Dragonsblood

TWENTY-TWO

Kindan smiled at Lorana as she paused at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Oldtimer Rooms.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “I’ve been in them.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And I touched nothing.”

“We should get Ketan,” she said.

“Right behind you!” Ketan called out, clattering down the stairs to join them. He and the weyrlings-now grown dragons and riders-had returned the day before, exhausted. Of the lot, the weyrfolk without dragons had fared best, Ketan included. “I saw you headed this way.”

Reassured, Lorana moved in front of Kindan and was the first in the room. The sound of a disembodied voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Welcome,” it said. “I am Wind Blossom. If you have come to these rooms for an emergency involving the dragons, then please step inside. If not, please leave immediately.”

Eyes glowing, Lorana turned back to the other two, who stood poised in the doorway.

“She said her name was Wind Blossom,” Lorana called, gesturing excitedly for the others to enter.

“The song was right,” Kindan whispered, entering the room and peering cautiously around, as though afraid that his gaze might damage some unknown treasure.

“Indeed it was,” Ketan agreed, pointing to the far wall. There was a door outlined, but no sign of a square plate with which to open it. Instead, written on the door in strange paint was:

The voice changed to another’s. “I am Emorra, Wind Blossom’s daughter. Please, if you have come here to learn how to conquer the dragons’ illness, go to the first cabinet labeled ‘A’ and take the booklets there-one copy for each of you.” The voice paused. “When you have done that, please take one of the chairs and we will continue.”

Lorana gave Kindan a nervous look, but he nodded firmly to her and the cabinet.

“Apparently we are to be schooled,” Ketan surmised as Lorana passed a booklet to him. He glanced at it. “This may take a while.”

“Then the sooner we start, the better,” Lorana declared, seating herself.

Before she could open the booklet, footsteps on the stairs outside caught her attention.

“May we join you?” M’tal asked, as he and Salina appeared in the doorway.

Lorana, Kindan, and Ketan exchanged looks. “I don’t see why not,” Lorana replied.

“The more help, the better,” Ketan agreed.

“Excellent,” M’tal replied, nodding his head in thanks. “And Kiyary has promised to bring down refreshments in two hours.”

Ketan smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. Neither, from their sheepish looks, had Kindan or Lorana.

“There are booklets in that cabinet behind us,” Lorana said, gesturing. “We were just getting started.”

“It was the most amazing thing,” Ketan added. “When we first entered, the voice of Wind Blossom herself greeted us.”

M’tal and Salina looked both surprised-and somewhat disappointed at having missed it.

“When everyone is ready,” the voice of Emorra spoke from the ceiling above them, “please have someone close the door. Instructions will be played while the door is closed and everyone is seated. If you wish to take a break, simply either all stand, or have someone open the door. The instructions will resume from where they left off when the door is again closed and people are seated.

“Please note that there is no way to know how many of you are present, so if one of you must leave, be sure to leave the door open until that person returns, or she will miss parts of the instruction.” There was a pause. “Now, the first thing to do is to read the first chapter of the booklet. If you have problems reading the text, you will have to see if you can locate someone who can read it for you. If you do have such problems, please leave the room immediately. The power required to light this room and provide my voice is limited and will eventually fail.

“At the end of the first chapter you will find instructions on how to indicate that you have finished the first chapter and understand it.”

Kindan’s furrowed his brows in puzzlement. “That will be some trick,” he said.

“You may start reading whenever you are ready,” Emorra’s voice said. “Please do not stand on courtesy, as I am not present-this is merely a recording of my voice.”

All five of them exchanged astonished looks, and Ketan mouthed the word “recording” to himself, trying to grasp the full flavor of its meaning. But Lorana was less interested in the Oldtimer skills than she was in finding a cure for the dragons. Avidly, she opened the booklet and began to read.

“The dragons and watch-whers of Pern are modifications of the indigenous fire-lizards,” the booklet began. “It was possible to make the much larger dragons and watch-whers from the fire-lizards because all living things contain a set of instructions telling the creature how and what to grow to make a complete living being.

