"We can thank our lucky stars they didn't catch this viral influence!"

Just then Sh'gall moaned. Jallora hurried to gather up the rest of her paraphernalia.

"There now! Back again, Weyrleader?" She took the glass of orange liquid from the table and, deftly propping Sh'gall's pillows behind him with her free hand, put the glass to his lips. "Drink this and you'll be just fine."

"I don't really think it was wise of you to take-" Sh'gall sounded petulant and took the glass from her with a bad grace.

"The riders of Fort need it, Weyrleader. They must all be vaccinated, you know, to insure that no more have to endure what you've just been through."

The journeywoman took exactly the right tone with Sh'gall. Moreta could wish herself so fortunate as Sh'gall permitted Jallora to make a discreet departure.

"I don't think she should have!" Sh'gall repeated when he was certain Jallora was out of earshot.

"She got mine." Moreta pushed up her sleeve to exhibit the tiny bruise at the bend of her elbow. Sh'gall looked away. "We've a hundred and eighty-two riders out of action, sick or disabled."

"Why didn't Capiam attend us instead of that-woman?"

"Jallora is an experienced journeywoman healer. She was sitting her mastery exams when this plague occurred. Capiam is only just out of bed himself and he has the whole continent to worry about."

"I cannot believe that Leri did not know of my preference for P'nine as Leader." Sh'gall picked up his complaints as if Jallora had not interrupted the acrimonious interview.

"Leri made appropriate decisions based on her experience as a Weyrwoman. Kindly remember that she was one before you or I had Impressed."

"Then why does Kadith tell me that T'ral is taking two wings to Tillek today?" Sh'gall demanded angrily. "T'ral's a wingsecond."

"With the exception of the High Reaches, the Weyrs are still being led by wingseconds at this point. The sooner you can take over, the best pleased all the Weyrs will be."

That comment startled Sh'gall, but he didn't look pleased. "I've been ill. I've been very ill."

"I sympathize." Moreta tried not to sound facetious. "Believe me, you'll be feeling much better by evening."

"I don't know about that . . ." Sh'gall's voice faded.

"I do! I've been through it, too, don't forget."

Sh'gall gave her a look of pure loathing, but Moreta could not relent. Some of the burden of continuous Falls had to be removed from S'ligar's shoulders. Sh'gall was a damn good Leader and his abilities were desperately needed.

"Nerat's after Tillek," she went on. "You'll be in luck: They can supply ground crews."

"I didn't believe Kadith when he said that there hadn't been any ground crews. Don't holders realize-"

"The holders realize what this viral epidemic is like a lot more acutely than we do, Sh'gall. Talk to K'lon for a few minutes. He'll tell you a few hard unpleasant truths." She stood up. "I've a lot to do. Jallora said you must rest today. Tomorrow you can rise. Kadith may, of course, call me if you need anything today."

"I need nothing from you." Sh'gall turned away from her and Jerked the sleeping furs around his ears.

Moreta was quite willing to leave him to surly convalescence. She sincerely hoped that he would want to lead his Weyr in three days more than he wanted to indulge his fancied grievances. Leading the consolidated Weyrs was a mighty temptation for a man with Sh'gall's love of power. She tried to consider him more charitably: He was shocked by the devastation caused by the pandemic and seeking refuge from the staggering losses by dwelling on the petty details he could cope with and understand. Like who rose to Fall from where, and how.

She walked down the steps to Leri's weyr at a fairly rapid pace, an exercise that did not leave her as breathless as it had the day before. She would harness Holth since she could not dissuade Leri from fighting in the queens' wing though the old woman was very tired. Then Moreta would distill and mix medicines from the Weyr's dangerously depleted stores. She knew K'lon had been raiding them but hadn't the heart to object.

"He fainted, did he?" Leri crowed in malicious jubilation. "And he wasn't satisfied with my decisions during his illness, was he?"

"Was Holth eavesdropping again?"

"She doesn't need to. I don't know another reason why you'd have anger spots on your cheeks. Ha!"

"I've as much trouble making you listen to reason." Moreta spoke more tartly than she meant and she could feel her cheeks flush again. "You know you're overreaching your strength-"

Leri flapped her hand. "I will not forgo the pleasure of flying the queens' wing. Not while I'm able. And I'm a lot abler today than I have been for Turns!" She sipped from her wineglass.

"Oh?" Moreta eyed the goblet significantly.

"I won't have any more fellis juice until you've brewed it, my dear Moreta," Leri reminded her with a saccharine smile.

"K'lon said he knew where he could get some dried fruit."

"Hmmm." Both women knew that many of K'lon's supplies probably came from a hold that didn't need such medicines any more. "Ah well." Leri lifted her glass in silent homage.

Moreta turned to the harness rack, tears stinging her eyes again. She must stop thinking other family's empty hold. The memories of that place, shimmering in summer sunshine, children playing in the big meadow in front of the Hold, old aunties and uncles basking along the stone walls, seesawed with the present empty lifeless dwelling. Snakes and wild wherries must have . . .

"Moreta?" Leri's voice was soft and kind. "Moreta, Holth says K'lon has arrived," she added in a brisker tone exactly as Orlith told her rider the same news.

"I sometimes think I have more than two ears and one head."

I don't have ears, Orlith remarked.

Then K'lon was striding into the weyr, exuding an enormous amount of energy and good spirits. Moreta was suddenly struck by the warm brown tan of his face. Then, as he pulled off his flying helmet, she noticed that his hair was bleached.

"Nerat has fellis juice to spare, Moreta," he announced cheerfully, swinging the bulging pack from his back. "And Lemos says they've aconite and willow salic."

"And how was A'murry when you stopped at Igen?" She gave him a warm smile to show that she didn't object to a short detour.

"He's much, much improved." K'lon radiated relief. "Of course he's still weak, but he sits in the sun all day, which is good for his chest, and he's beginning to get an appetite."

"Done a lot of sunning with A'murry, haven't you, K'lon?" Leri asked.

Moreta shot her a quick look for her voice was suspiciously coy.

"When I've had the time." K'lon stammered slightly, fussing nervously with the pack.

"You mean"-Moreta had at last reached Leri's conclusion– "you've taken time to be with A'murry!"

"When I think of how hard I've worked-" Rogeth bugled outside the weyr.

"No one is faulting you, K'lon," Leri said quickly. Holth crooned reassurance, her eyes whirling bluely. "But, my dear boy, you've been taking a dreadful risking timing it. You could meet yourself coming and going-"

"But I haven't. I've been very careful!" K'lon's tone was defiant and fearful.

"Just how many hours have you been putting into your days?" Leri spoke with great understanding and compassion, even a hint of amusement.

"I don't know. I never counted hours!" K'lon jerked his chin up, rebellious. "I had to, you know. To get everything done and still make time to be with A'murry. I had promised him that I'd be in Igen every afternoon no matter how busy I was. I had to keep that promise. And I felt compelled to render Master Capiam the assistance he had to have-"

"Believe us, K'lon," Moreta said when he turned to her in appeal, "we are profoundly grateful to you for your courage and dedication over the past week. But timing is a very tricky business."'