked cloths, fetching buckets for when Herebeth needed to offload some of what he’d drunk and emptying them in the channel provided. By the time J’rud and S’brin arrived, a little bit worse for wear, he felt exhausted. Before he lay down on what was a very comfortable bed, he made sure Herebeth knew to wake him at any time he felt uncomfortable.

You do not always wake easily.

D’gar felt as if he could sleep for a sevenday. Then tell Zurinth or Zemianth and their riders will wake me. He felt himself drifting off. Or flick me with your tail, or something.

He woke some time later. The glows placed around the infirmary weyr still shone softly and he heard healers talking in quiet voices a little way off. S’brin had got into bed with him and was snoring softly in the way he always did when he had been drinking. The bed wasn’t big enough for three, so J’rud had settled in his own, over on the other side of Zurinth.

He sat up carefully, realising he didn’t know where the necessary was in here. Not wanting to disturb anyone too much, he used the bucket set aside for Herebeth’s needs, which he’d emptied and rinsed out before going to sleep. While he was up, he checked the dressings on Herebeth’s elbow joint. Were they moist enough or not? He decided to re-soak them anyway. Too much wouldn’t do any harm, whereas too little definitely would.

Herebeth slept through it all, which had to be good. At least he wasn’t in pain. D’gar climbed into bed again. S’brin immediately cuddled up to him, sending off waves of heat like the ovens in the kitchen. That was the good thing about sleeping with S’brin in the winter; not so great in the summer.

Sleep didn’t come easily again, even though he still felt tired. The day’s events kept flashing through his mind, bright and vivid as the lightning. If it hadn’t been for Herebeth’s quick reflexes… He imagined Thread smashing into his face or his body. If he wasn’t actually killed right away, he might wish he had been. Shells, but they’d been lucky. No, he’d been lucky. Lucky to have a dragon like Herebeth.

S’brin stirred. ‘Where are we?’ he asked, slightly woozily.

‘The dragon infirmary. With Herebeth.’

‘Oh, yes. I remember.’ S’brin put a hand to his head. ‘Think I drank too much.’

’T’mudra died. I expect everyone in the Wing drank too much.’ D’gar reached down and handed him the skin of water. ‘Have some of this, then you won’t feel so bad in the morning.’

S’brin swigged from it and wiped his mouth. ‘I bet you’ve been lying awake thinking about it, haven’t you?’

‘Well, yes. It was far too close for comfort.’

‘I didn’t know what had happened, only that you’d gone and didn’t come back. I was thinking all kinds of things. Shards! I never thought anything like that would happen to either of us.’

‘No one’s invincible. Herebeth and I were both blinded by that flash and didn’t see Thread until too late. One mistake is all it takes.’

S’brin stared off into the dimness beyond reach of the glows. ‘When we were drinking to T’mudra, I kept thinking it might have been you. If you’d died…’

‘You don’t get rid of me that easily,’ D’gar tried to make fun of it. He didn’t like seeing S’brin like this. He was supposed to be the serious one who thought too much.

S’brin turned to him and pulled him close so that D’gar could feel his heartbeat thudding. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you, ever. I’d rather it was me.’

‘Neither of us are going to die, all right.’ S’brin shouldn’t be thinking this way. S’brin’s optimism had kept him going many a time. ‘It was just an accident. Herebeth will get better. Don’t worry about us.’

‘I don’t reckon I’d cope without you.’

D’gar felt a tear fall onto his bare shoulder. ‘I bet everyone thinks that. But they do, when they have to. Zalna, for example. Or R’feem. M’rell will get over Rina, too. None of them will forget those people, but life has to carry on.’

‘I wouldn’t want to carry on.’