“These instructions are embodied in a genetic code,” the booklet continued. Lorana leaned forward and immersed herself in the wonders of genetic codes.

An hour later, she got up from her seat, stretched, and walked to the cabinets. She opened the one marked B, pulled out a tray of equipment, and returned to her seat.

“What are you doing?” Kindan asked, looking up from his book.

“Well, I’m ready to start the first experiment,” she explained. “You know, the one at the end of chapter two.”

“Chapter two?” Kindan said in astonishment. “You’re already done with chapter two? I’m still trying to finish chapter one.”

Before Lorana could reply, Ketan piped up, “No, don’t wait up for us, Lorana. If we don’t catch up soon, maybe you’ll explain it to us.”

Lorana nodded and resumed her seat. Immediately she turned to the beginning of chapter three and started working with the equipment.

The bulk of the equipment consisted of small colored objects, about the size of the tip of her thumb. They weren’t quite balls, being planed off and grooved on four sides-top, bottom, and two sides that met in a corner-the booklet said that they represented the fundamental genetic material. The blue object was for the A molecule, the red object represented a B molecule, the green a C molecule; the purple object represented a C-prime object, the magenta object was for B-prime, and the yellow object was for A-prime. There was a seventh object-a beige one-that represented the N or Null molecule. There was also a pencil and a tablet of paper, which she was to use to record her answers.

Lorana quickly assembled three of the objects-blue, yellow, and beige-into a triangle. In short order she had built another triangle-red, beige, and blue-and carefully slid the two triangles one on top of the other. With a gentle movement, she twisted the top triangle slightly and felt it lock into place.

Delighted, she gave a cry of joy, which startled the others. They looked up at her and then gathered around in wonder.

“What is it?” M’tal asked, eyeing the object eagerly.

“Are you building a sequence?” Ketan asked.

Salina craned her neck to get a better view. “Is it a START sequence or a STOP sequence?”

“Ahem.” Kindan cleared his throat loudly. “Some of us are still reading.”

“Some of us are slow,” someone-it sounded like Ketan-murmured in response. Kindan reddened and bent his head back over his booklet, pointedly ignoring them all.

The sound of footsteps outside heralded the arrival of Kiyary and several others from the Kitchens with refreshments.

“Is it lunchtime already?” Kindan asked in surprise.

“We can eat while we work,” Lorana said, helping Kiyary place a tray on the workbench in the rear of the room. Kiyary muttered a quick thanks, her eyes wide as she peered around the room in awe.

“So the Oldtimers made these rooms for us?” Kiyary asked.

“We heard the voice of Wind Blossom,” Ketan told her. “Her mother created the dragons.”

“And they can help us now?” Kiyary asked.

“That’s the hope,” M’tal said, helping himself to a mug of klah and some sweetrolls.

“And if they can’t?” Tilara asked, crossing the room with another platter. She set it down beside the one Kiyary had brought. “What then?”

Ketan and Lorana exchanged looks. “We will find a cure,” Lorana told the older woman firmly. “By ourselves, if necessary.”

Tilara gave Lorana a probing look and, satisfied, nodded. “I’d heard that you felt the death of every dragon,” she commented.

Lorana nodded, her eyes dark with sorrow.

“Then no one has a better reason to find a cure than you.”

She turned away from Lorana and started bustling around the platters and chivying Kiyary to get everything just so. When she turned back again, her eyes were bright with tears and she had a plate with several sweetrolls on it.

“You haven’t eaten yet,” Tilara said, thrusting the plate at Lorana. She gestured to one of the chairs. “Sit, and eat.”

“But-”

“You’ll learn nothing with a growling stomach,” Tilara insisted.

“She’s right, you know,” M’tal agreed, stuffing another sweetroll into his mouth.

“And if you choke to death, you’ll do us no good, either,” Tilara scolded the ex-Weyrleader. Salina added a quick murmur of agreement, giving her weyrmate a dark look.

Lorana’s attempts to bolt her food were also thwarted.

“I spent more time making them than you are eating them,” Tilara told her reprovingly. “Stop to taste them, at least, girl!”

