Dragonsblood (3 page)

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Authors: Todd McCaffrey

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rumbled back.

We fell asleep in the warm sun,
the dragon told Lorana,
and now J’trel is

afraid that you are cold.

“The fire’s warm, J’trel,” Lorana said, beckoning eagerly, “and there should

be enough light to see by.”

“See what?” J’trel asked, his earlier excuses forgotten in the heat of

Lorana’s excitement.

Lorana held up a hand. “I can’t tell you, I have to show you.”

“Well then, let’s get to that fire.”

When he was settled by the fire, angled so that its warmth was on his back

and its light good for reading, Lorana opened her sketchbook and passed it

to him.

“Look at this one for a moment,” she said, pointing to one of her earlier

drawings.

J’trel took the book and peered at it. His eyes weren’t good close up

anymore; he moved the book farther away until the image came into focus.

“Hmm, ugly little beastie,” he muttered to himself, then hastily added, “but

you drew it well.”

With a polite nod, Lorana took the book, flipped the pages to one of her

more recent drawings, and thrust it back in the dragonrider’s hands.

“Now look at this, please.”

J’trel frowned, and examined the drawing more carefully. “Why it’s almost

the same—but different! I can’t quite see what, though.”

Lorana leaned forward and pointed. “Here—the back legs have none of the

fur of the other ones.” She flipped back to the first drawing. “But see how

the front digger legs are much thinner on this one than on the other? I think

that this northern one needs the thinner diggers to burrow in the wet earth,

while this little beastie needs wider diggers to push the sand away. See?”

“Almost,” J’trel said with a frown. He shook his head. “My eyes are too old,

and it’s too dark.”

Lorana laughed. “I suppose the light
is
too bad! But I’ve been looking at

these pictures for hours.” Catching J’trel’s grim face, she added hastily,

“Oh, don’t worry, J’trel, I was quite safe—Garth and Grenn kept watch.”

She glanced back at her drawing and then eagerly back to J’trel. “Did you

have any luck finding a ship? I’d love to see if there are any different sorts

of scatids in Tillek, not to mention the other beasties I’ve found.”

“A ship, she asks!” J’trel exclaimed. “Oh, Lorana, did I find the most

beautiful vessel for you! Fit for a Holder this one is—in fact it’s
meant
for a

Holder—none other than the Lord Holder of Tillek, the Masterfisher himself,

designed it, and it was built—ah, it’s just finished in the yards and will sail

with the tide!”

His beaming smile suddenly vanished.

“J’trel, what’s wrong?” Lorana asked.

“The tide!” J’trel wailed. “Oh, Lorana, that dratted dragon of mine—we’ve

missed the tide!” He turned to his dragon. “Talith, why didn’t you wake

me?”

“I’m sure you were
both
tired,” Lorana said in a reasonable voice. “But,

J’trel, what does it matter that we’ve missed the tide?”


Wind Rider
sailed with the tide, Lorana. The ship’s gone!”

There is plenty of time,
Talith said soothingly.
I know when we should

meet the sailing master. You have given me a very clear image.

J’trel brightened. “Of course!” he agreed. “Lorana, gather your gear and I’ll

have you on the good ship
Wind Rider
before she sails!”

B
etween only lasts as long as it takes to cough three times,
Lorana

reminded herself silently as Talith rose high above the Igen shoreline and

the faint traces of her campfire blended into the darkness far below them.

Since meeting J’trel and his blue dragon, Lorana had been
between

several times as they had gone from their unmarked camp to various points

on Pern. She had become mostly used to the chill and dead silence of the

nothingness that was
between
one place and another.

It may take a bit longer this time,
Talith warned her. And then they were

between.

The warming comfort of Talith’s presence steadied her. Lorana counted

slowly to herself:
one, two, three, fo—

The sun shone high in the sky as Talith appeared over Ista Sea Hold. Garth

and Grenn arrived moments later right above the dragon, chittering their

pride in following the larger dragon
between.

