Disclaimer: Pern and the Dragons of Pern belong to Anne McCaffrey

AN: OK, here is a nice action-packed chapter for you. Sorry about the time I took to update - I can't promise that the next one will be any time soon either, but I'll do my best.

R’lan took the narrow, treacherous stairs three at a time, then ran through the corridors and burst into the crowded infirmary. ‘Who’s in charge around here? Hanna?’

‘Er – no, Weyrleader,’ said the Headwoman’s second, somewhat confused. ‘Er, that is to say, Meliana knows more about what’s going on than anyone else.’

‘Who the shardin’ hell is Meliana?’ R’lan demanded.

The women looked at one another, and shrugged. ‘Just some girl. Lystar’d know if anyone does,’ someone volunteered. ‘She and K’beth seem quite friendly with her.’

‘That’s not important right now,’ R’lan said impatiently. ‘Hanna, you’re competent to come and see Reia, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know if I can leave here…’ Hanna looked flustered. She liked to follow orders and routine, and the plague had shattered her serenity.

‘Come on, woman,’ R’lan ordered her. ‘It won’t take much of your time. She feels better, that’s all, and I want to know if it’s true. For Faranth’s sake, come on!’

K’beth was waiting for his weyrmate in the Weyr bowl. It was another stiflingly hot day, and thunderclouds were building again in the western sky. K’beth groaned. Another storm, making it unpleasant and dangerous to try and move around the Weyr, was something that they could really do without at this point.

What do you think, sweetheart? Going to rain?

Yes, said Rosith, and he could hear the distaste in her voice. Although she enjoyed swimming, for some reason he’d never been able to understand Rosith couldn’t stand the rain. And this time I will not wait out in it to take you home, the green added sternly.

Sorry, love. I’ll try not to do it again.

When Lystar finally emerged from the Lower Caverns looking drained and miserable and bent over something she cradled in her arms, he crossed over to her with swift, hurried strides.

‘Lystar! Are you all right? You look – Lystar!’ He saw the bundle in her arms shift and suddenly realised what it was. ‘Whose baby is that?’

‘Kalla’s,’ Lystar said. She sighed and leant against the greenrider, resting her head on K’beth’s shoulder. ‘He’s called Benellin. Kalla’s dead.’

‘I’m sorry.’ K’beth said, softly. He wrapped his arms around Lystar to support her, looking down at the child over her head. Benellin had a round, flushed face crowned with a tuft of fair hair, and he was dribbling slightly from the corner of an open mouth as he slept. ‘What’ll happen to him now?’

‘I don’t know.’ Lystar turned round, shifting the baby into the crook of an arm, and buried her head in K’beth’s tunic. ‘It was awful. They’re all dead. Hiding down there and just… I didn’t even know!’

‘Know what?’ K’beth stroked her hair. ‘Who, Lystar? You’re not making sense.’

‘The drudges,’ Lystar whispered, so that K’beth had to bend his head to catch her voice. ‘I didn’t see any of them around today, so I went down to check on them. And I found… it stank. Vomit and sewage everywhere. And bodies.’ She shuddered, and K’beth tightened his arms around her. After a minute Lystar looked up and carried on. ‘I found Kalla, but she was dead too. Benellin was crying. I brought him out. I couldn’t see anyone else alive…’

‘I guess the drudges found it harder to fight,’ K’beth said, quietly. ‘They’re not so strong and healthy to start with.’

Lystar nodded against his shoulder.

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘I’ll take him up to the weyr and put him to bed. I fed him, so I think he’ll probably sleep for a couple of hours now. Then… I really need to go and see the weyrlings. I think the candidates’ll do until tomorrow. They’ll have to! But I ought to organise a class of some kind, for tomorrow if not today.’

‘Wait…’ K’beth narrowed his eyes. ‘Lystar, we can’t keep Benellin. You know dragonriders’ children get fostered because they don’t have time to care for them.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Lystar took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. ‘I will arrange for him to be fostered in the Lower Caverns. But I can’t ask that of them now – they’re worked off their feet already. So I think we have to look after him until this is over.’

