Threadfall - 44. A Golden Dragon

‘I need to talk to you.’ J’rud stopped D’gar as he left the dining hall.

Eleventh month had brought an early cold spell with a biting wind whirling around the Bowl. ‘What?’ D’gar just wanted to get back to his cosy weyr.

’Can I come up?’

He’d been putting this off for long enough. D’gar didn’t want to deliberately hurt J’rud, but he needed him to realise the relationship they’d had was over. ‘All right.’

Herebeth seemed happy to have Zurinth with him again. They snuggled together on the heated couch. I am glad Zurinth is here, he said. She is such a pretty dragon.

Ah, so that was what this was about. D’gar counted back the months. Yes, she’d be due to rise again soon.

J’rud stepped inside, wrinkling his nose. D’gar wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t bothered to clean the place for a while. It seemed pointless. ‘Sit down, if you want.'

J’rud moved a pile of laundered shirts from the chair. He seemed unsure where to put them and finally settled for the desk, brushing away dust before he did so. ‘How are you, really?’

‘Getting by.’ No more Thread had fallen since Ruatha. ‘C’ Wing - what was left of it - still flew regular patrols over allocated areas, but it didn’t have the same sense of purpose as fighting.

‘You don’t look it. This place…’ he gestured around the untidy weyr. ‘It’s not like you to live like this.’

‘I’m not much like me any more. Anyway, say what you came here to say and let’s get it over with.’ He didn’t care if he sounded brusque.

J’rud sighed. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself? There are plenty of people who want to help you get over it.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to “get over it.” Isn’t that a bit like pretending S’brin never existed?’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. And of course, you’ll never forget him. But after a while, life will move on. It has to.’

D’gar vaguely remembered saying something similar to Zalna. It was a wonder she hadn’t just told him to get lost. He’d had no idea, back then. ‘So what’s your plan? Herebeth catches Zurinth, then you move in here with me and we live happily ever after.’

‘No!’ J’rud protested. ‘She’s close to rising, I’ll admit that, but I’m not expecting Herebeth to chase. I’ll always care about you, though. It’s one of the reasons I can’t bear to see you like this.’

He seemed genuine enough. J’rud had always been kind. But it wasn’t right for him to waste his time on a lost cause. ‘I’ll manage,’ he said. ‘Everyone has their own way. Some drink, some weep…’

‘Some become suicidal.’

‘Herebeth took care of us both. And Thread’s gone now, so you don’t need to worry about that any more.’

J’rud slumped forward and put his head in his hands. ‘You really don’t see it, do you? How you’re pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if you want to be miserable forever.’

Maybe he did. What was wrong with that?

‘Even Agarra’s worried about you. She’s hardly seen you in the past few sevendays.’

‘I’ll drop by the kitchens later.’

‘You aren’t eating enough,’ J’rud continued. ‘Not that you’ve ever been fat, but your clothes are practically hanging off you these days.’

Food just didn’t seem to taste of anything much. He’d lost his appetite in more ways than one. Weyr gossip seemed trivial, the laughter and chatter in the dining hall grating. Even a gold flight probably wouldn’t have much effect on him right now.

J’rud recovered himself. ‘I won’t force my company on you any longer. I can see you don’t want me to be here. But if one day you find you need to talk, just get Herebeth to bespeak Zurinth. I’ll always be there for you.’

D’gar nodded slowly, then listened to J’rud’s departing footsteps and the sound of Zurinth taking off from the ledge.

It is a pity Zurinth has gone, Herebeth said.

Now he was being unfair to his dragon. Go and find her, if you want.

No. You need me more than she does.

What about when she rises?

Herebeth’s mind gave the equivalent of a human shrug. I do not need to chase her. I do not have to chase any green unless it is your choice too.

Oh, Herebeth. D’gar felt tears spring to his eyes. He pushed past the curtain and went to join his dragon on the couch. Herebeth made life bearable, bringing colour to the gloom that had settled around him.

