I Read What?!

So last time, we got to see some Weyr politics and Healer Capiam may have made a breakthrough when it comes to the pandemic! Woo!



So we start the chapter with Moreta. She's waking up to a joyful Orlith in her mind. Apparently the worst of the symptoms are over, and she's finally improving. Dragons, we learn, are very good diagnosticians, since Orlith basically shared in all of Moreta's symptoms. She was able to provide some measure of pain relief too, and even helped depress the coughing. Nice!

Orlith has more news: Capiam has a vaccine. And apparently the plague is an ancient disease, which has a name. Orlith can't remember it though. (We're told that dragons generally don't remember names very well, though Orlith manages a few.)

We also learn that the healer Berchar is dead, as is someone's baby. That's sad.

Moreta asks after Sh'gall. Apparently she had been very ill already when Kadith told Orlith and Holth about his rider's collapse. Can we turn this into an insult?

He is weak. He doesn’t feel at all well.

Moreta grinned. Orlith’s tone was tinged with scorn as if the queen felt her own rider had been more valiant.

“Do remember, Orlith, that Sh’gall has never been ill. This must come as a terrible shock to his self-esteem.”

Orlith said nothing.

Yes, we can. Jesus, McCaffrey. We get it, he's a dick with basically no redeeming qualities. I knew I shouldn't have given you so much praise for nuance. It never lasts.

Anyway, Leri comes to visit. It alarms Moreta, but Leri is old and formidable and not particularly afraid of dying of a virus at this point. She comes bearing food, and this is kind of interesting:

A covered pot and the thong of a flask swung from her left hand. Two more containers had been stuck in her belt to allow her to use her right hand for her stick.

I like reading about accommodations.

Anyway, she's brought porridge. Oh, hey, check this out:

“A special porridge I concocted. Made them bring me supplies and a brazier so I could nurse you myself. Nesso’s finally down with it and out of my hair for a bit. Gorta’s taken charge—rather well, I might add, in case you’re interested.”

Sheesh, lady. I know Nesso's annoying, but being glad that she's got the plague because she's out of your hair is a bit, I don't know, fucking monstrous?

Anyway, Leri joins Moreta for breakfast and chats about Orlith's eating habits. Apparently, Leri's been seeing to her and she knows her very well. Holth was Orlith's mother and apparently that translates somehow, which is kind of cool. It sounds like she's due to clutch very soon.

They chat about Capiam's vaccine. Leri apparently has no intention of letting him "after [Moreta's] blood." She doesn't particularly like the idea of vaccines (which Capiam calls "an ancient remedy") and is amused by the recollection of Capiam apparently practically attacking K'lon for his blood earlier.

Moreta notes that Leri is worried and fatigued but mostly thriving in the crisis.

Oh, hey, can we add some scorn for lesser dragons now?

“Have there been more . . . Weyr deaths?” Moreta asked, bracing herself for the answer.

“No!” Leri gave a defiant nod of her head and another pleased smile. “There shouldn’t have been any! People weren’t using the wits they were born with. You know how greens and blues panic? Well, they did just that when their riders got so sick and weak, instead of supporting them. In fact, there might be something to Jallora’s theory that the one caused the other. . . .”

There you go. Greens and blues aren't just weaker, less important, libidinous dragons. They also are too stupid to help their riders. Woo.

Anyway, apparently, learning from Moreta and Orlith, now the Weyrwomen are telling the Queens to focus on the sick riders and not LET them die. Okay then. Still, 2/3 of the Weyrs out of action.

Apparently there's been some vaccine prioritizing:

“A preventive. And not enough of this vaccine yet.” Leri spoke with an angry regret. “So the Weyrwomen decided that the High Reaches’ riders must be vaccinated”—she stumbled over the unfamiliar term—“since we must all look to S’ligar and Falga. As more of the serum is prepared, other Weyrs will be vaccinated. Right now Capiam has the drums burning to find more people who have recovered from this viral influence. First dragonriders”—Leri ticked off each name on a finger—“then Healers, then Lords Holder and other Craftsmasters, except for Tirone, which, I think no matter how Tolocamp objects, is sensible.”

Fuck the peasants.

Also remember how Tolocamp had a little bit of positive influence in Alessan's chapter and thus came across as someone flawed but not malicious? Yeah, that's done with. McCaffrey paid her lip service to the idea of complex characters. Now he's just going to be a dick. He's not been sick because he hasn't left his apartment.

Anyway, Leri knows lots because K'lon reports to her. Apparently, his dragon has to eat daily because he's flying between so much. Capiam did send a message lauding his dedication. While his lover, A'murry, is actually recovering. It was tough. And of the Weyrleaders: L'bol lost both sons, M'Tani is "impossible", and F'gal's lost heart. K'dren and S'ligar are holding things together though.

Leri has bad news about Moreta's family hold. She's crying even. There's been no drum message and when they investigated, there was no one left alive. There were three hundred people in Moreta's father's hold. Even the bloodstock is dead. We get some additional background for Moreta:

Leri shook her head slowly. “Not even the bloodstock!” Her admission was almost a whisper. Moreta could barely grasp the staggering tragedy. Obscurely, it was the deaths of the bloodstock that she regretted the most. Twenty Turns ago she had acquiesced to her family’s wish that she respond to Search. She regretted their deaths, certainly, for she had been fond of her mother, and several of her brothers and sisters, and one paternal uncle; she had enormous respect for her father. The runnerbeasts—all the bloodstock that had been so carefully bred for the eight generations her family had the runnerhold—that loss cut more deeply.

Grief is a funny thing. Poor Moreta.

She has some hope that maybe some of the yearlings or pregnant runners could have been in the winter passage. Someone might have tended them. Orlith gives emotional support. Also, Leri drugged the wine with fellis juice, numbweed and a euphoric to cushion the shock.

