A new fear enveloped Capiam. With such unprecedented demands on stillroom supplies, would there be enough of even the simple medicaments? Keroon Runnerhold, dealing as it did with many animal health problems, ought to be able to supply all its needs. Capiam despaired afresh as he thought of smaller holds. They would have on hand only a limited amount of general remedies. Most holds traded the plants and barks indigenous in their area for those they lacked. What lady holder, no matter how diligent and capable, would have laid in sufficient to deal with an epidemic?

To compound demand, the disease had struck during the cold season. Most medicinal plants were picked in flower, when their curative properties were strongest; roots and bulbs gathered in the fall. Spring and flowering, autumn and earthy harvest were too distant, the need was now!

Capiam writhed in his furs. Where was Desdra? How much longer did he have to endure before the wretched lethargy abated?

"Capiam?" Desdra's quiet voice broke into his self-pitying ruminations. "More soup?"

"Desdra? That message from Keroon Runnerhold-"

"As if we had only one febrifuge in our pharmacopia! Fortine has compiled a list of alternatives." Desdra was impatient with Gorby. "There's ash bark, box, ezob, and thymus as well as borrago and featherfern. Who's to say one of them might not prove to be specific for this? In fact, Semment of Great Reach Hold believes that thymus is more effective for the pulmonary infections he's been treating. Master Fortine holds out for featherfern, being one of the few indigenous plants. How are you feeling?"

"Like nothing! I cannot even raise my hands." He tried to demonstrate this inability.

"The lassitude is part of the illness. You wrote that symptom often enough. What can't be cured-"

Summoning strength from a sudden spurt of irrational anger, Capiam flung a pillow at her. It had neither the mass nor the impetus to reach its target, and she laughed as she collected the missile and lofted it easily back to his bed.

"I believe that you are somewhat improved in spirit. Now drink the soup." She set it down on the table.

"Are all healthy here?"

"All here, yes. Even the officious Tolocamp, immured in his quarters. He's more likely to catch pneumonia while standing at unshuttered windows to check up on the guards." Desdra chuckled maliciously. "He's got messengers stationed on the forecourt. He sails notes down to them to take to offenders. Not even a tunnel snake could slip past his notice!" A tiny smirk curved Desdra's lips. "Master Tirone had to talk long and hard to get him to set up that internment camp in the hollow. Tolocamp was certain that offering shelter would be an invitation to undesirables to lodge and feed at his expense. Tirone is furious with Tolocamp because he wants to send his harpers out with the assurance that they can return, but Tolocamp refuses to believe that harpers can avoid infection. Tolocamp sees the disease as a visible mist or fog that oozes out of meadows and streams and mountain crevices."

Desdra was trying to amuse him, Capiam thought, for she wasn't normally garrulous.

"I did order a quarantine."

Desdra snorted. "True! Tolocamp ought not to have left Ruatha. He overruled the brother when Alessan fell ill. And with every other breath, Tolocamp is said to moan for abandoning his dear wife. Lady Pendra, and those precious daughters of his to the mercies of the plague rampaging at Ruatha." Desdra's chuckle was dry. "He left them there on purpose. Or Lady Pendra insisted they all stay. They'll have insisted on nursing Alessan!"

"How are matters at Fort Weyr and Ruatha?"

"K'lon tells us that Moreta is doing as well as can be expected. Berchar probably has pneumonia, and nineteen riders-including Sh'gall-are weyred. Ruatha is badly hit. Fortine has dispatched volunteers. Now drink that soup before it cools. There's much to be done below. I can't stay to chat with you any longer."

Capiam found that his hand shook violently as he picked up the mug.

"Shouldn't've wasted all that energy tossing that pillow," she said.

He used both hands to bring the mug to his lips without spilling. "What have you put in it?" he demanded after a careful swallow.

"A little of this, a little of that. Trying a few restoratives out on you. If they work, I'll make kettlesful."

"It's vile!"

"It's also nutritional. Drink it!"

"I'll choke."

"Drink it or I'll let Nerilka, that laundry pole daughter of Tolocamp's, come nurse you in my stead. She offers hourly."

Capiam cursed Desdra but he drained the cup.

"Well, you do sound improved!" She chuckled as she closed the door quietly behind her. ,

"I didn't say I liked it either," Leri told S'peren. "But old dragons can glide. That's why Holth and I can still fly Thread in the queens' wing." Leri gave Holth an affectionate clout on the shoulder, beaming up at her life-long friend. "It's the tip, the finger, and elbow joints that harden so the finer points of maneuverability go. Gliding's from the shoulder. Doesn't take much effort, either, with the sort of wind we're likely to get now. Why did it have to get so bloody cold on top of everything else? Rain'd be more bearable as well as more seasonable. " Leri adjusted the furs across her shoulders. "I wouldn't trust the weyrlings to such dull work. They'd do something fancy, like the stunt young T'ragel tried on the ridge with Moreta. "Now, you said L'bol is grieving badly?"

"Indeed he is. He's lost both sons." S'peren shook his head sadly before he took another sip of the wine Leri had served him "to wet your throat after the dust at Red Butte." S'peren took comfort in the familiar act of reporting to Leri. It was like the old times, only a few Turns past at that, when L'mal had been Weyrleader and S'peren had been much in this weyr. He almost expected to see L'mal's chunky figure swing into the chamber and hear the hearty voice greeting him. Now there was a Leader to encourage and comfort in this disastrous Turn. Still, S'peren thought with a blink, Leri was as brisk and quick as ever. "Could Igen put eight full wings up to Fall?"

"What?" Leri snapped out in surprise at the question, then snorted. "Not likely. Torenth told Holth that half the Weyr is sick and the other half looks sick. Their damned curiosity and all that sun on their heads all the time. Slows 'em down. Nothing to do with their spare time but bake their brains. Of course, they all went to gawk at a raree! And we'll never hear the last of their moans for the unexpected tariff!" She made a business of scanning the lists S'peren had handed her. "Can't say as I can put a face or pair a dragon name with some of these. Must all be new. When L'mal was Leader, I kept up with all the new riders in every Weyr."

"S'ligar asked about Moreta." "Worried about Orlith and her eggs?" Leri peered wisely over the lists at the bronze rider.

S'peren nodded. "S'ligar volunteered candidates in case-"

"Only what I'd expect." Leri's answer was tart but, seeing the expression on S'peren's face, she relented. "It was good of him to offer. Especially since Orlith is the only queen currently bearing eggs." Leri's round face produced a slightly malicious smile.

S'peren continued to nod for he hadn't realized that. It put another light on S'ligar's concern for Moreta and Orlith.

"Don't worry, S'peren. Moreta's doing well. Orlith's with her constantly and that queen's a marvel of comfort, as everyone in this Weyr should know by now."

"I thought it was just with injured dragons."

"And no comfort for her own weyrmate and rider? Of course Orlith helps Moreta. The other Weyrs could learn a thing or two from our senior queen dragon. Wouldn't surprise me if there were some pretty crucial changes made when Moreta's well. And when Orlith rises to mate again!" Leri winked broadly at S'peren. "That girl has got to show her true preference to her queen."