‘Lystar, you’re already too busy,’ K’beth said. ‘And you’ve been ill. Look at you. You’re exhausted. You can’t take on more responsibilities now.’

‘Right,’ said Lystar. She looked up, and K’beth saw a hint of a smile. ‘So you can help.’

She pushed herself upright and dumped Benellin into the greenrider’s arms.

‘Whoa!’ K’beth held the baby gingerly. ‘Lystar, are you sure this is a good idea?’

Despite herself, Lystar giggled. ‘Yep.’ Then she turned serious again. ‘K’beth, it’s got to be. I’ve got to talk to a lot of people – even before I see the weyrlings, actually. Being worried about them wasn’t the only reason I went down to see the drudges. Some of them are young – like Kalla, she’s not – she wasn’t – much older than us. I hoped some of them could stand.’

K’beth frowned again. ‘As in – be candidates? Why? They’re not Searched.’

Lystar shook her head tiredly. ‘Do the maths. We had fifty-three candidates. That’s not very many for thirty-seven eggs anyway! We’d have still been Searching this past sevenday if we hadn’t been confined to the Weyr. Thirteen candidates are dead, which leaves us with only forty-one, and five of those are girls! Even if every single sick candidate gets well in time to stand at the Hatching, at least one girl has to Impress green just to make up the numbers. And did you ever hear of a Hatching going well when the dragonets had no choice?’

‘Shards!’ breathed K’beth. ‘I didn’t even think of that. What are you going to do? We’ve got to find some candidates from somewhere…’

‘I’m going to talk to R’lan about that,’ Lystar said. ‘We can’t bring candidates in – not unless a miracle occurs and Melly finds a cure for this before the Hatching – so I want to ask his permission to get every unImpressed person in this entire Weyr to stand. I want to drop the age restrictions. I know a lot of the weyrbrats are irresponsible, but better a rider who needs controlling than a dead dragonet. I want every child who’s old enough to understand what’s going on out there. That gives us about fifteen more. And if we let older people stand – if we let the Lower Caverns women – then we can have probably twenty of them. Which gives us enough. Hopefully. And they mostly were Searched, or they’re the children of dragonriders, so it doesn’t seem impossible that they might Impress. Does it?’ She looked up at K’beth anxiously.

The greenrider was still reeling, but he pulled himself together to respond to the appeal in his weyrmate’s eyes. ‘No. I think it’s a good idea, Lystar. I think it’s the only thing you can do. But…’ How long until the Hatching, sweetheart?

Not long now. Perhaps a sevenday. Perhaps only five days. No more.

K’beth shook his head, whistling softly between his teeth. ‘But you’re still cutting it fine. And Lystar – what about people who Impress, but then get sick? I think you are going to have to be prepared to lose some dragonets,’ he said, gently.

Lystar pressed her lips together stubbornly. ‘We’ve lost too many people and dragons already!’

She would have said more, but a keening screech cut off her words. Both riders winced, turning unhappy faces upwards to see a slender green dragon screaming her misery to the sky as she launched herself out of her weyr and into the emptiness between. In K’beth’s arms the baby woke and began to cry.

‘I can’t… I wish there was something I could do!’ Lystar said into the ringing silence that marked the abrupt cutting off of the dragon’s grief, and burst into tears.

‘Lystar.’ Very cautiously, K’beth shifted Benellin into the crook of his arm as he’d seen Lystar do, gingerly rocking the crying baby. Then he reached out and took his weyrmate’s hand. ‘You are doing more than almost anyone else in the Weyr. Look at you. You’re rushed off your feet, going from candidates to weyrlings to infirmary. You should take some time out, go swimming with Caliath or something, but I know you won’t. You’re doing everything that you can. For the rest – we can only trust Melly.’

Lystar nodded and sniffed. ‘Yeah, I know. Yeah.’

‘Lystar!’ Melly caught sight of the older girl hurrying down a corridor, and dashed after her.