‘You would. You’d still have Zemianth. She needs you as much - more, probably - than me. Dragons are the reason we riders cope better than ordinary folk when someone close dies. We’re permanently linked with another creature. Herebeth’s a part of me, just like Zemianth is with you. You know, he told me to jump when we were falling. He thought I’d be easier for one of the other dragons to catch. But if I had and he’d died, I’d be lost forever anyway.’ He remembered those dreadful moments over the Bowl. ‘I said I’d stay, that we’d take our chances together. I was more worried about how much it would hurt when we crashed, but he said he’d take us between before we hit the ground.’ It all sounded so matter-of-fact like that. Considering how fast it had unfolded, D’gar was almost surprised he’d had much time to think at all.

‘Must’ve been terrible.’

‘Not really. I’d been scared all afternoon, when we were fighting. It didn’t really seem much worse.’

S’brin wiped his eyes quickly, then looked at D’gar. ‘You’re the better part of me. Nothing’s allowed to happen to you.’ He kissed D’gar tenderly, then, still wrapped in each other’s arms, they lay down and went to sleep.

The following morning, the healer arrived early. He unwrapped Herebeth’s wing joint and nodded in pleased fashion. ‘It’s looking well. Can you ask him if he’s feeling any pain?’

D’gar did.

It is a little uncomfortable, Herebeth admitted. D’gar passed it on.

‘I’ll give you some more numbweed for him. We’ll need some fresh ichor later, so if those two greens are happy about it, I’ll take some more from them.’

He left Herebeth only to go and eat. By then, rumours had spread.

‘I’m really sorry,’ P’ton said. ‘For such a young dragon to never fly again… It’s awful.’

‘It’s also untrue. The dragon healer said he might have a slightly stiff elbow joint, but it’ll just mean he’s a bit less manoeuvrable on that side. He’ll certainly be flying.’

‘Did they give you an idea how long he’d take to recover?’ R’feem enquired. He’d need to know, for the Wing’s sake.

‘About two months, they thought.’

‘Well, you’d nearly done all your training anyway. N’rir, would you be happy to sign D’gar off?’

‘Sure, boss. He knows what he’s doing now. Just needs the practical experience.’

‘Then, while he’s sitting around getting bored, maybe you could turn over some of the admin to him.’

N’rir’s face lit up. D’gar had long since discovered he hated admin. I’grast hated it even more, though and as he had seniority, he’d passed it on to N’rir.

D’gar didn’t mind at all. It was similar to what he’d been doing in the archives. ‘I’m happy with that. Although I need to stay with Herebeth to make sure his joint doesn’t dry out.’

‘Of course. That goes without saying. I’d not ask you to do anything that might compromise his recovery.’ R’feem sipped his klah. ‘Let’s hope we don’t have too many more Falls like that one.’

During the day, several of his wingmates came over to the infirmary, probably to see if Herebeth’s injury was as bad as they’d been told. He was sitting drinking klah with J’rud and S’brin when V’chal and Is’ish arrived. V’chal was wearing trousers so tight D’gar wondered how he didn’t injure himself just putting them on. Is’ish would probably have worn something similar if not for his false leg restricting his choices, but made up for it with a truly garish shirt.

J’rud covered his eyes, pretending to be blinded by it. ‘Where did you get that shirt?’

‘Igen Gather, last Turn. Unique, isn’t it?’

‘Remind me not to shop on that stall,’ J’rud said to S’brin.

D’gar sighed. He hated it when greens sniped at each other. ‘Nice of you to spare the time to visit,’ he said, trying to keep it friendly.

‘Well, we wanted to see for ourselves,’ Is’ish said. ‘You can never believe everything you hear.’ As he was often one of the main purveyors of gossip, there was a certain degree of irony in his comment.

V’chal had been looking at Herebeth’s Wing. ‘Doesn’t look that bad at all.’ He sounded slightly disappointed.

‘No, he didn’t lose too much wingsail,’ D’gar agreed neutrally. ‘And we’re keeping the joint soaked in ichor.’

V’chal went to lift the cloth, but Herebeth shifted away. What is that man doing?

Being nosy. You can hiss at him if you want.

As V’chal tried again, Herebeth did. He sounded quite fierce.

V’chal jumped back. ‘What’s up with him?’

