Moreta Read Online Free PDF Page B

exhibition. What affected dragon affected rider. It was a lovely warm Gather, just the respite she’d needed from her onerous responsibilities all Turn. There was racing and Benden wine; there’d be dancing later. Moreta, Weyrwoman of Fort Weyr, was going to enjoy herself.
    You should, you know,
Orlith commented sleepily.
    “Hurry,” Alessan said. “They’re milling at the start.”
    Moreta turned to the nearest dragonrider at the wall.
    “Give me a leg up, R’limeak, would you?”
    “Moreta!”
    “Oh, don’t be scandalized. I want to see the race start.” She arranged her skirts and bent her left knee. “A good lift, R’limeak. I’d rather not scrape my nose on the stones.”
    R’limeak’s lift was not wholehearted. If Alessan’s strong hands had not steadied her, she would have slipped.
    “How shocked he looks!” Alessan laughed, his green eyes merry.
    “It’ll do him good. Blue riders can be so prim!” She took her wine from Alessan. “Ah, what a marvelous view!” Having observed that the race was not about to start, she turned slowly, to appreciate the sweep of the land from the foot of Ruatha’s cliff hold, over the crude roofs of the decorated stalls, to the empty dancing square, the fields beyond, the walled orchards on each side, and then the slope that descended gradually to Ruatha’s river, its source the Ice Lake high in the mountains above. True, the orchards were bare, the fields browned by what frost had fallen that Turn, but the sky was a vivid-green-blue, not a cloud in sight, and the air was pleasantly warm. Favored with a long eye, Moreta saw that three laggard racers had yet to join the starters.
    “Ruatha’s looking so gay,” she said. “Generally when I’m here, the shutters are all in place against Thread, not a soul or beast in sight. Today it’s a different place entirely.”
    “We are often good company here,” Alessan said. His eyes lay on the scene at the starting poles. “Ruatha is considered one of the best-placed Holds. Fort may be older but, I think, not so well laid out.”
    “The harpers tell us that Fort Hold was thrown together as a temporary accommodation after the Crossing.”
    “A mere fourteen hundred Turns
temporary.
Whereas we of Ruatha have always been planners. We even have special accommodations for visiting race enthusiasts.”
    Moreta grinned at him. She realized that they were both rambling on in excitement at the impending race.
    “Look! They’re finally lined up!”
    The mild breeze cooperated by blowing the churned dust of the racing flats away from the straggling line of cavorting beasts. She saw the white flag drop, caught her breath at the incredible leap as the animals surged forward.
    “This is the sprint?” she asked, trying to make out an early leader in the knot of nodding heads, bobbing bodies, and flashing legs. So close packed were the runners that neither riders’ hat colors nor saddle pads could be identified.
    “As is usual,” Alessan replied absently, shielding his eyes with his hand to see better.
    “Good field, too. Spreading out and . . . I’d swear the leader is wearing Ruathan colors!”
    “I hope so!” Alessan cried in considerable excitement.
    Cheers and exhortations rose from nearby and drifted up from the race course.
    “Fort is challenging!” Moreta said as a second beast separated from the pack. “And fast!”
    “It has only to hold!” Alessan’s words were half threat, half entreaty.
    “It will!” Moreta’s calm assurance elicited a quick disbelieving glare from Alessan, who remained taut with suspense until the winners passed the post. “It did!”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Certainly. The poles are parallel to this vantage point. You’ve a winner! Did you breed it yourself?”
    “Yes, yes, I did. And it did win!” He seemed to need her confirmation of his achievement.
    “It certainly did. A very respectable two lengths the winner or I miss my mark. And I don’t miss in racing. To your