Another sevenday passed. He kept waiting for R’feem to draw him aside and give him a lecture about his behaviour, but R’feem was one of the few who left him alone. Perhaps he realised nothing he could say would make any difference. D’gar was glad about that.

Weyr life carried on. Zurinth rose and was caught by blue Regath from ’D’ Wing. D’gar didn’t take much notice, except for being glad J’rud seemed happy with the outcome.

T’ron announced anyone who had been transferred could rejoin their former Wings, if they so wished. Some did, while others had settled where they were. Sh’than had taken up a Wingsecond’s position in ‘H’ Wing just before the final Fall, so he had no reason to come back. He’d persuaded P’ton to stay as well. ‘H’ Wing was short of the larger dragons and there would be further prospects for promotion.

‘Good thing,’ M’rell mentioned to D’gar, when they heard the news. ‘We might get to keep our positions. Might even get proper knots and a decent weyr, too.’

‘I’grast’s going to be fit for duty soon,’ he pointed out. Tiriorth was flying again, although his landings were still a little uncontrolled as he learned to compensate for his weaker leg.

‘Then we’ll have to wrestle for it.’ M’rell punched his arm in friendly fashion. ‘Or have a drinking competition.’

‘I think I’m going to step down anyway.’

M’rell seemed surprised. ‘You’d give it up, just like that?’

D’gar shrugged. It was another thing that didn’t really matter any more. ‘Not as if we’re fighting now, is it?’

‘Even better for us. Good position and no danger. You know, even after such a short while I’ve almost forgotten about Thread.’

‘I haven’t.’ Sometimes, in his sleep, he’d replay the battles. All too often the dreams ended with him running to the the infirmary, wading through a lake of blood.

‘Well, no.’ M’rell looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have reminded you.’

‘No harm done.’ He forced a smile. Lately, he’d realised this was an effective way to reassure people he was improving.

‘We still haven’t got together for a drink.’

‘Maybe nearer to Turn’s End?’

‘Sure. Could even make it a bit of a party for our clutchmates. Celebrate the end of the Pass our own way.'

It sounded like a nightmare. All those people, crowded inside a weyr. No place to hide. He’d find some excuse not to attend. ‘If you like.’

‘Right. Well, better get off. I’ll let you know when it’s planned.’

D’gar watched him leave. Now there was no Thread to fight, Wing duties took up far less of his time. He poured another mug of klah and sat by the hearth, watching the flames dance merrily. His mind began to wander down well-worn pathways, images of that dreadful day filling the void. They were so clear they were almost like a visual you’d give to your dragon, except, of course, dragons could only travel from place to place, not through time. He mused about that for a while. If he could go back, maybe Herebeth could warn Zemianth to avoid the fatal strand of Thread? But you couldn’t change the past. S’brin was dead and that was it.

‘Deep in thought as ever.’

The familiar voice made him spin around, almost spilling his klah. ‘Zalna! What brings you here?’

‘The weather was even worse at Benden, so I thought I’d come over to visit a few old friends.’ She sat down next to him on the bench. ‘A hot klah would be appreciated.’

‘Oh, right. Of course.’ He carefully poured it and added the amount of sweetener she preferred. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Time flies when you’re busy. This Turn has rushed by.’ She cupped the mug between her hands and glanced around the dining hall. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘I think most of them have escaped the cold weather. Probably in Southern Boll somewhere.’

‘I miss those warm seas. So does Gemalth.’

‘Maybe you’ll have the chance to come over here more often now there’s no fear of Thread.’ Conversation with her was easy, but he knew sooner or later she’d want to know about S’brin.

Zalna looked at him again, more thoroughly. D’gar knew he was a bit of a mess. He’d not shaved for a day or two and he should really have put on a clean shirt this morning, but it hadn’t seemed important.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked quietly. ‘Is everything…?’

It wasn’t done to ask directly about people. He’d skirted around the subject when he’d last gone over to Benden, not wanting to find out if any of the riders he’d met on secondment had died. But she had to know. ‘No, everything’s not all right. S’brin was killed in ninth month.’

