The Skies of Pern

PART 4-New Dimensions

After the cove hold meeting that Tai had dreaded, she was as exhilarated as F'lessan. He had had to be unusually stern-for him-to get her to attend and only because Erragon had been equally insistent had she reluctantly complied. Then, during the meeting, both men had made so many references to her assistance that she had been embarrassed. When old G'dened had proved intransigent and supercilious, so-so stupidabout the dangers, she had had to speak up. Erragon and even Lord Lytol, who often took the opposite side of any argument, had supported her comment. And encouraged her to speak. It had been a high and totally unexpected moment of acceptance for her. Neither Benden Weyrleader had taken exception to or even seemed surprised by F'lessan's remarks. She had been almost overcome with pride in him. When Mirrim would have marched her off to the kitchen, F'lessan had kept her by his side, to explain to the younger Weyrleaders how they established the scan, set the remote imager for timed exposures, and how to determine the significance of the images and why so many exposures of the night sky were required. Palla seemed almost as overwhelmed by the company she was in as Tai, and the two exchanged sympathetic glances. Palla was the only other young dragonrider who understood the immediate task.

Then F'lessan issued the invitation for those interested to adjourn to Honshu. And eleven riders and dragons had flown to the weyrhold. That had been the heady part, especially with Mirrim present-showing off the observatory and bringing up images of the minor planets above the horizon. When F'lessan and Tai realized that Palla had remembered a good deal of her apprentice studies, they encouraged her to explain to J'fery, K'van, and T'gellan. Talina listened in the way she had of being of a group but not part of it. Mirrim pretended interest but Tai was aware of her restlessness, so when she offered to find out what there was to eat in the weyrhold, F'lessan told her by all means to find out and serve it up. He snagged Tai by the hand.

"She knows where everything is-" F'lessan murmured in her ear and paused significantly, "in the kitchen. Let her."

Revived by baskets of bread, cheese, fruit, cold river fish, meat, and klah that Mirrim served, the spontaneous first session of Astronomy for Weyrleaders-as F'lessan jokingly called it-went on till well after Rigel had set.

Having bid farewell to their guests, Tai began to clear the baskets, sweeping the remnants into one while F'lessan put the telescope to bed. She was gathering up the prints when he caught her starting to file them.

"Just make a neat pile. We need to get some rest tonight, my dear green," he said, curling his arms about her, pulling her into him and away from the chore. She leaned out of his arms to snag several more prints. "They'll come to no harm and filing will not only take you ages but you're tired enough to make mistakes." He kissed her neck. "You take the litter down with Zaranth. I'll close the roof and meet you downstairs."

"You walked up, I'll go down," she said firmly.

"No, I will. It's easier going down, and that way you'll have enough time to put the kitchen to rights after Mirrim's been messing in it and thenwe'll both take a quick swim in the river which I suddenly feel the urge to do."

F'lessan knew exactly how to manipulate her, Tai thought as she climbed the ladder to the roof and took the baskets that F'lessan handed up to her, grinning with his success. She heard the machinery that closed the roof begin to whir as she mounted Zaranth. Golanth's eyes blinked greenly at her.

I come with you,he said and dropped off the knob of stone he'd been perched on.

She left the two dragons on the terrace and made for the kitchen. All the lights were on and most of the cupboards left half ajar. There was rather more of a mess to clear up than she'd've thought. Had Mirrim done this on purpose? No, Talina had been with her; Talina might be indolent but she wasn't spiteful. Mirrim still didn't believe her about the pelts. Although Golanth had now managed, with just a little control from Zaranth, to alter the direction of trundlebugs only as much as was actually required, that had been as much experimentation as they had had time for. Images had had to be selected and prepared for the Weyrleaders' meeting and that had taken all their spare time. Well, almost all their spare time. Tai blushed as she cleared and wiped the worktops and decided that there weren't really that many dishes that needed more than a quick rinse. There was enough redfruit to make a pitcher of juice and she suspected that F'lessan would be thirsty. Any more klah and they'd never get to sleep. Maybe she wouldn't rest anyway, with so much of that meeting to review; vivid scenes in her mind. F'lessan would probably want to talk, and he always insisted that she have opinions and share them with him.

He looked tired when he finally got to the kitchen but his eyes lit up at the sight of the pitcher of juice. He had towels and two blankets over his shoulder, and clean clothes-for both of them-neatly folded over his left arm.

"How did you know I'd be dry as a bone, my dear green?" He poured juice into the two glasses.

She pointed to what he was carrying.

"Golanth has informed me that he now needs to wash the brine of Cove Hold off him and so does Zaranth, only she thinks we should all go to sleep. So I thought, if we went down to the river, they could get a good wash and we could watch the stars for what remains of the night. I really," and somehow he managed to stretch both arms out in a very dramatic gesture, "feel too elated to be cooped up! Drink!"

She did, laughing between swallows, because F'lessan in this mood was not easy to gainsay. And she did feel that she'd knocked down a few private walls tonight. So much had happened. So incredibly much. She'd been part of a special Weyrleader meeting, had spoken up and given information, shown examples of star images she herself had taken on the Honshu scope, and received commendatory glances from Erragon, Lytol, F'lar, and even Lessa. She felt for the first time that she was really a dragonrider, not justa green rider!

They finished the juice, mounted their dragons-F'lessan tossed over her clothes and a towel-and glided down from Honshu's heights to the river below the terraces. The pool was wide enough for several dragons to bathe in. It was deep on the Honshu side, where thick underbrush buried roots into cracked rocks, but the other side slanted up to a wide path packed down by centuries of herdbeasts watering there. Three wide terraces stepped up from the watering place before vegetation had found sufficient soil to nourish it. Many Monacan dragons had sunned here after the Flood. From the uppermost level, they could have seen the slate roofs of the cluster of holds. But daybreak was several hours away.

F'lessan had brought a pouch of sweetsand. Tai looked forward to a quick wash, even in cold river water. Cove Hold had been warm and she'd been in a nervous sweat there, worked up another in the crowded control room while showing off the fine clear sky view that the Honshu scope was capable of. They soaped each other, still with enough energy to make it playful. But fatigue settled on both of them soon enough, and the dragons splashed in gratefully to take their turn. Their antics sent sprays of water high up the bank. Laughing, F'lessan moved their things up on to the highest of the terraces and, throwing Tai her towel, began to dry himself. They dressed, since the dawn air could be chill, spread one blanket down, and pulled the other over them, using the towels as pillows against the rough ground cover.

Tai smiled, listening to the dragons' happy noises, and was at peace with herself in a fashion she had rarely experienced.

"I don't know if they sound more like fire-lizards or dolphins when they 'talk' like that," F'lessan said, cocking one arm under his head and reaching for her hand with the other.

"They're related, after all," she said, somewhat drowsily, quite content to lie there, next to him, letting his fingers twine in hers.

She heard him sigh.

"There are so many things to talk about," he murmured, "but I think they can wait until tomorrow, don't you?"

He turned his head toward her, though she couldn't see but a blur of his face and the whiteness of his teeth in one of his so charming smiles.

"It is tomorrow, you know."

"Well, a little further into the morning, then."

He lifted his head just enough to kiss her lightly.

Why was it that the tenderest of his kisses affected her more than the passionate ones-which she enjoyed, too? It was his tenderness toward her that undid her most.

She woke, sitting bolt upright, a second before everything happened, before Golanth roared, before Zaranth reacted to what she was staring at so intensely in the underbrush. That moment was graven on the back of her eyes as surely as the Fireball's explosion: she and F'lessan on the uppermost terrace, Zaranth just below them, her body taut for something Tai could not see and Golanth, head toward the river, sprawled lengthwise on the lowest level, his tail half propped against a thick bush.

Whether it was his tail which had enticed them or not would always be moot. Many felines were hunting that dawn. The sun had risen and sun-warm dragon hide exuded a scent all its own. Dragons generally sought heights for sunbathing. This morning, with all four deeply asleep, the dragons were accessible.

The felines had arrived stealthily. Perhaps thirst had initially drawn them to the river, only to find the sleeping dragons. Perhaps Golanth's tail had twitched in his sleep, attracting attention. Whatever Zaranth was staring at suddenly was flung backward at incredible speed and that was the signal for an orange-striped feline to clamp its teeth on Golanth's tail. At his roar the rest of the considerable hunting party attacked. Spotted, striped, and tawny hides, assaulting him from three directions, abruptly covered the bronze.

He reared to his full height, front legs clawing the air to remove the one that had sunk teeth in his left eye ridge. He tried to whip free of the one on his tail and kick off the third which had bitten into the fold of his flesh between rib cage and hip, to buck against the others racing in from the thick shrubs that bordered the river. Feline jaws clamped harder, determined to retain their hold.

Then others used Golanth's body as stairs to attack Zaranth, talons outstretched, heads angled to sink fangs in whatever flesh they could reach.

F'lessan moved so quickly that, in throwing the blanket from his legs, he entangled Tai in its folds. Springing forward and then vaulting over Zaranth's hindquarters, he launched himself at the nearest feline, brandishing the knife a rider always carried, though it was a blade that was shorter than the fangs of the nearest beast. Zaranth, too, reared, sending the one attacking her head spinning through the air.

These are NOT trundlebugs,Zaranth cried. THROW them away!

Golanth had torn the one off his face with one forepaw, but it turned in midair, legs at full stretch, and its right front paw raked down F'lessan's back. Its momentum took it to the ground where it instantly gathered and leaped toward the rider. F'lessan ducked, plunged his knife into the chest of the beast, and rolled away, the feline snarling with rage and trying to get rid of the knife lodged in it. F'lessan grabbed a loose rock and, with it as a weapon, ran to help his dragon, despite the blood flowing from the claw marks on his back.

Trapped on one side by the terrace, Golanth had no way to unfurl his right wing. With his rider in peril, he would not go betweenwhere he could have shed the felines in the great black cold. Nor, in such close quarters, for fear of searing their beloved riders, could either dragon summon residual flame to deter their attackers. One feline was attempting to shred Golanth's left inner wing sail and others, sinking talons deeply into tough dragon hide, climbed all over him.

Not just over Golanth, Tai realized, frantic to get free of the blanket. Tawny bodies were flinging themselves at Zaranth as well but didn't seem able to do more than leave long bleeding furrows. The beast biting the soft part of Golanth's flank was flung into the river where it sank instantly. Zaranth howled, shaking her head as if ridding it of a burden, kicking out with a hind leg though Tai saw nothing but a darker green liquid oozing down the green leg. A tawny streak came at her from behind and disappeared. The one trying to run up Golanth's back was suddenly in midair, all limbs spread as if something had picked it up by the belly and punched it violently away. The one with jaws sunk into Golanth's left hind leg was similarly torn from him. Ripping at the blanket, Tai got to her feet, clutching it in one hand, wishing it had been any sort of a hard-edged weapon, wondering how she could get to F'lessan who now had two large felines circling him. Blood poured down his back.

The next thing she knew, she was beside F'lessan, the blanket billowing in the air behind her from the force of her arrival. Cracking the blanket like a beast whip, she hit the face of one of the felines who retreated, snarling, before she flung the blanket over the next one, catching the folds on its claws. F'lessan pushed her down and the second beast leaped on him. During the split second before the animal reached him, Tai could only think one thing: I've lost him! I've lost him!

Suddenly the air was full of dragons, wings spread, and flame spouting from their mouths. Tai was horrified lest the dragon fire sear them. Human flesh would shrivel-that powerful fire could char through dragon flesh.

WATCH ME!Zaranth's voice was like a thunder in the innermost part of Tai's skull. FLING THEM!was answered by even more powerful external shrieks. Beset by fear and terror, by the horror of losing F'lessan and Golanth, she was utterly unable to absorb the strange things that were happening. Why was Zaranth telling the other dragons to watch her, to fling them? Zaranth never hurt the trundlebugs she moved! Now felines were spinning through the air without dragons touching them. Why had that one exploded into fragments?

Abruptly the creature struggling out of the blanket at Tai's feet was no longer there, just the blanket sinking emptily to the ground. The predator who had been positioning its hind legs to disembowel F'lessan was gone. Badly wounded, F'lessan turned toward Golanth, his body stretching out, yearning, but unable to rise and go to the bronze. Over the sound of dragon and feline roars and snarls, Tai could hear him calling Golanth's name!

Tai staggered to F'lessan, to help him to reach Golanth, staggered again as her eyes were blurred. Or was it because her legs buckled under her?

That was when she saw the predators launching themselves-all four at full stretch-from the terrace on which she and F'lessan had been sleeping. They must have crept around behind, concealed in the thick vegetation. Zaranth lifted her torso at precisely the right moment-as if she'd seen them from one facet of her red whirling eyes-and reacted. Three crashed into her body and were deflected away. The fourth was still in midair: it would land right on Golanth's shoulders, by the last neck ridge, where there was nothing to protect the dragon's spine. If jaws or talons connected, a single tear could end Golanth's life.

NO! NO! Later Tai would wonder why her throat was raw. She knew she pointed, unable to do more than that, aghast at what would happen if that predator made it to Golanth's back. The bronze dragon would die! F'lessan would die! She would die! "NO! NO! NO!" She'd lose them both! A blur of gold across bronze.

TIME IT!cried Golanth.

That shriek seemed to course along her bones, in her blood until her body trembled violently, and her head seemed ready to burst. Certainly her heart did. A huge blur of gold again rippled across bronze. She had one second to see its claws hooking briefly into Golanth's withers, tearing strips away. Then the feline burst into pieces, gore, entrails, shards of bone and pieces of hide splattering as far away as she stood, across F'lessan's inert, bloodied body. She saw Golanth staggering. Golanth dying? F'lessan would surely wish to die, too!

She dropped to her knees, bereft with the realization, staring at the green ichor staining Golanth's body. He was still swaying with the impact, his left eye oozing a green mixed with red beast blood. Yet he wasn't falling. Did a dragon fall down dead? Too shocked in that moment to go between!Somehow the predator had missed the vital spot. Golanth's head was hanging, canting to the left to favor the damaged eye. Could she cushion his fall? She couldn't even get her knees to work.

Then there were only dragons hovering! Bewildered she gazed up at the wrathful semicircle hovering, wing tip to tip, just above the uppermost terrace: huge golden Ramoth, Arwith, Mnementh, Monarth, Gadareth, Hem, Path, Ruth, and other dragons she did not recognize. She stared at Zaranth, stretched high on her hindquarters, wings spread glistening with smears of ichor-Tai felt the pain in her green's mind. As one, the dragons stretched their heads and bugled in fierce triumph at something she did not understand.

They live!A chorus assured her with such conviction that the devastated Tai collapsed, wondering and grieving at that response, crawling toward F'lessan before she lost consciousness.

She drifted in and out, aware of men and women, conversing in urgent whispers, of the coolness of numbweed easing the pain in her legs and other parts of her that had just started to be sore.

"No, leave himhere until he's been seen by Oldive as well as Wyzall."

"Then the green won't leave. But we should move her rider."

"It's not far to a proper bed in Honshu after all."

"How many dragons will we need to shift him? He cannot be dumped on bare rock, you know!"

"Do we need all these people here?" Tai recognized the Benden Weyrwoman's caustic tones. "At least the dragons have the good sense to stay out of the way until they're needed."

When they lifted her, to bandage her clawed legs, pain roused her.

"No, no, Tai, don't thrash about. An artery must be repaired."

She thought it was Sharra who spoke.

"Golanth's dead! F'lessan?"

"No, no, they live."

"HOW?"

"They do live. Zaranth, tell her!"

They live,said her green in a whispery voice. They live! You live! We live!

She felt a prick in her arm and lost consciousness again.

When she woke, the chant-they live! they live!-was still in her head and she wanted so to believe it. And yes, there was Zaranth's mind, as close to hers as skin.

They live.The green sounded so very tired.

Rest, Zaranth. You can rest now, too.

Yes, Zaranth,another voice said. You may rest now, too.

A cool cloth gently bathed Tai's face and someone was holding her hand.

"Now, listen to me, Tai." The green rider was astonished to see it was Benden's Weyrwoman who sat beside her bed, holding her hand. "F'lessan has been badly wounded. Oldive, Crivellan, Keita, and two of his best surgeons have put him rather neatly back together. Golanth is actually…" Lessa's hands tightened briefly on Tai's fingers and she gave a sort of hiccup before she continued, "worse off. He'll need more repair work when he's stronger. He willlive! Oldive and our best Healers have promised that much."

A memory of the bronze dragon, scored and oozing with thick green ichor, hunks torn out of tail and leg, his faceted eye blanked, weeping ichor, and that final leap to his most vulnerable spot flashed through Tai's mind.

"But he will never be the same," Tai said, her voice breaking.

Lessa tightened her hold. "Who could be the same after that mauling? But he'll fly again. With F'lessan."