‘He’s injured and he doesn’t know you very well.’

‘Yeah,’ S’brin said. ‘He’s had healers all over him since yesterday and he’s not feeling too happy.’

‘It’s not like you’re here out of the kindness of your heart,’ J’rud added.

V’chal turned on him. ‘Pity he won’t be able to fly your dragon again. Going to miss out on all the fun in the flight cave, aren’t you?’

S’brin stood to loom over V’chal. ‘D’gar nearly died yesterday. He doesn’t need you bothering him. So piss off.’

‘Feeling protective today, S’brin? Which one of these two do you like best?’

‘I like them both better than I’ll ever like you.’

D’gar thought he was keeping his temper very well. A few Turns ago, he’d probably already have swung at V’chal, but he thought he should calm it down. ‘My dragon isn’t well and he’s getting distressed. I’d prefer it if you left.’

‘Come on.’ Is’ish pulled at V’chal’s sleeve. ‘He’s being a bit proddy today,’ he told D’gar.

‘All the more reason to take himself somewhere he won’t offend anyone.’ J’rud struggled to his feet as well, holding his crutch out like a weapon.

D’gar watched them leave, feeling Herebeth relax too. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘Sharding idiots.’ S’brin still sounded angry. ‘Why bother to come over here at all if it’s just to be like that?’

‘It’s how they are.’ J’rud eased himself down again, wincing a little. ‘Especially now you don’t hang around with them much any more.’

‘I got tired of all the bitching,’ S’brin said. ‘I mean, we all feel like getting things off our chest now and then, but those two are like it all the time. Is’ish’s a good flyer though, I’ll give him that.’

‘Fancy making that comment about mating flights, too.’ J’rud shook his head. ‘There was no call for that.’

D’gar hadn’t told either of them what the healer had said, yet. ‘He might be right. Herebeth should be fine fighting Thread, they said, but he could have lost that fine degree of manoeuvrability necessary to win a flight.’

‘We’ll see about that when he’s flying again. They always give you the worst case scenario at first.’ S’brin put his arm around D’gar. ‘Anyway, we do pretty well without the dragons being involved at all.’

It was all right for him. Herebeth and Zemianth hadn’t mated often, due to her preference for bronzes. He could see the expression in J’rud’s eyes though. Zurinth liked Herebeth and he didn’t much enjoy the three monthly ordeal of being a green rider. ‘It probably won’t be as bad as they said. And If a green wants Herebeth to win, who knows what might happen.’

‘Yeah. I suppose so.’

S’brin had to leave later as Zemianth wanted to eat. J’rud took Zurinth out for her daily flight. As dragons tended to, she was healing much faster than him. While they were away and D’gar was tending the wing joint again, N’rir turned up with a shoulder bag filled with rolled hides and a couple of wax tablets.

‘You carry on,’ he said, settling down on the side of the bed. ‘How is he?’

‘Says he’s fine. Nothing hurts, anyway.’ While he was about it, D’gar encouraged Herebeth to drink more water. Duties complete, he went to sit with N’rir.

He unrolled the first hide. ‘I’m supposed to update these after every Fall, but sometimes I get behind on them. This one’s a record of injuries and deaths.’

D’gar glanced at it. It was a good three months out of date. ‘How are you going to remember what happened all that time ago?

N’rir tapped the tablet. ‘I do rough notes on this. Just need copying across, really.’ He went on to show D’gar the other hides. One was for transfers in and out of the Wing, the other to record training. D’gar didn’t think any of it would take him very long, especially if it was done regularly.

‘Think you can cope with that?’ he asked, hopefully.

‘I reckon so. It’ll be something to do.’

N’rir rose. ‘Just wanted to say it’s a real pity something like that happened to you two.’

‘I’d rather it hadn’t as well.’ He appreciated N’rir’s concern. ‘Oh, well. More support duty. See you later in the dining hall.’

N’rir stroked Herebeth’s neck before leaving. Without his burden of admin, he had much more of a spring in his step.