‘Oh, D’gar. I’m so sorry.’ Her voice was filled with genuine sympathy. She quickly set down her mug and hugged him.

D’gar felt tears welling up as they hadn’t for a while. ‘It was… a shock. But I’m getting over it.’ That was more for her benefit than truth. Not a day went by when he wasn’t reminded of S’brin.

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Not really. You know how it is.’ He pulled back from her embrace, conscious he probably didn’t smell too fresh.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘No one does.’ He paused briefly. ‘You must have hated me, back then. Saying all those stupid things after K’torl died. I didn’t have a clue…’

‘You helped me more than you’ll ever know.’

‘Well, at least that’s something.’ He stared into the flames. ‘Sorry. I’m not great company. You’d probably get more conversation out of Herebeth.’

‘How is he?’

‘Dragons forget, don’t they? I mean, he still remembers Zemianth, when I mention her, but he doesn’t brood over it like I do.’ His voice cracked as he tried to stop tears. ‘I try to be cheerful because I don’t want him to pick up on my misery all the time. There’s not even Fall to keep us occupied any more. You know, the last few times we fought, I really hoped I’d get hit. Wiped out. Isn’t that terrible of me?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I was the same. Gemalth kept me here. I knew it was unfair of me to expose her to danger.’

D’gar nodded. Herebeth had been a steadying influence on him. Herebeth had kept him alive, even when he’d have been glad to join S’brin. ‘So, here I am, thanks to my dragon.’

Zalna picked up her klah again and took a sip. ‘It’s not easy, but as time goes by, the pain lessens. You won’t forget him - I’ve never forgotten K’torl - but you’ll find yourself recalling the happier times, rather than dwelling on the end.’

K’torl had gone between and never emerged. At least Zalna had been spared any horrific sights. ‘I wasn’t there, when he died. That’s the worst part. I carried on fighting, as you do. It was only when I got back to the Weyr and found him…’ There was no need to go into the bloody details.’Afterwards, I remembered something you said, all those Turns ago.’

‘What?’

‘You said it felt like a part of yourself was stuck between and the rest of you was just going through the motions. I didn’t know what you were on about, back then. Now, I know all too well. It’s exactly how I feel.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘It’s all right. Not your fault. Not anyone’s fault. Just sharding stupid bad luck. I’ll get over it. That’s what they keep telling me.’

‘Yes, People are fond of saying that. I got a lot of it, particularly after a few sevendays had passed. It’s almost as if they let you mourn for a set period of time, then expect you to snap back to normal, as if nothing had happened.’

D’gar had felt that pressure, too. ‘I’m not the same as I was before. M’rell’s not the same after losing Rina. He’s decided he’s never going to fall in love again.’

‘I can understand that, too. I’ve not looked for any romantic attachments at Benden. I keep telling myself it’s my duty as a weyrwoman not to become attached to one man, when Gemalth will probably mate with lots of different dragons over the Turns, but deep down it’s because I’m scared of losing someone all over again.’

‘It’s less likely now.’

‘True. But there’s more than one way get your heart broken. People spilt up. People die of other things apart from Thread. It’s not worth the risk.’

He pondered over what she’d said. I’grast had done well enough by keeping his emotions separate from his bodily needs. M’rell was having fun with women who had no more intention than he did of settling down. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ He decided to relieve her of the need to ask about people she’d known. ‘T’garrin and M’ta have gone to the beach, along with most of the Wing. M’rell stayed in the Weyr today. J’rud too. Don’t know where he is, though.’

‘Are you not still together?’

‘Not without S’brin.’

‘Have you told him that?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘You’ll have to, sooner or later.’

‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘It’s all so difficult.’

She hugged him again. ‘I know you’re strong enough. You always do the right thing for other people. Like helping a poor young weyrwoman untangle her dragon.’