Tai struggled up on one elbow to look directly into the gray eyes that were so like F'lessan's. "You wouldn't lie to me?" She was startled to see the fullness of tears in Lessa's eyes; the Weyrwoman irritably blinked them away. "No, green rider, I would not lie to you. Nor would that incredible dragon of yours. Nor will Ramoth or any other dragon on Pern. F'lessan and Golanth will require a great deal of care but Master Oldive is confident that they are physically strong enough to overcome their injuries."

There was something in Lessa's voice that fueled the fear in Tai. She tried to swing her legs to the side of the bed-she had to seeF'lessan-but her legs wouldn't work and she relived that hideous moment when she couldn't get free of the blanket to help F'lessan.

She was pushed back, flat against the pillows. "You've wounds of your own that must heal before you go bouncing out of bed."

That was Sharra's voice.

What were they all doing here? Where was she?

You are in Honshu,and this time it was Ruth speaking to her. Where else would you be?

"And you said she was a biddable girl," Lessa said with characteristic testiness. She gripped Tai's face in both hands and forced her to meet her eyes. "F'lessan's in a fellis sleep. Zaranth, by the way, won't leave Golanth's side. It's as well. She wouldn't fit in this room or she might be tempted to leave her weyrmate."

"Where are they then?" Tai demanded. Honshu's main Hall would not be big enough for two dragons.

"The terrace," Lessa replied calmly. "There's no rain in this season, you know," She turned to one side for a glass. "Sharra will lift you so you can drink this."

"What is it?" Tai asked, suspicious. She didn't want to be put back to sleep. She wanted to check her brave Zaranth, to see F'lessan and Golanth no matter how badly wounded they were.

"Tell me, my dear green rider, how will you be able to care for F'lessan and Golanth if you jeopardize your own recovery?"

It was the phrase "my dear green rider" and the very kind tone in which Lessa spoke that so stunned Tai that she drank down the potion without further struggle.

"I think she did believe me," Tai heard Lessa murmuring as she felt the fellis juice easing the rawness of her throat, radiating through her body and mind.

"I knew she'd believe you"Sharra answered and that was all she heard before she fell into a deep sleep that was therapeutic.

Lessa had told Tai the truth about the other three injured in the felines' attack, but not the whole truth. F'lessan and Golanth were critically injured: the survival of one depended on the other. The experienced Weyrhealer Wyzall had been entirely honest about Golanth's ghastly wounds: the eye, with so many facets pierced by claws, might never function. He'd had fair results with a gel, which healed thread-char in dragon eyes, and he had used this heavily on Golanth's eye, more to provide surface relief than with any real hope of tissue repair or regeneration. He had repaired the wing joint as well as he could and, of course, the sail membrane would, in time, regenerate most, if not all, the torn tissue. There was the possibility that the joint, with judicious exercise and manipulation, might regain partial flexion but "normal" flight was unlikely.

Oldive and Crivellan could be more sanguine about F'lessan. Physically he would recover from his wounds; the intestinal puncture had been repaired although the loss of flesh in the left calf, the tearing of the tendon and cartilage would almost certainly impair the full use of the leg. Right now, suffering from shock and loss of blood, they doubted he would survive the death of his dragon.

Neither would I, Lessa thought, grieving within the calm and confidence she projected publicly.

Both F'lessan and Golanth must be encouraged that the other, though wounded, would survive. Before F'lessan had lost consciousness, he-as Tai briefly had-may well have thought that Golanth was dying of his wounds and, had he taken that morbid thought with him into his fevered state, it was possible that he would slip away from them! They must also reassure Golanth, drifting in and out of consciousness from shock and weakness, that his rider was not mortally injured. Despite her own distress (numbweed deadened any pain), Zaranth kept assuring Golanth that F'lessan was alive, that his rider was only deeply asleep from pain and the exhaustion of their fight. Ramoth had given the bronze dragon the same reassurances and been a trifle testy when it seemed that Golanth put more reliance on what green Zaranth told him-when he was conscious enough to hear anything.

"So long as he understands that F'lessan lives," Wyzall told Lessa, "it doesn't matter who he believes so long as he does"

"Yes, yes, of course," she agreed, but it took a little rearrangement in her mind that herRamoth should take second place to a green.

"Why not? They're weyrmates," F'lar told her, finding brief amusement in what Lessa had apparently not understood. "Each dragon speaks to the other's rider."

She gave him a long startled look. "But he's-" she began and stopped to reconsider. "Well, I suppose it's about time his humanemotions were involved. I mean, he's very good with his sons, even if S'lan's the only one who ever lived in Benden. I just thought-"

F'lar put an arm around her shoulders. "Ramoth approves,"he murmured in her ear. "Mnementh does. When you consider what that green did today …"

"What she did today-" Lessa broke off. "Well, we won't bother her about how she did what she did today. She did it and-and I'm more grateful than I can ever express."

"Me, too," and he rolled Lessa more firmly into his arms, holding her against him, comforting them both. It would be a long sleepless night.

Once Oldive and Crivellan had left the unconscious F'lessan with Keita to watch him, the two Masters had insisted that the Weyrleaders get some rest. Sharra showed them to a small room, just down the hall from F'lessan and Tai.

Propping pillows behind them, since both knew they wouldn't be able to sleep, they kept trying to figure out the sequence of the astonishing events of the attack and how to explain the extraordinary actions of Ramoth.

"I don't know as I can explain," Lessa told F'lar, "and she's my dragon. I linked with her mind the moment I realized she had gone in answer to Golanth's alarm. I saw what she saw, and that was too many of those wretched predators latched on to him and the green. The green was-somehow-picking them up and flinging them off. It was a-motion-that Ramoth imitated. So did the other dragons. Grabbing the felines and tossing them off the two dragons." She rubbed her forehead as if that would clear the confused images Ramoth had projected to her rider. "F'lessan was on the ground, being viciously attacked; he'd no more than his belt knife, you know. And-Tai-was jumping from the ledge with something flaring out behind her.

"Then," and Lessa paused, frowning, "I think Golanth shouted 'time it' and Ramoth saw the one feline Zaranth hadn't deflected with her body." Her frown deepened and she spoke slowly, measuring the words with the fleeting moment that had made all the difference. "If its jump had connected, the beast could easily have severed Golanth's spinal cord." A shudder ran down Lessa's body and F'lar pulled her head against him in a tight embrace as if he could press the horror of that moment out of her mind-and his. "It had to have been Golanth. Greens don't know the mechanics of timing it without guidance, and Golanth had done so much at Monaco and Sunrise Cliff," Lessa said softly. "The others had just come. Even Ramoth didn't grasp the danger immediately. So it had to have been Golanth who said 'time it.' He must have seen his peril through Zaranth's eyes. Or Tai's. And Ramoth perceived what action was imperative. To deflect the feline's spring. I lost touch with her-and you know that sense of blankness that is between!"she asked, looking up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "I felt that. It's unmistakable. Ramoth timed it back to push the feline just far enough off balance so it missed its target. And didn't kill Golanth. Oh, F'lar, if it had, F'lessan wouldn't have been able to survive Golanth's death. Wouldn't have wanted to. We'd have lost them both!"

She crumpled then, having been calm, steadfast, and efficient for the past few hours. She burrowed into F'lar, struggling to hold him closer, closer, to drive away the appalling words she had just uttered.

"It's reaction," she sobbed. "I'm just reacting!" Tears streamed down her face; Lessa of Ruatha and Benden Weyr, she who had rarely cried, not even when Fax had slaughtered her family and everyone else in Ruatha Hold: now she wept!

She felt other tears drop onto her forehead, as she clung to her weyrmate and realized that he, too, cried even as he stroked her body and tried to soothe her, and let her weep. She couldn't stop, even if everyone or anyone else in Honshu heard her.

No one hears,Ramoth said, and her mental voice sounded very deep and echoing, but us.

It took time for both Weyrleaders to release pent-up emotions and regain composure. In the dark F'lar found the room's water basin and tap, discovered a towel, left behind when Monaco riders had been at Honshu, and they washed faces and hands. Still trembling, Lessa made an attempt to braid her hair and F'lar found a cup.

"Amazing!" he said, sitting beside her again, close enough that their thighs touched, as if he could no more bear separation in the aftermath of their emotional storm than she could. "The theory has always been that, if we knew the time, we could forestall a-a fatal-accident," he said in a low, shaky voice, reaching for her hand. "Like Moreta's death."

"Theory," she said with a derisive shrug. She sipped slowly from the cup of water, willing her body to stop shaking. F'lessan hadn't died because Golanth hadn't died. Golanth hadn't died because Ramoth had prevented it.

It isn't theory,Ramoth said, her mental tone tart, I timed it to the exact moment. Golanth showed me just how he had saved F'lessan and himself from being crushed by the tsunami wave. He was most resourceful to act on his own initiative. He learned something important that day and was too tired when he got back to Landing to tell even me. Today, Zaranth showed us how to push without touching. I admit that I had never thought greens could do something so unusual. I saw how she did it. Very clever of her. We two taught the others. But it was I who timed it to save Golanth from that last feline. Only I could have done that.

Lessa managed a shaky little laugh. Only you, my dearest. I do admit that today I learned something from a green dragon.Ramoth sounded as chagrined as her rider had ever heard her. I have told the others what Zaranth showed me how to do, how shepushed felines away,she added calmly. It is a useful skill for all to know.

Stunned by her dragon's attitude toward this new ability, Lessa turned to F'lar, whose expression was probably as incredulous as hers. Lessa gave one last hiccup.

"In case you're wondering," he said, with a little smile on his face, "Mnementh agrees. And Aivas was right."

She twitched her mouth and drew her brows together in a scowl. "Right again and, while I'm glad he is, I'm annoyed, too. He has complicated life."

"Maybe," F'lar said softly. "Maybe not. D'you remember Aivas trying to understand the abilities of our dragons?"

Lessa scowled, perplexed. "He knew-we told him-that they had always communicated with us mentally."

"Telepathy, he called it. And teleportation is the ability of dragons to go betweenfrom one place to another. Or, however briefly, one time to another." He finger-combed his hair back from his forehead. "Today they practiced the third of those special talents-telekinesis. Aivas could not understand why they could not do thatif they telepath and teleport. Now they can. I wonder how he would have used this new ability to physically move other things without contact."

"They moved felines who would have killed Golanth, F'lessan, Tai, and Zaranth." Lessa said in a soft pensive voice.

They were both silent in consideration of these startling new concepts.

"As long as they think they can," she said, tightening her fingers on his.

"That's the requisite," he agreed, nodding, a smile twitching at one side of his mouth.

"Then that means there issomething dragons can do about things in space."

He jerked straight up, hand gripping hers tightly. "Let's take this one slowly, shall we, my love?"

She swung her head back and forth. "Very slowly."

Someone tapped on the door and called her name.

She took a deep breath, felt F'lar do the same.

"Yes?"

"It's Manora. I just arrived to help. G'bol brought me on Mirreth."

"We'll be right there," Lessa called. When she turned her shining eyes to F'lar, they were no longer full of tears, but hope. He embraced her, cheek on her head, trying by the language of his body to tell her the words in his heart.

Calm and mutually supportive, they emerged from their brief respite to greet Manora.

Manora, headwoman of Benden's Lower Cavern, was seated beside the bed when Tai next woke, an honor that had Tai reeling until she felt Zaranth's mental touch, initially anxious and then relieved. You are better! I am, too.

"Ah, good," Manora said, examining Tai's face. "Your eyes are clearer and your fever is gone."

"F'lessan?" Tai tried to sit and wished she hadn't: she ached all over. This was much worse than the mauling she'd had from the men at Landing Healer Hall. She made no resistance when Manora pushed her back down.

"His fever has lessened, yes. His injuries were extensive. There was some internal damage, you see," and Manora's serious face made no light of that, "but Oldive and that clever-fingered Crivellan stopped the bleeding, repaired the damage the claws did, and he will heal."

Tai heard a note in her voice. "What else is wrong?"

She gave Tai's hand a reassuring clasp, her expression approving. "You're very quick, Green Rider Tai. Muscle was torn from F'lessan's left leg and not all the new skills that the Healer Hall has developed can replace that." She paused. "He'll have a few scars on his face but I do believe that once the wounds have healed they won't be so noticeable."

"F'lessan is not a vain man," Tai said, after a moment's consideration, "but he will hate a limp."

"You are quite right. How do your legs feel?"

Tai had to think because she felt awfully heavy below her knees.

"There should be little feeling," Manora added quickly. "I have only just finished dressing them with numbweed. You'll have scars."

Tai dismissed that with a snort. "How badly was Zaranth hurt and when may I see her?"

Manora gave her a slow look. "As I'm sure Zaranth has told you, she is better: not so stiff today. She was clawed and bitten, not as extensively as Golanth or in any way crippling to her. She is slathered with numbweed the moment she so much as twitches. She has been fed a plump and tender herd-beast, which Gadareth chose and brought for her. She is able to move and to fly if she should wish to."

Tai closed her eyes, all too keenly aware of how much worse the bronze's injuries must be. The predators had savagedhim. She could seehim struggling, Zaranth trying to defend them both. Oddly Tai felt no resentment that her dragon's primary concern had been for her weyrmate. Golanth had, after all, taken the brunt of the attack.

"G-G-Golanth?"

Manora's expression altered for a brief instant and then she smiled with gentle reassurance.

"He, too, is improving, but it will take much longer for him to heal. His injuries were-dreadful."

"They all went for him…" Tai's voice broke.

"The predators attacked both dragons. Zaranth has many claw marks on her; they are just not as deep as those on Golanth. Do you know-" and here Manora hesitated, "howshe defended herself and Golanth?"

Vividly Tai remembered Zaranth staring intensely at something in the underbrush. She thought of deflected trundle-bugs, such minor nuisances. She thought of the pelts that Zaranth had somehow retrieved. That night, she hadn't moved anything to prove to F'lessan that she could-until he threw the bowl at her. Nothing could have been more threatening than the felines! Neither dragon had hesitated in pushing them away. But Zaranth had had more practice with that technique while Golanth had had ever so many more to deal with. Until the other dragons came to help. She remembered now, too, something that Aivas had said in her hearing, when she was working in Admin. "The white one leads the way but why is it that they do not use telekinesis if they can telepath and teleport?"

As that incident had been prior to her unexpected Impression of Zaranth, she hadn't understood what he meant and certainly wouldn't have dared to raise a question then. She had puzzled over the remark from time to time. Aivas had been very interested in draconic abilities. He had also been somewhat disappointed, even after the incredible feat dragons and riders had performed to alter the orbit of the Red Star; no one had ever understood why, for the plan Aivas had devised had been impeccably carried out. Everyone had seen the explosion of the antimatter engines placed on the Red Star.

"It's something she learned on her own, to keep trundle-bugs from bothering her."

"Trundlebugs?" Manora asked in amazement.

"As far as I know, the species is limited to the southern continent," she said. "They're only a nuisance."

"And Zaranth would move them out of her way? So it is conceivable that she also moved the felines in the same fashion."

"There were so many." Tai could not stem the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Manora cradled her hand and stroked it soothingly, a tacit permission to cry as much as Tai needed to ease her distress. "She tried to help Golanth. There were more attacking him. Then more dragons arrived. They took care of the others. Except that last one. And Golanth told Ramoth to time it?" Brushing tears from her face with her hand, she looked up at Manora. "But what good could that have done? Only it seemed to. Golanth was not killed." With her eyes she begged some explanation of Manora.

Manora soothed her with a gentle stroke. "I believe that is the paradox of timing it. F'lar said something about causality. The beast had aimed, jumped, and even by timing back, Ramoth could only make the most infinitesimal alteration in the second she had, but she deflected a lethal blow. I gather that there was so much going on at that moment it is miraculous she managed what she did. And this started with a dislike of trundlebugs?"

Tai managed a little smile. "They've scratchy feet and if you swat at them, the female lets off the most incredible stink. So you have to move them carefully and before they know what's happened. So it takes a certain amount of skill." She paused, allowing the amusement of Golly's first attempt to flicker across her face. "F'lessan and Golanth saw her do it at Benini Hold. It wasn't anything much." Tai started to shrug one shoulder but it was painful. "Just Zaranth avoiding an inconvenience." Tai hesitated. "And then there was the problem with pelts."

"Oh, yes, the pelts. Mirrim mentioned those," and somehow Manora implied that, although Mirrim might have been talking a lot, Manora was not the sort of person who heeded gossip. Tai felt a surge of gratitude for Manora.

"I-think-" and Tai hesitated, trying to pick her words carefully; she didn't wish to lose Manora's good opinion of her. "I think-now-that's how Zaranth got the skins before the Flood reached our hold."

"Got them?" Manora repeated, miming her fingers picking something up and flicking it away.

"Without her being there."

"I think I understood that, Rider Tai. You were very busy helping to evacuate the children just then." Manora clasped her hands on her forearms and settled to consider what she understood. "I know what Weyrwoman Lessa said must have happened." She inclined her head respectfully. "An example of how pure blind instinct will react to the right stimulus. As Zaranth did yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Tai jerked upright, despite the discomfort, and was firmly subdued by Manora who, though everyone said she must be the oldest woman in Benden Weyr, displayed considerable strength.

