McCaffrey, Anne - Pern 07 by McCaffrey Anne

Author:McCaffrey, Anne
Language: eng
Format: epub

CHAPTER X

Fort Weyr and Ruatha Hold, Present Pass, 3.16.43

When Moreta woke, she felt Orlith's joyful presence in her mind.

"You are better. The worst is over!"

"I'm better?" Moreta was annoyed by the quaver in her voice, too much a remnant of the terrible lassitude that had enervated her the day

before.

"You are much better. Today you will get stronger every minute."

"How much of that is wishful thinking, my love?" Even as Moreta spoke in her usual affectionate way, she realized that Orlith would know.

During Moreta's illness, the queen had been as close in her mind as if the dragon had changed mental residence. Orlith had shared every moment of Moreta's discomfort, as if, by sharing, the dragon could diminish the effects of the plague on her rider. They, who had been partners in so much, had achieved a new peak of awareness, the one in the other.

Orlith had dampened the pain of the fierce headache, she had eased the stress of fever and depressed the hard, racking cough. All she could do was comfort Moreta during the fourth day of physical and mental exhaustion. But by then the dragon queen had every right to rejoice.

"Holth says there is other good news! Master Capiam has a serum which prevents the plague."

"Prevents it? Can he cure it?" Moreta had not been so detached in the course of her illness that she had not known that others in Port had sickened, or that dragons and riders had died in other Weyrs. She was aware as well that two Fort Weyr wings had risen the day before to meet the Fall on Igen's behalf. That Berchar and Tellani's new babe had died. She knew as well that the epidemic had extended its insidious grip on the continent. It was time and enough for the healers to have found some specific means to control it. The plague has a name. It is an ancient disease.

"What name do they give it then?"

"I can't remember," Orlith said apologetically. Moreta sighed. Naming was a dragon failing. Yet Orlith remembered quite a few, Moreta thought fondly.

"Holth asks are you hungry yet?"

"My greetings to our good Holth and our gracious Leri, and I think I am hungry," Moreta said with some surprise. For four days any thought of food had caused nausea. Thirst she had suffered, as well as the hard throat-searing cough, and a weakness so deep she feared at moments that she would never shake it. That was when Oriith had been closest to her mind. Had there been space enough, the queen would have forced her swollen body into Moreta's quarters to be physically near.

"How's Sh'gall?" Moreta inquired. She had been feverishly ill by morning when Kadith had mournfully roused Orlith and Holth with the news of his rider's collapse. "He is weak. He doesn't feel at all well."

Moreta grinned. Orlith's tone was tinged with scorn as if the queen felt her own rider had been more valiant.

"Do remember, Orlith, that Sh'gall has never been ill. This must come as a terrible shock to his self-esteem.

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