“Um,” X’lerin said, glancing around the table. “Ah … who managed everything before?”
Bekka cocked her head toward Xhinna. “She was in charge.”
“I ride a blue,” Xhinna protested. “I was just doing what was needed.”
“Fine,” X’lerin said firmly. “What’s needed now is for you to brief me.” His lips quirked upward. “After that, we’ll see.”
The first priority was stowing the goods the others had brought. After that, Xhinna found herself introducing the rest of the group to the bronze rider and, strangely, in charge of the evening hunt—at least coordinating it, as X’lerin insisted that her Tazith had strained himself too much to do more work that day.
Even so, Xhinna managed to get aloft on Tazith because she had to show the new riders some of the tricks they’d learned in driving game to hunters, and also because she was the only one who knew how to find the various spots that R’ney, Jepara, and the other hunters preferred for their traps.
“What do you know of J’keran?” R’ney asked softly as he rode behind Xhinna on their way back to camp with two large wherries—his catch—slung beneath Tazith’s belly.
“He was one of the ones who went back in time with Fiona to Igen Weyr,” Xhinna replied noncommittally, her senses alerted by the lack of tone in the other’s voice.
“Hmm,” R’ney said. “He seems rather … abrasive.”
“He’s been through a lot, and the loss of F’jian affected him more than some,” Xhinna said. She shrugged. “To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to the riders at Eastern because I spent so much time with Fiona and the babies.”
“He seemed to be making an effort to be sociable with Taria,” R’ney said. “There was a green rider, V’lex, who looked upset.”
“Well, things will sort themselves out soon enough,” Xhinna said, trying to keep any sense of misgiving from her voice.
“I’m sure they will,” R’ney agreed.
Tazith descended to the clearing nearest the cooking area, and then, getting busy unloading the wherry carcasses, they had no opportunity to continue the conversation.
Among other things that X’lerin’s wing brought with them was a decent supply of herbs and—
“Seeds!” Bekka cried in triumph when she first saw them. She rapidly pawed through the small packets and quickly stuffed a few into her pockets, saying to a perplexed Javissa, “These’ll grow here. We can start a garden.”
“Jirana can help,” Javissa said. “But for now, I need to find some of the peppers and a few other herbs to spice the meat tonight.”
“Did anyone think to get redfruit?”
“And bitter bulbs,” Javissa assured her with a smile. “We’ll have spiced wherry tonight.”
“That and the bread—”
“I’m sorry, the bread won’t be ready until the morning,” Javissa said. “We haven’t started the dough yet.”
That evening a great feast was prepared on a roaring fire in the clearing nearest the treetop Weyr. There was klah, fruit juice, fresh hardnut, a smattering of greens, and plenty of roast wherry for all.
“If I’d known what the cooking was going to be like, I would have volunteered quicker,” V’lex exclaimed as he came back for another helping.
“Well, you should’ve known, dimglow, as you had much the same in Eastern,” J’keran snarled, pulling him out of the line. “And if you think you’re going to gorge yourself to sleep—”
“J’keran,” X’lerin cut in smoothly, “I think tonight is a night when we can all eat our fill.”
“A jump between times is tiring and uses a lot of energy,” K’dan added.
“Well, at least wait until the others have all had theirs, then,” J’keran grumpily told the green rider.
V’lex flushed, but turned away and moved to the back of the line.
“You should let the weyrfolk here eat first,” J’keran continued, raising his voice to make it carry. He glanced toward Taria and winked. “After all, they’ve been on short rations for too long.”
Seeing Xhinna tense, K’dan said quickly, “Xhinna did her best.”
“I’m sure,” J’keran said in a tone that belied his words. “It’s hard enough for a blue, but given his rider …” He let his words trail off. He cut a quick glance in Xhinna’s direction, smirking when he caught the expression on her face. He turned to Taria, placing his back to the others. “Did you want some more?”
Taria shook her head and moved away quietly to sit beside Xhinna. R’ney joined them after filling his plate for a second time. He glanced in J’keran’s direction, but said nothing.
“He’s not usually like this.”
Xhinna looked up and saw V’lex standing before them. He gestured at the log on which she was seated. “May I join you?”
“Certainly,” she said, shuffling over to make room.
V’lex sat down, nodded to Taria and R’ney, and then said quietly to Xhinna, “He’s baiting you, you know.”
“He’s a brown rider, he has Turns more experience than I do—he outranks me in all things,” Xhinna said tonelessly.
“He could never have done what you did,” R’ney declared stoutly. “Single-handedly you saved us all.” He nodded toward the young queen riders who were grouped around X’lerin and K’dan, chatting and giggling. “They know it.” He jerked his head toward the silent group of bronze weyrlings and added, “So do they.”
“Well, things will be different now,” Xhinna said.
“Different isn’t always better,” R’ney said.
Xhinna nodded, buoyed by his confidence in her, but saddened that those words hadn’t come from Taria.
The new arrivals soon adapted to the routine of life in the broom trees. X’lerin’s bronze even located the perfect spot for their “weyr”—right at the very edge of Sky Weyr’s forest. Every morning when they rose, X’lerin slipped onto Kivith’s back and the bronze simply fell out of their high loft to glide easily down toward the main camp, where he’d deposit his rider before continuing on to the burnt plateau for a meal if he felt hungry, or to the sea beyond for a dip, usually waking Colfet, who had set himself up in a small cot by the shore. Often the old seaman would return to camp on the bronze’s back with fresh catch for breakfast or for an afternoon stew.
That Kivith’s path took him over the whole camp, as well as the burnt plateau, allowing X’lerin to scout the whole area each morning, was not lost on Xhinna.
“It just seemed the thing to do,” X’lerin had said with a modest shrug when Xhinna complimented him on his and Kivith’s planning.
He was nearly half a Turn her elder, but still half a head shorter and not likely to get any taller; he’d once told her that he came from a long line of short people. He seemed comfortable with his lack of height; he was well-muscled and wiry, with hazel eyes and a sharp-hewn face that smiled often.
This morning, however, more than a month after the newcomers had settled into their own weyrs, Kivith let out a challenging bellow as he reached the end of the camp, startling everyone awake.
Mrreows, Tazith said, relaying the bronze’s warning to Xhinna as she raced from her bed toward his weyr.
Tell them not to kill them, she told him. Have the net crew go after them. Let’s see if we can catch one.
A cage had been built the sevenday before, with R’ney and J’riz leading the effort. Xhinna was pleased to see that the brown rider had taken the young green rider as one of his own; they worked well together, J’riz following R’ney’s designs with silent grace, almost seeming an extension of the ex-smither’s will. R’ney seemed a natural father: He enjoyed the presence of the lad, and didn’t mind when his sister and their mother, Javissa, occasionally accompanied them on their various construction projects.