Zemianth returned carrying a freshly killed wherry in her mouth. She placed it down in front of Herebeth, then watched as he ate it fairly quickly, crunching the bones.

I didn’t think you were hungry.

Zemianth offered to bring me one. And I do like wherry. He licked his lips, then sneezed, blowing a few feathers away. D’gar washed the floor so the blood didn’t attract any pests.

‘It’s lovely out there,’ S’brin said. ‘Think I might go for a swim in the lake. How about you?’

It sounded like a great idea. ‘I’ll check with Herebeth.’

‘He knows where you are. He can have a doze or something.’

I would like to lie in the sun, too.

D’gar wasn’t sure if it would be good for him. He spotted one of the healers further inside, tending to a blue with far worse wing damage than Herebeth.

‘My dragon wants to sit in the sun. Should he?’

‘It won’t hurt. Sunlight aids healing. Just make sure the cloth’s well-soaked before he goes outside and keep checking it.’

‘All right.’ He paused before leaving the man to his work. ‘How does it look, so far?’

‘You’re doing all the right things. Keep on like that and we should end up with a good result.’

It didn’t really tell him anything new, but he supposed it didn’t do for the healers to be too optimistic. ‘Thanks.’

They spent a pleasant couple of hours. S’brin turned the swim into an exercise session more than a leisurely soak, but D’gar didn’t mind. He needed to keep his fitness levels up while he wasn’t riding Fall regularly. Herebeth sprawled in the sun, looking very content.

Over the next few days, life shrank down to tending his dragon, updating the admin and sitting around in a sunny spot outside the infirmary door. He got to know a few other riders whose dragons were confined there and brought cakes over from the kitchen to share with them. He realised fairly soon Herebeth was nowhere near as badly injured as some. Two would be lucky to fly again at all, while another had lost part of his left hindlimb, so found it difficult to get around on the ground or to spring into take off.

Threadfall came round again, as it always did. He watched ‘C’ Wing depart from the Weyr, hoping everyone he cared about came back whole. Herebeth was unable to help at all, but D’gar stayed on standby with J’rud, fetching and carrying whenever they were asked. Compared with the last one, it was a good Fall; just a handful of injuries. He joined them in the dining hall afterwards, dutifully noting down the information he needed for the records on the tablet.

The next day, most of the Wing decided to spend a day at the beach. He wouldn’t leave Herebeth, so once again, he waved them off. Zurinth was fit enough to fly in non-strenuous fashion, so even J’rud left him.

‘You could still come along,’ S’brin said. ‘I mean, Herebeth doesn’t need you all the time.’

‘Would you leave Zemianth if she was hurt?’

‘Well, no,’ he agreed reluctantly.

As it happened, the day didn’t go so badly, after all. Around mid-afternoon, when the Weyr was still and quiet beneath the relentless sun, a gold dragon appeared in the sky, descending slowly into the Bowl. D’gar recognised Gemalth. Look who’s here, he told Herebeth.

They didn’t come over right away. In fact, D’gar began to wonder if Zalna was there to visit him at all, after she went inside Mardra’s weyr. Maybe it was just routine business? Still, it was something different to watch and to pass the time.

After a fairly short while, Zalna emerged, climbed back on her dragon and took off. She didn’t ascend though, but glided over towards the dragon infirmary. Herebeth perked up to see her.

‘Hello. What brings you to Fort?’

‘Partly Weyr business, partly a social call. I dropped by at the cove on my way here and they told me what had happened to you.’

‘I’m fine. It’s Herebeth.’

She looked up at his wing with interest. ‘I’ve started to learn about dragon healing this Turn. I can see that’s a very neat mending job.’

Indeed, even after only a few days, new hide was beginning to grow, supported by material and splints. ‘I’m not so concerned about the mainsail damage. It’s the elbow joint that worries me. They keep assuring me it’ll be fine, but…’ he shrugged.