She asks after Ruatha. It's been very badly hit. Alessan's recovering, but apparently the Gather guests have been decimated. Many other Holds are really bad off. It sounds like the eastern Holds are doing better. They had few cases and isolated quickly.

Moreta ends up coaxed back to sleep, upset and overwhelmed by the loss of her family.

--

We switch scenes to Ruatha. K'lon is our viewpoint character and he's outside Alessan's apartments. Apparently the vaccines are getting administered, but it's bad.

Apparently Capiam's been doing a good job of getting survivors to donate. Even Ratoshigan donated blood, though only because he was told it was part of the treatment. But things are BAD in Ruatha:

K’lon acknowledged that with a slow nod of his head. The desolation and ruin of Ruatha Hall had appalled the relief party. K’lon and three Benden green dragons had conveyed Follen, an apprentice healer, and six volunteers from Benden Hold. The spectacle that greeted the party emerging from between over the Hold was the worst K’lon had seen. The monstrous burial mounds in the river field, the wide circle of charnel fires near the race flats, the abandoned tents built on Gather-stall frames had indicated the magnitude of Ruatha’s attempt to survive. The sad tatters of the gaudy Gather flags, hanging from the upper tiers of the closely shuttered windows, had struck K’lon as grotesque, a mockery of the gaiety that was Gathering in the midst of the tragedy that had befallen the Hold. Bits and pieces of trash skittered across the forlorn dancing square and the roadway while a kettle swung noisily on its tripod over a long-dead fire, its ladle banging in time to gusts of the bitter-cold wind.

Oh, hey, remember how I said Tolocamp's going to be awful. Apparently when he left for Fort Hold, he left his wife and many of his daughters behind. They're dead now. Alessan's family's dead too. Except for one sister. Some of his runners survived though.

So K'lon goes in to talk to Alessan and we get a look at the guy:

Lord Alessan was kneeling by a toss-mattress, bathing the face of the occupant. There was another makeshift bed along the wall leading into the sleeping quarters. K’lon suppressed an inadvertent exclamation at the change in the young Lord Holder. Alessan might regain lost weight and his skin its healthy color, but his face would always bear the prematurely deep lines and the resigned expression that he turned toward the blue rider.

Alessan's still pretty courtly though, welcoming K'lon and expressing his praise for the healers. But the dude is not in a great emotional state, as revealed when he blanks on a journeyman healer's name:

“Strange, I can remember so many names . . .” Alessan broke off and stared out the window. K’lon knew the Lord Holder could see the burial mounds and wondered if the distraught man meant the names of those who lay beneath the tumbled soil of the mass graves. “It takes you that way, lying in bed, waiting to . . .” Alessan gave himself a shake and, gripping the top of the table, pulled himself slowly to his feet. “You have brought relief. Follen says that Tuero here, Deefer”—he gestured wearily toward the other bed—“and my sister will recover. He even apologized that he hadn’t more . . . vaccine? Is that what it’s called? Yes, well—”

Oof. Poor guy. We do learn that the vaccine does have some positive effects on people already ill, so yay. And K'lon tries to give some comfort:

“Oh, that serum will moderate the effects of the virus for her, I assure you. I’ve seen amazing recoveries after its administration. In fact, the serum Follen gave her is probably derived from the blood I donated.” K’lon rattled on mendaciously. Others had taken consolation from that fact so he held it out as comfort to this sadly bereaved man.

Alessan regarded him with a slightly surprised expression and his lips twitched in wry humor. “Ruatha has always been proud of its dragonrider bloodties though they’ve never been so direct.”

K'lon intends to look at Ruatha's stores and see what they need most, but Alessan is his descendant's ancestor, and has already gotten to work. He's got a list of ALL of the supplies, particularly medicinal, that they need.

Alessan asks after the Weyrs, and there's a nice little look at Hold vs. Weyr sensibility:

“Follen didn’t go into detail—how badly are the Weyrs affected?”

“Well, we have had our casualties, it’s true, but dragonriders have met every Fall.”

Alessan gave him a long puzzled look, then he turned away again to gaze out the window. “Yes, I suppose they would, if they could. You’re from Fort Weyr?”

Dude wasn't asking about Thread. K'lon's a bright boy and realizes from some remembered gossip that Alessan's asking about Moreta. He reassures him. Fort only had one death: an elderly brown rider. (Igen lost fifteen.)

Alessan is understandably caught up in melancholy. A few days ago, they had 120 racers, and seven hundred Gatherers. Alessan blames himself. Oh, and hey, Lord Tolocamp still sucks:

Alessan turned abruptly from the window. “You must bear to Lord Tolocamp my most profound condolences for the loss of Lady Pendra and her daughters. They nursed the sick until they were themselves overcome. They were valiant.” Alessan’s message was no less sincere for the abruptness of its tone.

K’lon acknowledged the message with a sharp inclination of his head. He was not the only one who would forever fault Lord Tolocamp for running from Ruatha. There were those who held the opinion that Tolocamp had been eminently correct to put the welfare of his Hold above that of his Lady and his daughters. Lord Tolocamp had remained secure in his apartment at Fort Hold while Ruatha suffered and died. Tolocamp would be spared the disease since he had vehemently insisted on being vaccinated despite the priorities set by the Weyrwomen and Master Capiam.

Of course. It's not enough that a character just be dislikable. They must all be the Worst. So K'lon's starting to find Alessan's repeated glances out the window creepy. But he still offers some reassurance to the guy, and is genuinely emotional when he leaves. K'lon intends to go and spend some time with A'murry before facing more of this kind of thing. They leave between.

And the chapter ends here.