He smiled, realising it wasn’t a fake one this time. ‘You’ll want to go and see some other folk while you’re here. I’d better not take up all your time.’ It would be evening at Benden, half a world away.

‘Yes. But I’ll come back as soon as I can. You’ve helped me plenty of times. I want to do the same for you.’

D’gar went back to his weyr. It really was a mess up here. He took the pile of laundry off the cluttered table and placed them in his clothing niche. This, of course, meant he couldn’t avoid seeing S’brin’s clothes, still stacked untidily as he’d put them there, the day before he died. He supposed it was time he took them down to the stores. Some of the taller riders might find some use from them. But as he picked the first shirt from the pile he couldn’t help remember the last time S’brin had worn it, at the Fort Gather. They all been so carefree back then, not knowing what lurked just around the corner. It was only two months ago, but felt like ancient times. He carefully put the shirt back. Maybe later.

The following day, R’feem asked D’gar and M’rell to his weyr. It was a regular Wing meeting. ‘C’ Wing were scheduled on patrols next time, to check the area in case of an unexpected Thread incursion. No one really expected it now; but T’ron was being rightfully cautious and the Holders were equally reassured by the sight of dragons overflying their land. They’d barely begun when R’feem’s eyes suddenly unfocussed as Piroth relayed a message to him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I have to go. Not sure how long I’m going to be, so maybe you two could go through the usual; formations, firestone requirements and the like.’

‘Of course,’ D’gar said, slightly intrigued. For R’feem to be called away so suddenly, it must be at the Weyrleader’s behest.

‘That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?’ M’rell said.

‘Just what I was thinking, too. It’s certainly not pre-planned.’

‘Do you think something’s happened? Thread, maybe?’

‘Don’t know.’ If that was the case, why hadn’t the Wings all been alerted? D’gar listened to the familiar noises of a dragon and rider getting ready to fly, then Piroth was gone from his ledge. His curiosity prickled. ‘Shall we go and see if we can figure it out.’

M’rell grinned. ‘Let’s do that.’

On their way out, D’gar noticed R’feem had put his fighting straps on Piroth rather than the more lightweight ones for normal use. He and M’rell lurked on the ledge, trying to stay out of view, while also keen to see what was going on.

Down in the Bowl, Piroth stood close to T’ron’s Fidranth, the two bronze riders leaning over to talk. As they watched, Sarneth glided in to land, followed by Nilath. So, T’ron had summoned several of his Wingleaders for some reason. Sh’viel and V’dul had brought some of the heavy nets used for carrying large loads slung beneath a dragon. Even more intriguing. Finally, Mardra joined them on Loranth and the group took off, winking out between just above the rim.

‘Looks like they expect to be carrying something.’

‘Yeah,’ M’rell agreed. ‘But when did Wingleaders ever do heavy work? You’d think they’d have called on some greens if that was the case.’

‘Maybe something too heavy for greens? Or something they don’t want anyone to know about?’ D’gar had heard of instances where dragons had helped save the crew of sinking ships, but if it was something like that, why not just send a Wing?

‘There’ll be speculation starting already. We aren’t the only ones looking.’

Other riders were also out on their ledges and a few had spilled out from the dining hall. It didn’t take long for news to spread around the Weyr.

‘Well, nothing else we can do,’ M’rell said. ‘Shall we order up some snacks as we’ve got a service shaft in here?’

‘Why not?’

D’gar wrote the plans on a wax tablet, while he and M’rell ate their way through a selection of pastries. It wasn’t very taxing work and his mind kept wandering back to what they’d seen.

M’rell was obviously doing the same. ‘A Hold’s on fire and they’re trying to save people?’ he suggested.

‘Why not take more dragons, then?’

‘Hmm…’ M’rell finished the last pastry, licking his fingers.

‘They’ve found a shipwreck washed up on a beach somewhere and are trying to salvage valuables before anyone else gets to it.’ That was plausible and could account for only taking a few trusted people along.

‘Mardra went too,’ M’rell said. ‘Maybe something’s happened at Ruatha. After all, her father’s the Lord there.’