"Yesterday."

"But today? We were supposed to go to the Council meeting." She struggled briefly. "To support Masters Wansor and Erragon."

The twinkle in Manora's eyes and her gentle and unusually broad smile surprised Tai by their unexpectedness.

"Yesterday, Rider Tai, you did more than you may yet understand to support the Masters. And the Weyrs. That is why I am here, with you, in the Weyrwoman's stead, overseeing your recovery." She leaned forward to pat Tai's shoulder gently. "Thanks to Zaranth and you, this will be an immensely interesting meeting, with broad repercussions and, I hope, changes. For the good of us all."

The Weyrleaders remained at Honshu overnight: Lessa looked in on F'lessan from time to time.

"I never have been much of a mothering person," Lessa admitted quietly to Manora when they shared a pot of klah.

"Why should you have been?" Manora asked mildly. "With you neck deep in Weyr business that only you could manage and every woman quite happy to take care of him? A much more sensible custom than what goes on in holds, Lady Lessa," Manora replied, "especially for as lively a lad as F'lessan."

F'lar spent time sitting between Golanth and Zaranth, Mnementh and Ramoth on guard on the terrace above. There seemed to be a plethora of dragons resting at Honshu. Why aren't they at their own weyrs, Mnementh? We are waiting until Golanth and Zaranth improve.F'lar was flummoxed by the tinge of reverence in his bronze's tone.

All of you?And he indicated the many in attendance. Yes.The affirmative seemed to echo throughout the valley below.

While it was true that the dragons were always solicitous about any injured by Thread or ill of the few ailments that could sicken one of them, this vigil was unusual.

Zaranth and Golanth have done the unusual. We wait with you, too.

So F'lar found himself content to sit, companionably silent with so many of the creatures who were keeping watch with him. Such a moment was rare.

When Lessa joined him later, murmuring that he should get some food into him, she took his place.

They sleep. They need it,Ramoth said so very, very softly, as if she did not wish even that intimate exchange to disturb the silence.

Tell me again, Ramoth, how it all happened. From the beginning.

I have been thinking of nothing else. I will speak softly. These here know what happened and yet-they don't know. I am not sure I do.

Lessa nodded her head. Tell me. We will study it together. I am asleep. I am awakened by the most urgent cry for assistance. Mnementh wakes, too. It is Golanth who is in trouble. It is Zaranth who calls, fears for Golanth's life. She calls everyone. Everyone she knows. I get there first, Mnementh a breath behind. Then come Heth, Gadareth, Monarth, Path, Arwith, Ruth, and others. I see Zaranth tearing the felines from Golanth without touching them. Her mind has the fury of firestone as it comes from the mouth: never have I seen a dragon so angry. I see how she does it. Golanth does it, too. Ruth learns quickly. All who came learned. We remove the furry killing things. We think only of removing the furry killing things. We do so. No other creature has ever attacked a dragon!

She paused. It is not the same thing as searing Thread from the sky. I feel good when a Fall is over and no Thread has reached the ground. This is very different. I see the leaping furries, coming from behind. Zaranth lifts as high as she can stand, to take their leaping–bravely done, the bravest thing a green has ever done–but one is aiming for Golanth's back where a rider could fend it off but there is no rider to help protect that place. The beast will not fail of its target.

Ramoth grumbled briefly. Golanth tells me to time it. Of course I know how. And I know what he means. It is what he did at Sunrise Cliff. There is so little time in that second. The beast is already leaping. It is too late to stop that. But I can change where it will land. Just enough to turn its strike. The claws do not reach the fatal place. They just nearly do.

You saved Golanth's life that moment, Ramoth.

In truth it was Zaranth who saved his life.

Lessa had not ridden her golden queen for so many years to disregard something left unsaid.

And so, dear golden heart of my life, you will honor her.

She is a good green dragon. I had not thought to learn from a green dragon. I have.To Lessa's amusement, Ramoth seemed to be considering the source as even more important than the new ability. But then,she went on as if having finally settled that point, this knowledge will require practice–without the spur of fear–to perfect the way to move things.

Lessa digested that. But you do remember how to do it?

For one moment, Lessa feared that it might just be the circumstances of death and danger that had activated this new ability.

I would prefer more time to review what happened, Lessa of my heart, but I remember how. The moment is vivid in my mind. I will not lose it before I lose the light of my days.

Whatever Aivas would have called the emergence of the last of the linked telepathic abilities that dragons and fire-lizards possessed, Lessa did not know. She did wonder what use Aivas would have made of it, in those days when they were trying to alter the path of the Red Star. They'd altered it anyway. So did it matter?

And yet, subtly, it did. Every dragon lounging so casually on the cliffs around Honshu, down on the river terraces-soon every dragon on Pern-was aware of being more than they had been.

Practice?Ramoth said.

At last Lessa and F'lar slept, determined to be as rested as possible for what lay ahead of them at the Council Meeting. They went to the meeting by way of Benden, where they bundled up the notes they needed for the session and clothing appropriate to the occasion. No one stopped them at their weyrs, though people in the Bowl waved encouragingly and dragons bugled.

Though Benden Weyr had a more than adequate reason to postpone the Council Meeting, there were other extremely important matters-such as electing a new Lord Holder at Southern Boll, the Weyrleaders' presentation of their recommendations, made more cogent by yesterday's event (though the ramifications of thatwould not be open for discussion), the latest Abominator attack on the Print Hall-which made it impossible, as well as inadvisable, to reschedule. Nor, despite her immense concern over the patients at Honshu, would Lessa have absented herself.

F'lessan was in Master Crivellan's more than capable hands and those of Oldive's most experienced healers. The Masterhealer could return to Honshu if he was needed during F'lessan's recovery from the complex surgical repair to the worst of his wounds. Had she remained, Lessa would have felt superfluous, a role she did not play well.

The Weyrhealers attended Golanth and Zaranth. The green would heal as quickly as most dragons did, given the care she was receiving. The damage to Golanth's eye remained exceedingly critical. How the tattered wing sails would heal was another worry. The crack in the long bone of the left wing, splintered by fangs, might inhibit closing and be weak in stroke or falter during a prolonged glide. As long as the two dragons were lavished with numbweed, they would feel no pain. The fact that Persellan had attended Golanth's injuries five minutes after the attack had made a significant difference.

From the beloved Bowl of Benden Weyr, F'lar and Lessa went betweenand emerged above the hills of Telgar where a large crowd had gathered on the plain below the triangular jut of the Hold. As Ramoth, Mnementh at her right wing tip, glided in, Lessa could see the banners of many holds and halls displayed. A Council Meeting usually brought visitors, some waiting to hear about petitions, but she thought there were more than usual-especially in winter.

Then Ramoth's feet touched ground and people surged forward to crowd around Lessa and F'lar where they dismounted on the wide space before the V-shaped Telgar Hold.

"Well, I suppose I was naive to think we could keep what happened within the Weyrs," F'lar remarked as the two dragons quickly took off again to find sun on Telgar Heights.

"Fire-lizards spread the word," Lessa said, her voice tight with irritation. Does everyone on Pern know what happened at Honshu?she asked her dragon.

That felines attacked dragons, yes,Ramoth said. More is for you to say.

Scattering replies to the questions about the injured-thank-you-for-your-concern or both-dragons-and-riders-will-be-fine, F'lar took Lessa's arm and, with some of Telgar's guards hastily opening a path for them, reached the ramp up to Telgar's forecourt. Lord Larad, his Lady Dulsay, and their tall, gawky son, Laradian, were standing there to welcome the official members of the Council. More guards, in fine new tunics bearing the Telgar shield of white, bright red, and medium blue, bowed them into the forecourt just as a triumphant bugling caused them to turn around and witness the arrival of the Ista Weyrleaders.

"By the Egg," F'lar said, "they seem to be glowing." He cast an amused look at his weyrmate. "What has happened to G'dened and Cosira?"

Lessa nearly missed a step. G'dened? Of course, he'd know about Honshu but she hadn't seen Baranth that bright in Turns. After over three decades of fighting Thread as well as the recent exertions during the Flood, it was hard to keep good color in the dragons. So long as some of the resurgence spilled into the Oldtimer and thawed him a bit! She couldn't be sure that G'dened would grasp the importance of this unexpected new facet of dragons, but maybe he would be encouraged. Certainly the vibrancy of his color-and even the restored gleam to the hides of Ramoth and Mnementh as she checked them and saw how bright they appeared-suggested that all the dragons of Pern had been renewed in vigor and purpose. Lessa took a deep breath. Now, if they could use this telekinesis effectively…

"The dragons and riders are all recovering?" Larad said, stepping down and holding out both hands to F'lar and Lessa. Taking his hands, she realized that he was genuinely concerned.

"Indeed, although truly," and Lessa projected her voice to be sure that everyone listening for news would hear, "if Master Oldive had not been provided with so much invaluable medical information from Aivas's records, we would have lost them both."

"Saved by Aivas?" Larad asked, likewise raising his voice and implying gratitude. "What I don't understand is how did the felines get into Honshu?"

"The creatures were not in the weyrhold." F'lar gave the simplified version. "F'lessan and Tai had taken their dragons down to the river to bathe. That's where the felines attacked them. The area around Honshu hasn't been much bothered by the felines but the new holds nearby have been rounding up and domesticating more and more wild stock. Naturally the predators were attracted." F'lar shrugged as if dismissing the circumstances. "A concatenation of circumstances. Right place, wrong time. They'll heal."

"Oh, splendid! We are relieved to hear that," Lady Dulsay said and then her expression altered to concern. "And you have to attend a Council Meeting when you must yearn to be at Honshu with your son."

Lessa was momentarily surprised; few people referred to F'lessan as "your son." He was the one child she had been able to bear F'lar and she had once-briefly and keenly-regretted her inability to have more. But that was long ago. The Weyr was more important. Today it was vital for the Weyrwoman to be present at this meeting.

"As to that, F'lessan is very well attended and, being weyr-bred, he would not expect me to absent myself."

Lady Dulsay recoiled slightly. "My pardon, I do forget."

"This is one of those times," Lessa said as kindly as she could, for Lady Dulsay meant well, "when the customs of hold and weyr conflict."

Larad suddenly whipped binoculars to his eyes. Was everyone growing those things about their necks, Lessa wondered. "Here come N'ton with Margatta and the blue at his right wing is Boll's watch dragon, conveying Lady Janissian." He lowered the instrument and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I've only had them a sevenday," he apologized.

"At least you find them useful," Lessa said drolly.

"And hope to use them more," Larad said with a pleased grin.

Lessa swallowed. Could news of the Weyrleaders' meetingat Cove Hold have leaked? No, Larad was merely showing off his new acquisition.

"There are more dragons, that much I can see with my own eyes," Lady Dulsay remarked, pointing to the skies. "Are any of them likely to be bringing contenders to Southern Boll's Holdership?" She turned to Lessa. "It was so sad when most of that Bloodline, and all four of Lord Sangel's sons, succumbed to the plague. Such promising young men, so my father said."

"Now, of course, with all the vaccines available to the Healer Hall, we won't have such tragic losses again," Lessa replied. She saw another pair of dragons enter from between."I suspect this is G'bear and Neldama, Lady Dulsay. Have you had a chance to meet them?"

"Oh, yes. They arrived the very next day," and Lessa was surprised to see Lady Dulsay blush. "Most respectful to let us know how the Weyrleadership had been decided."

"Good of them to be prompt to introduce themselves," Lessa said, suppressing a desire to grin. Why was it that holders were invariably embarrassed by mating flights? It wasn't as if Dulsay and Larad hadn't been very much attached to each other when they had formally wed. "Are many of the Council here?"

Before anyone could answer, another triple-tone bugling-in Heth's unmistakably tenor voice-heralded the arrival of the Southern Weyrleaders. They, too, were gleaming, Lessa noted before she took the shallow stairs up to the main entrance.

"Would you like to change out of your flying gear now?" Dulsay asked.

"Since you've already met G'bear and Neldama, I think I'll take the opportunity, thank you, Dulsay," and, inside the imposing Hall, Lessa slipped to the left before she could be intercepted. It was a matter of moments to strip and put on the skirt and the more formal tunic she had brought, fold and leave her riding gear on the shelves provided. Menolly came up to her as soon as she emerged.

"They continue to improve?" Menolly asked anxiously,

Sebell close behind her. Sebell was rather spectacular in dark Harper blue, wearing the sapphire pendant of his rank. His eyes were tired and he was as eager to be reassured as Menolly.

"Yes, yes. It was sheer luck that both Oldive and Crivellan have been studying the Aivas files on perforated intestines-such accidents occur often enough to warrant study," Lessa said. "Once again we can be grateful to reacquire the skills that save lives."

Menolly pursed her lips. "Those wretched, narrow-minded, deceitful misfits. They really are abominable!"

"Are they making life miserable for harpers, too, Menolly?" Lessa saw the tension in Sebell's manner. Music might be Menolly's life but she no more liked Sebell distressed than she had Master Robinton.

Just then, trying to look completely at ease and not quite managing, G'bear came in with Neldama and smiled with great relief to be met by friendly faces and congratulations. Once again Lessa gave reassurances about the invalids' progress and then had it all to do again when K'van and Adrea walked in. G'dened and Cosira arrived, N'ton and Margatta, too, escorting Lady Janissian who halted, looking about her. Menolly went right up to the girl, putting an arm around her.

"You came!"

"I couldn't not come, could I?" Janissian replied, and then caught Lessa's eyes, relaxing when the Weyrwoman gave her an encouraging smile.

"No, you have to be here," N'ton said, grinning, "to get there," and he pointed to the closed door of the room where the Council would be held. "I'll get you some wine. Lessa, what would you prefer? You've had a rough few days."

"I'd prefer the klah. I suspect we must all keep our wits about us in this Council," she replied.

"Yes, I expect we will," N'ton agreed, his smile now for Janissian as he gestured for one of the servers to approach with the tray of drinks.

To Lessa's surprised gratification, fifteen minutes later the entire Council was in their spaces around the U-shaped table in Telgar's vaulted Hall. Toric was, as usual, the last to arrive. There were seventeen Lord Holders, sixteen Master-craftsmen and -women (since Joetta had replaced old Zurg as Masterweaver and Ballora was the new Beastmaster), and eight Weyrleaders and six Weyrwomen. Nadira and Talina rarely attended. The heavy sky-broom doors shut behind Toric with a resounding thunk.

Lips pursed, scowling, the Southern Lord Holder strode past Sebell, directly to K'van and planted his hands on the table, leaning aggressively toward the Weyrleader.

"Why wasn't I informed that dragons had been badly injured by felines?" he demanded.

"Because it doesn't affect Southern Weyr nor your interests," K'van said, blandly, not intimidated.

"Well?" and Toric swung round toward Lessa and F'lar.

Lessa gave him a bland look. Toric must have enjoyed hearing that F'lessan had been injured but it was in his usual bad taste to try to make it appear an omission on K'van's part.

"It's scarcely a Council matter," F'lar said. "Kind of you to be concerned."

"I'd like to know the details. It's seldom dragons are attacked, much less injured, by lesser beasts."

"As I'm sure the rest of the Council is already aware, Lord Toric, the injured are recovering. Now, do take your seat," Larad said with firm courtesy. "There is much official business to discuss."

Toric looked irritated but as no one would meet his eyes, he did take his chair. Immediately Sebell rose.

"We will deal first with the matter of Southern Boll's Holdership."

"Let us discuss the anarchic behavior," Lord Kashman said, speaking rapidly and angrily, rising from his chair so fast it crashed backward to the flagstones, "of Lord Jaxom, Weyrleader N'ton, and Masterprinter Tagetarl who arbitrarily exiled twelve people, alleged to be Abominators."

Larad looked up with surprise, and not a little annoyance, at Kashman's complete disregard for protocol. Newly appointed Lord Holders should not be so presumptuous.

"Yes," drawled Toric, smiling with considerable relish, "let's hear about this latest of the exiles so enthusiastically perpetrated by Lord Jaxom and Weyrleader N'ton."

"The Abominators did the perpetrating, Toric. Jaxom, N'ton, and Tagetarl followed precedent," Groghe said, slapping one hand down hard on the table. "I was present for two of those judgments. I was the one who passed sentence at Turnover. Furthermore, this Council decreed-you were actually present for that meeting," he pointed a thick, unwavering finger down the table at Toric, "don't deny it-when we all decided that exile was an appropriate deterrent for any more wasteful acts of vandalism."

"Thisissue will be discussed later," Sebell said, raising his trained voice that overwhelmed the beginning of a three-sided shouting match by Toric, Groghe, and Kashman. Old Lord Corman seemed to have passed his contentiousness on to this sixth son of his, who was not much past his thirtieth birthday.

"I came to discuss that,"Toric cried.