‘What is it, Melly?’ Lystar looked harassed, but she managed to dredge up a smile for the dark girl. ‘I’m a bit busy…’

‘This is more important,’ Melly told her firmly. She took Lystar’s arm and steered her back towards the infirmary. ‘I need your help. I’m sure I could figure out how the plague spreads – even maybe a cure – but I just don’t have enough knowledge of the Weyr and the people. I can’t see the connections. But you might be able to. If you help me, maybe we can make the difference.’

‘All right, this is more important,’ Lystar agreed. ‘What do you need?’

‘Come in here,’ said Melly, pushing her through a doorway into a little chamber beside the infirmary. There was almost nothing in the room except a stone table, and spread across its surface was the huge hide expanse of Gilda’s map, now with so many different ink colours sprrawled across it that it had become almost unrecognisable.

Lystar looked at it in puzzlement. ‘What’s this, Melly?’

‘A map,’ Melly told her. ‘Let me explain.’

Jarrin met Marti in the cavernous dining hall, and proferred his rough inventory. ‘Here. I don’t know very much about supplying a Weyr, but I reckon you need more fruit and juice. You seem to be all right for meat and fish, but it’s mostly salted or dried. And you have no bread at all. What’s left was rock-solid, so I ditched it. And fellis. I went round to the infirmary, but no one seems to know where Melly is, and she’s the only one who might know how much they have there. But there’s practically none left in the stores.’

Marti swore. ‘All right, thanks, Jarrin. I’ll… I don’t know how we’re going to get stores in! Maybe if they packed the stuff into watertight barrels they could drop it into the lake from dragonback for us to pick up? I’ll get Amerenth to speak to Lumeth, see if Benden Weyr can organise some deliveries. But we’re so indebted to Katriel and J’sor already…’

‘I think this is a case when necessity is going to have to overcome pride,’ Jarrin said, dryly.

‘It is, of course,’ said Marti, looking up at him. ‘It’s just that it was easier when Reia and Shareth carried the messages. They know Lumeth and Katriel so much better. Maybe I’ll see if Reia feels well enough in the morning… how urgent do you think our food situation is?’

‘We’re not going to starve yet, but I think we shouldn’t delay about arranging for the normal tithes to come in by some means.’ Jarrin paused, and then said hopefully, ‘Do I gather that Reia is –?’

Marti’s strained face broke into a broad smile. ‘Yes! She woke up today feeling better. I guess she might even be up tomorrow – think how quickly Lystar got back on her feet.’

‘That’s great news!’ Jarrin meant it. He knew that Reia would be able to reclaim the Weyr from the sense of chaos into which it seemed to be sliding. And her recovery would presumably have a good effect on R’lan too, which would boost the mood of every fighting dragonrider. ‘Although I wouldn’t like to bet she’ll be out of bed tomorrow,’ he added cautiously. ‘I mean, she’s not as young as she was. And Lystar bounces back really fast. I shouldn’t think that most people will match her recovery speed. But still – that’s amazing! You should spread it around the Weyr. It’ll make people feel better. Even if it wasn’t Reia, it’s still another person beaten the plague, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Marti agreed. ‘Amerenth is spreading the word. They’ll know down in the infirmary already. Hanna checked up on Reia to see if she’s really better, and says she is.’

‘I should go and tell Lystar. This is great news for her!’

‘Oh!’ Marti exclaimed. ‘Speaking of Lystar – have you heard her latest idea? You’re a candidate.’

‘What? Me?’ Jarrin drew in a startled breath. ‘But I’m too old… I’m a harper… I’m a candidate? Really?’

Lystar did this for me, said a voice at the back of his mind. Jarrin gasped again, suddenly dazzlingly happy. Lystar did this for me! She must have fought the Weyrleaders, bent the rules – it meant that much to her to see me as a candidate? She does… maybe this means… oh, I know she cares about me as a friend, but this? This is special…

‘Yeah, you,’ Marti assured him, smiling at his shock. ‘Too many candidates have died. Everyone in the Weyr who’s not Impressed is going to stand.’

‘Oh.’

‘What?’ Marti asked swiftly, concerned. She’d seen the sudden light in his eyes, and its eclipse. ‘Did I –?’

