Day 2, Month 5, Turn 1, Ninth Pass
The thought of the leap between
times had made Bedella almost painfully nervous. She loathed the idea of it, unable to stop thinking of what had befallen the strange goldrider from the Ninth Pass, the slow agony of her delirious death. Even now, safely through on the other side, established again at Telgar Weyr, she was still haunted by the terror of what might have been - what had been, for so many. Fort Weyr had been hit the worst, true, but Telgar had seen its share of losses. To make matters worse, the arrival had come not at the usual harvest season - the autumn - but just at the beginning of the planting season. The growing season this far north was shorter than in the southern parts of the Continent, and it could not be looked for that the farmholds nearest the Weyr would be ready with crops to send to a newly arrived and completely barren Weyr right away.
They would be surviving on crumbs before the larders were fully stocked, if Bedella didn't miss her guess. The thought nagged at her, gnawed at her, fretted her, worried her. They had taken everything they could from the stores, but there was much that simply couldn't be borne with them on this long voyage, and they were facing a long spring before they could hope that the Holds were ready to tithe abundantly.
After almost two months of this constant worry, Bedella's nerves were shot. And, of course, that was when Solth finally chose to rise. Telgar's Senior Weyrwoman was not best pleased, but she didn't exactly have a choice. When it was all said and done, when R'mart had again been confirmed as her Weyrleader, the two of them sat opposite one another at the big table in her weyr, trying to figure out what they would do to sustain themselves. It had been a difficult conversation, for he was a fine Weyrleader when it came to leading fighting Wings, but he had no head for tending to the day to day life of the Weyr. The addition of the weyrlings in a few months was only going to strain their already stressed limits.
"...but if we were to barter with Solth's eggs to a Weyr that needed manpower more than supplies - " Bedella cut off that remark with a gasp. What R'mart was proposing was all but blasphemy, to give away the eggs of her queen in exchange for what? Some rice and fresh fruit? She could hardly...
But her stomach lurched at the thought of a bit of fresh fruit, of the taste of fresh vegetables. They were living off of rehydrated meat, fruits, and vegetables, things from jars, things that were decent enough but not exactly palatable. Their fighting Weyr had not suffered as badly as many Weyrs had, but their lower caverns were bare. She was loathe to see Solth's eggs Hatch on the Sands of another Weyr, but she was even less keen on the idea of a long summer waiting for proper tithes to replenish their supplies. And she had heard that, for all they had taken a hard hit in terms of numbers, Fort Weyr had been lucky to see generous supplies come to them already from their Holds.
The two dissolved into a discussion of such matters. To whom would they even propose such a thing? There was yet no leader at Fort, no one that could realistically make such an agreement with them. Perhaps if they engaged the Headwoman? The goldriders? The Wingleaders? It was going to be a delicate proposal at best, and not one to be made lightly. But one that would need to be made soon.