"The first matter is, and will be, the confirmation of a new Holder for Southern Boll!" Sebell said in clarion tones.

"Why don't you just agree to the girl and let us get to the realissues?" Toric demanded.

"But she's a woman!" Kashman protested. "There hasn't been a Lady Holder, except in a temporary capacity for…"

"Not since Lady Sicca ran Ista," Groghe said. "My grandfather had great respect for her.For that matter, all of us here, bar you who are new come to the Council honors," and Groghe emphasized that, "know that Lady Marella's been running Boll for the past five Turns since Sangel began to deteriorate. Lady Janissian has been her steward and she certainly proved her worth to me during the Fireball Flood. Those cousins of hers removed themselves and their belongings to high ground and stayed there without lifting a finger. Neither of them should hold."

"For that matter," Lessa said, "Emily Boll held those lands in her own right. As I see it, that Holdership has come full circle and about time."

Lady Dulsay, Adrea, Master Ballora, and Palla were bold enough to second her.

"Shall we confirm Lady Janissian then?" Asgenar asked, looking around, a sly smile on his face, "And save time for the really important matters?" He glared at Toric.

"Like what the Weyrleaders are going to do to prevent more fireballs?" Toric demanded, glaring across the floor at Lessa and F'lar.

"Now, just a minute," Bargen said, annoyed, "that isn't as critical a problem-"

"I should hope it is," Toric interrupted at his most obnoxious.

Bargen gave him a furious glare and, raising his harsh baritone voice, continued, "as choosing a Bloodline successor, Lord," and he closed his lips for a moment, catching Lady Sharra's reaction, "or Lady."

"There are two males in the Bloodline, aren't there?" Lytol asked, supporting Bargen in order to keep to the agenda.

"Vormital, a great nephew of Sangel," Sebell said, eyeing Toric, "and Warlow, a first cousin. Sangel's sons died in the plague and there is no other male issue in the direct Bloodline."

"Never heard of Vormital or Warlow," Bargen said. "There has to be more."

"Not surviving," Sebell said. It was the Harper Hall's duty to check.

"There was, there was. I knew him when I was in High Reaches Weyr. Hillegel. Big man. Half brother to Sangel," Bargen insisted.

"He thought he'd go south," Toric said, grinning smugly. "I heard he went down one of the rivers and never a word since."

N'ton got to his feet. "When approached by the Weyr to help evacuate the vulnerable coast from the Flood, Vormital informed me that this was Sangel's problem, not his."

"Dismiss him from consideration," Groghe said, bringing his fist down on the table. "In my hearing, on five separate occasions, Sangel said the man was a fool and couldn't hold a cup without help."

"Does anyone know any good of this Vormital?" Sebell asked.

"If anyone does, it will be the first time," Groghe said in a voice meant to be heard.

"Who's the other one?" Bargen of High Reaches said. He had fought hard to return High Reaches to his Bloodline after Fax's presumptive holding and he saw nothing wrong with fighting to claim Bloodright-for males, of course.

"Warlow is the child of Sangel's youngest sister. He has a small farm and five sons, three of whom have served Lady Marella in minor capacities."

"If his sons served, and he hasn't pushed for himself, he'd be useless," was Bargen's immediate answer. "Are we left with the girl?"

"Lady Janissian has served as steward to her grandfather and grandmother-" Sebell began.

"More the grandmother's doing, I'm certain," Langrell of Igen remarked.

"It's more important that she was doing"Groghe said, scowling at Langrell. "And she is of the Blood."

"Oh, confirm her and let's get on with this meeting," Toric demanded impatiently.

"In that case, I will collect your votes," Sebell said.

"Isn't it a good thing," Lessa murmured to F'lar after they had both written their decisions, "that Janissian happens to be well qualified."

"Hold Blood's getting thin after twenty-five hundred Turns. And, with the end of Threadfall…" F'lar murmured.

"Holding began with Fort, with Paul Benden. There's nothing wrong with Fort's Bloodline. But that form of inheritance is not in the Charter, you know."

F'lar regarded her in mild surprise. "No, actually, it isn't. Holders and all those traditions came later." He looked at Toric who was impatiently tapping the table while Sebell was sorting through the slips.

Sebell held up two piles-one thin, one fat. Three slips remained on his lectern.

"Three abstentions, five nays, and thirty-seven yeas," Sebell said. "Harper Hall votes yea."

Nothing more than murmured sounds of relief were expressed but Sebell strode quickly to the big doors, opened one leaf and gestured.

"Lady Janissian of Southern Boll, the Council would be pleased if you would take your seat as Boll's Lady Holder!"

There was cheering from outside as Janissian, a smiling Menolly giving her a little push, stepped in and the door was closed behind her. She stood there, her head no higher than Sebell's shoulder, and her dark hair fetchingly arranged around her pale, handsome face; the hem of her red gown matched the white shields and bright chevrons that were Boll's insignia. She wore the heirloom diamond and ruby chevron pendant that was supposed to have been handed down from Emily Boll and she gave the impression of great dignity. Sebell took her hand, and while everyone stood-even Toric, though he took his time getting to his feet-he walked her to the empty chair beside Lord Groghe. The old Lord Holder was red-faced with pleasure and kissed her on both cheeks as soon as she was seated.

Lessa approved of her calm in accepting such an accolade and her composed nod to the rest of the Council.

"Well, then, let's to real business," Toric said, remaining on his feet while the rest of the Council resumed their chairs.

"It's my autonomy that has been abrogated, Lord Toric," Kashman cried, standing up, his thin features reddened by agitation. "Those intruders should have been brought to myHold for myjudgment. I want to know why myauthority was ignored."

Before the Masterprinter could get to his feet, Lord Lytol leaned toward Kashman, his gaunt face serene.

"Let me point out, Lord Kashman, a fact that you may not be acquainted with yet," he said, "but MasterCraftHalls enjoy autonomy within their halls and may set punishment or fines, depending on the nature of any offense committed within their confines."

"But-but the Printer Hall's new…" Kashman began.

"That does not," Sebell said, "interfere with its autonomy or internal discipline."

Tagetarl spoke up. "Let me remind Lord Kashman that the intruders refused-in front of witnesses-to name either hold or hall to which they could be taken to receive a hearing from another authority."

"It just happens…" and Kashman waved his arm in a sarcastic manner, "that Lord Jaxom who resides in Ruatha and N'ton whose Weyr is in Fort happened to be present in Wide Bay at such an unlikely hour?"

"The intruders picked the hour," Tagetarl said.

"The dragons responded to a summons for support," N'ton added.

"Who summoned them?" Kashman demanded, his nostrils flaring with irritation.

"Beauty, in my case," Jaxom said and turned to N'ton.

"In mine as well."

"Beauty?" Kashman echoed, confounded by that identification.

"Beauty is the queen fire-lizard that often conveys urgent messages from the Harper Hall," N'ton said.

"You respondedto a message brought by a fire-lizard?" Kashman was incredulous. Toric snorted at his inexperience.

"When such a message comes from a main Crafthall," Sebell went on, "it is not wise to disregard its import, especially since other Crafthalls have become targets for vandalism. Twelve people do not simultaneously decide to sample Crafthall wares in the middle of the night, armed with torches, chisels, hammers, and spikes, Lord Kashman. They were discovered insidethe main gates, which had not been opened to them, destroying the doors to the Print Hall itself. What conclusion would you have come to?"

"Yes, Kashman, what conclusion could you have come to?" Lord Groghe demanded.

"Something's got to be done about such impertinent men and women," Bargen said with considerable exasperation. "Wanton destruction-when it takes time and good materials to make anything these days-cannot be permitted. If we have already decided that exile would be a deterrent, then whoever sits in judgment-a proper court, with three judges and witnesses-has the right, indeed the duty of sentencing them to exile. Now, let's go on to the most important issue before this Council."

Beyond him, Kashman was gaping, infuriated that the older Lord Holders were so blithely setting aside hisissue.

"What are you going to do about preventing fireballs dropping from the sky?" Bargen asked, surveying the Weyr-leaders with a critical sweep.

"We have several recommendations…" F'lar said, rising to his feet.

"Don't want recommendations," Bargen retorted. "I want positive reassurance that such displays won't be repeated in the near future."

"Nothing in the nearfuture has so far been discerned," F'lar said and found he had everyone's attention.

"What do you mean by that?" Groghe demanded.

"Such surveys of near Pern objects as Master Erragon has been able to complete with a dedicated band of sky-watchers suggest that nothing is close enough to descend on Pern's surface in the nearfuture."

"And?" Bargen prompted, scowling. "In the further future?"

"We must place more telescopes in strategic positions to watch our skies, mobilize a body of dedicated people to support at least five major observatories-"

Toric leaped to his feet. "You want the Council to support five!Tithes are already in full use. Where would more marks come from for fiveobservatories?"

Bargen was on his feet, so were Langrell and Toronas, shouting against such major projects. Deckter asked for details. Even Lord Groghe appeared concerned. F'lar stood still, ignoring the shouts, the arguments as Sebell struck the gavel for silence.

A burst of thunder-dragons shouting-penetrated the Great Hall and deafened everyone.

"As I was saying, if you wish to avoid more problems like that Fireball, you have to be prepared," F'lar went on in a normal tone of voice. "We already have Cove Hold and Honshu," and he bowed to Lord Lytol and the Star Master, "which is generously maintained by Landing."

"A portion of our tithes," Lord Lytol said, "will be distributed to the other locations as well as to pay teachers."

"The SmithCraftHall cannot produce the telescopes required for observatories…" Master Fandarel began.

"There are four in the Catherine Caves," Master Erragon said, bowing respectfully to the Mastersmith for his interruption.

"Ah, well, in that case," and Fandarel raised a thick swollen hand in agreement.

"I have undertaken to supply a Star Hold," Jaxom said, rising briefly, "with appropriate tithes, and the cost of building one at Ice Lake as recommended by Master Erragon."

Toric's frown grew deeper when Lord Larad rose to his feet.

"Telgar does the same. Weyrwoman Palla completed most of her apprenticeship with Master Wansor."

"As a twenty-four-hour coverage of our skies is essential to its overall success," F'lar said, but Lessa could see how much he relished the shock he was about to give the entire Council, "an observatory must be constructed as soon as possible on a site, approved by Masters Wansor, Erragon, and Idarolan, on the Western Continent."

The Council was in an uproar. Even the usually placid Mastercraftsmen were excited, demanding details and plans while the Lord Holders were protesting such a drain on tithe-marks and labor. It took time for Sebell to reestablish order.

"But it was the Yokohamathat saw the Fireball," Groghe exclaimed as the din abated.

"Why are so many needed?" Langrell asked plaintively.

"It's a big sky," K'van remarked.

"You have to findthe near object before you can divert it," F'lar put in almost offhandedly.

"Divert it?" Groghe exclaimed, the smile that had been growing during F'lar's opening sentences turning into stunned amazement. "But there are no more engines to divert anything since we blew the Red Star up, are there?"

"No engines, Lord Groghe, but dragons and their riders!" Toric leaped to his feet, face suffused with blood, stabbing his finger at the Benden Weyrleader, and shouted, "So you think you can coerce the Holds to continue to support you forever?"

"Not at all, Lord Toric," F'lar replied with calm pride. "You cannot perceive how deeply every Weyr-" He paused and the other dragonriders nodded or murmured emphatic agreement with that statement. "-wishes to be as independent as any other person on this planet. Necessity has required our dependence on the holds we protect, but, by the end of this Pass, we shall all have holdings or crafts with which to support ourselves. We shall be journeymen and -women, attracting apprentices to Star Holds and learning to be Masters of the Star Hall. We will study the stars and watch until we know exactly what might threaten this planet again."

"And what will you do then?" Toric bawled the question.

F'lar regarded Toric with a smile on his face. "We will divert it."

"How? How?"Toric pounded the table. "You weren't able to divert the Fireball."

"Now that," and F'lar paused significantly, without a trace of apology, "won't happen again." His tone was so confident, his manner so assured that the other dragonriders proudly straightened, so obviously in agreement with his statement, that the Southern Holder was perplexed.

"It is an ability that Aivas perceived in dragonkind," Jaxom remarked as one chiding his audience to remember something they had not previously considered.

"Indeed, Lord Jaxom," F'lar said amiably. "The dragons have always had the ability. We have been busy refining it."

"It takes time and practice," N'ton said.

"The older the dragon, the more adept, you know," K'van put in.

"Combined with observatories and a sound knowledge of the Rukbat system and our skies," F'lar continued, "we'll know exactly what's around us and what else the Oort Cloud spawns."

"As you all have reminded us," Lessa added, "dragonriders are the caretakers of Pern's skies. So let us continue to undertake that responsibility."

"Practicing and preparing for when the need for this potent ability presents itself," F'lar finished.

As draconic bellow had silenced argument, now everyone heard the carol that trilled the affirmative response of the dragons gathered on the cliffs of Telgar!

"Well, I for one," Groghe said, beaming at F'lar and the other Weyrleaders, "am deeply relieved to hear all this. Though I can't remember Aivas…"

"Naturally Aivas only discussed the subject with dragon-riders," Jaxom said in a grave manner.

"Thank you, Weyrleaders," Sebell said. "You have relieved our fears considerably and I think I can speak for all the Craftmasters that there will be generous Hall support to match that already guaranteed new observatories by Lord Holders." He bowed to Jaxom and Larad.

"Tillek is the nearest port," Ranrel said to Erragon across the table, "we will donate shipping."

"Services in place of tithes?" Toric cried, infuriated.

"Oh, do sit down, Toric," Groghe said.

"There hasn't been a vote about approving more observatories," Toric complained.

"I can take a vote now," Sebell put in hopefully.

"The necessity for threenew observatories hasn't been properly discussed," Toric shouted.

"I want to know more about the Western Continent," Master Ballora said in a loud voice. "We don't know what life-forms are there. What effect contact with new ones would have with our indigenous species."

"Not much is mentioned about it in Aivas records," Deckter remarked. "Will the project need much metal ore?"

"Of course it will, Deckter," Fandarel said, rubbing his big hands together in anticipation.

"Shall we deal with some of the minor petitions now?" Sebell asked, holding up a slim packet.

"No, no, not now," Groghe said. "Need to eat now and be refreshed for that sort of thing."

"What about the Western Continent?" Master Ballora objected. "I want to know more about thatl"

"We'll talk," Erragon said while Sebell used the gavel to end the morning session.

So many questions were asked about where exactly the observatories would be placed, the form they would take, the personnel to work in them, the training required, that petitions were put aside for the next day. Toric called for a vote about anynew observatories, much less three, none of which were evidently to be placed in Southern. He voted against the whole idea but the majority was in favor of it. Then he had to sit through talk about the Western Continent's urgently needed observatory and, while he fumed, everyone else seemed so enthusiastic about supplying engineering, construction, transport, labor, materials-without an increase in overall tithing, which he would have vigorously barred-the Star Masters and the sharding Weyrleaders got what they wanted. It never occurred to him that he had only himself to blame. He'd been prepared to argue about petitions and object to some-on principle-but none had been submitted for discussion. If he didn't stay, the Council might slip something new in, vote it into law and he wouldn't be able to gauge any new plans. He ought to make Besic accompany him. He'd be good for something then. Bargen had a son with him, so did Groghe. Such representatives were permitted to stand in for their Lord Holders at the petitions session: Fandarel had put Master Jancis in as his agent.

In the evening, Toric wandered outside, down into the Gather grounds. Dorse was supposed to find him so he had to be available. By morning, when Dorse didn't appear before the Council convened, Toric asked at the Telgar Runner Station for any messages for him. There were none but he encountered Kashman and had to walk back to the Hold in the man's company. Kashman was still furious with the trial at the Print Hall. He hadn't been inKeroon Hold that night but the matter could have waited until morning. He complained bitterly about the presence of N'ton, a Fort Weyrleader, far away from Fort's traditional authority, not to mention Jaxom. Who was not a subject to be mentioned in Toric's company under the best of circumstances! Corman had kept this son of his inadequately informed for Lord Holdership, Toric thought.

Late that evening, Toric wandered aimlessly among the Gather tents and then walked the perimeter, keeping to the shadows to give Dorse a chance to approach him discreetly. There was the other matter: this dragon ability that Aivas had mentioned? As far as Toric knew, dragons could speak to their riders, go between,and chew a rock that produced the flame that destroyed Thread. He must ask Master Esselin to trace any reference to what Aivas had said about the creatures. Everything Aivas said or had done was recorded. Esselin could find it and report.

He was halfway around the tents a second time when Toric wondered who had been among those exiled so precipitously. If no one had given hold, hall, or name, who werethey? On the other hand, Jaxom had been one of the judges. He would have known Dorse. So might N'ton. And Master-printer Tagetarl. "Lord Toric!"

His name was spoken softly and in a deep voice. Dorse had mentioned that Fifth had a most unusual one. A most eloquent speaker, Dorse had said, effective in rousing people.

