“And that was nearly a quarter of the whole island,” H’nez said. He was still amazed. “It was so fast!”
“We were hampered by nightfall, by not knowing what was happening,” K’dan countered. “But now that we know, we’ll be better prepared—”
“Better yet, if we can use the Skies,” C’tov observed.
“K’dan, you said we were lucky?” T’mar said, redirecting the conversation.
“Yes,” K’dan said, tapping a parchment in front of him. The tanners of the Weyrs weren’t quite as good at the craft of making skins usable for writing as others back on the Northern Continent, but it sufficed for simple drawings. “From what we recall, with these two Falls we can predict that we’ll have another Fall—this time over the southern end of both islands, twenty-six days from now.”
“That long?”
“That accurate?”
“Actually, the Fall should come at about three in the morning, our time,” K’dan said. “It will match the Falls over Benden Weyr, Bitra, and Igen Weyr—the first Fall that was flown by Benden and Telgar.”
“So we have time to plan and prepare,” T’mar said, nodding thoughtfully. The others looked relieved.
“And then?” H’nez prompted. “When’s our next Fall?”
“Nine days and nine hours later, we’ll have a Fall that brushes the southern end of our Eastern Isle,” K’dan said. “That’s the same time as the Fall over Igen and Ista’s tip.”
“How long?”
“It starts, if we’re right, just about halfway over the Southern bay and peters out over the sea far to the west.”
“Thread falls from northeast to southwest,” T’mar reminded them. He glanced at K’dan. “So, not a full Fall, then?”
K’dan nodded. “Probably two or three hours at most.”
“Better than six,” H’nez muttered approvingly. He cocked an eye at K’dan. “And then?”
“We’ve a break for fifteen days and fifteen hours, and then we’ll have the same Fall we just fought all over again,” K’dan said, pursing his lips tightly.
“Nine and nine, fifteen and fifteen?” C’tov asked.
“Each Fall comes three days and three hours after the last one,” K’dan said. “These islands are so small that more Falls miss than hit.”
“But back home?” T’mar asked. No matter that they’d been on the Western Isle nearly three Turns, the Northern Continent was still home to all.
K’dan frowned, trying to think. “After Benden and Keroon, it would be Nerat and Upper Crom—but it didn’t happen.”
H’nez gave him a questioning look and the Sky Weyrleader explained, “The first signs of Thread were the dustfalls over Fort, High Reaches Tip, and Southern Tillek—there was no mention of dustfall over Nerat or Crom.” He shrugged. “Probably the dustfall was dispersed by high winds, so no one noticed it. It’s winter; the weather is usually too cold for Thread—colder up on high, as we now know.”
“So, the Sky wings—you think we should disband them?” H’nez asked K’dan.
“Two queens couldn’t catch one blue,” K’dan said. “Six wings are now completely demoralized, their riders shaken.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “They’ve learned a lot about flying high and the dangers of thin air. Let them go back to their Weyrs, split them up so that they can spread the knowledge and forget the pain.”
H’nez shook his head doubtfully. “Dragons and riders will die, K’dan, no matter how much we wish otherwise.”
“I know,” K’dan said. “But to have them freeze to death or die by asphyxiation?” He shook his head. “That’s not honorable.”
Fiona says you’re to sleep, Tazith said as soon as Xhinna’s eyelids fluttered open. You’re to rest until you’re cranky, she said.
Xhinna’s lips twitched: It sounded like her blue was quoting the Weyrwoman directly.
She was surrounded by warmth. Taria was there and smaller bodies and—
Xhinna jumped out of the bed with an angry bellow. She threw on robes and cinched them tight against the cold morning air before racing out of their quarters, leaving a bewildered Taria behind.
Where’s R’ney? Xhinna demanded of her blue. Tazith replied equitably with an image, and Xhinna stalked off. She found the brown rider sleeping in an alcove of the walled dormitory. When she moved slowly over to him, she noticed small eyes looking up at her and heard a thin gasp, almost a mew of despair.
Xhinna slipped under the covers, slid up tight next to R’ney, and pulled little Davinna between them, cuddling and shushing the distraught baby.
“She wanted her mother,” R’ney murmured, awakened by the shifting of bodies. “I think she wants milk.” In a very small voice he added, “I can’t give her any.”
Xhinna shushed him softly and pulled the baby to her. She’d been ready to wean Xelinan, but she’d held off and was grateful now that she could ease the baby’s discomfort.
Davinna was fussy, but soon enough she fell back asleep, content at the warmth of Xhinna’s body and the sound of R’ney’s gentle breathing.
R’ney surfaced again long enough to ask, “What are you doing here?”
“I promised,” Xhinna said. “I promised her I’d look after hers and her heart’s.”
“You’re a good one, the best,” R’ney said, reaching a hand to brush her cheek.
“Sleep,” she ordered, moving his hand back to his chest. R’ney, exhausted by grief and the hard fight the day before, needed no more urging.
Hours later, Xhinna was surprised by a muffled noise of surprise and woke to see Mirressa looking down at her.
“I came for the baby,” the green rider said. “I figured—”
“I only had a little,” Xhinna said, grabbing little Davinna and passing her out from under the covers to Mirressa’s waiting hands. “She’ll probably want more.”
“She’s got a whole wing,” Mirressa said, biting her lips to keep back her tears. And then, forcefully, she said, “You know it: She’s got a whole wing!”
“ ‘Always and forever,’ ” Xhinna said, quoting the vow she’d given Danirry on the birth of Davinna.
Mirressa gulped in agreement and rushed off before her grief erupted over the fussy child in her arms.
“Where’s the baby?” R’ney asked a few moments later.
“Mirressa has her,” Xhinna replied. She was surprised when R’ney kept moving, trying to force himself past her. “She’s okay, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, I need to get up, there’s work to be done,” R’ney said. He gave her a quizzical look. “Why aren’t you up?”
“Fiona told us to rest,” Xhinna said.
“ ‘Rest when you’re dead,’ ” R’ney said, quoting the old dragonriders jest. “If you’re not going to get up, let me pass so I can get up.”
Xhinna thought for a moment and then got up. She cocked an eyebrow at her remaining wingsecond and said, “Are you going to be all right?”
“As soon as I get some breakfast,” R’ney allowed. “What about you?”
“I’m going to check on Taria and the babies,” Xhinna said. She nodded back toward his bunk. “I want you sleeping in our quarters from now on.” She caught the mulish look on his face and corrected herself. “I at least want you to consider it home and leave Davinna with us. We’ve got enough little ones that one more won’t matter.”
“She matters to me,” R’ney said feelingly.
“Of course,” Xhinna told him. “And you know I didn’t mean it that way.” She met his eyes. “But if you could, I think it’d be best if you stayed with me and Taria.”
R’ney squinted. “What aren’t you telling me?”