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"Oh, brave Leri, courageous Leri," Jallora murmured in approval and K'lon looked up as the old Weyrwoman accepted the wine.
Lidora pressed a cup into his hand. It must be half fellis juice, he thought as he recklessly downed the draught. Not that it would do any good. Not all the wine in Pern could assuage the pain and remorse in his heart. He willed the potion to numb his senses but he couldn't stop weeping. Even F'neldril's seamed face was tear-stained as he stroked S'peren's shoulder in comfort.
"Let's get her up to her weyr," Jallora said, motioning for S'peren and F'neldril to assist her.
"No!" Leri's response was vehement. Orlith screamed in echoing protest.
No, said the voices and K'lon caught S'peren's arm. "I'll stay." Leri pointed toward Orlith. "I'll stay here." "Will she?" Jallora asked the other queen riders, meaning the dragon.
"Orlith will stay," Kamiana said in a barely audible voice while Leri slowly nodded affirmation. "She will stay until the eggs are ready to hatch."
"Then we'll both go," Leri added softly.
Her words would forever remain in his mind, K'lon knew, as indelible as the rest of the terrible scene. S'peren and F'neldril stood beside him, drooping in grief, their faces suddenly aged. Haura and Lidora clung to each other weeping, while Kamiana stood to one side, her figure taut. Beyond them, the arched entrances to the Hatching Ground framed the press of dragons, all gray in sorrow, and the silent cluster of weyrfolk bewildered by the grievous loss. Just then there was a stir and three riders slowly moved onto the Ground, Sh'gall escorted by S'ligar and K'dren. Sh'gall continued forward alone, his body bowed with grief. He fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, unseen by the inconsolable Orlith who writhed in the soul-rending agony of separation from her beloved rider, Moreta.
AFTERMATH
The occasion of a Hatching ought to be a joyous one, Master Capiam thought without a single buoyant fiber in his body as he watched the dragons glide to the knots of passengers awaiting conveyance to Fort Weyr.
He had not attended to what Tirone had been saying to him. Then the Masterharper's parting phrase penetrated his gloomy reflections.
"I will be singing my new ballad, composed in celebration of Moreta!"
"Celebration?" Capiam roared. Desdra caught his arm and prevented him from being trampled on by Rogeth. "Celebration indeed? Has Tirone gone mad?"
"Oh, Capiam!" Desdra's soft exclamation was unusually gentle for that caustic lady, newly made a Masterhealer. Capiam glanced quickly about to see why. Then he saw K'lon's grief-stricken face as the rider dismounted.
"Leri and Orlith went before dawn," K'lon said, his voice breaking. "No one could-would have stopped them. But we had to watch, to be with them. That's all we could do!" K'lon's tear-filled eyes begged for solace.
Desdra folded her arms around him, and Capiam stroked his back, offering the blue rider a kerchief that he needed himself in that instant. Desdra didn't weep but her face was flushed, her jaw muscles tight, and her nose very red.
"They only stayed because of the eggs, to be sure of the day. But we had to see them go." K'lon sobbed.
Wondering if he should administer a restorative, Capiam caught Desdra's eye, but she gave a little shake of her head.
"They were so brave. So gallant! It was dreadful, knowing they would go. Dreadful knowing that one day we would wake up and they would be gone! Just like Moreta and Holth!"
"They could have gone that day . . ." Capiam began, knowing that wasn't the thing to say, struggling to find something to ease K'lon's grief.
"Orlith could not have gone till the eggs were hard," Desdra said. "Leri stayed with her. They had a purpose and now it is accomplished. Today must also be a glad day, for dragons will hatch. Surely that is a good day for going. A day that had begun in unmeasured grief will end in great joy. A new begi
Capiam stared in wonder at Desdra. He could never have expressed it so well. Desdra might not speak often but she chose the right words when she did talk.
"Yes, yes," K'lon was saying, dabbing at his eyes, "I must concentrate on that. I must think of the begi
Dragons did not weep as humans did, but Capiam thought he might prefer tears to the gray tinge that came to their eyes and hides. Rogeth bore the color of mourning. They mounted and K'lon conveyed them to Fort Weyr. Old tears froze briefly on Capiam's cheeks, to be renewed as he saw the dragon-crowned Rim of Fort Weyr. He'd no time to count but surely even Telgar's disaffected Weyr must be represented to produce such an assembly. K'lon angled Rogeth to land as close to the Hatching Ground as possible, seemingly a dangerous task for dragons were leaping and landing all over the Bowl.
Everyone will have to make an effort today, Capiam thought and tears streamed down his face again. Desdra was stroking his hands and he knew she was aware of his intense feelings. He knew she wasn't untouched by the tragedies; but grief can be exhibited in many ways, and her quiet summary to K'lon had given Capiam some comfort, too.
They dismounted quickly from Rogeth, smiling up at K'lon, who had mastered his tears if not his mournful expression. Then the blue dragon leaped skyward again.
Capiam noticed that the usual tables and benches had been set outside the Lower Cavern for the Impression feasting. He hoped to get drunk enough at it not to hear Master Tirone's ballad. Capiam could smell the roast meats but they did not rouse his appetite as they usually did. It was a lovely day. It would have been a magnificent dawn, he thought, and rubbed his face harshly, to stop the ready tears. If the Masterhealer of Pern could not maintain his composure, what a poor example he would set. The day was a begi
As Desdra pulled him toward the Hatching Ground, he inadvertently looked to his right, to where Moreta had lived the last days of her life. He blew his nose fiercely and looked directly ahead of him, now pulling Desdra to a place as far from that tier as was possible within the confines of the Ground.
The eggs took his attention. They lay, neatly spaced, the queen egg separate on a neat mound of sand, lovingly piled to cushion and display it. He blew his nose again and stumbled on the first step of the tier.
There seemed to be a good deal of nose blowing, and kerchiefs of all colors were being flourished. There was no end to the sounds people made in clearing their nasal passages. Obscurely Capiam felt cheered that so many people were affected by the aura.
Could the dragons massed on the Rim have prevented Orlith and Leri going? Capiam chided himself for such wistful futile thoughts. No, the halves that were missing could never be replaced. Orlith yearned for Moreta, and Leri for Holth. As K'lon had done, Capiam must accept the inevitable.
Then he felt the vibration through his boot soles and looked down. It took him only a moment to realize that Hatching was imminent. The dragons had begun their hum. Not just the dragons taking their place at the top of the Ground, but those outside, until the solid rock of Fort Weyr was resonating. The note managed, in some inexplicable ma
Capiam looked around him again, to identify faces no longer obscured by kerchiefs. On the upper tier, to his left, he saw Lord Shadder and his lady, Levalla, K'dren and M'gent beyond, sitting next to Master Balfor, who had declined the honor of becoming Masterherdsman. Some said he felt keenly responsible that Moreta had died helping his Hold.