Anne McCaffrey Pern 07 Moreta Dragonlady of Pern

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lower lip.
"Aggravating to be sure, Lidora, but few Gather loves are ever caught for
long." She had accurately guessed the source of Lidora's discontent and
wondered who had caught the weyrwoman's fancy at Ruatha Gather. Moreta looked
away, with apparent unconcern, but she thought again of Alessan and how much
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she'd enjoyed his company. She'd been showing off a bit, rushing to the
runnerbeast's aid, trying to catch his attention.
The scuffling of bootheels and bench legs on stone roused her from her
momentary lapse. She rose hastily. Custom dictated that she receive
last-minute instructions concerning the queens' wing from Sh'gall. She stopped
a few feet from the dais before he looked toward her, his expression warning
her to keep her distance.
"Leri insists on flying?"
"There's no reason to stop her."
"You'll remind her, of course, to stay mounted."
"She always does."
Sh'gall shrugged, absolving himself of responsibility for Leri. "Tend your
dragons, then. Threadfall is slated for midday." He turned to beckon the
wingleaders forward.
"Is he complaining about Leri again?" Kamiana asked, perversely forgetting her
own objections.
"Not really," Moreta replied then made her way out of the cavern, the queen
riders following her.
Around the Bowl, on the ledges or on the ground, riders were harnessing
dragons, arranging firestone sacks on dragon necks. Others daubed oil on
recent scars and examined rough patches on hide or wing membranes. Wingleaders
and wingseconds were busy overseeing the preparations. Weyrlings ducked around
riders and dragons on errands. The atmosphere was busy but not frantic. The
bustle had the right tone to it, Moreta decided as she made her way to the far
side of the Bowl. The activity was routine, familiar, almost comforting when
she considered the probability that, elsewhere on Pern, men and beasts might
be dying of the plague.
"That is not a good thought," Oriith said sternly.
"True. And not one to take into Fall. Forgive me."
"There is no fault. The day is clear! We will meet Thread well."
Orlith's sturdy confidence imbued Moreta with optimism. The sun streamed in
from the east, and the crisp air was invigorating after the clammy weather
that had prevailed. A good deep frost now would be most beneficial, she
thought as she climbed the stairs. Not too long a cold spell, just enough to
freeze the pernicious insects and reduce the snake population.
"I'll do Holth's harness first."
"Leri has help."
Moreta grinned at Orlith's impatience. That was a good spirit in a dragon. As
she entered the weyr, Orlith was off her couch, her eyes sparkling,
their whirl speeding up with anticipation. Orlith lowered her head. In a burst
of affection and love for her partner and friend, Moreta flung her arms about
the triangular muzzle, squeezing as tightly as she could, knowing that her
strongest embrace would be as nothing to the husky beast. Orlith rumbled and
Moreta could feel the loving vibration. Reluctantly she released Orlith.
Briskly then, she turned to the harness hanging on its wall pegs.
As she arranged the straps, she ran the leather through knowing hands.
The cold of between ate into equipment, and most riders changed harnesses
three or four times a Turn. Finding all was well with the leather, Moreta then
examined Orlith's wings despite the queen's growing impatience to be up on the
Star Stone height, overseeing the final preparations. Next Moreta checked the
gauge on the agenothree tank, made sure the nozzle head was clean, and
strapped on the tank. Then queen and rider moved out to the ledge. On the one
above, Holth and Leri were already waiting.
Moreta waved to Leri and received a jaunty salute. Settling her eyepieces,
Moreta fastened her helmet, hitched back the cumbersome flamethrower, and
mounted Orlith. With a mighty heave, Orlith launched herself toward the Rim.
"That's quite an effort, dear heart," Moreta said.
"Once I am airborne, there is no effort."
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To allay Moreta's anxiety, Orlith executed a very deft turn and landed with
precision near Kadith. The dragon was a good-size beast, a deep rich shade of
bronze with green undertones. He was not the largest bronze in Fort
Weyr but, in his mating nights with Orlith, he had proved the most agile,
daring, and energetic. Kadith looked up at Orlith and affectionately stroked
his head on her neck. Orlith accepted the caress demurely, turning her head to
touch muzzles.
Then Sh'gall signaled the blue, green, brown, and bronze riders to feed their
dragons firestone. Considering it was an essential step in the destruction of
Thread, Moreta could never take it as seriously as she ought.
She kept her face composed and eyes straight ahead but she knew exactly the
expression on the dragons' faces, pensive, eyes half closed as the dragon
maneuvered firestone to the grinding surfaces of sturdy teeth, taking the
greatest care to set the rock just so before applying pressure. The force that
would pulverize firestone could also wreak considerable damage to a dragon's
tongue. Dragons chewed firestone cautiously.
Once they'd stopped chewing firestone, the twelve wings of dragons, green,
blue, brown, and bronze hides glistening with health in the sunlight, the
many-faceted eyes taking on the reddish-yellow battle hue, wings restlessly
flicking and tails slapping on the rock of the Rim, were a sight that never
failed to inspire Moreta.
Orlith shifted her feet, sat back on her haunches. Moreta thumped her shoulder
affectionately and told her to settle.
"They are ready. Their bellies are full of firestone. Why are we not flying?
Kadith?"
Moreta was not one of those rare queen riders who could understand any dragon.
Kadith turned his molten eyes on Orlith, and she steadied. Orlith was queen of
the Weyr, as senior queen, the most powerful dragon in the Weyr, and since
Fort was the first and biggest Weyr on the planet, she and her rider were the
preeminent partners. But when Thread Fell, the Weyrleader was in
command and Orlith had to obey Kadith and Sh'gall. So did Moreta.
Suddenly the farthest wing launched into the sky, high and straight.
They would fly the high first westerly stack of the initial three wings. The
second level wing moved out, then the third. Once all had achieved their
assigned heights, the three wings went between. The north-south wings launched
next for a cross-flight of the probable line of Fall. They went between. The
diagonal wings, who would start in the northwest, went aloft and disappeared.
Sh'gall lifted his arm yet again, and this time Kadith bugled, as impatient to
be gone as Orlith. The Weyrleader would take his three wings east, to the line
along Crom's plateau where the leading edge of Thread was due. The queens'
wing took the final position, sweeping as close to the ground as they safely
could. Their slower glide, their more powerful wings gave them more flight
stability in erratic wind currents.
Now Kadith leaped from the Rim, Orlith following so quickly that Moreta was
jerked back against the fighting straps. Then they were gliding into position.
Leri on Holth had joined them, by what feat of acrobatics Moreta had not seen.
Haura and Kamiana took their positions, and Lidora joined Moreta on the upper
level.
"Kadith says we go between."
"You have the visual from him?"
"Very clear."
"Take us between, Orlith!"
"Black, blacker, blackest, coldest beyond living things, Where is life when
there is ..."
The rugged mountains of Nabol were in the far distance, the sun warm on their
backs in its cold season arc. Below lay the bony plains of eastern Crom,
glistening in patches and streaks that suggested there had been frost or a
heavy dew.
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Moreta's second glance was for Leri and Holth, who were perfectly fine. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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