Lorana reddened, but she did slow down, and as she did so, she realized that Tilara and Kiyary had outdone themselves in making the sweetrolls. They were pungent, sometimes spicy, with thin slices of wherry meat, some sauce that Lorana didn’t recognize, and thin-sliced vegetables artfully mixed in. Some were cold and others were hot, and all together they were more of a meal than a snack.

When they were all full and the sweetrolls gone, Tilara bustled Kiyary into collecting the used plates back onto the trays.

“We’ll leave the klah here for you,” Tilara said. “It won’t get cold for a while-I’ve put a warmer over it.” And with that she headed back to the kitchens, Kiyary in tow.

By evening they had made far more progress, but it was not enough for Lorana.

“We’re still no nearer to figuring out how to open that door,” she said, jabbing her finger toward the poem-decorated door on the far wall of the classroom. “And we’ve no better idea how to save the dragons.”

“Mmm, I’m not so sure about that,” Ketan disagreed. “We know that dragons, like fire-lizards, have natural defenses against disease.”

“So?” Lorana demanded.

“And we know that this disease overwhelms those natural defenses,” Ketan added.

“That’s all we do know,” Kindan snapped, sharing Lorana’s disappointment and anger.

“And we know about PNA and how it contains the codes for all the vital operations of the dragons, and all Pernese life-forms,” Ketan continued. “I think that’s more than enough to learn in one day.”

“I agree,” M’tal announced. “My brain is feeling quite ruffled with all this. I’ll be glad to have a night’s sleep in which to settle and soothe myself.”

Despite herself, Lorana chuckled in appreciation.

“Very well,” Kindan conceded, “I suppose we could do with a rest.”

“We’ll be back before dawn,” Lorana added firmly.

“At dawn,” M’tal corrected, “and after breakfast.”

The next morning, they met in the Kitchen Cavern for breakfast. M’tal noticed how the dragonriders politely avoided them and how the cooks-Kiyary in particular-went out of their way to be sure that they ate a good meal.

“Kindan, what are you doing?” Ketan asked as he downed his second mug of klah.

M’tal and Salina smiled at each other. They, too, had noticed the harper’s tapping on the table, but it was a well-known fact that the Weyr’s healer always required two mugs of klah to wake up in the morning.

“Oh, sorry,” Kindan said absently, dropping his hands to his lap. A moment later, one was up again as he took another mouthful of oatmeal. Shortly after that, both of Kindan’s hands were on the tabletop again, tapping softly.

Lorana gave him a look but shook her head.

“Kin-” Ketan began again, but Salina’s look cut him short. The ex-Weyrwoman was looking intently at Kindan’s fingers.

Lorana noticed her look and frowned, closing her eyes in concentration. A moment later, she opened them again and exclaimed delightedly to Kindan, “You did it! You learned the sequence!”

Kindan, startled out of his reverie, gave her a surprised look. “I did?” he asked. As her words registered, he shook his head. “No, I was just practicing some drum codes…” His voice trailed off thoughtfully. “The drum codes are sounds.”

“But they’re grouped the same way as the PNA sequences,” Lorana insisted. Tentatively, she tapped out a sequence and then looked challengingly at Kindan.

“That was the START sequence,” Lorana said.

“No, it was the ATTENTION sequence,” Kindan corrected her. He frowned in thought and quickly tapped a different sequence. “What’s this?”

“That’s the STOP sequence,” Lorana answered promptly.

“It’s the END sequence for the drum codes,” Kindan told her. “What’s this?” He tapped a set of sequences.

“ABC, CBA, BCA,” Lorana translated.

“You’re right! PNA is based on drum codes!” Kindan declared.

“I’d say it’s the other way around,” Ketan remarked after a moment.

Kindan frowned. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But it makes sense,” M’tal said. “The genetic code is designed to store the most information possible in a group of three, so for simple drum codes it would be just as efficient.”

As they returned to the Learning Room, Kindan explained, “I had this strange dream that someone was trying to tell me something, some message.”

“Now you know what it was,” Ketan said.