Talith nimbly deposited his riders before the main entrance to Ista Sea Hold

and told J’trel he was going to look for a nice warm resting spot.

“Just don’t fall asleep again,” J’trel warned, slapping the blue dragon’s neck

affectionately. As the blue dragon became airborne, he gave a soft cough.

Lorana looked at J’trel, with her brows raised. “I don’t recall him coughing

like that before.”

J’trel waved a hand. “He’s old. Sometimes a thick lungful of air will make a

dragon cough. His lungs aren’t like they used to be.”

“Do dragons cough often?” Lorana asked, with natural curiosity—her father

had been a beastmaster and had even tended people in emergencies, and

she had learned much of his craft.

J’trel shrugged. “Dragons are very healthy. Sometimes they seem to get a

bit of a bug, and sometimes a cough.” He made a throwaway gesture,

saying, “It doesn’t last long.”

“What about the Plague?” Lorana asked with a faint shudder.

“The Plague affected people, not dragons, and the dragonriders were

careful to keep safe.” J’trel’s face took on a clouded look. “Some say we

were too careful.”

Lorana shook her head emphatically. “We
have
to have dragons to fight

Thread, and they
have
to have riders to help them.”

J’trel smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder for a brief hug.

“That’s the spirit.”

Because she was with a dragonrider, Lorana was not jostled by the crowd:

People cleared out of their path. J’trel took this deference by the

seaholders as a dragonrider’s just due and set a brisk pace to make up for

his earlier tardiness.

Lorana struggled to keep up with him. J’trel noticed and gave her a worried

look. “Are you all right?”

Lorana flushed and waved his courteous inquiry aside. “I’m just a bit tired, is

all. Maybe I’ve been walking too long.”

You have never gone
between
times before,
Talith told her with a yawn of

his own.


Between
times?” Lorana asked aloud.

“Shh,” J’trel said suddenly, holding a hand up warningly. Then his eyes

narrowed as he considered what she’d said. “Why did you say that?”

“Talith told me,” Lorana said.

J’trel sighed. “We had to get here before
Wind Rider
sailed,” he

explained.

Lorana motioned for him to continue. Leaning closer to her, he lowered his

voice. “Dragons can not only go
between
from one place to another, but

from one
time
to another,” he explained. “When we jumped
between
we

also jumped back in time. In time for you to catch the
Wind Rider.

“That’s amazing!”

“It has its price, though,” J’trel added, wearily rubbing the back of his neck.

“It takes a toll on dragon and rider—and any passengers.”

Lorana gave him an inquiring look.

“Right now you’re here at Ista Sea Hold and also on the Igen seashore,”

J’trel explained. “How do you feel?”

Lorana thought about it. “I’m tired,” she said after a moment. “But I thought

that was from all the excitement.”

“That,
and
timing it,” J’trel said. “Some people feel stretched and irritable

after they’ve timed it. It gets worse the longer the jump, the more a person’s

in two places at once.”

“So dragons don’t time it that often?” Lorana asked.

“Dragonriders are
never
supposed to time it,” J’trel replied. He wagged a

finger at her. “Let it be our secret.”

Lorana nodded, but she had a distracted look on her face. J’trel had seen

that look before on others and had worn it himself when first confronted by

the dragons’ amazing ability, so he waited patiently for the question he knew

she would ask.

“J’trel,” Lorana began slowly, her expression guarded but hopeful, “could

we go
between
time to when my father was with that herdbeast and warn

him?”

J’trel shook his head and said sadly, “If we could have, we already would

have.”

Lorana raised her brows in confusion.

“You can’t alter the past,” he told her. “As long as it never happened in the

past, it never
can
happen in the past.”

“Why not?”

It cannot be done,
Talith said.
A dragon cannot go to a place that is
not.

Lorana looked puzzled.

“I tried once,” J’trel said, shaking his head at some sad memory. “I couldn’t

picture my destination in my mind.”

It is like trying to fly through rock,
Talith added.