"Yes?" Toric stepped into the shadows. He had very much wanted to meet Fifth. Dorse had told him about the man's unusual obsession relating to the fact that the MasterHarper had been found dead in the Aivas chamber at the same approximate time that the Abomination had terminated itself. Was it possible that Master Robinton had indeed discovered some malign aspect of the Abomination and attempted to end its influence on Pern? Or had Aivas, suspecting that his evil designs to pollute and corrupt the planet had been divined by the human, killed the MasterHarper? It was well documented that Aivas had hidden defenses.

The conundrum had fascinated Toric from the moment Dorse had confided it in him. Now he could question the source.

The moment Tai woke that morning, Sagassy appeared at her bedside.

"D'you need the necessary, Rider Tai?" she asked and whipped back the cover without waiting for an answer.

"Can't I walk by myself?" Tai asked. She was determined to put weakness and dependency behind her as soon as possible. Sagassy had been so practical that her help had not given Tai any embarrassment.

"I'll just put an arm about you in case."

Tai did need help getting to her feet but she tried to do as much as she could without Sagassy's help.

Her ankles and knees were still stiff; her calves felt more like blocks but they weren't painful; the left leg would even bear weight without great discomfort. So that brief excursion went well enough and, leaning against the heavy sink top, Tai managed to wash hands and face. She ate all the breakfast that Sagassy brought and then asked, as she did every time someone came into the room, when she could see Zaranth, F'lessan, and Golanth.

Having been asked that question frequently, Sagassy put her hands on her hips and gave her head a little shake.

"Well, I'm one as says it don't do younor them any good not to. Leave it with me."

Tai wanted to burst out in frustration because everyone responded with-"leave it with me." So far it was left. She was surprised to see T'lion, bronze Gadareth's rider, enter the room, Sagassy behind him, grinning with smug satisfaction.

"Sagassy says I'm strong enough, and long enough," he said. "You look much better."

"How do you know?" And answered herself. "Oh, Gadareth was there that morning, wasn't he?"

"Indeed he was and has been extremely smug and glowing ever since. Now, put an arm around my neck."

"I can walk, I can walk!"

"I doubt it and I came to carry you because seeing all the invalids-not that Zaranth really isanymore-would definitely be too far for you to walk today." He had swooped her up in his arms before she could protest further and carried her out of the room. She'd had so many people moving her places that such intimacy no longer bothered her. "In reverse order of preference, perhaps, because I know you want to reassure yourself that Zaranth is fine, but F'lessan's just in here, so it's on your way to her."

There was a sudden alteration of the cheerfulness in his voice as he angled her into the largest of the sleeping quarters, not the one she and F'lessan had shared so often. She blinked back tears as she saw F'lessan's white face turning restlessly on the pillow, his lips twitching, his brows creasing, ricking the lines that now scored his cheeks. His body looked unusually bulky under the cover-bandages, she thought, snatching back the hand she had unconsciously extended toward him. He shouldn't be allowed to thrash so. Manora had said his wounds were deep. He could do himself more injury with this tossing.

T'lion placed her in the chair by the bed. She saw that F'lessan's dark hair had been cut back on the right side, clearly showing the stitches on his scalp. Holding her hand a scant few centimeters above his face, her fingers trembled as she followed the path of the other facial scars. They didn't look that deep but they were terrible to see on his handsome face.

As if conscious of someone watching him, he moved his head more restlessly from side to side and tried to lift first one hand, and then the other: the left hand slid limply to dangle beside the narrow bed. She picked it up, returning it to his side, and lightly touched his shoulder.

"Easy, F'lessan, lie still." She pushed behind his ear the strand of hair that had fallen across the stitched cheek. "Lie still. Golanth lives!"

"Golly?" The question was more breath than word, his brows creased slightly, halted when he felt the pull of skin. "Golly?"

His eyes opened, blinked, strained to focus on her face. He seemed puzzled by her presence. "Where've you been?" It was almost a complaint.

"They wouldn't let me come."

"She got clawed, too, F'lessan," T'lion said, leaning over the other side of the bed. "But I said I'd bring her and I have."

F'lessan's eyelids seemed too heavy to keep open but the corner of his mouth turned up.

"So you did. Don't go 'way, my very dear green. Don't go 'way."

His endearment caught at her heart and she had to wait a moment before she could speak.

"I'll see Golanth and then I'll be right back. You can rest now."

"Hmmm, yes. I can, can't I?" He turned his head to one side and, exhaling a deep breath, sank into a stillness that scared her until she saw his chest rise again.

"I'll convey you to bronze Golanth," T'lion said, picking her up and carrying her from the room.

"Why, just look at him, bronze rider," Sagassy remarked, pausing to look back at F'lessan. "He's much less restless already."

It was as well Tai had seen F'lessan before Golanth because the sight of the terribly wounded bronze made her weep.

"Now, now, he looks a lot worse than he is," the Monaco rider said, tightening his arms about her.

He is much better, Tai. He is much better,and Zaranth rose from where she was lying on the sunny terrace beyond Golanth's supine bulk.

"Oh, Zaranth! How can you say that?" Tai was sobbing.

Because it's true.

"Hey, now, Tai, don't go to pieces on me," T'lion said in a rallying tone. "He was badly injured, it's true. Flesh gouged out of him, bits gnawed off him, but they got the tail mended. That's what's in the splint affair. And he's not in any pain because we don't let him be."

That was when Tai noticed all the other people on the terrace and valiantly controlled her sobs.

"Ah, Green Rider Tai," and through the tear haze in her eyes, Tai recognized Persellan's familiar face. "I know the extent of Golanth's injuries seems appalling," he went on, "but we keep him comfortable." He gestured to the large gray pots in which numbweed was stored. "Having Zaranth here makes it certain that he is relieved before he can twitch a muscle in pain. She's been as close to him as a pulse."

Golanth's prostrate body made the terrace seem smaller than she knew it was. There was room for people to move around him. Near the main entrance, there were supplies, like numbweed pots and chests of dressings or other medications, chairs where carers could relax, a table for dining, like the ones that had been set out when half of Monaco had been staying here.

Golanth's body was cushioned from the rock of the terrace by many pads: an awning had been rigged above him-a sail, Tai thought, by the look of it. He seemed smaller somehow, diminished by the absence of his characteristic vitality: like rider, like dragon. She pushed that thought away.

There were marks all over the near side of him, where claws had torn and teeth had snagged. The patch over his left eye was most prominent and the casing around the end of his tail, which was positioned by his body. He lay with his head between his front legs but she could see his nostrils flaring slightly with every breath he took.

He is much better, Tai,Zaranth said with the heartiness of someone who has watched recovery. Much better. Touch him. You will feel the strength in him.

Zaranth had not moved from her position behind Golanth but now she cocked her head at her rider.

"I'll take you round," T'lion offered. "There's a place for you to sit and be private with Zaranth. Let me tell you, despite her own injuries, she has been conscientious in helping us tend Golanth."

T'lion deftly maneuvered her behind him and Tai nearly burst into tears again to see the slashes, hidden behind Golanth's body, that marred Zaranth's green hide. T'lion put her on the bench and stepped back, giving Tai's shoulder a firm reassuring grip before he left them. Zaranth took the small step that separated rider and dragon and put her nose down to Tai's knees.

I do not hurt, Tai. They tend me as well as Golanth but only I can hear to help him. He grieves for F'lessan's hurts. And that pain is the worst.Zaranth emphasized that with a little push of her nose.

It would be. And you've needed me!

In deep apology for her absence, Tai put her arms carefully around her dragon's nose, rested her face against Zaranth's cheek, aware of the dragon's warmth and the particular smell of her sun-warmed hide mixed with the astringency of numb-weed. Then, tenderly, lightly, she placed her right hand on the scored chest and felt the beat of the powerful heart, letting herself relax against her beloved. Reassured by the essential strong rhythm, she felt tension draining out of her body, softening her muscles, and giving her back the sense of Tightness that was the bond between dragon and rider. They remained in this silent communion until Tai was restored to serenity. And had renewed the strength in them both.

Caringly, she stroked Zaranth's nose, her cheekbones, was able to touch the deep gashes with gently inquiring fingers. She could see that they were shallow, worse than scratches but not as deep as the troughs that scored Golanth. Zaranth looked as if she were wearing stripes.

How did you do it, my heart?the rider asked the dragon. How did you save us?

I called. Ramoth and the others came quickly. I told Ramoth.The dragon's tone was squeaky with self-satisfaction. She did what I told her to do. She saw how to do it and told the others. They did more than me. There were more of them.Zaranth sighed gustily into her rider's lap. And the felines threatened our lives: all four of us. But we were too much for them. I was very glad to see the other dragons arrive: especially Ramoth.

I'm sure you were. So was I!Tai admitted, letting tears well up in her eyes, tears of exquisite relief now that she was physically close to her brave and clever Zaranth.

F'lessan has been anxious,Zaranth said with great concern. He will not rest. Golanth sleeps a lot. I tell F'lessan not to worry but I don't think he believes me.

He will believeme!Tai caressed Zaranth's sensitive eye ridges soothingly, just the way her green dragon preferred. Zaranth leaned her head more and more on Tai's knees until she became aware that this pressure was causing her rider pain. Zaranth opened her eyes and lifted her head.

I have called him.

Called who?

The bronze rider. The one who carried you. I thought about bringing you here myself,and Zaranth's eyelids lowered apologetically, but it's one thing to do it because it's the only thing to DO but I couldn't risk dropping you and I 'm not quite that good at it as I should be–to try lifting you carefully. So, first he will let you touch Golanth; this side isn't as bad. Golanth knows that you are here. You will touch Golanth and tell him that you have seen F'lessan. He will believeyou!

When T'lion duly returned, he supported Tai while she placed her hands on the bronze's side, carefully avoiding the grooves in Golanth's right shoulder that might, had they been a little higher, a little deeper, have ended the bronze dragon's life. And F'lessan's, too.

She blinked back more tears. This time death had not robbed her again of those she loved. She wasn't certain just how Golanth had escaped: the feline had been leaping in exactly the right arc/trajectory to land on Golanth's spine, teeth bared, talons extended. But somehow it had missed and she was profoundly grateful.

She spread her fingers on uninjured parts of Golanth's sun-warmed hide. She found a place where she could lean her forehead on his rib cage. She felt a rumble from Golanth and then a thought.

You have come.

F'lessan is weaker than you are, Golanth, so they will not bring him to you. But I have held his hand, I have spoken with him. Now I will tell him that I have touched you. And you will both start feeling better and healing as fast as possible. Do you hear me?

I hear you.The body beneath her hands heaved slightly and she felt him sigh. Ihear F'lessan. He wants to know if you are coming back.

Now that I have seen you and Zaranth, I 'II be right back.

"This may have been too much for you, Tai," T'lion said, picking her up. "I swear you feel lighter."

"That's as well for you then," she said.

"I'm stronger than I look, you know," he replied firmly as he carried her back into the weyrhold and down the hall.

"I must go back to F'lessan."

"Oh, I'm taking you there as fast as I can. And you must drink what Sagassy has concocted for you. Maybe even get F'lessan to sip some."

Which Tai did, after she had assured him of Golanth's condition. Most of the time he slept, his fingers twined in hers in a grip which alternately made her weep or feel intense pride that, of all the humans he knew, it was she whom he wanted by him.

Despite F'lar's assurance to the Council, despite Ramoth's assurances to Lessa, not all the dragons were able to imitate Zaranth and the dragons who came to her assistance in Honshu that terrible morning. Although Ramoth had told Lessa that she had understood how Zaranth had managed telekinesis, anger, fear, and outrage had had a lot to do with the process. Cool thought, or gradually, more ardent wishes, were not as successful. And nowhere near as safe.

First, the path between the original position and the destination of an object being moved by a dragon's mind had to be clear of any impediment. The distance did not seem to be an obstacle, for inanimate objects. Even for smaller living creatures, like wherries or herdbeasts. But there could be nothing in the way. While stones didn't suffer from being moved telekinetically, they might be broken if they collided with anything; so might what they collided with. The speed was another problem. The transfer was instantaneous-which could, and did, affect what was kinetically moved.

"A case of all or nothing," F'lar said after the first few hours of imperfect results with Mnementh.

"Control," Lessa suggested cryptically, having had no better performance from her queen.

With the felines, there hadn't been a problem of safe transit or landing. Pieces had done very well. Ramoth disapproved of challenging more felines for practice or in groups large enough to provide the stimulus that Zaranth had had: sheer terror at seeing her weyrmate and the two riders attacked.

The dragons could send things straight up in the open air-and out of sight. To move an object telekinetically in a horizontal direction had taken a lot of control and required Mnementh and Ramoth working together, one slowing the other down. Ramoth and Mnementh practiced daily, slowlylifting small rocks vertically from the ground and putting them back down without crushing them into dust or pebbles. They could probably have thrown one all the way to the Yokohama,also not the desired destination, but one that was causing considerable speculation by Lessa and F'lar. Thathad been a significant forward step.

When queried by Ramoth, Zaranth recommended that dragons experience trundlebugs. If there were many riders who found that a bizarre way to awaken telekinetic ability, it proved to be the one that worked-on trundlebugs. Ramoth and Mnementh earnestly suggested that the experiment be carried out in pairs, female and male dragons, and preferably a good distance from any holdings and close to a stream, lake, or ocean.

Then, when Ramoth and Mnementh worked together, one controlling the other, kinesis became more practical, less hazardous to what was being moved without physical contact.

What purpose, other than repelling-and destroying-felines or disciplining trundlebugs was not immediately apparent to many, though the ability provoked deep thought and theorizing in many quarters. Meanwhile, the dragons and their riders continued to practice this counter-balancing of kinetic energy.

Master Esselin-who now complained bitterly about all the tasks set him-was supposed to see what records were available on early dragon training: going betweenand using firestone. Nothing legible remained from the old Record Aivas had transcribed and those who owned fire-lizards insisted that the dragons had learned from these smaller cousins.

No one had ever observed fire-lizards telekinetically moving something, unless the speed with which fire-lizards could gobble food from a plate could be considered a form of telekinesis.

Many other matters were being set in place, the most important of which was siting the Western Continent observatory. This so-called continent was two landmasses, a wide inlet almost completely separating them except for a straggle of boulders making a bridge at the northern end. Erragon had the plans Aivas had printed out for Cove Hold and, apart from a different telescope mount (he recommended the fork type), these would suffice: especially when those who had worked on Cove Hold volunteered their services to erect the new one. Lord Ranrel was as good as his promise and three ships were loaded with material and volunteers to sail, with Master Idarolan in nominal charge of the expedition, to the southernmost cape of the larger landmass. A pod of dolphins assigned by the dolphins' venerable leader, the Tillek herself, were to accompany the small fleet to a harbor she could recommend.

Green and blue dragons were to precede the ships, setting up a base camp.

The same general plans, with variations to the terrain, were to be implemented at Ice Lake and in Telgar. The most pressing need was training apprentices to serve the new facilities or to add to the Crafthalls that produced spyglasses that used to be called "far-seers," binoculars, and small telescopes.

Master Tagetarl's Print Hall was busy, first with printing the requirements of craftsmen and -women, lists of materials to be supplied-especially lists of people willing to be transported to such a distant location to help in building an observatory on the Western Continent.

That was a simpler task than the demand for printed instructions on how to build smaller non-metal telescopes: thick wherhide would suffice so long as the interior was painted black and sealed against dust. Manuals must be written by the Star Hall, charts and diagrams of what objects were known to be in unthreatening orbits, instructions on how to sight, recognize, and make proper notations on possible discoveries. The GlassCraftHalls could supply mirrors for reflective scopes from 100-mm to 400-mm. Larger ones, of course, required time to shape and build.

When Thread, inevitably, fell near Honshu, the healers made sure the two injured dragons were so deeply sedated that they were unaware-except at some very primal level-that the ancient enemy was being met. Zaranth was recovering well but Golanth's injuries still concerned every Weyrhealer and Beastmaster.

"There's considerably more available about every other animal on this planet," Wyzall said after a long afternoon's study with Beastmaster Ballora; his best animal healer, Persellan; and Tai, "than about the ones we're most dependent on." He pushed back from the table, rubbing his face to ease fatigue.

"That's because we have had bodies of every other animal to dissect for study," Ballora remarked. She was a big, athletic woman. She had started healer training with Master Oldive but found a real empathy and skill with animals so she had changed to the BeastCraftHall. Her manner was in general as reassuring to humans as it was to the animals she tended and bred. Now she sighed with deep regret. "But then the only anatomical studies ever available were those done on dead fire-lizard hatchlings that Ancient zoologists happened to find. And those most incomplete notes that Wind Blossom left that concerned unhatched watchwhers which, as we all know, were not ourdragons."

"Records state that there were unhatched dragon eggs…" Tai began tentatively.