‘Good point.’ D’gar had already asked Herebeth to keep his eyes open and let him know when they returned. ‘We’d best tidy this place up. Don’t want R’feem coming back to find crumbs everywhere.’

It was as they loaded the bowls and empty mugs into the service hatch, Herebeth spoke. The bronzes return. They are carrying something large and heavy between them.

M’rell must have got a similar message from Toth. He quickly piled the last few pieces in and sent it down. ‘Come on.’

They rushed out to the ledge again, in time to see the four bronzes descending toward the infirmary weyrs. The nets were thick and padded, but through the gaps, it was clear they held a golden dragon.

D’gar felt a sudden panic, worried something might have happened to one of the other Fort queens, but this dragon was much larger and paler in colour. Mardra carried a passenger ahead of her on Loranth, tied firmly to her straps and slumped over the neck ridges.

‘Looks like something bad’s happened to that pair,’ M’rell commented. Indeed, as they landed carefully and released the nets, the dragon within made a feeble attempt to get to her feet, only to collapse again, one wing outstretched. Even from so far away, D’gar could tell her wingspan must be huge.

After a short while, dragon healers brought out a couple of the wheeled platforms they used for transporting badly injured dragons into the weyrs. With the help of the bronze riders and their dragons, they finally got the queen inside. Mardra had already taken the unknown weyrwoman up to her own weyr.

‘Should we leave, do you think? Before R’feem gets back?’

‘No,’ D’gar said. ‘He might tell us something. I mean, they can’t keep a dragon that size a secret for long.’ Even if the riders didn’t, dragons would gossip.

When R’feem walked in, they had arranged themselves as if they’d just finished working. He glanced at D’gar while taking off his wherhide gear. ‘I suppose you saw most of that.’

Well…’ There wasn’t much point in lying. ‘Us and half the Weyr.’

‘Then you probably know as much as I do, except you got out of the heavy work.’ he slapped his gloves down on the desk. ’T’ron didn’t tell us much, except that Mardra’s father found that pair just outside his Hold doors this morning. He figured the best place for them both was the Weyr.’

‘Who are they?’ D’gar asked.

‘That’s the puzzle. They’re young, certainly. I’m inclined to think they maybe misjudged a jump between and came out somewhere they didn’t expect. The dragon’s so exhausted she can barely move, let alone fly and her rider was unconscious. Don’t suppose we’ll find out any more until she recovers.’

He briefly looked over what they’d done and approved it. ‘You’d best get off now. I’ve another meeting to attend.’

Despite the inclement weather, there were a lot of riders and weyrfolk hanging around the Bowl. Speculation had already begun. When T’ron fetched the Masterharper and two senior healers from their Crafthall, it only increased the rumours.

D’gar, for the first time in months, found himself interested enough in the mystery to start talking with other riders from ‘C’ Wing.

‘So, where’s she come from?’ M’ta asked. ‘Thought I knew just about every gold pair on Pern.’

‘Me too,’ I’grast added. ‘And did you see the size of that dragon? Must be a tail length longer than Loranth, at least.’

‘An older weyrling perhaps?’ D’gar suggested. R’feem had said they were both young.

‘There haven’t been many gold eggs laid anywhere in the last few Turns, but it’s possible, I suppose.’ M’ta picked at his teeth as he finished speaking.

‘Might be from High Reaches,’ I’grast put in. ‘They don’t really mix much.’

‘Yeah, and no one wants to go there and freeze their balls off.’ T’garrin’s comment raised a few laughs.

‘Oh well, I suppose someone will be missing her and come looking. It’ll probably all be over by this time tomorrow.’ I’grast sat back, putting his feet up along the bench as he often did. ‘Funny, isn’t it, how we’re getting all excited about something that’s probably nothing. No Thread to worry about any more, that’s what happens.’

