to fear, child.
“Mnementh’s quite right, Aramina. Would you explain?”
“It’s me. Because I can hear dragons. And the Lady Holdless Thella . . .”
“Thella, is it?” exclaimed Lord Asgenar, slapping his hand onto his sword hilt. “By the first egg, I’ve been longing to meet that one.”
“Thella has been chasing you, child?”
It was such a relief to admit to the first truth that her confession was almost incoherent, except that between her words Aramina kept hearing the reassurances of three dragon voices in her head, calming her, bidding her speak more slowly and above all not to be worried about a thing.
“So, Thella thinks to Search for what is the Weyr’s by right?” F’lar’s amber eyes flashed with a fire no less frightening than dragon breath. “And you and your family left Igen Cave only ten days ago? You have traveled hard to escape that woman. Where did you come from?”
“Last Turn my father bonded himself to Keroonbeastmaster. . . .”
“Then you are Keronese?”
“No, Lord F’lar. My father and mother had a small forest hold in Ruatha . . .”
Aramina stopped in midsentence, startled by the play of surprise and comprehension that flashed across the faces of the dragonriders.
“Lessa should have come, after all, F’lar,” F’nor said, grinning with some private amusement at the Weyrleader.
“So Fax made your family holdless, Aramina.” F’lar’s voice was kind, though his eyes still sparkled.
Unable to speak, Aramina nodded.
“And your father was a forester?” Lord Asgenar’s question was eager.
Again Aramina could only nod.
“He’s the best wood joiner and carver in all Pern,” Pell spoke up, sensing a sympathy in their audience that Aramina, immersed in guilt, could not appreciate.
“Is he now? I thought as much.” F’lar took up the conversation, giving Aramina a chance to regain her poise. “That’s a very well made Gather wagon you hide so neatly. We almost didn’t spot it, did we, Asgenar?”
“Well hidden indeed. But I must go on, F’lar, F’nor. My men are assembled. I’m leaving men to guard your cave, Aramina, so you will have absolutely nothing to fear from our Lady Holdless Thella. Not now or again. We’ll see to that.”
And, at his signal, two men ranged behind Aramina, K’van, and Pell. As Aramina watched the tall young Lord Holder stride down the track to join his men, she began to feel secure for the first time since her first encounter with Thella and Giron.
“We must leave, too,” F’lar said to F’nor. “Can’t let them sight dragons in the sky near this mountain. Aramina. K’van brings some medicines for your father from our healer.”
“We do not like to be beholden to anyone,” Aramina replied, as her parents had drilled her to say to any such well-meant offers. “We have all we need with us.” She caught her lip to be telling yet another untruth.
“But we,”—and F’lar bowed slightly toward her—“are beholden to you for luring that hellion Thella near enough to grab her.”
“Oh!”
“Take the medicines, child. Ease your father’s injuries,” said F’nor, clasping Aramina’s shoulders in his warm, gentle hands. He gave her a kindly little squeeze. “And don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” Aramina replied, for she wasn’t. Not of the weyrmen. But what would her proud father say of her actions over the past two days?
Then both dragonriders quickly vaulted to their waiting dragons, swinging nimbly up onto the neck ridges. With mighty leaps that sent dust, pebbles, and bruised leaves flying, the two beasts launched themselves upward. Suddenly the trace was empty of dragons and men, and only the two soldiers and the youngsters remained to hear the morning breeze sighing through the forest.
“I wonder if they’d have taken me along to see Thella get trounced,” Pell said, cocking his head around and beaming at the soldiers.
“Well now, lad, you should have asked, shouldn’t
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