Wyzall dismissed that. "There was a prejudice against such study," he continued. "Not that I disagree, since any eggs that didn't hatch failed because of some defect." He gave a sigh. "Live dragons can at least tell their riders where they hurt, if it isn't visible. Unlike us humans who do not seem to be sufficiently in tune with our bodies because we-" He broke off, clearing his throat and riffling the pages he had been reading.

"Because we die when we wear out," Ballora said with detachment. "Did you ever discover which is the oldest living fire-lizard, Wyzall?" she asked with a grin.

Wyzall tut-tutted and shook his head. "It's an impossibility. They may tell dragons what they 'remember' seeing but I think it's analogous to the Tillek's knowledge of delphinic history. The fire-lizards weren't there to see it happen but they have passed the tale of it down so that it"-and he waved to the fairs that were either sleeping or lazily flying on the light breeze-"becomes a personal memory."

"Not all the fire-lizards remember seeing the spaceships in the ship meadow," Tai reminded him.

"Ah," and Wyzall wiggled a finger at her, "but which do? Back to the present," he said then, growing solemn, "I do think that gentle massage with the unguent will help circulation to Golanth's damaged wing joint. At least it no longer causes him great pain."

"How could it with five jars of numbweed soaked in!" Tai asked, since she had undertaken a lot of that massage.

"Well, no harm in trying this unguent," Ballora said, taking it from her pouch and placing it on the table with the air of exhibiting an item of rare value. "Helps with joint-ail on runnerbeasts but it's worse to produce than numbweed."

"Nothing can be worse," said Persellan, who was usually in charge of collecting, boiling, and rendering the weed at Monaco Weyr.

"It's a big joint," Tai said, dubiously.

"Rub it in well and we must be sure to wash our hands thoroughly. We don't want to absorb too much of it through the skin of our hands."

She removed the stopper to the pot and had been about to sniff but set it down quickly.

"The smell won't kill you," Ballora said. So willing hands massaged the substance into the dragon's wing joint.

There were other worries about Golanth that must soon be addressed. A dragon injured in a Fall usually went between-first to shake off Thread in the cold and second to emerge in his or her Weyr. Every Weyr, including Monaco, had an infirmary, which could accommodate a wounded, or sick, dragon. Honshu had only the broad terrace on which the queens had tenderly deposited the desperately wounded bronze after the attack. But Golanth could not be moved through betweenuntil his injuries were healed.

Another five days stuck in Honshu, with so many people around, was Tai's limit. She had to get away by herself, away from all the pressures there. She spent as much time with F'lessan as she could-when not dismissed by healers-because he really did seem less restless when she was nearby.

She could tell when he was speaking with Golanth, which was often, and also when his wounds were being dressed and he needed distraction from the pain, because his eyes went unfocused. Sometimes she worried that he was retreating too much into Golanth. Oddly enough, the healers could keep the dragon far more comfortable by use of numbweed than they could the rider.

There was, indeed, little she could do for F'lessan-which distressed her-and not all that much for Zaranth who, like most injured dragons, slept a lot. By the eighth day, she realized that the healing process was complete enough-no more grainy feel except to the deepest claw marks, though the new skin was very tender-and Zaranth could safely go between.Tai's leg wounds were red scars and peeling flesh. The sea would complete her healing, too.

We will go when they sleep,Zaranth informed her rider. They will not then miss us.

Sea will be good for you, too.Tai assuaged her conscience by saying, repeatedly.

Having made the decision, it was hard to get through the day. She worried about leaving F'lessan; Golanth wouldn't be aware. She felt as if she was deceitful and devious but she needed a respite. The sight of F'lessan crumpling in on himself when allowed to take a few steps from his bed had almost made her retch. He'd had to lean heavily on the crutch, for his left leg could still handle no weight and the abdominal wound kept him from straightening. Hair was beginning to grow over the head wound, but he was a far cry from the dashing, blithe, youthful Benden Wingleader.

So Tai and Zaranth made their plans and waited until the subdued, quiet, but constant activity of the carers and healers went into nighttime mode. At last Tai slipped out, wincing a bit as she jarred her leg on the stone floors: she had left her cane behind, for it had a metal tip and its click would be audible. Someone might hear her moving and investigate; very quick to investigate, they were.

She slipped onto Zaranth's back. The green padded carefully to the edge, slowly extending her wings above her head, and then, in a maneuver that they both knew was reckless, tipped over the edge. Wind caught under her wings and she glided silently a moment, just above the treetops, before going between.

They chose a little cove off the coast of Cathay, Zaranth expertly coming in over the placid waves to a white sand beach. They landed there long enough for Tai to strip off her clothing, leave her towel, and remount Zaranth. The green then walked slowly into the tranquil sea, chirping happily as the warm water caressed her, until she floated. Tai just fell off her dragon's neck into the sea, elated with the success of their escape and the caress of the warm water.

"We needed this, dear heart," she said, slapping Zaranth's wet wither.

The dragon let herself sink until only her eyes remained above the water, brilliant green and blue-and that unhappily reminded Tai of Golanth's eye. But suddenly dolphins arrived, squeeing and clicking in great sympathy for the red scars on Tai's legs and the black scabbed stripes on Zaranth's body, overjoyed at their unexpected arrival and scolding them, as much as dolphins scold, for staying away so long. And when were Golly and Fless coming to swim, too? Yes, they knew they had been hurt but seawater was good for all hurts, and swimming was good for sores, and they must come and tell them about the furry things. All these questions while sleek smooth dolphin bodies provided the dragon gentle massage and uncomplicated company for the rider. The moon rose as Tai, grasping two dorsal fins, was taken on a wild ride around the little cove, dolphins leaping high in escort and vying to take the place of any who lost her hand.

Indeed, it wasn't until Tai's hands slipped several times from fins that she realized she was tired. So much unexpected exercise.

"You rest," the dolphin named Afri urged, and cheed firmly about her, an order for the others to calm down. Tai was surrounded and supported by dolphin bodies, the light waves splashing over them, lulling her until she was all but asleep.

She came to awareness of how easy it would have been for them to just succumb to such blandishments and find a weyr on the shore and forget the heartache and the dismal prospects at Honshu. But that was impossible, no matter how tempting. She had chosen.

"We've had our respite, Zaranth. We go back now. Dawn's not far away and you know that's when F'lessan is most restless."

Resolutely, she turned shoreward, letting Afri, or maybe it was Dani, tow her until her feet touched the bottom. She walked out, found her towel, dried herself, and dressed. Then she called Zaranth in and checked to be sure that none of the scabs had burst during all that diving and cavorting about in the water.

"Come back, come back. Good for you," Afri said, walking on her tail as she spoke. "Bring Golly. Much better for him."

It would be, too, Tai thought, except possibly for his eye. Buoyed by water, he could exercise his leg and his tail-the bone had healed but the muscles remained flaccid. He might also be able to spread his injured wing, ease open that stiff joint. If only they could gethim up in the air and to the sea. Golanth had a much wider wingspan than Zaranth. Falling over the cliff at Honshu as she had done could have fatal consequences for the bigger dragon. Tai wondered if Ramoth and Mnementh had made any progress in refining the ability. After recommending trundlebugs, Zaranth had not heard anything from Ramoth except that she and Mnementh were practicing.

They returned to moonlit Honshu. Where shadows would mask their approach, Zaranth glided toward the edge of the lower terrace. All was peaceful below so their absence was unlikely to have been noticed. Because of the angle of their approach, facing the main entrance, Tai saw the halting figure making its way to the sleeping bulk of bronze dragon, pausing to hold the edge of a table. F'lessan?

What was the fool doing? He'd walked for the first time that morning. If he should fall, he could damage all the healing of the past two sevendays. What did he think he was doing? Fury for such recklessness dissolved as Tai realized what he needed todo: be withGolanth.

Come in slowly. If we startle him, he might fall,she told Zaranth. D'you think you could support him if he falls?

I could try.Zaranth's tone was doubtful. He hurts.

Of course he does,Tai said, almost glad that pain was slowing him down, making him cautious. Then, she could hear the faint click: he wasn't being entirely reckless, he was propping himself on a cane-hers, no doubt, since none had been offered him yet.

He was concentrating so hard on his goal, reaching his dragon, that he was unaware of being observed. He had ten more meters to move, painfully, slowly.

Golanth knows Tai comes. He does not move. Someone might hear that.

But I can hear the tap of the cane.

They may think it is you, Tai, checking on Golanth.

He managed another painful step in the moonlight, wobbling for a moment, uncertainly balanced.

If he falls. Oh, shards, Zaranth, just move him, as you did the trundlebugs. Move him to Golanth.

I-I. He's nearly there.

Not near enough. Just move him, Zaranth. Do it! You know how you moved trundlebugs!

Tai felt Zaranth gulp. If F'lessan made a sound, it was muffled against Golanth's neck as Zaranth complied.

Put me beside him.

And Tai-more abruptly than she had ever moved without Zaranth beneath her-was standing beside F'lessan who clung to the loose skin on Golanth's neck for balance. Tai put her hand under his left arm for support.

"How the shard did I get here?" F'lessan demanded in a low tense voice. "Where did you come from? There was no one else awake!"

"Zaranth!" Tai murmured by way of explanation.

F'lessan buried his head against his dragon's neck, gasping for breath.

"You could have opened stitches! You could have fallen and hurt yourself more," she scolded him, speaking low, her lips to his ear.

"Why didn't you get Zaranth to bring me to Golly before?" He turned his head, his low fierce whisper conveying his fury, his pain, and his desperate need to be in physical contact with his dragon.

Tai grimaced. "Three reasons: one, because you've been badly wounded and needed to heal a bit. Two," and she allowed her irritation to color her voice, "because I just thought of it when 1 saw you trying to undo all the good done while you were forcefully kept in bed. Three, Zaranth doesn't really know how to control herself."

"Trundlebugs, my dear green, trundlebugs." He took a deep breath and pushed upright, steadied himself on the cane before raising his arm. She saw the knife in his hand-one of the sharp ones that Crivellan used for surgical procedures.

"What are you doing?"

He gave her a shove. She stumbled and hissed as the imbalance sent a jab of pain through her half-healed leg. How had he managed to walk this far with his more serious wounds? "I want to see his eye, Tai. I want to see it."

"Why?" No one had lied to him about Golanth's condition. Didn't F'lessan trust her to tell the truth?

"He wants me to." F'lessan's reply was grim and Tai's objections ceased. "They've got it patched over and sewn up and, despite all the numbweed and fellis juice, it upsets him. He wants his eye open."

F'lessan quickly severed the lower strips holding the patch to the eye. He gasped as he tried to pull the bandage free; the effort was too much.

"Give me the knife before you make a mess of what's left of his eye." Her concern for him-and Golanth-made her speak more brutally than she meant. The dragonrider in her knew that he had to know the worst, now, tonight, while he had steeled himself to accept.

Wordless, he passed her the knife, leaning against Golanth's nose and breathing raggedly.

Tai reached up to slice through the final straps and pulled the covering free. And stared at the dull circle where a bright dragon eye should shine.

Both lids are sewn shut,Zaranth said encouragingly from the shadows. Nothing to be seen until the lids are unstitched.

That won't hurt,Golanth said.They always coat the outer lid lightly when they do the night dressing. It's the inner one that itches so.

Belior's light now shone on that blank gray-white, slightly curved circle.

"Give me back the knife," F'lessan said. He shifted, weight on his good leg, took a deep breath and carefully pulling the knot of the nearest stitch from the lid, severed it.

"There're a lot of them," Tai murmured. Here.A second scalpel clattered to the stone at Tai's feet. Ooops!Zaranth said. Small things are actually harder to move than large ones.

Thanks,Tai said, wondering if encouraging her dragon to spontaneous kinesis was wise. The ethics could wait until later. Zaranth had at least known what was needed and where to get it. Tai followed F'lessan's example and, since she was able to work quickly and stretch more easily, the stitches were soon removed from the vertically opening first lid. She felt Golanth twitch. Gently she caressed his neck. F'lessan should not stretch so high. Help him open the lid. I cannot. It has been closed a long time and is dry.

They did, careful to ease it over the stitches that closed the horizontal lid, gently pulling it to the rim of the eye. They removed the stitches from the second lid. Peeling it back was slow and disheartening. The first facets were revealed; the inner circles scarred black by the pointed claws that had irreparably damaged them. But, as Tai worked the upper lid, and F'lessan the lower, they could see that not all the facets were dark. The outer band, to the third facet in, showed a cloudy green; on the upper rank, four octagons were clearer. Along the dragon's nose, six more were brightening. Golanth had lost at least three-quarters of the sight in that eye. He might see directly in front of him in a narrow band and catch motion on the left and perhaps make out objects overhead.

Now, slowly, Golanth turned his head to his rider and Tai, and focused on them what remaining vision he had.

I see you, F'lessan. I see you, Tai. I see!

Dragons do not weep. F'lessan did, burrowing into his dragon's neck, clasping Tai's hand so tightly in his that some of her tears were for pain as well as joy.

Neither Wyzall nor Oldive, nor any of the beastmasters and healers they had consulted had thought that Golanth would have any use of the left eye. Nor did they know if the undamaged eye could compensate! While dragons often got their eyes full of stinging char and occasionally a direct score, the nictitating lids could close so quickly that rarely had more than a few facets been hurt.

I do not see much. But I see with two eyes.

Tai began to hiccup with sobs. F'lessan was gasping and hissing more than sobbing, sagging against his dragon, his injured leg sticking out to one side.

"I had to see, I had to know," he murmured.

Tai tried to support him, but he kept slipping, exhausted by his efforts, tears running down his face in a quiet despair that was far worse to hear than his initial sobs of relief.

Zaranth, put us in his worn.

Where?

The bed!

Being moved telekinetically by Zaranth was not at all the same thing as going between.If anything, Tai thought, it was between between.

Not-so-fast!Tai heard Golanth say, like a tiny distant sound deep in her ear, not a phrase said aloud. And the breathless propulsion down the corridor eased somewhere in between the start and the finish, and by its finish, they were slowly falling onto a bed. The larger bed they had shared-a logical enough destination for Zaranth, who would have recognized from Tai's mind that this bed was preferable to the narrow one that F'lessan had left. Tai was able to ease F'lessan's descent to the mattress.

As she hastily checked for any blood seeping from his bandages, F'lessan lay there, supine, limp arms over his head, gasping for breath, his face pale even in the darkened room, his left leg jutting straight out over the end of the bed.

"A bit sudden, isn't it, Tai," he said, opening his eyes.

"I'm thirsty." That was plaintive. The next was definitive.

"And I do notwant any fellis juice. I want water, lots of it. Cold."

Limping a little because she'd strained her bad leg, Tai paused at the door to listen for any activity in the hall, and then slipped as quickly as she could back to F'lessan's sickroom. She took the pitcher and the glass from the table and returned with them. Maybe she should have found some wine, or something sweet, for the shock. Now that she had had a few moments to get accustomed to the uncovered eye, it could have been worse: Golly had some sight. It must have been much worse for F'lessan, not able to check but very able to lie in that bed, numbed with the weed and fellis, thinking, thinking, and thinking. There would be considerable relief in knowing just how bad it was.

She got back with no one the wiser in the sleeping weyr-hold. She poured water for F'lessan, who dragged himself to a sitting position on one elbow. He drained the glass. She arranged pillows and pushed him back against them before she took a long swig from the pitcher to quench her own thirst.

"More, please." He held up the empty glass. When she refilled it, he sipped in mouthfuls this time. She drank again from the pitcher. The water was nearly gone. Should she get some fruit juice from the kitchen? Sagassy could be relied on to have a beaker cooling there. It wasn't just the sea that had made her mouth dry.

When she made a move to leave, he caught her hand. "Don't go, Tai. Don't leave me, my very dear green."

"Golanth's patch, I should replace it."

He grabbed at her hand, his fingers unexpectedly fierce. "No, he can use the lids if he needs to shield… what's left to see with. He hated that patch. I promised I'd get it off."

"If you'd only told us!"

Eyes closed with exhaustion, he gave a weak smile. "Would you, Tai? Would you have flouted Wyzall, Ballora, all of them?"

"Yes!"

His smile broadened, tinged with doubt, as he turned his head on the pillow toward her, his hand patting hers.

"Yes, I would have," she said firmly.

Then he scowled. "And what were you doing away from Honshu in the middle of the night, dear rider?"

She grinned. "We went swimming."

"Swimming in the middle of the night?" he cried, astonished.

"Belior's up and it did me a lot of good."

"Alone?" He tried to scold her.

"Not with nearly a full pod of dolphins about." Then, before he could continue, she added, "And all the good of that swim might be undone coping with your jaunt tonight."

He sighed, giving a weary shake to his head. "I think, my very dear green, my very dear Tai, we're all the better for tonight." Wearily he closed his eyes but his lips curved in a slight smile.

He is, Golanth is, I am, you are,Zaranth said.

