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centrifuge. The big wheel was slowing and the next batch of serum could be
examined. Turning her head, she saw that Nabeth had landed and B'lerion was
sliding gracelessly from the bronze back. Oklina greeted him with restraint,
pointing toward the beasthold. B'lerion caught her hand, and the girl fell in
step with him willingly enough but did not reclaim her hand. As the pair
turned down the roadway, Moreta could see B'lerion's left arm was in a sling.
He could not fly Threadfall. Had he been glad to escape from his Weyr when the
High Reaches wings rose? Did B'lerion feel, as she did when the wings rose
without her, an irrational compulsion to be with them? Or did he feel the
injury was little more than a valid excuse to visit Oklina?
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Drawing back into the shadow, Moreta turned to join the group by the
centrifuge, standing a little to one side-the better to watch Alessan, as the
healers discussed the quantity of vaccine they would need, the minimum
effective dose, and how they could discreetly discover how many runners were
in-holded.
"Body weight is always the factor," Moreta said, slipping into the
conversation.
"We must make the determination of dosage as easy for the uncertain and the
inept as possible," Alessan said. "Some of the handlers in the back holds are
going to be incompetent as well as skeptical. Where handlers are still alive,
that is." He flushed as Capiam fixed him with a reproving eye.
"We have been relocating capable people and trying to ascertain where more
might be needed. It is amazing what people can do when they have no other
options available."
"Master Capiam, how crucial is it that the runners be vaccinated ... at this
juncture?" Desdra asked, her gray eyes intent on the Healer's face.
"With zoonosis the determining factor, and I thought we had agreed on that
point, "
"We have, but we cannot also waste effort." Desdra indicated the ornamental
glass, the layers of blood now at rest. "I am forced to admit to you now that
we have barely enough needlethorn to vaccinate the people, much less the
animals. It would be unwise to reuse needlethorns," Desdra went on
softly. "The danger of contagion, "
"I know. I know." Capiam pulled his hand across his forehead and down his
cheek, rubbing at his jaw. He gave a weak laugh, tossing his hand in the air
in a futile gesture before he eased himself to a bale of straw, "And we can
only be sure of eradicating the threat of plague if we vaccinate both."
"It is just needlethorn which you lack?" Moreta asked, catching Capiam's
despondent gaze. The Masterhealer's eyes began to widen and his stricken
expression changed to incredulity as he realized what her question implied.
"And will lack, unfortunately, until autumn," Desdra was saying, turning away
from the disappointment she had just inflicted on her master. She did not see
the exchange that passed between Moreta and Capiam. "I have appealed to every
hall and hold on the drum network to send us their inventory. As it is, we may
be forced to exclude some people, "
"How? Who? When?" Capiam's terse questions to Moreta were hoarse whispers but
so intense was his voice that it caused a hush and Desdra whirled to face him.
Shrugging off discretion with a nervous laugh, Moreta answered him. "How is
walking down the roadway. Who is us, for I can count on your silence and that
is as essential as needlethorn, and when has to be now, before I have time to
reconsider this aberration." She grinned in reckless glee. Knowing it was a
dramatic gesture, but unable to resist, she pointed to the entrance just as
B'lenon and Oklina entered. "Are you badly injured, B'lerion?" she said,
hailing the bronze rider cheerfully and, in a lower voice to Capiam, "He can't
be that bad or he wouldn't have risked between."
"No, my shoulder was only dislocated," the bronze rider replied diffidently,
"but I can't stand seeing the wings form without me. Pressen needed someone to
bring Ruatha what we can spare from our stores, so I
volunteered." B'lerion did not look at Oklina, who was standing breathlessly
beside him, but bowed with tacit sympathy to Alessan. "I have wanted to
express, " He broke off, sensing Alessan's distress.
"There is something you can do to help, now that you're handy," Moreta said,
and B'lerion gave her a startled look. She drew him to one side and explained
the situation and made her audacious request.
"I concede," he said, darting quick glances at Capiam and Alessan, "that the
matter is urgent, even overwhelmingly so," he spread the fingers of his
uninjured hand in appeal, "but it is quite one thing, Moreta, to add a few
more hours to a day, and a completely different matter to flit across months.
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You know very well that it's damn dangerous!" He kept his reply low while
trying to argue sense into her. Though B'lerion might often behave with
apparent disregard for proprieties, he was far from careless and
irresponsible.
"B'lerion, I know where we need to go, in both Ista and Nerat. I know when
needlethorn is ripe to be harvested. The ging tree is always in bloom. I
have seen the rainforest resemble a green face with a thousand dark-rimmed
eyes."
"Highly poetic, Moreta, but not exactly the guide I'd need."
"But it is a when. And to get the proper coordinates we've only to check the
autumnal position of the Red Star. Alessan would have the charts. It's rising
farther and farther west. One only has to calculate the autumnal
degree." She could see that that argument did much to reassure B'lerion.
"I had not really expected to spend my free afternoon harvesting needlethorn
..." His protest was halfhearted as he came to a conclusion that
Moreta hastily reinforced.
"We can spend as much time as we need there, B'lerion, and still harvest what
is so desperately needed now. But we must go now. I have to be back at the
Weyr for the end of Fall. Nabeth is equal to the feat."
"Of course he is. But they'd know," he jerked his thumb at the waiting group,
"that we had traveled forward in time, Moreta."
"Capiam and Desdra already know it's possible." She grinned at the expression
on his face. "After all, the Healer Hall bred dragons."
"So they did." B'lerion recovered from his astonishment.
"We will also have to use the ability on the day the vaccine is distributed."
B'lerion blinked wildly, glancing about him, but his gaze fell more regularly
on Oklina's figure and Moreta began to relax. "I could, actually, see the
Weyrs condoning that application, Moreta."
"They do not need to know we have taken time today. Who knows you've been
here?"
"Pressen and that lad out there."
"I'll send M'barak off on an errand. Surely we can expect silence from
Oklina, so that gives us a working party of six. We must make the time, and
take it, B'lerion. Weyr, hold, and hall cannot sustain a second epidemic."
"I have to concede that, Moreta." B'lerion looked out over the debris strewn
in the roadway and fields. "The change here is staggering." He grasped her
hands tightly, his grin giving her the assent she required. "I'll have
Nabeth speak to Orlith. If she agrees, what difference would a few moments
make among friends?"
"Tell Orlith it's for the runners. They deserve our help."
"You and your runners!"
When Moreta outlined her plan to Capiam, Desdra, and Alessan, she received
startled demurrals from each one that they didn't have the time to join the
expedition.
"Master Capiam, it takes no time from now, today, this hour, to do what
I have in mind," she replied to their protests with vexed severity. "Alessan,
you can surely arrange matters in your Hold for an hour's absence. It will
take longer than that for the cart to collect Dag and the men to herd the
mares and foals down. What will you do? Watch bottles spin? The risk I fear is
a breach of discretion about the entire project. Capiam and Desdra already
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