The Second Weyr

Torene spread the sheet out carefully, her touch almost caressing as she smoothed it down on the table and put salt and pepper mills to hold down the curling edges. “Now, there’s a natural opening quite far in. See the shadow here? Two-thirds of the way to the lake. Okay, the ceiling in the central cavity is only about two or three meters high, but you wouldn’t have to dig a very long tunnel to hook to it from either direction. There’s your ground access.”

“You do seem to have studied the entire site well,” Sorka admitted.

“Not just me,” Torene replied quickly. “A bunch of us go.” She hitched her chair closer and whispered across the space to Sorka. “Couldn’t you act as mediator for us?”

“Which bunch of you?”

Torene’s dark eyes sparkled. “Nyassa. . .”

“Really?”

“Well, Milath’s due to clutch soon, and Nya doesn’t like the Big Island ground, hates the cold at that place above Telgar, and doesn’t want to clutch here when she has to share the sands again with Tenneth, Amalath, and Chamuth.”

“I take her point.”

“D’vid and Wieth, N’klas and Petrath-”

“Hold it, Torene. D’vid and N’klas?” Sorka didn’t believe her ears.

“Oh, hadn’t you heard them?” Torene seemed surprised, then added quite casually, “No, I guess you wouldn’t have. I hear them all the time during Fall, because it’s what the dragons call other riders when they’re warning their dragons to be careful. They’re speaking so fast they sort of, well, compress names. So Day-vid has become D’vid, Nicholas Gomez is N’klas, and Fulmar is F’mar.

“Are you T’rene?” Sorka asked, diverted.

The girl thought a moment. “No, but Sevya’ll be Sev and Jenette, Jen. They’re sort of fast names anyway. I mentioned it one day after Fall and-” She gave a helpless shrug. “-everyone wanted to know their dragonish name.”

“Do they shorten their own, or others?”

“No.” Torene shook her head vigorously and flashed Sorka a dazzling smile. “Dragons always know who’s being spoken to.”

“I see.” Sorka tried to appear that she comprehended the distinction.

“We think it’s kind of nice to have a dragon nickname. It means they care about each other’s riders, too.”

“I guess it would. Tell me, how do they shorten Sean?”

Torene shook her head, bouncing her curls. “They don’t. He’s always ‘Leader,’ and I’d say they capitalize the 1, too.” She shot Sorka a sly grin.

“Oh, g’wan with you, now.”

“No, honest, Sorka, they’re always respectful of Sean. And you’re always a full ‘Sorka.’ ”

“Are you buttering me up, young woman?”

“Now, why would I do a thing like that?” Torene made her eyes rounder. “Just because I’ve asked you to be softly persuasive. . . .”

Sorka laughed again. There was no other young woman in the Weyr quite like Torene: so refreshingly herself, without guile and yet exceedingly clever in her directness. “Now, who else is in your select bunch that’s dropping over to the site all the time?”

“Sevya and Butoth, R’bert and Jenoth, P’ter and Siwith, Uloa and Elliath. . .”

“That makes three queens. . .”

“The new Weyr could accommodate four at least,” Torene said, “and we’ve got interest from six more bronze riders, one a Wingleader and two Wingseconds; fifteen brown riders, three Wingseconds among them; and ten blue and eight more green riders.”

“How long has this been going on?” A faint unease about the activities of the younger riders replaced amusement. Torene was far too candid in her dealings to be plotting a subtle mutiny of sorts. Sorka did a quick figuring-but forty-seven riders? Who were all eager to start fresh in a new location? That was unsettling. She was certainly going to speak to Sean if this was the scale.

“Oh, nothing’s been going on, Sorka,” Torene said, genuinely alarmed. Making immediate eye contact, she laid a reassuring hand on Sorka’s arm. “We’d just-basically-like to have more space. Except for Nyassa and Uloa, we’re all younger riders, stuck upstairs or downstairs or wherever we can be fitted in. Sevya says her mother has a bigger cupboard in Tillek than she and her dragon have here.” A tinge of dissatisfaction did color the girl’s voice, and she bit down on her lip, flushing at having spoken criticizingly.

What she said was fair enough, Sorka knew. Sevya and Butoth, just graduated from the weyrling barracks, were in embarrassingly tight quarters. Though Torene had not mentioned herself, Alaranth did not even have proper head room in the weyr she and her rider shared. In fact, they did not have two parts to their quarters as most partnerships did, and unlike most of the dragons, Alaranth had to go to the Rim to do her daily sunbathing. Soon enough the young queen would be fully mature, and there was no question that by then she could not continue in such a cramped accommodation.