Kindan, inspired by his new understanding, soon caught up with the others. Several times, in fact, they turned to him for guidance in difficult sections. He would close his eyes in thought and tentatively tap out a sequence, and correct it.

“How do you know whether it’s right?” Lorana asked when they’d solved one particularly difficult problem.

“I’ve been drumming for Turns,” Kindan told her. “It wouldn’t sound right unless it was.”

By evening the next day, they had all graduated from constructing simple codons to working through replication and the creation of proteins.

“So the PNA controls how all of the cells in the dragons are created, grow, interact, and die,” M’tal found himself explaining to a bemused B’nik at dinner that night. “And PNA contains the fundamental instructions for building defenses against disease and infections.”

B’nik, whose duties kept him from what everyone had started to call the Learning Rooms, struggled to keep up with the old Weyrleader. “So, if we can figure out which infection is affecting the dragons, we can build a defense against it?”

“That’s the hope,” M’tal replied, surprised at B’nik’s quick grasp. “But we haven’t finished the study books, and we know that there’s another room between this one and the first one we discovered.”

“What’s in it?”

M’tal shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I suspect, given all that we’ve learned, it is probably a room where we can experiment and observe. Perhaps it has instruments to allow us to actually see the infection.”

“But I thought you said the infection-that ‘bacteria’ or ‘virus’ you were talking about-is too small to see,” B’nik protested.

“It is,” M’tal agreed, “with the eye alone. But there are hints in the books that there are tools that make such small things big enough to see.”

“Hmm.” B’nik leaned back in his seat, mulling over this revelation. Then he leaned forward again and beckoned M’tal to come close to him. “Caranth is getting worse,” he confessed. “How long do you think-”

“Are you asking if we can find a cure in time for Caranth?” M’tal asked gently.

“And the others,” B’nik added quickly.

“We’ll do our best,” M’tal replied. “I know what you’re facing.”

B’nik gave him a bleak look. “Do you think-” He found that he couldn’t go on and swallowed. He took a deep breath and began again. “I’d like you to take over the Weyr if anything happens to Caranth.”

M’tal gave B’nik an encouraging smile and slapped the younger man on the shoulder reassuringly. “It won’t come to that, B’nik,” he told the young Weyrleader fiercely. “Not if I can help it.”

B’nik looked long into M’tal’s eyes and then nodded slowly. With a husky voice he said, “Thank you.”

Loudly, Kindan closed his book and looked up at the others.

“Done!” he crowed. His grin faded when he saw that M’tal, Salina, and Ketan had already closed their books. He was surprised to see that Lorana was still reading. Indeed, she looked like she was just at the beginning of the book. Kindan gave Ketan a questioning look.

“She’s rereading it,” Ketan explained. “Again.”

With a frown, Lorana slammed her book shut and looked up angrily at the others.

“So what do we know?” M’tal asked. “We know how the immune system works both against specific and nonspecific assaults.”

“We know that sometimes the immune system can attack symbionts,” Salina added, still surprised that there were tiny creatures that lived in harmony with the dragons.

“And even the body itself,” Ketan added.

“And we have a vague idea of how to build new responses to attacks,” Kindan said.

“But only by changing PNA,” Lorana added glumly. “We can’t make one of these ‘antibiotics’ or ‘antivirals’ to directly assault the disease.”

“But once we can engineer a change,” M’tal corrected, “we can build a ‘retrovirus’ to correct all the genes of all the cells in the dragons, so that they can correctly fight the infection.”

“And once we get it right with one dragon,” Salina added, “we can take ichor-the dragon’s blood-from it and inject it into other dragons, and the cure will spread through the circulatory system.”

“And,” Ketan added ominously, “it’d be best to use the cure on a queen who’s close to clutching-the cure would be carried to the hatchlings.”

M’tal and Salina exchanged disturbed looks. There was only one queen near to clutching and that was Minith.

“But we still are no closer to identifying the infection,” Lorana protested. She turned toward the still-closed door. “And we have no idea how to open that door.”

“Except what’s written on it,” Kindan said.

“Does anyone know how to talk with people who have been dead for over four hundred Turns?” Lorana asked acerbically.