“I wanted to go back to when my mother was still alive,” J’trel said. “I

wanted her to see that I’d Impressed, that I’d become a dragonrider. I

thought it’d make her happy.” He shook his head. “But I couldn’t do it. I

couldn’t see her and the place clearly enough in my mind to give Talith the

image.”

You had not done it, so you could not,
Talith explained with draconic

logic.

Lorana shook her head, mystified. “Maybe if I think about it long enough, it’ll

make sense,” she said, but her attention was already caught by the tall

masts of the ships docked just ahead. Swarms of seamen and landsmen

bustled about, loading and unloading carts, ships, and conveyances.

“Which one is it?” she asked J’trel.

“The shiny new one!” he told her, gesturing with a flourish. “The good ship

Wind Rider,
readying for her maiden voyage.”

Eyes widening, Lorana grabbed her book and stylus from her carisak and

began sketching furiously.

A sea voyage would do her good, J’trel mused, watching her draw. It would

give her a chance to take stock, see more of the world, and maybe learn to

see herself as she really was. She thought too poorly of herself.

He remembered how he had first met Lorana. It had been late and dark,

and he and Talith had been cold and feeling old . . . lost.

His partner, K’nad, had succumbed to his ailment, and K’nad’s green Narith

had departed forever
between
a sevenday before. J’trel had summoned

his courage and done everything to make K’nad’s passing easier for

everyone in the Weyr.

Then he had gone to tell K’nad’s kinsfolk, at the Hold where he had been

born and raised. Carel, Lord Holder of Lemose and K’nad’s younger

brother, took the news silently, inured to death from the great losses of the

Plague twelve Turns before.

After an uncomfortable dinner, Lady Munori saw J’trel to the great Hold

doors.

“He has buried his grief so deep that it no longer shows,” she said of her

husband, as an apology to the dragonrider. She touched his arm

consolingly. “He was always proud of K’nad.”

J’trel nodded and turned to leave.

“Dragonrider! My lord!” someone called out of the night. “A moment,

please.” There was a note of panic in the voice.

J’trel turned to see a young woman rushing toward him. She was tall, still

gangly in her youth, and not very pretty.

“Your pardon, my lord,” she said. “I was hoping to speak with you before

you left.”

“This is Lorana,” Munori said to J’trel, her voice tinged with sadness. “Her

father, Sannel, was a beastmaster who bred for us, as well as Benden and

Bitra.” She grimaced. “One of our beasts got crazed and kicked him in the

head.”

“To be in demand by three Holds—your father must be sorely missed,”

J’trel said, looking at Lorana more closely. He revised his first impression.

Her dark hair and almond eyes were set in an expressive face that was, at

the moment, quite somber. He wondered what she would look like when

she smiled.

Lorana nodded. “I was wondering if I could ask your advice,” she said after

a moment. “The beast that killed my father also snapped the wing on

Grenn, one of my fire-lizards.”

“I’m sorry,” J’trel replied, guessing at the nature of her request. “I’m afraid I

haven’t heard of any new clutches recently. But if I do, I’ll be sure to put

your name in for a replacement egg.”

Lorana shook her head. “He still lives.”

J’trel was amazed. “Usually a fire-lizard suffering such a wound will go

between,
” he remarked. “Often forever.”

A brilliant spark of determination flared in Lorana’s eyes. “I wouldn’t let

him.”

“It was the most amazing sight,” Lady Munori added. “You could even see

them breathing together, her and her fire-lizard, as she fought to keep him

here.”

Intrigued, J’trel said, “I should like to see this fire-lizard.”

“Thank you,” Lorana said, dipping a slight curtsy to the dragon-rider.

Lady Munori accompanied them. “You should see her drawings, too, J’trel,”

she said. “Lord Carel has two hanging in his chambers.”

J’trel cocked an eye at the young woman. “A healer and a harper! You are a

woman of many talents.”

Embarrassed, Lorana ducked her head.

Silently, she led them to one of the guest rooms and gestured politely for

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