F'lessan gave her hand a final pat before the fingers lay lax. She checked again for any seepage from the bandages. It would be like F'lessan to be unscathed by such a desperate antic. When she fumbled to draw the light cover over them, he was breathing evenly and the fretful lines on his face had relaxed. He almost looked like himself, except for the scar and the lack of hair around it.

He sleeps,said both dragons. We sleep.

She gave a happy sigh, ignored the ache in her leg and her bruised hand, put her head on the pillow beside F'lessan's, and turned her cheek against his bare shoulder.

Excited, concerned whispers and running feet awakened her. She was in that state of limp repose that allowed her to be aware of the distraction but unwilling to respond to the air of alarm.

Fortunately it was Sagassy who put her head in the door and stared at them. With a sense of mischief that astonished Tai as much as it did the hold woman, Tai put one finger to her lips to keep Sagassy from alerting the searchers. At that, Sagassy did give them a few more moments' peace, going back into the hall.

"The dragons are sleeping, aren't they? So the riders've come to no harm or be sure we'd've all heard the bugling. Now let's all be sensible…"

Then someone called urgently from the terrace. And Sagassy ran off.

Beside her, F'lessan moved, stretching a little. "I'll bet they found Golly's patch has been removed."

That was the startled news reverberating down the hall. F'lessan slowly slid his arm under Tai's shoulder and nestled her against him, his head on hers.

"It won't be long now," he murmured indolently and kissed her temple. Tai felt something inside her snap, as if all her guts and her ribs had been tangled in a great knot, which the kiss had untied. "I'm going to insist that we occupy this room from now on. It's big enough so you won't be bashing into me. You 're a quiet sleeper anyway. I don't think you moved all night."

"They have to be somewhere," they heard Keita shouting.

"That is, if it's your choice, Tai?"

For a split second-wanting to throw her arms about him in an excess of relief-she didn't know where it was safe to embrace him. So she demurely rubbed her head against his left shoulder. "I choose. I choose you in any condition and any way I get to choose you."

By then, their refuge was officially discovered and they were the victims of some choice sarcastic official displeasure and tongue-lashing. Tai was ejected from the bed so that Keita could be sure that F'lessan had done no damage to himself.

The main puzzle-how had they gotten to this room-was the easiest to answer.

"Zaranth put us here," Tai said. "She can, you know."

"And brought F'lessan out to Golanth?" Keita demanded, still outraged by finding the patch removed.

Tai gave a negligent shrug and let them assume what they wanted to. Then the healer had F'lessan carried back to his sickroom where medicines and bandages were stored, to make sure that he hadn't done himself any harm. F'lessan's grin might have been a trifle off-center as Keita changed dressings to reassure herself that no stitches had broken, but he remained unrepentant.

"I'm soaked in numbweed," he said.

"You both should know by now," Keita said, reproachfully, her expression severe, "that the deadening effect of numb-weed is deceptive. It is so very easy to damage tissue or tendon because you can't feelwhat strain you're inadvertently exerting. If the green dragon did indeed effect your unwise and unauthorized trip to the terrace, then that at least proves you're not totally bereft of common sense, bronze rider."

"And Golly's eye suffered no further damage?" F'lessan asked with a touch of arrogance and, to Tai, a wish to be reassured that it was, indeed, all right. "Persellan has seen it?"

"You're very lucky that the lids have healed as well as they have," Keita said, giving them full measure of her censure. "They were in shreds after the attack. Fortunately dragon membrane, unlike the more delicate eye facets, can regenerate."

"Yes," F'lessan said in a dry tone, "that's been explained. Golly knows he has limited vision but he does have some."

Keita had to admit that.

"He said the lids get very dry."

"Part of the injury includes an inability to generate sufficient moisture to lubricate the lids. I think we can help there, with a light gel, applied when needed. We coated the eye with it before we sewed the lids shut against sun damage."

"Then perhaps I can take over that duty now," F'lessan said, easing his body into a sitting position. Keita watched him, one hand lifting to suggest great care.

Then she said, "I'd very much like to see how green Zaranth does this telekinesis."

I can't do it slowly, Tai.Tai could almost hear her dragon gulp in anxiety.

I do the slow part,Golanth said. You apply the lift.

There is a chair out here,Zaranth added.

"Master Keita, would you have the gel handy?" Tai asked to distract her.

Keita turned to the chest where healer supplies were stored.

Stay very still,Tai heard her green say.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tai saw F'lessan disappear.

Not-so-fast!Golanth said. Her heart gave a thump of alarm, and she shot a glance down the hall in time to see F'lessan's body inserted in the chair, a look of surprise on his face. Trundlebugs had never appeared to notice.

We didn't even bump him,Zaranth said, highly pleased.

A matter of practice. You shove.

I don't. I move.

I slow.

We can try it the other way round,and to Tai her dragon's voice sounded wily.

You can practice onother things,F'lessan said firmly to Zaranth and Golanth but Tai could hear the amusement in his voice.

Hand reaching for a small jar, Keita swiveled, stared accusingly at Tai. She gave a deep sigh of exasperation. "I suppose it's similar to going between!'

"Not really. It's sort of all at once, instead of by degrees. Is that the gel? I'll just take it out to him."

Tai left the room as fast as she could.

"Just so long as he comes out of it alive on the other end," Keita called after her.

When she reached the terrace, F'lessan was still in the chair, leaning down to look at Golanth's hind leg. One of the other healers was just staring at him. Zaranth, on the upper ledge, was blinking and looking, Tai thought, rather paler green than she should be.

Does it take a lot of effort?

No, Golanth helps. Last night I was afraid I might hurt him.

I slowed him down,Golanth said. That's important, too. He isn't a feline.

He also isn't a trundlebug. Heavier.Zaranth replied.

He seems to have survived,Tai said, walking quickly down the hall.

It may be just a matter of control. We must find out how the other dragons are doing,Golanth said.

Tai reached F'lessan in his chair.

"How was the ride?"

"It's notlike going between,"he said firmly, looking her in the eye. "But I got here and Golly's leg isn't near as bad as I thought it was. Couldn't really see it last night, you know."

"You had too much time to think. I told you it was healing."

"I had to see it."

"I know," she agreed affably but, when he started to get up, she pushed him back.

"I want to see all of Golly," he protested.

"Golly can turn around. You stay put. It'll do Golly good to move."

"But he's smeared with numbweed," F'lessan replied hotly. "You heard Keita lecture us."

"It won't hurt Golly to turn around in place. He has done it." Tai spoke firmly, sounding a bit like Keita.

I can do it.And Golanth ended that argument by rising to four feet, and whatever the turn might have lacked in grace, it did allow his seated rider to see all of him, glistening in ribbons and patches with recently and generously applied numbweed. Except for the deepest ones, the claw marks were now mostly black tracings; where the wing sails had been punctured, the membrane tissue was ringed with pale new growth. When F'lessan asked him to, Golanth obediently stopped so his rider could lean forward for a closer look at one deep groove or the imprint of claw tips. At the point where Golanth was facing Zaranth on her ledge, he raised his head and gave her an affectionate lick.

Tai tried to gauge F'lessan's assessment of his dragon's condition but his usually mobile face was expressionless. His hands expressed his anguish, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if he wished he could erase the injuries, finally settling helplessly to the arms of the chair. Then Golanth halted, in front of his seated rider.

"Swimming would do F'lessan a lot of good," Tai murmured.

Zaranth made the most astonishing sound of surprise, her eyes whirling into yellow and she extended her head and neck in protest.

I'm only a green. I would need a lot of practice to move as much as Golanth.

F'lessan gave a burst of laughter. When you bounced all those felines like so many wherries?

I was angry. I was afraid.Zaranth's look was so apologetic that F'lessan laughed again, shaking his head at her. I didn't bounce you last night.

I helped,Golanth said with dignity, sweeping his weyr-mate a kindly glance. When I need to move, I will move myself. I can fall over the edge of the terrace just as you did last night.

Not just yet, Golly,both riders said urgently.

Zaranth curved her head back. You couldn't have seen me. And you can't go falling off the terrace. You've too much wingspread to drop off

When I need to move, I said,and his dignity increased. I heard you last night. Nothing's wrong with my hearing. Swimming would be good for my rider. You must take him today. F'lessan, tell the healers you must swim.

I'm not leaving you,F'lessan replied stoutly.

I am much better, you know. So are you,Golanth said, shoving his nose gently at F'lessan's knees, the good eye serenely steady. Then he cocked his head so he could see through the left eye.

"Keita gave me this to help lubricate his lids," Tai said, handing F'lessan the jar. It took her breath away to see the ruin of the left eye in full light and she knew it must be worse for his rider.

"Yes, that's a good idea," F'lessan said in an even voice and unscrewed the jar. With the tip of a delicately poised finger, he applied the gel. "Now close that lid and I'll do the other."

"Swimming would be very good for you," Tai repeated when he had finished that ministration. "Your wounds are closed. Going betweenwon't affect them. I'm sure we can get you on Zaranth's back. The sea would do you good. Getting away from here would do you good."

F'lessan leaned back in the chair, regarding her steadily just as Keita approached.

"What's this about the sea?" the healer asked.

"It'd be excellent therapy, Keita, you know that. The dolphins will assist."

There was considerably more discussion about swimming. Basically Keita had no objection but she wanted a healer to accompany them, even offering to go herself, with perhaps T'lion and his Gadareth as support while F'lessan insisted that Tai and Zaranth would be more than adequate companions. Somewhat reluctantly Keita admitted that the presence of dolphins would suffice if Tai were certain they'd appear. F'lessan and Tai both reassured her.

"He doesn't need to get out of the water," Tai insisted, remaining firm but not pleading. "He can swim off and on Zaranth without requiring help or getting sand on him. We won't do much today, but the water is so-so buoyant."

"Let them have some time to themselves, Master Keita," Sagassy said firmly, giving Tai a wink. "The change would do them good and they'd be back in time for lunch and hungry for it. Golanth here won't be out of touch with them for a moment. Will you, bronze dragon?"

Not many non-riders were bold enough to ask a dragon's opinion but Sagassy had become quite comfortable with the bronze. He nodded and the remaining facets on his left eye began to exhibit whirls of enthusiasm.

That first excursion-short though it was-marked a decided turn in F'lessan's recuperation. And that night they shared a bed.

On that last tack into Monaco Bay, Shankolin saw Landing once again ahead of him on its hill, the three volcanoes in the distance. He had had no warning from Lord Toric about the current size of the facility. Now he understood why the Lord Holder had advised him to come here and survey the area with the view of bringing total destruction to the Abomination, and all its adjuncts. Then the view was hidden as the ship tacked again, closing with the wharf where it would moor.

Even during their conversation at Telgar Hold, Shankolin was wary of coming to Landing but Toric had said that there would be no trouble at all to arrange entry into the Admin Building itself so that Shankolin could estimate just what method would serve their mutual purpose. Toric gave him a substantial number of marks and observed that he had best journey from one of the smaller seaholds on Nerat's Foot. Toric knew of a fisherman whose captain owed him a favor or two and would sail him directly to Monaco Bay. He remarked that gloves on Shankolin's hand would disguise the missing joint and a cap pulled down on the forehead would hide the scar.

"Someone saw you and the Harper Hall has passed a rough sketch of you around. You'd best cover what you can and change what you're wearing now."

Shankolin suppressed a smile at the Lord Holder's disgust but smell was as much a disguise as clothing. To most observers, Shankolin was a hill man whom few would approach for several reasons, one of them being the body odor.

Just before Shankolin reached Loscar port, he washed both himself and his stinking clothes in a stream. In the port, it was easy to buy good secondhand clothing, suitable for a sea voyage. He found the captain Toric had recommended and presented him with the first of the hastily scribbled notes Toric had provided. He gave his name as Glasstol from Crom and no one challenged it. He spent most of the journey either asleep or eating. One of the more sociable crewmen explained how much the Flood had improved the Loscar harbor, and was answered by an uncivil grunt. So no one tried again to enter conversations with a passenger who clearly wished to keep to himself.

On his arrival at Monaco Bay, Shankolin was struck by the repairs already made; even its shipbuilding facilities were back in place. He had heard that the area had been inundated by five major tsunami waves and significant smaller ones to extend the sea inland as far as a man could walk in a day. That the wharf was new-and the reek of its wood preservative dominated even the smell of fish-was inescapable. A weathered metal pylon with a bell at its apex had been erected. The captain pointed out the new floats on the seaward side where shipfish would come when the bell was rung. Sometimes, the shipfish would summon the Portmaster. Shankolin had been raised inland and doubted this unlikely story.

As he had once before, he found a carter who was taking supplies from the harbor to Landing and, for a half mark, allowed him to climb into one of the wagons. It was slow. He helped with the burden beasts pulling the heavy loads and the carter, not a curious man by nature, spoke more to them than to his passenger.

By the time Shankolin was left off by the carter at the edge of the widely expanded Landing, he was glad of the map Toric had given him so he could make contact with the Southern Holder's contact in Landing: a man called Esselin who could be found in the Archives. He also owed Lord Toric favors, which was why Esselin would oblige Shankolin by escorting him into the Admin Building and the Aivas chamber. Shankolin found Master Esselin about to leave the main Archive Building, which had far too many windows. Perhaps that design shed light into the room and the shelving on which masses of books were visible, but all that glass would splinter so easily and destroy the contents. Shankolin began to assess how much explosives he would need. Perhaps Lord Toric knew of a man who could supply him.

Master Esselin was not happy to see the handwriting on the envelope Lord Toric addressed to him. He was even unhappier when he read the message; his sallow complexion turning paler and his fat face showing how irritated he was.

"Lord Toric felt that only you," and Shankolin knew how to flatter subtly, "would be able to grant my deep and abiding desire to see where the Aivas was housed."

That sentiment had the ring of truth and Shankolin infused his tone with reverent respect and awe.

"Just the briefest look would fulfill my life's ambition," Shankolin went on.

"Well, well, it is Lord Toric," Esselin said, as he tore the message into the smallest parts his thick fingers could manage.

At this hour, when most would be going to their homes for the evening, there were few on the neatly kept paths. However, Esselin made absolutely certain that no one else was nearby as he kicked a small hole in the nearest garden bed. The pieces of paper fluttered from his fingers into the hole and he stamped hard, looking all about him as he did so. One last look at his feet and he could see that not even a white corner was visible.

"Follow me," he said, straightening the lapels of his coat. "A brief look is all. I have work awaiting me in my quarters. As always." Esselin's tone was long-suffering as he waddled as quickly as he could pump his fat legs in the direction of the Admin Building.

Shankolin jumped as the lights illuminating the pathway blinked on in the twilight. He felt sullied by so much abomination around him. The sooner he could demolish all this, the better. There was, however, far more to Landing now than he had anticipated. It would make his ambition to destroy allthe Abomination's work much harder but there should be a way. He might have to recruit more helpers. He wondered how deeply indebted the fat little man was to Southern's Lord Holder.

He was surprised when he saw that Esselin was leading him, not around the bulky building to the front door, but to aback entrance. Shankolin saw the guard seated inside, saw a look of dislike cross his features as he recognized the little Master, but he rose immediately to let them in.

"We'll just come through this way and go out the front door," Esselin said, waving Shankolin to follow him.

The guard stepped back to allow the portly man to pass. His expression was totally blank as if he was just as happy to avoid any conversation with Esselin and scarcely looked at Shankolin.

They continued down the corridor, and doors closed on either side. Probably he could peer in through the windows once he was again outside on the path. Perhaps. Then they reached the wider hallway that Shankolin remembered, part of the entrance he had used before. No one of those talking among themselves did more than glance at Esselin and quickly look away.

The rooms to the left would have to be inspected. Perhaps burning pitch from an outside window? No, an explosive would be needed to achieve the most destruction. Fire would never damage enough.

Then, there, at the end of the hall, was the softly lit Aivas Chamber. Shankolin felt no reverence at all, but an intense thrill of pleasure. He had never thought he could gain entrance to the facility so easily.

When he had planned Batim's raid on the main Healer Hall they'd thought it would be much harder to enter. Unfortunately for that expedition, it had been much harder to leave.

Should he prevail on Master Esselin to accompany him on his next visit here? The fat man's clothes would hide more than his excess weight. But first, he must get to the actual chamber. And take a quick look at what was in the room to the left. Light spilled out into the hallway and, by the sounds he could hear, a lot of machinery was being used and quite a few people were at work.

Suddenly a big man stepped from that room, frowned when he recognized Esselin, and gave Shankolin the briefest glance.

"Promised him just a look, Tunge," Esselin said, flapping his left hand to dismiss the man.

Tunge started to protest but by then Esselin stopped at the threshold to the chamber. He turned to beckon Shankolin to hurry along.

"There isn't much to see now, of course, since Aivas terminated…"

Shankolin ignored him. He was savoring this moment, heart pounding in anticipation as it had on that previous occasion. He stiffened with remembered fear of the awful noise that had deafened him. But Aivas had terminated itself. Impatient to view the site that he would soon see in rubble, Shankolin shouldered a startled Esselin aside and strode purposefully over the threshold.