“There must be a way,” Salina said, “or they wouldn’t have put that verse on the door.”

“Or built these rooms,” M’tal added.

“How do we know that?” Lorana asked. “Perhaps these Learning Rooms were meant for others? Perhaps they’ve already been used and we’re not supposed to be here.”

“No,” Kindan answered firmly. “ ‘Wind Blossom’s Song’ could only refer to you. These rooms were made for us.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and muttered, “Or you.”

“Then why,” Lorana cried, her arms flung out in despair, “don’t I know the answer?”

Ketan looked at her sympathetically. He knew that she was right, that they could just be chasing a phantom hope. But that was the only hope left. If the answers to their problems weren’t behind those doors, then the dragons would all die, of that he was certain. And if the answer was behind the door, then he was equally convinced that Lorana had to be the “healer lass” mentioned in the song. One look at Kindan convinced him that the harper was just as certain.

In the silence that filled the room after her question, M’tal rose from his chair and stretched. “Let’s go,” he said, “and sleep on this. Tomorrow we may have more answers.”

“Tomorrow Thread falls over Nerat and Upper Crom,” Lorana protested. “How many more dragons must die before we can open that door?”

“I don’t know Lorana,” Salina said, rushing over to the younger woman and hugging her fiercely. “But you can only do so much.”

“I know,” Lorana said miserably, burying her head in the other woman’s shoulder. “But-”

“Sh, sh,” Salina said soothingly.

“We must leave now, Lorana,” Ketan said. “We need our rest, and M’tal will be flying Thread tomorrow.”

“And we’ll be tending to injured dragons,” Lorana noted. “We won’t be here tomorrow.”

M’tal shooed them all out of the room. As they climbed the stairs back up to the second level, he said, “A day’s rest from this will do us all good.”

“At least we’ll have enough dragons to fight with,” Kindan added.

“That’s true,” M’tal rumbled agreeably. Judiciously, he added, “They’re all a bit more green than I would have liked but-”

A sharp intake of breath from Lorana interrupted him. “What?” he asked.

“It’s Caranth,” Lorana said. “He’s not feeling well.” She glanced at M’tal. “I don’t think B’nik should lead the Fall tomorrow.”

As they crested the top of the stairs, a loud barking cough echoed down the corridor from the Weyrleader’s quarters.

M’tal’s face darkened and he picked up his pace.

“Well, now, this is much better,” D’gan declared as he flew slowly in front of the ranks of dragons arrayed in front of him. The ones who had timed it still looked a bit off-color, he admitted to himself with a frown, but they represented over two-thirds of the Weyr’s fighting strength.

“Today we’ll show them how it’s done, won’t we, Kaloth?” he asked, reaching down to pat his bronze dragon affectionately. As if in response, the dragon gave a long, rattling cough, arching his neck and not quite unseating his rider.

I’m sorry, Kaloth apologized meekly.

“Not to worry,” D’gan grumbled. “It’s that addled healer-he should have worked up something to help you by now.” He peered over Kaloth’s shoulder and spotted K’rem below, preparing his brown. “Take me down and we’ll talk to him.”

K’rem glanced up at Kaloth as the bronze dragon landed and his rider slid to the ground. As D’gan strode toward him, the healer carefully schooled the frown off his face.

“Kaloth’s cough sounds worse,” K’rem commented as soon as D’gan was within hearing. “I had hoped that the last herbal would have helped.”

“It didn’t, obviously,” D’gan replied sourly.

“Weyrleader,” K’rem began hesitantly, trying to choose his words carefully, “perhaps it would be best if Kaloth rested today-”

“What? Deny him the chance to lead the full Weyr?” D’gan cut him off loudly. “No, just because your fardled medicines don’t work, doesn’t mean that my dragon can’t fly when Thread is in the sky.”

With a pleading look, K’rem came closer to the irate Weyrleader. “D’gan, he’s sick. He needs rest.”

“Find a cure, Healer,” D’gan ordered, turning back. “Find a cure after we fight this Fall.”

