The two weyrwomen spoke quietly to each other in the first light of the rising moon. What they said Thaniel would never know, but when he saw Leri settled, with some difficulty, on her dragon, he hurried out to them.
“Thank you, Holder Thaniel, for having the wit to know what we needed. The Weyrs will always be grateful to you and your family, as will Orlith and I.” Moreta’s voice, though faint, was full of warmth as she spoke to the old holder, regarding him intently. Then she turned her attention back to Leri.
“Now, we are matched correctly,” she said with an air of intense satisfaction.
Just then, Orlith jerked her head upright, swinging her eyes around in the direction of Fort Weyr. She gave a triumphant bugle, which Holth echoed.
“The queen egg has hatched; her name is Hannath and her rider is Oklina! Oh, I am pleased! Good news makes even the longest journey easier. ”
“Young Alessan’s sister has Impressed?” Leri said. “I told you there was rider blood in Ruatha Hold. ”
“Well, I am glad,” Moreta repeated. She squared her shoulders, putting all other thoughts from her head. She could not think of Alessan now. She turned to Leri. “We can go now, together, you and I, Orlith and Holth. ”
She urged her dragon into motion. “Just the one more trip between, Orlith,” she said. “And I mean that. ”
The dragon nodded her head once and, wheeling away from Holth, trotted a few paces to spring upward. Holth was right behind her, a front foot clipping the klah mug that Leri had dropped, scattering the pieces about. The tired old queen just managed to clear the ground and was into the air, urged on by her own eager rider. Both dragons were soon high enough so that their wings could sweep downward in a magnificent ascent. Emblazoned in the full moonlight, the two queen riders raised their right arms high above their heads, punching the air with clenched fists. Thaniel held his breath as suddenly both dragons disappeared between.
Thaniel wished them well, as his tears at last brimmed over. He bent to pick up the handle that was all that remained of the mug. He suddenly felt reassured for the first time in many years. Perhaps there was some other place he would go eventually; some place he did not yet know. Some place where he might even see his beloved wife again. He slipped the broken handle into his apron pocket and patted it—a keepsake by which to remember Moreta.