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"Why, then, is he not your Weyrmate?"
"Orlith chose Kadith."
"Do you not have any say in the matter?" Alessan was irritated for her sake. From remarks he had made during their morning's work, she knew that Alessan didn't like Sh'gall and wondered just how much their new relationship would strain Ruatha's dependence on Fort's Weyrleader. She was struggling to find an honest reply to a question she had evaded in her own heart, when Alessan contritely covered her hand, his expression pleading with her to forgive his rash remarks. "I'm sorry, Moreta. That is a Weyr matter."
"To answer you in part, B'lerion is always like that," she said. "Charming, amusing. But Sh'gall leads men well, and he has an instinct about Fall which his predecessor, old L'mal, considered unca
"Well, well, B'lerion, I'd never heard that particular narrative." Capiam was still chuckling as he hoisted himself to his feet. "I suppose harpers must be discreet in circulating their tales." He extended his hand to Desdra. "Can you remember exactly where you saw those astringent plants, Desdra? I know we're here for needlethorn, but the Hall's supplies are dreadfully short."
"We'll look at the plants but, my dear Master Capiam, you are also going to rest through the heat of the day." Neither healer looked back as they disappeared up the ravine and around the first bend.
"Well, I suppose that one must allow an older man some rest," B'lerion said. "Come, Oklina, there's plenty of shade in our patch of needlethorn, and a smart breeze. We shall put our time to the use intended!"
Smiling affably, B'lerion made a ru
"If he expects me to believe that . . ." Alessan finished his sentence with a chuckle. Then, taking a deep breath, he pulled Moreta against him and kissed her deeply and sensually, his hand deftly stroking her to arousal. "Come on, Moreta, I'm not chancing another attack by those needlethorns." He led her from the ravine toward the cliff. "What I'd like to understand is why that blue dragon of M'barak's is sniffing around Oklina. I could understand Nabeth with B'lerion entranced by her, but Arith . . . Would it have anything to do with that queen egg on the Hatching Ground as Tuero suggested?"
"It might, but Fort Weyr would not deplete your bloodline by Searching Oklina, Alessan."
"This will do. Let's just throw down some ging fronds," Alessan said, hauling on the nearest at hand. "I won't have you bruised, either. That would be almost as hard to explain as a sunburn or heat prostration." Moreta helped him arrange a bower, all her senses suddenly awake, wishing that Orlith, not Nabeth, were on the Istan ledge. "About Oklina, now, since I've been reliably informed"– Alessan paused to grin at her, his light eyes vividly sparkling with merriment-"that she already has dragonrider blood in her. . . ." Then he turned briefly serious. "If it could be understood that her. children would return to Ruatha, I would not stand in Oklina's way if she had the chance to Impress a dragon." He dumped his last handful of frond on the ground with a decisive gesture and pulled Moreta into his arms. "I'm not my father, you know."
"I wouldn't be in a rainforest with your father."
"Why not? He was a lusty man. And I intend to prove that I'm a suitable heir to his reputation!"
She was laughing as he laid her down on the sun-dappled frond bed. And he proved himself as lusty-and tender-as any woman could wish a man. For a shining moment at the height of their passion, Moreta forgot everything but Alessan.
The heat of the day did overcome them briefly, and they slumbered in each other's arms until tiny insects sought the moisture of their bodies and made them uncomfortable enough to wake.
"I'm eaten alive!" Alessan cried, pi
"Take some of that broad-leafed vine, the one climbing the tree by your side," Moreta said. "Bruise its leaves. It'll neutralize the sting."
"How d'you know so much?"
"I did Impress at Ista. I know its hazards."
They spent considerably more time neutralizing one another's insect bites than was necessary. When Alessan, trying to kiss her, got too much of the astringent liquid on his lips and his mouth began to pucker, they laughed and were still laughing about that when they returned to the ravine, slightly cooler now that the westering sun no longer shone directly above it.
When the tropical dusk had made work impossible, the six of them gathered on the ledge where Nabeth lounged somnolently and began to stack filled nets.
"Nabeth says"-B'lerion thudded the bronze dragon affectionately on the cheek-"that the only moving things he saw were firelizards fishing! He's got a good sense of humor, my bronze lad. I hope we've got enough for your purpose, Master Capiam, because I'm telling you, this single hand of mine"-he held it out to display the tracery of thorn scratches-"has done enough today!"
Capiam and Desdra gazed speculatively at the nets and then at each other. Desdra covered her mouth and turned away. Capiam looked distressed.
"Did anyone remember to count?" he asked, beseeching each one in turn.
"I'll tell you another thing," B'lerion said firmly, "I'm not going to count 'em now."
"I wouldn't suggest it!"
"However, I would gladly return to this secluded spot to pluck whatever number you find you lack."
Moreta tapped him on the shoulder. "Not here, B'lerion. If, by any possible chance, we did not pick enough today, go to Nerat. Not here."
"Oh, yes. That would prevent a time paradox. And the moons would be in roughly the same alignment on Nerat tip."
"Well, if that's settled, I expect we'd best return," Capiam said wearily.
"On the contrary, my dear Master Capiam, that would be a sure clue to our day's employment." B'lerion clucked his tongue. "We leave Ruatha energetic and in great spirit and arrive, an hour later, exhausted, reddened, hungry. Oklina, which one is the di
Oklina handed him a net of tied vines, which he hoisted so that all could see balls of hard-baked mud.
"Did a bit of fishing during my rest," B'lerion said, his broad grin daring anyone to challenge the truth of his statement, "and Oklina found the tubers. So we baked them. On the rocks in the ravine this noon it was hot enough to fry a dragon egg-begging your pardon, Moreta. A good meal would go down now without a struggle, wouldn't it? And while there's light enough, Alessan, if you and Moreta could find a few more of those ripe melons, why, we'd have a feast fit for a-Hatching!" B'lerion caught himself so quickly that only Moreta knew that he had quickly substituted one festive occasion for another less painful one.
She had distracted Alessan by pulling him after her to find the melons. They knew exactly where to find more, since they'd raided the patch several times in the afternoon to slake their thirst.
Hunger was part of the fatigue they all felt, and Moreta was glad to take her share from Oklina and thank the girl for such foresight.
"It was B'lerion's idea, you know," Oklina said. "He actually tickled the fish to catch them."
"Did he teach you how?" Alessan asked.
"No," Oklina replied with admirable composure. "Dag did. The same principal works in our rivers as Ista's." •
Moreta could not resist chuckling at Alessan's expression as he sank beside her.
"On mature reflection, I think she deserves to be in a Weyr," Alessan said in a severe undertone. Then he realized that he was leaning against a bronze dragon and jerked forward apprehensively.