As D’gan returned to mount his dragon, his son, D’lin, approached him eagerly.

“The Weyrlingmaster says Aseth is ready, Father,” D’lin called. “Which wing should we fly with?”

D’gan shook his head immediately. “No,” he said, “you’re not flying Fall today.”

D’lin’s face fell. “But, Father…”

“Next time, D’lin,” D’gan told him brusquely. “Today I want you here, ready to ferry firestone and be a messenger.”

“Yes, Father,” D’lin replied woodenly, and turned away, shoulders slumped, toward his dragon.

For a moment D’gan thought of calling his son back, of telling him how proud he was and how much he loved him. But then he shook the notion off, reminding himself that the boy had to learn to handle disappointment with discipline. As far as D’gan was concerned, D’lin was a dragonrider first and son second.

As the sun crested the heights of Benden Weyr, it illuminated a Bowl already bustling with activity. The younger weyrlings, who had not timed it, were busily bagging firestone and building piles of supplies. Dragonriders, up early and already well-fed, were checking riding gear, or were gathered in knots talking tactics with their Wingleaders.

In a corner not far from the Living Cavern, Ketan and Lorana were setting out supplies and organizing for the inevitable injuries that occurred fighting Thread.

Caranth peered down morosely from his weyr over the proceedings, occasionally joining the cacophony of dragon coughs, which echoed eerily around the Bowl. Minith’s worried croons to her mate were answered by soothing noises from Caranth, which fooled no one.

M’tal and B’nik moved from wing to wing, talking with riders and Wingleaders, presenting a calm, united presence that reassured and relieved everyone they met.

“They’re up too early,” M’tal remarked to B’nik as they moved away from one group.

“I know,” B’nik agreed. “But you know how it is, the morning of a Fall.”

“Well, I do now,” M’tal agreed. “After all, we’ve had what-all of five Falls so far.”

B’nik furrowed his brow. “I hadn’t really counted,” he admitted. “It almost seems like we’ve always been fighting Thread.”

“It’s been only four sevendays,” M’tal remarked. “How will we be after Turns of this?”

B’nik shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said reflectively. He twisted his head to try to locate a cough from one of the sick dragons, failed, and turned back to M’tal. “But if we don’t find a cure soon…”

M’tal clapped B’nik on the shoulder. “I know,” he said somberly.

B’nik glanced at him, gave him a small nod, and then turned to the group they were approaching, calling with forced cheer, “So, J’tol! Ready to lead the wing?”

The fighting dragons departed an hour before noon-one hour before Threadfall was due at Nerat.

Lorana watched as the dragons winked between. A nudge from Ketan got her attention; he cocked his head toward B’nik and they both watched as the Weyrleader’s shoulders hunched-and hunched further as another wracking cough from Caranth rent the late morning air.

“I could-” Lorana began.

“Why don’t you and Kindan see if you can learn anything more,” Ketan suggested.

Lorana looked at Kindan, who nodded in agreement.

“Have someone call for us when we’re needed,” Kindan said over his shoulder as they raced off toward the stairs to the second level. Ketan waved in acknowledgment.

They were both puffing from exertion as they reached the stairs leading down to the Learning Rooms.

“It’ll be easier when we can get that door open,” Kindan remarked. “Then, presumably, we’ll be able to come in from the Hatching Grounds.”

“And all that’s needed to do that is for me to figure out what word I’m supposed to say and how I’m supposed to tell someone who is hundreds of Turns dead,” Lorana said bitterly.

Kindan ducked his head and concentrated on getting down the stairs and into the first of the Learning Rooms, which he had dubbed “The Classroom.”

Inside, Lorana seated herself and began once again to study her book.

It took Kindan longer to settle down in the icy silence that had spread between them. In the end, too full of nervous energy to stay seated, he got up to pace the room, earning a disgruntled look from Lorana. He flashed a smile in apology, was rewarded with a frown and a sigh, and turned his attention to the writing on the door.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “we’re going about this the wrong way.”

Lorana slammed her book shut and peered over her shoulder at him. “What should we do, then?”