Zalna moved closer to Herebeth. ‘Does he mind me touching his wing?’

‘No.’

Herebeth turned his head round as she carefully removed the cloths. ‘That’s looking good, as well. Plenty of ichor. You’ve been making sure he drinks well?’

‘Encouraging Herebeth to drink is what I spend a large part of the day doing. Plus re-soaking those cloths to make sure it doesn’t dry out externally, either.’

‘It’s all you can do, right now. Once the hide’s grown back over all the holes and that joint’s covered over, you should start some water treatment. Arbruthol - that’s our head dragon healer - swears by it.’

‘What does that involve?’

‘Getting him in the lake and moving the wing. It’ll be a while yet before the new hide’s robust enough for flying, but if he can do the same sort of exercises as weyrlings when they’re getting ready to fly for the first time, it’ll help.’

‘I’d never thought about that.’ It should be obvious, really.

‘Not until it’s fully healed over though. Water can cause infections if the hide’s broken. Now,’ she said, sitting on the warmed stone bench. ‘Are you going to tell me all the latest gossip?’

Zalna’s visit boosted his spirits; a bright point in a dull existence. People tried to help, of course, but not being able to fly at all - not even on short, straight flights - prevented him from participating in a lot of the off-duty activity.

It was almost a month before the wound over the elbow closed over fully and another two sevendays before enough hide had grown back for the supporting framework to be removed. D’gar had been oiling the new hide ever since it had grown thick enough to be practical, having figured out that what was good for a growing dragon also went for a dragon growing new hide.

‘Ask him to move his wing gently,’ the healer said.

Herebeth was hesitant at first. It does not feel the same as the other one, he said.

It won’t. You’ve not been able to use it, so the muscle is weaker that side, just like J’rud’s leg when he started walking without crutches again.

‘I’ve been thinking about this,’ D’gar said to the healer. ‘Do you think it might help him to move his wings in the water, so he can strengthen the muscles before he tries flying again?’ He didn’t like taking credit for Zalna’s suggestion, but sometimes people could be funny when they knew an idea had come from another Weyr.

‘Hmm? No harm, now it’s fully healed.’

That afternoon, he walked slowly over to the lake with Herebeth and swam out with him to a sufficient depth to allow him to practice the motions his wings would go through when flying. Herebeth loved being in the water again. Seeing him there, Zurinth and Zemianth flew down from their weyrs, S’brin diving off with a huge splash while J’rud waited for Zurinth to land before sliding off in more conventional manner. The two greens swam around him, making him show off all the more.

Don’t overdo it, D’gar warned.

I am having fun. I will stop if it hurts.

He had to credit his dragon with some common sense and, to be fair, Herebeth hadn’t had much opportunity to have fun over the last few sevendays. Swimming and messing around in the water with J’rud and S’brin made him a lot more cheerful, too. They ended up playing a game where they had to swim under one dragon, then two and finally three.

J’rud was very pleased he’d managed to complete the challenge. ‘Couldn’t have done that a sevenday ago. My leg wasn’t strong enough. But S’brin’s been forcing me to swim and run and it’s done it good.’

‘I’m hoping it’ll do the same for Herebeth’s wing. Don’t want to hurry, but if it helps him to get in the air a bit quicker, then why not?’

After the first experiment, D’gar spent every afternoon at the lake, encouraging Herebeth to move his wing against the resistance of the water. Now and then he said it ached, but from the area he pointed out, D’gar realised it was more likely to be the ache of a muscle that hadn’t been used for a while than any weakness from the repair. He was diligently applying oil and massaging it in when J’rud looked up. ‘Hey, D’gar? You feel like giving me a massage too. My leg could do with it.’

‘And after him, you can do me,’ S’brin called.

‘You don’t have any injuries.’

‘Parts of me are stiff.’

‘Parts?’ D’gar teased.

‘Well, a specific part.’

‘Think we’d better take this back to the weyr,’ J’rud suggested. ‘Then the dragons can carry on having their fun and we can have ours.’