A Gift of Dragons - Anne McCaffrey [26]
“T’gellan’s leading the wing,” K’van informed them, deftly picking out of the stream the information that escaped Aramina. “They’ll search. We’re to get back to the cave.”
“Oh, my sackful of nuts!” cried Aramina.
“Nuts, she worries about! At a time like this!” Pell was disgusted.
Aramina started to cry again, unable to stop the tears. “Mother needs them for bread flour. . . .”
“I’ll come back for ’em,” exclaimed Pell at the top of his voice in frustration. “I’ll come back!”
Not completely reassured, since she knew her brother so well, Aramina was nonetheless willing to be helped back to the cave. Her mother, after her first startlement, bathed and salved Aramina’s scalp and the other scratches she had received from the rough handling. If Barla did so with compressed lips and a decidedly pale face, she did not scold Aramina. Pell, under K’van’s stern eye, had gone back for the nuts and Aramina’s jerkin. K’van brewed more klah, a very welcome cup that infused Aramina’s cold stomach with welcome heat.
Aramina, Lessa waits without, said Heth. For your mother, too.
“Mother, we’re wanted outside,” Aramina said.
“By whom?”
“By Lessa, the Weyrwoman of Pern,” said K’van. “Heth just relayed the message.”
Barla looked at her daughter as if she had never really seen her clearly before.
“You don’t just hear dragons,” she said in a puzzled voice, “they hear you, and they talk to you, and you can answer them?”
“A very useful knack,” K’van said with a grin; then he added, “Lessa’s waiting.”
“Is she angry with me?” Aramina asked timorously.
“Why would she be angry with you?” K’van asked, puzzled.
We could not be angry with you, Aramina, said the most beautiful dragon voice that Aramina had yet heard.
“C’mon.” K’van took Aramina firmly by the arm to haul her out of the cave. “You don’t keep Lessa waiting.”
Aramina’s first impression of the slender figure standing in the clearing was surprise. The Weyrwoman of Benden was so small in stature: a full head shorter than Aramina. But, once Aramina confronted Lessa, the vivid eyes and the forceful personality made her forget about such a trivial detail as height. Nor had Heth mentioned that F’lar and Lord Asgenar also waited.
“My dear child, are you quite all right?” Lessa’s expression turned anxious as her hand hovered over the ugly bare patch on Aramina’s head.
“I don’t know how that villian Thella eluded us,” said Asgenar, his teeth clenched with frustration. “We have captured the rest of her band. Fewer to trouble you, and us. I am most chagrined, Aramina, that despite our precautions you were put at risk.”
“I’m fine, really, Lord Asgenar. Heth saved me. And Mother had the fellis and numbweed.”
“We are extremely grateful to you,” Barla put in, “for those generous gifts.”
“Generous!” Lessa made a scathing remark. “I would be a lot more generous, Lady Barla, if your stiff Ruathan pride would permit.”
Nothing could have startled Barla more, but, though she permitted a slight smile to curve her lips, to Aramina she seemed to be more prideful than ever.
“We Ruathans have reason to be proud, Lady Lessa.”
“But not stupid in that pride, Lady Barla. Lytol tells me that Dowell’s hold is still vacant. Deserted, needing repairs, for no one under Fax’s holding prospered. Would you prefer to return there? Lord Asgenar”—Asgenar bowed at his name—“is also interested in anyone with wood mastery.”
Barla looked from one to the other. “Ruatha is ours by right.”
“So be it, Lady Barla,” Lessa said, and, from the way her mouth twitched, Aramina was certain that she applauded the answer.
“However, Lord Asgenar, I am certain that my husband would be glad to build you a Gather wagon . . . to acquit our lodging here.”
“Only if he also accepts the marks his Craft allots for the labor,” said Asgenar with a wide grin.
“Of course, Aramina is for Benden Weyr,” Lessa went on, her