The following day, ‘C’ Wing mustered to follow the path Thread would be expected to take over Southern Boll, if it was still falling. The dragons chewed a small amount of firestone and each rider carried extra bags, just in case. But it was an uneventful patrol. D’gar noticed people working in the fields below. Evidently they - or their Lord - didn’t feel any need to find shelter. The transition from Pass to Interval had already occurred for most folk, it seemed. He wondered how long before complacency set in; before people forgot the skies had rained down death on a regular basis. Children were being born even now who would never know about Thread, except in teaching ballads or tapestries.

They returned to the Weyr late in the afternoon to find several unfamiliar bronzes on the heights. D’gar recognised R’mart’s Branth among them.

’Weyrleaders’ meeting,’ R’feem confirmed. ’T’ron’s not losing any time trying to find out where that pair came from.’

D’gar glanced over toward the infirmary weyr, but the queen dragon must be well inside as there was no sight of her. ‘I hope they’re both going to be all right.’

‘I’m sure they will be. Dragons recover fast. People take a while longer, but the weyrwoman didn’t seem to be physically hurt. Probably just exhausted, like her dragon.’

Later, in the dining hall, speculation flickered between the tables like lightning. The pair had travelled from some forgotten Weyr in the Western Isles. They had flown all the way to Pern from one of the moons, hence being so exhausted.

‘Don’t they just love to gossip,’ R’feem commented. ‘I’m sure we’ll find out later on today exactly which Weyr she’s from. To be honest, I only know the names of the senior queens and a few others I’ve met over the Turns.’

D’gar had to agree. He knew of Zalna, at Benden and that the Weyrwoman’s name was Morna, but he wasn’t sure how many other junior queens they had. He also knew those at Telgar, through having been there. He’d been taught the names of the leading pairs at all the six Weyrs as a weyrling, but who knew if they were still correct.

R’feem headed off several questions from people presuming he had inside knowledge, firstly because he had been included in the rescue party and secondly because his weyrmate Hebiri was one of those looking after the queen’s rider. ‘I don’t know anything more than anyone else here,’ he repeated countless times.

D’gar wasn’t at all surprised when R’feem left the dining hall almost as soon as he’d finished eating. It was noted the other Weyrleaders had left earlier but T’ron and Mardra didn’t come down to eat. Presumably they didn’t want to fend off questions either. Someone said they’d seen Fidranth killing a couple of wherries for the queen earlier and she had nibbled at one.

‘The intrigue deepens,’ I’grast commented. ‘Think I’ll have to ask Tiriorth if he’s managed to find out anything.’ Tiriorth was still in the ground level weyrs himself as he found landing on his own weyr ledge tricky.

‘Well, if the queen’s recovered enough to try and eat, she might want to talk with other dragons.’

‘My thoughts, too.’

I’grast came to breakfast the following morning with a swagger. Everyone clustered around him.

‘Well, did Tiriorth talk to her?’ M’rell asked eagerly.

‘A little. She’s still very tired, naturally. Would someone fetch me a klah, please?’

R’nix and E’gir raced to the klah kettle. R’nix just won and returned with a steaming mug, which he placed on the table in front of I’grast.

He moved it around a few times, letting the anticipation build, until he finally took pity on them all. ‘Her name’s Ramoth. She said she was feeling a little better today but didn’t know where she was. Tiriorth told her this was Fort Weyr and she thanked him, then said she needed to sleep some more.’ He blew on the klah to cool it down. ‘That was about it, but he’ll try again when she wakes.’

‘So, at least we know her name. Ramoth,’ M’ta mused. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell with me.’

The name ran down the table, passed from one rider to the next like a shiver of dragon wings.

‘Apparently, she’s not from any of the other Weyrs.’ T’kes had arrived and sat down with his breakfast.

‘Where did you hear that?’ I’grast asked.

‘Those of us who ferry people and messages get to hear all sorts. It was after the Weyrleaders’ meeting. T’kul got quite annoyed when it was suggested the pair might be from High Reaches. “Our weyrlings are taught properly so they don’t make stupid mistakes,” he said.’

