Author's Note: Another quick chapter! Hopefully I will continue to be able to update in a timely fashion, at least until I go back to school in January. Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter. If you're taking the time to read the story, please leave me a note with any suggestions or comments. It means a lot!

A Revelation

Eva landed hard. She managed to twist herself midair so she landed on her left side, protecting the stump of her leg from unnecessary battering. But the jarring crash of her body on the stone floor of the Weyr still sent waves of pain through straight to her leg.

You hurt! What happened? Valeth was with her in an instant, seeing through her eyes, trying to find out why she was hurting, soothing the pain.

I'm fine, Eva ground out, biting her lip to keep a whimper of pain from escaping—or else an inappropriate curse. Some sharding fool just knocked me down. I'll be all right.

Valeth replied with a mental snort, as if contesting her definition of "all right." I am still at the lake, but I will come if you need me.

"I am so sorry," a man's voice said, and two hands appeared in Eva's line of vision. "Here, let me help you up."

She would have loved to refuse, but she also knew it was the only way for her to stand. She grudgingly placed her hands in his, and she flew up from the ground like she weighed no more than a feather. She hopped on her left leg until she had some sense of balance, and leaned up against the stone wall while the man reached down to pick up her crutches. Only when she had both crutches under her arms and could stand on her own did she look up to see who had knocked her over.

He looked vaguely familiar; she didn't think she could forget a head of such dark, wildly curling hair or such bright green eyes. He was young, but something about the lines around his eyes made Eva think he had seen more than most. Her gaze darted to his shoulders to examine his rank knots, and she suddenly realized why he looked familiar. He was the dragonhealer who had worked with Valeth in the sevendays after their injury, making sure the burns healed properly and that the scarring didn't interfere with her flying. There was something strange about his brown, if she was thinking of the right person, but she couldn't quite remember what.

"Let me apologize again," he began. "I should have been more careful. You're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Eva gritted out. Anyone else and she would have been inclined to hit his legs with her crutches, but the man had done fine work with Valeth. And besides, nothing was really hurt except her pride.

"I was on my way to speak with Weyrwoman Veara," he continued cautiously.

"No!" Eva said loudly. Then, trying to regain control, "I mean, you can't. Not right now. She's very busy."

The man frowned. "We had an appointment. I need to talk with her about replenishing our supplies before winter sets in. It's rather important."

"It'll have to wait," Eva said impatiently. Veara was in no condition to speak to anyone, at the moment, and they had already established that she wanted to keep her illness a secret for as long as possible.

"Do you think you could take a minute to talk to me, then?"

Eva was shaking her head before the words could even get out of his mouth. "I'm really not the person you want to talk to. You should have your dragon bespeak Ellith and see if Britta's available. She'll be able to help."

The man looked at her for a long time. It was an uncomfortable sensation. She felt like she was being measured, and was coming up far short of whatever expectations he had. There was something in his eyes, and she had a feeling that it was pity, or disgust, or both. "I'll do that," he finally said. "Can I walk you wherever it is you're headed?"

"I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself," Eva said, keeping a tight rein on her tongue.

"I never doubted it," he replied. "I was just hoping to talk to you for a minute, that's all. I wanted to ask how Valeth's getting along. Has she had any problems since I last saw her?"

Eva started crutching, and it was painfully embarrassing to watch the tall man shorten his stride to match her halting gait, so she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. But talking about Valeth was the one thing that could make her smile. "No, she's been flying perfectly. Better than ever. You did a good job," she admitted grudgingly. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," he replied. "I figured she would have contacted Edorith if she was having any trouble, but you never know. Young dragons never like to admit when they need help."

She wondered if that particular comment had a double meaning, but she chose to ignore it. "No, they certainly don't." They reached the entrance to the bowl and stepped out into the mild sunshine. The sun warmed her skin, chilly from being in the dark interior of the Weyr. "I'm about to give her a bath now," she said, pointing out at the lake where Valeth was currently diving and sporting with some other young dragons.

"Ah," the man said with a nod. "I'll leave you to it, then. Edorith already had his bath today; the lazy boy's snoozing in the sun."

Eva followed the direction of his hand as he indicated a brown dragon sleeping near the entrance of one of the ground level weyrs. He was far enough away that she couldn't get a good look at him; she could only just make out the rich brown hide from the darker stone walls of the Weyr. "Enjoy your bath," he said in parting, and then he was walking briskly away.

As Eva crutched to the lake, she reached out to Valeth. Are you ready to get scrubbed?

Yes! The gold broke off her game of splash with a pair of dragonets from Ellith's most recent clutch and moved to the edge of the lake. She stretched out her neck to Eva and shook her head, spraying water all over her.

Thank you very much, she said dryly. The sun might be out, but the air was still chilly!

I am glad you are here. It is not as nice to be bathed when you aren't here, Valeth said.

Eva winced. It was bad enough that she was useless in every other capacity of her life, without neglecting Valeth, too. She was going to have to make more of an effort, even if it meant shocking people with her crippled body and ugly scars.

She needed help to bathe Valeth, though. It was a nearly impossible job even for someone who was entirely healthy. Luckily, the sun had drawn a number of weyrbrats out to the lake, and they were always looking for dragons to help wash. Normally something as exciting as a gold dragon would have drawn swarms of them, but Eva found a gaping, open space around her. She could feel little eyes staring at her, but none of the children approached.