“We should concentrate on what we know first, and then worry about what we don’t know,” he said. Lorana’s look was not encouraging but he pressed on. “For example, what would this word be?”

Lorana’s face relaxed into a thoughtful frown, and she turned away to get into a position more comfortable for thinking.

“Maybe they need to know if the infection is bacterial or viral,” Kindan suggested.

Lorana shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it,” she said after a moment’s further thought. “The textbook hints that the problem is one of data reduction. It would seem that there wouldn’t be all that much difference between antibacterial and antiviral methods.

“It must have something to do with how the disease is spread,” she said softly to herself. She got up and walked over to where Kindan stood in front of the door, once again reading the inscription on it:

“Well,” Kindan commented as he followed the lines with his eyes again, “at least it’s not the most disturbing part.”

Lorana cocked an eye at him, and Kindan sang,

As he sang it, Lorana’s eyes widened with fear and she started shivering.

“What is it?” Kindan asked, grabbing her shoulder with his hand. “Lorana, are you all right?”

But Lorana wasn’t hearing him.

“D’gan, no!” she shrieked.

D’gan looked over his shoulder one final time at the arrayed dragons of Telgar Weyr. Beneath him Kaloth shook with a long gargling cough. He saw K’rem turn to look at him and, impatient to get at Thread, he ordered Kaloth to take them between.

Just as the cold of between enveloped D’gan, he felt Kaloth give another shuddering cough.

Not long now, he told his dragon. Kaloth coughed again. D’gan began to think that perhaps he would keep Kaloth back on the next Fall. Let D’nal or L’rat lead-it would do them good.

Kaloth coughed again. A chill ran down D’gan’s spine, colder than the cold of between.

Between only lasts as long as it takes to cough three times, D’gan recalled.

Kaloth had coughed three times.

Kaloth coughed again-and in that instant, D’gan realized his error.

All the dragons of Telgar Weyr had gone beyond between.

The Weyrs! They must be warned! D’gan thought in terror as the last of his consciousness seeped away.

D’lin swallowed hard as he watched the dragons of Telgar wink between. He had worked hard for his first chance to fight Thread. Soon, he thought to himself, the Weyr would appear over Upper Crom, ready to flame the deadly menace from the sky.

Aseth turned his huge head to stare down at his rider. Our turn will come soon.

Of course, D’lin agreed fervently, not wanting his beautiful Aseth to think for a moment that he was in any way less than the most perfect dragon ever hatched on all Pern.

I do not hear them, Aseth thought a moment later, craning his neck up high in the sky.

And then the world collapsed. D’lin felt as though someone had punched him both in the stomach and just as hard in the brain, if that were possible. He was overwhelmed by pain and fear.

The Weyrs! They must be warned! D’lin heard the thought as though it were his own. Aseth bellowed in horror and defiance. Without thinking, D’lin leapt on his dragon and urged him up, out of the Bowl.

Benden will be nearest, D’lin thought, his sight masked by the waves of tears that were streaming down unchecked.

Come on, Aseth, between! And with that, overwhelmed by despair, hopelessness, and pure courage, D’lin urged his dragon between-

- without envisioning his destination.

Two thousand Turns later, their bodies would be discovered, entombed in solid rock at Benden Weyr.

M’tal looked back with satisfaction at the wings behind him. Every wing, including those who had gone back in time, was formed up neatly.

Thread ahead, Gaminth informed him.

I see it, M’tal replied, signaling the wings behind him to rise up to meet the incoming Thread. And then-

- a wave of horror, wrenching loss, and fear wracked him. Gaminth bellowed in pain, his cry echoed by every dragon.

What is it? M’tal asked his dragon fearfully.

D’gan and Telgar, Gaminth replied, sounding shaken in a way that M’tal had never heard before. They’re gone.

All of them?

All the fighting dragons, Gaminth confirmed.

And the Thread? M’tal asked, as he envisioned Thread falling unopposed on the ranges of Upper Crom. But he already knew the answer.

“Lorana!” Kindan shouted, catching her as she slumped toward the floor. In the distance he could hear dragons keening. “Lorana, what is it?”