‘I still don’t quite get it.’ D’gar had been mulling over the conundrum. ‘If they’d jumped between on a bad visual, surely they’d have been lost, rather than just coming out somewhere different.’

‘Not necessarily,’ M’ta said. ‘I’ve heard of cases where a pair has been stuck between for a while, then they manage to sort themselves out and re-emerge.’

D’gar thought of his own, deliberate attempt to stay between. He’d been almost unconscious by the time he finally fixed on an image to send to Herebeth. When they got back to the Weyr, he’d been dizzy and breathless, but far from being in the sort of state Ramoth and her rider had ended up. ‘Something’s not quite right with that theory. I’m just not sure what.’

‘Well, we’ll get to know once the weyrwoman wakes up.’ T’kes chopped an egg in half with his knife.

‘If she remembers anything of it,’ D’gar pointed out.

M’ta nodded in agreement. ‘That may well be the case. And dragons, even gold ones, don’t have a great deal of recall once a few days have passed. You know, I’m trying to remember something I was told when I was a weyrling. Some warning tale.’

‘Like the one about the pair found embedded in a cliff?’ R’nix chuckled. ‘We’ve all heard that one.’

‘No, it was something different. Give me a minute and I’ll get it.’ He pushed his empty klah mug one way, then the other between his hands. ‘Hmm.’

‘Seems like your memory isn’t great, either,’ P’goll said, although good naturedly. ‘Still, comes to us all with age.’

‘I’m two Turns younger than you are, thank you very much. Anyway, don’t disturb me. I’m trying to think.’

‘Was it in one of our lessons?’ P’goll asked.

‘Shush,’ R’nix said. ‘Didn’t you hear him. He needs quiet.’

Riders leaned closer as M’ta took his time, his face a mask of concentration. ‘I’ve got it!’ he said at last. ‘And no, it wasn’t in class. It was after we’d been drilling but before we made our first jump between. One of the older riders - I remember thinking he was ancient, but he probably wasn’t much older than I am now - came over and started talking to a few of us. “Just do exactly as the Weyrlingmaster says,” he told us. “Don’t try being clever, or thinking you know best. We did just that and gave ourselves a terrible scare.” Of course, we were all eager to hear what he had to say.’ He paused for a breath and a sip of klah. ‘You know how they tell you about making sure your visual is accurate, but not too specific?’

‘Yes, yes,’ T’kes said. ‘If you picture something that was there but isn’t now, you can end up nowhere.’

‘Well, he and his dragon were getting bored of jumping between the Star Stones and the Hold. So he said he visualised a very specific day, when he’d been just a weyrbrat, watching weyrlings on flight drills and wondering if he’d ever Impress his own dragon. He said that when they went between they were there much longer than before. He started to panic, but his dragon reassured him. They came out over the Weyr and he saw weyrlings flying in the distance and a group of kids on the ground watching them. Then he suddenly felt weak and shaky and only just managed to give his dragon coordinates for the Star Stones, as they’d been meant to do. This time, they came back where they should be. Everyone said he’d been gone for ages and it was only because the dragons hadn’t keened they realised he wasn’t lost.’

‘So what happened. Did he find out?’

‘Well, he thinks what happened was he went back in time to that particular day. But everyone said he was daft. “Dragons can travel from place to place, but not through time,” they said. The Weyrlingmaster told him if he put any ideas into the other weyrlings’ heads, there would be dire consequences.’

‘Good thing, too,’ P’goll added. ‘Imagine if everyone tried that. People would be going here, there and everywhere.’

‘Every when, you mean.’ D’gar turned back to M’ta. ‘So what you’re implying is maybe the same thing happened to our mystery queen and her rider? If it’s even possible, of course.’

M’ta shrugged. ‘Well, it’s no more stupid than any of the other ideas people have been coming up with.’

‘Like I said, Tiriorth will try talking to her again later.’ I’grast seemed pleased to be the sole bearer of news for the time being. ‘Then we might find out the real truth.’