They were scared: by the scars, by the crutches, by her unstable wobbling as she balanced on one arm and used the other to stroke Valeth's eye ridges.

After what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, Eva was aware of a pair of footsteps inching forward.

"Ma'am? Do you need some help washing your dragon, ma'am?" The girl addressing Eva was just on the cusp between child and young woman. She was tall, and had the pinched look of someone who had grown a great deal in a short period of time. Her hair was a bright copper color, and her nose and cheeks were covered in freckles.

"Yes, thank you," Eva said with a grateful smile. The girl certainly had nerve. She was obviously the leader of the ragtag bunch of children, because a few shouts from her had the entire group swarming over Valeth in minutes. All Eva had to do was supervise the process, making sure they didn't miss any spots and scrubbed hard.

"What happened to your leg? Mama said you were in a bad accident."

There was no wondering who "mama" was. Headwoman Arvise had single-handedly populated the lower caverns with a slew of children who had the same red hair and freckles. Eva gave the girl a considering look before she decided to answer. The child didn't mean any harm. "It's true. Thread got my leg, and that's why I have to use the crutches."

"Will it ever get better?" The girl squinted at Eva's skirt, as if she looked hard enough she could see what was underneath.

"No, it won't."

"I'm sorry." Silence fell between the two, interrupted only by the shrieks and cries of the children who had been bathing Valeth. Now that the scrubbing was done, Valeth was engaged in a battle with the children, seeing how many of them she could soak. Eva could tell she was having fun, just from the waves of pleasure passing across their bond.

"It's all right," she finally said. "But you know what? Being hurt makes it really hard for me to bathe and oil Valeth. Do you think you and the other weyrbrats would like to help me every day?" The solution to her problems came to her all of a sudden. The weyrbrats would quickly grow accustomed to her injuries—children were like that. And it would be much better than having the candidates and weyrlings take time out of their days to do it, which was the way it had been up until this point.

"Really? You'd let us do that?"

"You'd be helping me," she assured the girl. "What's your name?"

"Elisa."

"Well, Elisa, just make sure you ask Arvise if it's all right. Tell her she can talk to me if she has any questions. And you can call me Eva. I'm not that much older than you are!"

"All right, ma'am—I mean, Eva. I'll ask her tonight!" The girl darted back to the others and informed them of the conversation, which induced more shrieks of delight.

The weyrbrats worked diligently, oiling Valeth to a bright sheen in no time. Eva eventually had to assure them that Valeth couldn't possibly need more oil before they bounded away, off to the kitchens to dry off, warm up, and wheedle a snack out of the kitchen workers.

I like children, Valeth sighed happily as they left.

They did a good job, Eva admitted. I think they're going to help me give you baths all the time.

I'm glad.

They sat together in silence, soaking up the sunlight, but eventually Eva sighed. There's something I need to tell you. It's Veara. She told me she's very sick, and she's not going to be getting better anytime soon. She's going to die.

Valeth crooned, a haunting sound that was very similar to the mournful cries the dragons always gave when one of their kin died. I thought you might say that. Feirth has been so worried. It is not fair.

No. There's something else. Veara told me a lot of things…about how I've been hiding away and neglecting my duty. That I haven't been acting like a goldrider since I got hurt.

Valeth snorted. You are always a goldrider. You are always my rider. You have been sad, and in pain, and unhappy. But that does not mean you are not a goldrider.

Eva laughed at Valeth's vehemence. Thank you, love, but she was right. She said she's going to give me special lessons, so I'll be able to help Britta when—you know.

That will be good. When the time comes, you will be ready.

Valeth's unswerving confidence and faithful support were like a balm against the unsettling news of the morning, against the fear that kept Eva imprisoned within herself.

As dragon and rider slowly made their way from the lake back to their weyr, Eva caught a glimpse of that same brown dragon. Valeth, what's the name of Edorith's rider? The dragonhealer who helped you?

Valeth thought for a moment. De'rin, she answered finally. He is a good man. He knows much about wings.

And that was it. De'rin, brown Edorith's rider. Wings. Suddenly she remembered what set them apart from the other riders of the weyr, why just seeing him stirred up the memory of old gossip.

It had happened just a few days after she Impressed Valeth. Still giddy from the joys of Impressing and the shock of achieving such important rank, she'd been eating in the Dining Cavern with her classmates when fierce, whispered rumors began circulating to all the tables.

A dreadful accident involving the senior weyrling class. A midair crash high above mountain cliffs. A long fall down to the rocky bottom of a crevasse. Wings torn and broken in the fall. A massive rescue mission to retrieve the fallen pair.

And then, later on, the final verdict: the young brown would never fly again. Grounded, for the rest of his life.

Valeth had been following along the path of Eva's thoughts, reliving that same moment. Edorith's rider became a dragonhealer because always hopes to be able to fix his wings. And because he never wants anyone else to be grounded.

Eva looked over to the brown once again. From that distance, he looked perfectly normal, like any other dragon curled up in the sun. But she had seen him shuffling on the ground to the feeding pens or to the lake, seen the torn, oddly shaped wings that tied him to the ground.

She realized now that the look in De'rin's eyes had not been pity or sympathy, but understanding. He, too, knew what it meant to be forbidden to fly.