He heard no one.

In the distance a dragonet creeled uneasily. Then silence.

Kindan sighed and swung his legs over the side of the cot.

It wasn’t as if he was the only one who had nightmares of the Plague, but he hadn’t had many in the

past several Turns, so he was surprised that he’d had one now. Something about the day before must

have reminded him subconsciously, so that he sang so hard and drank so much to keep away the pain.

Not that it had worked, obviously.

The Plague that had swept across Pern and then—just as quickly—disappeared, had struck when he

had only fourteen Turns, leaving him solely in charge of Fort Hold’s sick when the aged healer had

himself succumbed to the disease. So many had died.

So many, including Koriana, Lord Bemin’s daughter and Fiona’s older sister.

“Koriana,” Kindan whispered. The sound of her name brought both joy and pain, like a rose: pretty

smell, prickly thorns. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

I tried, he thought. But he wondered, as he always wondered: Did I try hard enough?

Resolutely, Kindan lay back in the cot and closed his eyes. Presently, his breathing eased and he

relaxed, but he did not sleep. And in that space between sleeping and waking, he heard the sound of a

dragon departing between.

Talenth’s creel woke Fiona instantly.

What is it? she asked, jumping out of her bed and rushing to the young queen’s lair.

He hurts, Talenth whimpered. Fiona knelt and pulled the young queen’s head into her lap.

I’m sorry, she thought to her dragon, gently caressing the leathery hide.

He hurts and you feel it, Talenth said. How is it that you feel it?

Fiona furrowed her brow in surprise. At first she thought that Talenth was referring to her father, but

then she forced herself to be honest. She had wheedled and whined her very best to convince her father

to bring her to this Hatching, all because she knew that Kindan would be here.

I don’t know, she confessed. I just do. I’m sorry that it hurts you, too.

Can you help him?

Fiona bent to cradle Talenth’s head with her whole body. I’m not sure, she said. But deep inside her,

Fiona knew that was a lie. As she considered it, she heard a noise—a dragon going between.

We’ve been here long enough, let’s go, the rider thought to the dragon under her.

As you wish, the dragon responded. With a great heave of its hind legs, the dragon leapt into the air

and went between.

TWO

Skin stretch

Flake, peel.

Oil, scratch,

Feed, creel.

Fort Weyr, The Next Day

“I’ll be just fine, Father,” Fiona assured Lord Holder Bemin as he took his leave of her the next morning.