‘No.’ Jarrin forced himself to speak; his lips seemed suddenly heavy and unwilling to move. ‘No, it’s me, I… I’ll see you around, Marti…’ He turned and hurried away, out into the Weyr’s corridors. Once he’d rounded a corner he stopped and sagged against the wall. You fool! he thought savagely at himself. Of course Lystar didn’t mean anything. She needs more candidates – she’s being sensible. She’s got to deal with the situation in front of her. As I thought I had decided to do…’

Almost choking on the huge and bitter lump in his throat, Jarrin forced himself upright, straightening his shoulders, and deliberately walked away.

‘V’dar, H’men, N’don, N’kir, I’den, T’mok, B’farl, E’let, V’shan, F’nat, Astarra, Caden,’ Lystar said wearily, reading the twelve black names off the map again as if saying them out loud would make their connection obvious to her. ‘Some of them… I mean, E’let, N’don and N’kir are in the same wing. H’men’s in – I mean he was in – V’dar’s wing, and so’re F'nat, I’den and T’mok. But there’s nothing that connects them all as a group! B’farl and N’don hate each other, anyway. Why would they hang around the same people to both catch the sickness? And what’s a candidate doing in there?’

‘I don’t think it’s passed on by human contact,’ Melly said, firmly. ‘It’s too random. I wondered if it was locational. But again – why a candidate? Why a Lower Caverns woman?’

‘Wait…’ Lystar frowned, and pulled the map towards her again. ‘Doesn’t F’sennen have a weyr there somewhere? Yes, look, right by H’men, two down from V’dar.’ She looked sadly at the red-inked and crossed out name that was written in the weyr she indicated.

‘And that’s relevant because…?’ Melly asked.

‘Oh – he and Astarra were together,’ Lystar said. ‘So she had a reason to be over there all the time. If that helps?’

‘It might do.’ Melly too looked down at the map with renewed interest. ‘So how about… who’s this, Lystar?’ She pointed at one of the black names – the only one written inside a weyr a considerable distance from the other cluster.

‘V’shan,’ said Lystar, glancing at the indicated spot. ‘V’dar’s half-brother.’

‘What? Lystar, why didn’t you tell me?’ Melly yelped. ‘So he had a reason to be over near V’dar’s weyr too, if he was visiting his brother! It’s the location, it has to be. What about Caden?’

‘He ran a message up there for G’zul!’ Lystar remembered. ‘Someone on the top level. He complained how far he had to climb in the heat.’

‘It is the location,’ Melly repeated. ‘But what about it?’ Her eyes frantically searched the map. ‘Different levels, different people… what about it is the same?’

‘I don’t know.’ Lystar swallowed. ‘It seemed like we were so close…’

‘We are,’ said Melly fiercely. ‘Come on! Let’s go and take a look. We might be able to see something out there – something that matters.’

‘Right.’

But almost nothing was visible when they finally emerged into the Weyr bowl. Huge drak clouds had covered the sun and the heavy, sultry air pressed down on their lungs. Almost as soon as the two girls stepped out of cover the first drops of rain fell.

‘Come on!’ said Lystar. ‘This is going to get nasty. We have to get inside.’ She set off across the open space at a run as the sheeting rain began to fall in earnest, pounding into the dry and dusty ground. Melly followed.

‘At least the cascade’ll fill up again,’ Lystar called over her shoulder.

‘Uh-huh.’ Melly concentrated on keeping up with the longer-legged bluerider. She remembered what a blessing the cascade had become in the aftermath of the previous storm; everyone had been glad to drink from it after toiling up the Weyr’s endless narrow stairways. That had been way back; back at the start of this nightmare that now seemed to be all there was left.

‘I’ll get Cal to pick us up!’ called Lystar. ‘The stairs are too dangerous, the cascade’ll be overflowing.’

She had reached the far side of the bowl and the blue dragon was sweeping down towards her through the driving rain before she realised that Melly was no longer following her.

Lystar turned and looked for the candidate. Melly had stopped in the centre of the bowl, not caring that the rain was sheeting down over her, plastering her hair and clothes to her body and pounding against her face. She was staring at the staircase with an intent, urgent expression, and her lips were moving frantically as she tried to explain her own sudden realisation to herself.