The first thing she noticed was that Jirana was not keeping her front warm. The second thing she noticed was that somebody—but not Javissa—was lying against her back.
Whoever it was was shivering and crying. And cold, very cold.
Hadn’t the girl given up on her and grown some sense? Xhinna thought to herself with an inward groan. Danirry had spent enough time with R’ney and the other new riders—surely she’d worked through her infatuation.
“Danirry …” Xhinna began quietly, trying to figure out how to get the blue rider back to her own bed without making matters worse.
Instead, the body behind her stiffened and, with an indrawn hiss, rose swiftly, running away.
“Danirry, no!” Xhinna cried, wincing as she propped herself up and slowly—achingly—stood up.
And then, just before she heard dragon wings rustling, a number of things clicked into her mind. The body had been different from Danirry’s: round in the middle.
“Taria, no! I can explain!” Xhina cried as the green dragon leapt into the air, beat its wings down once and was gone—between.
“Xhinna?” Danirry’s voice called from a different direction.
Xhinna had no chance to respond before Danirry was at her side, a questioning, concerned look on her face.
“Just a bad dream,” Xhinna said.
TWELVE
Stretching Bonds
“That’s three in three nights,” X’lerin said. He was reporting on their herdbeast losses. They were gathered on the rough platform that R’ney had laid down near Bekka’s infirmary, on branches just beneath the top of the broom trees. The light of mid-afternoon came through in splotches, tinged green by its journey through the leaves above, and did not do enough to warm the air.
“We can only be certain that two were killed by Mrreows,” R’ney said, glancing meaningfully at Xhinna.
“What about putting a cover on the cage?” she asked from where she sat, glad to be allowed to sit up for short periods. Her scar twinged, but she ignored it. The cage for the herdbeasts that had been built nearest their cooking fire was sturdy enough and big enough for several beasts at once; covering it would be a difficult and time-consuming task.
“It would stop the Mrreows,” X’lerin agreed, leaving the other predator unnamed.
“But we’d have to lift the cover to add more stock,” R’ney said. He mimicked grabbing and tugging with his hands, his expression doubtful.
“We can’t afford to lose so many,” X’lerin said.
“And extra guards won’t help,” Xhinna added.
“Particularly with the other losses,” X’lerin said.
“It’s hard to say no to someone who’s begging,” Xhinna agreed with a neutral expression.
“What worries me is the sorts of conversations they may be having,” R’ney said, frowning.
Xhinna sighed. That Taria had chosen to leave the Weyr spoke volumes about Xhinna’s leadership; she was constantly aware of that. That some might be sympathetic to Taria and J’keran was also a given. What worried Xhinna more was that some would consider it acceptable to permit theft of their own hard-won food. That might mean more than sympathy—it might mean active aid and rebellion.
Xhinna’s enforced rest had eroded her authority among those who had to see her doing to believe she was leading. She’d heard snippets of conversations among the older riders when she’d been feigning sleep: “She’s not a proper wingleader; when she rides at all, it’s just a blue!”
When she’d mentioned it to R’ney, the brown rider had grown very silent. His silence told her that he’d heard the same and worse. Under her questioning he admitted as much. Xhinna felt that the resentment stemmed from worries about the clutches to come and whether the eggs would hatch.
“All Pern riding on her!” one of the older green riders had snorted derisively when he thought she was asleep. She recognized the voice: It was V’lex. Apparently she had failed to keep her opinion of him from showing, and he was reciprocating in kind, with interest. T’rennor followed along meekly, which was unnerving.
Many of the male blue riders resented her, more for her gender than her authority.
“You’re a threat to them,” R’ney had said, scowling. “Not only are you better than they are, but you’re a girl, too.” He shook his head. “They’re afraid you’ll take all the greens from them and they’ll be shamed through all Pern.”
“They can keep their smelly old boys and stinky greens,” Xhinna said. She ducked her head in apology to the brown rider. “No offense.”
“None taken,” R’ney had said, smiling. “I’ll be quite happy if you leave me those stinky men.”
“Smelly boys,” Xhinna corrected absently.
“Even better,” R’ney had said, smiling.
“If we post only those we trust, they’ll feel punished,” Xhinna said. Fuming, she cried, “I’ve just got to get well!”
“I don’t think that will be enough,” X’lerin said with a frown. Xhinna saw R’ney shoot him a restraining look, but she would have none of it, saying to X’lerin, “Go on.”
“Seeing you up and about will not convince those who have decided that you’re not a proper rider,” he said unhappily. “The only thing they’ll judge you by is your success at the Hatching.”
“But even T’mar couldn’t guarantee that when we were back in Eastern,” R’ney protested.
“And that’s another thing,” X’lerin began, reluctant to add more problems to the pot. But Xhinna gestured for him to go on and the bronze rider said, “There are many, particularly among the older riders, who think that you tricked T’mar and Fiona into bringing us all here.”
“Tricked?” Xhinna asked, eyebrows raised. “T’mar and Fiona?”
“Hot heads and slippery tongues,” X’lerin said. “But they think they should have stayed back at Telgar and left you to shift for yourself.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” R’ney said.
“Without the older dragons, we can’t survive,” X’lerin told Xhinna frankly. “The ones born in Eastern are solidly with you, but the ones who came with J’keran …”
“And we’ve got to find Candidates, too,” Xhinna said.
“We’ve got time,” R’ney said, trying to buck up her spirits. “We’ve got two months, at least, before Sarinth lays her eggs.”
“Sarinth,” Xhinna repeated sourly. A sudden suspicion stirred her. “And what are the odds that V’lex has been talking with J’keran?”
“That,” X’lerin said slowly, “is a very likely possibility.”
“And a very scary idea,” R’ney agreed.
Xhinna nodded. If V’lex convinced T’rennor to flee the Weyr before his green clutched, going to wherever Taria and J’keran were hiding out—a dark thought came to her.
“What if there was only one Mrreow attacking?” she asked the other two suddenly. “What if it was being trained?”
“Razz?” X’lerin asked, referring to Taria’s favorite Mrreow.
“It’s possible,” R’ney said, nodding.
Xhinna pursed her lips into a frown. A second, even darker thought she kept to herself: What if the attacks by Razz had been a demonstration? And a display to convince others to rebel?
R’ney, X’lerin, and K’dan were glad when Xhinna finally took her first steps in a month up to the top of Sky Weyr. She chose her footing carefully among the strips of canvas that had been laid down as walkways, guided by Jirana. She was still shaky, which surprised and annoyed her—she hadn’t felt so bad when she’d been slit by J’keran’s knife.