A dragon’s bellow rent the air, answered by another more plaintive one.

“Is it Caranth?” Kindan asked.

Lorana opened her eyes, shivering. “It’s Telgar,” she told him dully.

Caranth? she asked, but the dragon was already aloft, riderless, beating toward the watch heights. In an instant she guessed his intention. Caranth, no!

Lorana felt the bronze go between, chasing after the dragons and riders of Telgar Weyr. With a cry, she reached out to grab him, bring him back-and found herself dragged along instead.

“Lorana?” Kindan called softly. But her eyes had gone vacant, just as they had been when she had lost Arith. Kindan’s own soul cry was echoed by Minith. The dragon repeated her cry louder-and then the cry was cut off.

“Lorana, Minith’s gone after Caranth,” Kindan said, hoping that she would hear the words in her lifeless state. The only response Lorana made was a gasp, as though she’d had the breath knocked out of her.

A rush of feet echoed down the stairs and Ketan and Salina burst into the room. They looked from Kindan to Lorana and back.

“She must come back,” Salina rasped. “She can talk to all the dragons. She can bring them back.”

“How?” Kindan asked, but Salina had moved beside him and grabbed Lorana. With palm wide-open, she slapped Lorana’s face.

“Lorana! Lorana, you must come back, come back now,” Salina begged. She swung for another slap just as Lorana’s eyes fluttered open and she raised a hand feebly to ward off the blow. “Call them back, Lorana. Bring them back.”

“I can’t,” Lorana said, her voice choking on tears. “I tried that with Arith and it didn’t work.”

“You must, Lorana,” Salina said fiercely. “You must. Call all the dragons of Pern. Bring them back.”

Lorana took a deep steadying breath, glanced at the old Weyrwoman, and nodded slowly. She closed her eyes and reached out, as she had done before when Arith had gone between.

This time, however, she stretched beyond the confines of the Weyr, reaching first to Gaminth, then to all the dragons of Benden and then beyond-

- to Ista,

- to Fort,

- and to High Reaches.

There were not enough dragons at High Reaches and she found herself feeling a strange echo. It reminded her somewhat of the echo she’d felt before, but that other echo had had a feeling of old about it-this one didn’t.

Mentally, Lorana shook the strangeness aside, desperate to find Minith, Caranth, and the dragons of Telgar. She searched, forcing all the dragons of Pern to follow her will, to search with her.

They were willing accomplices. She felt the presence of Bidenth, the senior queen at Ista, and suddenly all the dragons of Ista were behind her, aligned with the direction of her mind. And then she felt Melirth, the queen of Fort Weyr, and again the strength of dragons merged with her. For a moment Lorana felt as though she were exploding, being stretched beyond all imagining. She fought a moment of panic, won, and redirected her efforts back to Minith.

There! She found a faint echo, a spark of the queen dragon. And beside it, she felt Caranth. She tugged at them, battling them, willing them to obey her and ruthlessly channeling the power of all the dragons of Pern to her aid.

She could feel Caranth resist, try to slide away from her. She fastened on to him tightly and pulled against him, pulling him back to here. She felt his resistance crumble, felt a shadow of B’nik as he, too, added a call to his dragon. Relieved, Lorana allowed her mind for just an instant to range further, searching for the dragons of Telgar.

She felt a faint echo, a response, and turned all her power toward it, compelling Minith to order the dragons of Benden behind her, and weaving Caranth indissolubly into the mix. She reached-

- and felt a shock, a stab of familiarity. Not the dragons of Telgar, but something different, something she’d felt before.

Garth? she called. And just then she felt something else, some other presence. Lorana felt herself opening a door, using all the strength of the dragons to push it open.

For only a brief instant she felt she had a connection.

Dragons? The question came to her more as a feeling than a thought. Sick? How?

And in that instant Lorana knew the answer. Across the link, with the greatest effort she could muster, she shouted out loud and in her mind, “Air!”

Kindan felt Lorana go limp and caught her.

“The door!” Ketan exclaimed in awe. “Look at the door!”

The door to the second Learning Room was sliding open.