That was as far as Shankolin got. From the opposite wall of the chamber two narrow shafts of light struck him on the chest at heart height. He was dead before he fell backward.

Master Esselin collapsed in hysterics, trying to scramble as far from the corpse as he could. Tunge yelled for help and then peered down at the dead man, scratching his head in perplexity. When he pushed back the cap and saw the scarred face, he bent down and picked up the left hand. The tip of the first finger was missing. Tunge dashed to the main hall, rummaging through the top drawer of the desk until he found the harper sketch that he remembered seeing. Master Stinar was now in the hall, to find out who was screaming hysterically and why.

Stinar immediately summoned a healer to attend to the Master Archivist. When Tunge showed him the harper sketch, Stinar then got in touch with D'ram and Lytol at Cove Hold and dismissed everyone in the Admin who was not essential, with the exception of the rear door guard who was mystified and kept repeating that he had never thought to question Master Esselin. The man was in and out of Admin all the time, wasn't he? When D'ram and Lytol arrived, Stinar escorted them to the body and requested Tunge to tell them exactly what he had seen. "Like I've already told Master Stinar, I saw beams of lightcome out of two spots high on the back wall." He pointed to the two places, not wishing to cross the threshold right now though he had done so many times to dust and keep the place tidy. "Par's I ever heard, nothing inside has been operational since Aivas and Master Robinton died in there."

Both Lytol and D'ram looked down at the dead man for a long time before they looked at each other.

"He got this far once before, you know," Lytol said in his slow sad voice. "When he and two others attacked Aivas. On that occasion, what Aivas called a sonic barrage deafened the intruders. Aivas said that he had been provided with self-defense units."

Surprised, Stinar turned from one to the other. "But that must have been twelve Turns ago."

"Thirteen, give or take a sevenday or two," Lytol replied. "Once a person entered that chamber, Aivas would know him or her again."

"You mean that Aivas's self-defense system is still operational?" Stinar asked in awe.

Lytol regarded him kindly. "I would hazard the opinion that some internal circuitry was never turned off. A system as sophisticated as Aivas's would have recognized this man as a previous intruder. Computers, as you should know, Master Stinar, have long as well as accurate memory files."

The Harper Hall was informed by fire-lizard message, and Pinch, who was the only person who had ever seen the Abominator leader, was conveyed to Landing to confirm the identification.

"No idea who he was, Master Mekelroy?" Lytol asked.

Pinch shook his head slowly. "Fifth" was only a convenient designation. He'd been called "Glass" at Crom Minehold 23, but that was no more the man's rightful name than Fifth. Pinch hoped it took a long while before Lord Toric realized that Fifth, too, was no longer available. Now, if he could just find Fourth and neutralize her, they might forget about Abominators.

Esselin did not recover from the shock he had received and died a few days later of a hemorrhage in the brain. Or so the Healer at Landing said. The incident was forgotten as quickly as possible and Tunge soon resumed his duty of keeping the Aivas Chamber neat and tidy.

Once he started swimming daily, F'lessan improved in vigor, was able to concentrate, and asked for astronomy texts so he and Tai could study. He even sent someone up to the observatory office to examine the prints they had taken to show at the Dragonriders' meeting; that now seemed another lifetime ago. Perhaps it was-the notion passed F'lessan's mind briefly-but Tai saw a streak and they had to check that. Then a blur caught their attention and, although that print was marked as a time exposure and it took them all morning to update the orbit, it turned out to be an asteroid among the minor planets; nothing significant. The studying passed a morning and gave both of them practice in configuring orbits. Tai suggested that they could help Erragon by asking for more of the latest prints from Cove Hold. The Star Master might not have time to review prints with all he had to do supervising three new observatories-no name had been chosen yet for the Western Continent installation-and classes that Cove Hold had undertaken.

Golanth walked, limping at first but gradually with more confidence until he was pacing briskly up and down the length of the terrace. He kept trying to extend the damaged wing but it moved awkwardly, despite all the massage and smelly unguents. Sagassy's holdermate, arriving with fresh food, watched him for a long moment.

"Think we can do something about that. Not too far to the ground on the step side."

"Golanth couldn't manage the hold steps," F'lessan said. "He's too long."

"Ramp'd work. Double it, make it wide," Jubb said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Got the wood. Make it strong. How much does your dragon weigh?"

F'lessan and Tai exchanged glances, and F'lessan burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"He weighs as much as he thinks he does," F'lessan managed to say and that set Tai laughing.

Jubb looked from him to Sagassy to Keita and the others and shrugged.

"No one ever weighed a dragon before? We weigh herd-beasts 'n' everything all the time." He threw his hands up in the air. "Well, thought it might help."

"It does, it does, it does." F'lessan caught Jubb by the arm, reassuring him and controlling his amusement. "I'm not laughing at the idea, Jubb. It's an excellent one. Golanth is tired of being stuck up here on the terrace." F'lessan's face lost all merriment. "He can't just take off."

"You are good to suggest it, Jubb," Tai said, coming to his rescue. "How long would it take?"

Jubb gave them a long speculative look. "About as long as you got folk handy enough to build it." Then he grinned.

It took three days, with dragons flying in timber, their riders, and folk who just "heard" that carpentry was needed, including the three dragons who flew in from Telgar Weyr with casks of nails, screws, new hammers, and saws, and brought whatever other equipment might be needed from the SmithCraftHall. Jubb; his workmates, Sparling and Riller; two Smithcrafters, and three of Lord Asgenar's best timber men designed a switchback ramp, with much discussion about the angle of incline, the size and bracing of the structure, the width and depth of the flooring, while men and women sawed and cut, and others hunted or flew in enough food to feed the volunteers. One thing F'lessan made clear: even for his dragon he would not mar the superb facade of Honshu Hold.

More important, F'lessan was immediately involved in the activity, taking time off only to swim, toning the muscles of his bad leg and his shoulder, regaining his tan. He also insisted on taking over as much of Golanth's treatment as possible and trusted no one else, not even Tai, with lubricating the eyelids. He seemed to ignore his own injuries: using a slower, more deliberate step to disguise his limp as he moved around with the cane. He was more his old self, though he didn't smile or laugh quite as easily. If she caught a darkness in his eye now and then, she knew it was all for his dragon, not himself. Several times, she saw F'lessan eyeing the drop from the ledge, measuring it, wondering if perhaps Golanth could indeed fall off its edge and manage a strong enough downward stroke with one wing to become airborne.

Once news of the project spread, Lessa and F'lar came to visit. While F'lar was looking over the plans with Jubb, the Smiths, and the Woodsmen, Lessa told them what was happening at Western-for lack of a better name that had stuck-and Master Erragon's resurrection of the telescopes from the Catherine Caves.

"Before he gets too involved with that," F'lessan said firmly, "we need him to rig a remote control console for the scope here on the main level. There's a room on the north face that would suit." He paused briefly, his eyes flickering. "There must be a way to trigger the dome mechanism, too. That spiral stair is ridiculous. Why did Kenjo hide everything away?"

"Who knows why the Ancients did what they did?" Lessa said, shrugging. "Have you asked Jancis and Piemur to help you? Didn't you persuade them to do the initial restoration of the observatory? Erragon's already grateful you're reducing his backlog of prints. I don't know how he fits everything in."

"He swears he needs only four hours of sleep a night," Tai remarked, incredulous.

"Neither of you can match him yet," Lessa said at her driest, "at your stage of convalescence, but as I understand it, there's more to sky-watching than lying on your back and looking at 'em. He says he needs references from Honshu."

Pausing, she looked out over the valley. "It is very pleasant here, you know, but we can't stay long today."

She and F'lar left shortly afterward, saying they'd be back when the ramp was finished.

They were. It was wide enough for Ramoth, the largest dragon on Pern, who demonstrated by walking down and up it without brushing folded wings against the cliff face. Bravely, Golanth set all four feet on it, F'lessan beside him.

"Now, put your weight down, Golly," F'lessan said, grinning broadly and cocking his head at the slight sound as the timbers gave a little under him. "Don't knock me off."

The spectators cheered dragon and rider as they proceeded down. Ramoth's eyes whirled as she watched from the upper terrace, Zaranth and Mnementh to one side on the cliff face, all three dragons alert. Gradually Golanth moved with assurance, able to lift his tail slightly, which was another improvement in his mobility. The first landing was more than wide enough for him to make the turn. When he and F'lessan reached ground level, he extended his head upward to bugle his pleasure and began to stamp round on the soft dirt. That was when the bronze dragon saw the door to the beasthold, the landing above and to one side of it.

I could weyr in this place,he told his rider. It is wide and high enough for me to enter.

F'lessan, who knew every plane and dimension of Honshu, now saw that the doorway was wider than it had been. Over the general hammering, sawing, and planing, he would not have heard the noise of masons making the enlargement. He knew-because he had mucked out the dirt that had accumulated over the centuries-that the interior of the beasthold was larger than Golanth's weyr at Benden. The ramp now gave him access to it and would certainly protect him from the winter rains.

"Rain," F'lessan thought and had to reach for one of the supports until the dizziness that had abruptly overcome him passed.

"What's wrong, F'lessan?" Tai asked, coming to see what had attracted Golanth's interest. Her expression altered when she realized that he had had some kind of shock.

Rain! The silver fall of Thread was like rain! Golanth would never be able to fly Thread again. In fact, when Thread next fell over Honshu, Golanth would have to be shut into the beasthold, to keep him from tryingto fly: the most powerful instinct of dragons was to fly when Thread was in the sky. Was that why the ramp had been completed so quickly? F'lessan tried to remember the sequence of Fall in this part of the south. He couldn't think. The realization that his days as Wingleader were over was too much to assimilate. He must have known it at some level. And denied it as he denied that Golanth was blind in one eye and too joint-stiff to work the left wing. As he had diverted such thoughts by plunging into Erragon's backlog of images. And Tai had encouraged him. Encouraged him to swim. To do other things.He wanted to think that she had been deceiving him but deceit was not a facet of Tai's personality.

Neither Lessa nor F'lar had said anything during their last visit. He should have noticed the avoidance, the talk about sky-watching and installing remote controls. Hadn't he mentioned it casually? Had they thought he was making the adjustment from Wingleader to sky-watcher? How could he have been so dense? This ramp allowed Golanth more freedom of movement-on the ground. But intothe air! Golanth might not have lost his ability to go betweenbut to go betweenfrom ground level presented hazards that no sensible rider would ask his dragon to face. What about an un-sensible rider?

He could feel Tai beside him. He could hear the men and women who had made the ramp still cheering the accomplishment and encouraging Golanth to show how easily he could climb back up to the weyrhold. F'lessan took a deep breath and turned around: in Tai's eyes he could see she knew what he'd been thinking. Then, the second shock hit him.

A dragon must be in the air to "fly" his mate. He could not suppress his anguish at that realization. Hard enough to lose his right to lead, but to lose the ecstasy, too?

It took him a moment to realize that Tai was shaking him, her green eyes intense with denial.

"Nonsense," he heard Tai say in a whisper so furious it stung his ears. "There'll be a way. There's been a way for everything else! Come."

He grabbed her, pushing her against one of the thick stanchions at the base of the ramp.

"Did youknow? Do they!"He meant his Weyrleaders. He gave her a shake when she didn't answer.

"I thought," and her words came out slowly, "that you realized someone would have to take over your wing-for a while."

"It's not just the wing…" He pushed her away from him. "I thought Honshu was my refuge. Now I realize it's Golly's prison!" He pointed to the beasthold and its widened doors. "He'll have to be put in there whenever there's Thread above. Not being able to fly drives a dragon crazy. We alwaysassist an injured dragon to get far away until Thread has passed. But Golanth can't even do that!"

"You don't know that yet!" she said, whirling to stand in front of him. "We haven't even tried to get him to the sea."

"How in the name of the first Egg can we get him to the beach when he can't even get in the air?"

"Because," Lessa replied, walking in under the ramp, F'lar beside her, "we knowhow he can get into the air. Once he's in the air, he can go between.Did you think Ramoth and Mnementh-and other dragons-had forgotten what they learned that day at Honshu?"

F'lessan stared at her. She was almost reproachful. To his amazement, his father was more amused than critical. He couldn't quite grasp what they meant. His mind was tormented by the crushing revelations he had been too cowardly to admit to himself.

"The ramp is a good idea," F'lar said. "That-" and he waved toward the beasthold, "makes a fine weyr. Nothing else." His amber eyes held F'lessan's. "Certainly not a prison in time of Thread. By the time the Nine Fall is over Honshu, we'll have mastered lifting that bronze dragon of yours."

"But how?"

"It takes control, you know," Lessa said, walking up to her son and slipping her arm in his. "Which, I believe, your dragon was practicing the other morning."

"How did you know that?" F'lessan asked, startled out of his morbid thoughts.

"There's not much Ramoth doesn't know if she wants to find out," Lessa said, looking up at him and giving him an encouraging little smile. "Now, there is a celebration going on around us. I think we've inspected Golanth's weyr sufficiently to know it will suit and I think you'd better calm him down."

Golanth was bugling and his happy voice did not mirror the anguish of F'lessan's recent numbing thoughts. None had leaked to his dragon, for which he was intensely grateful. Now Golanth was happily prancing up the ramp. His mind was all about being free of the terrace. F'lessan concentrated on that positive thought, reinforced it by what F'lar had just said. Practice? Yes, practice. Zaranth and Golanth hadn't done so badly in the two movings they'd attempted so far. They could practice. He could feel the thud of Golanth's feet in the ground under his.

Lessa gave him a little shake. "Come, F'lessan, you've other things to do now," she said softly and then pulled his arm.

In the few steps back into the sunlight, he quenched that black moment of anger and mind-numbing despair, forced himself through them to grasp what hope allowed. He joined the applause as Golanth came charging back to the foot of the ramp, limping only slight on his left hind leg. His right wing was fully extended and, if the left was canted downward, it was straighter than it had been now the dragon didn't have to worry about banging into Honshu's wall.

Maybe swimming and dolphin massage would loosen that joint just enough-

"Don't consider anything else, rider," said his father in a low voice, striding past him.

F'lessan turned back and held out his hand. "Tai?" he asked hopefully.

She came out of the shadow of the ramp, too, and took his hand. They walked out to Golanth. "Remember, F'lessan, I have chosen you. I now reaffirm it." Her hand was tight on his as they began the walk up the ramp.

Toric was overseeing the unloading of several prime breeding pairs of canines: big strapping animals, deep in the chest, thick-necked, well-set teeth, sturdy legs, dark to mid-brown short-haired-a necessary trait since parasites could cling to long fur to burrow into the host body. Shrewd calculating eyes, unafraid, despite a journey stuffed in a cramped forward compartment.

"They weren't seasick," the handler said approvingly, with a slight emphasis on the pronoun. "Name's Pinch, Lord Toric."

"Why the muzzles?" Toric asked, flicking his thick fingers in acknowledgment of the name.

"One of the females is near her heat. Couldn't have them biting, fighting."

"Aren't they trained?"

The handler, a medium-sized man with an angular face somewhat marred by tar stains and dirt, brown eyes, serious sort of expression, gave Toric a hard stare.

"If they wasn't when they came on board, they are now. Sit!"

All six dogs instantly obeyed, heads pointing at the handler. Though they didn't move, it was obvious by their rolling eyes and the movements of their nostrils that they were taking in such sights and smells as they could at the sit position.

"Stand!"On their feet in a shot. They took advantage and glanced about in every direction. One of them whined softly.

The man gave a sort of smug smirk. "Voice and hand." He demonstrated by firmly depressing his hand to the ground and the dogs sat down again. "Make sure you feed 'em by hand yourself and they'll be yours."

Toric had no time to feed dogs but his sons did.

"Here're their papers," the handler said. He fumbled in a clean but well-mended jacket, and passed Toric a sheaf. "Master Ballora guarantees fertility or you can return the dogs."

"Can you manage to get them to my hold?" Toric asked, eyeing the man. Any one of the dogs stood higher than the handler's knee: heavy collars as well as choke chains, paired up on three thick leather leads.

"Up to top, turn second left, up the wide stairs and Lord Toric's Hold is directly in front," the man said in quick phrases and then grinned, showing very white and even teeth.

"Get going then, and you're responsible if you lose one or any get damaged or do damage." Toric gestured him to be off.

"Come!" The dogs followed their handler down the gangplank, shoving a little with their shoulders to be closest behind him. At his order, they moved in front of him.

Toric watched as the dogs led the man up the stairs without pulling at him. Toric approved. He must remember to oversee his sons while they were getting accustomed to the beasts. Maybe, he'd keep one pair by him. Might be prudent. Ballora had offered him watchwhers. He couldn't stand the look of the creatures, and they were really only good watchers at night. They had to be blooded at birth to recognize the legitimate members of a Hold.

He pretended to read the dogs' papers as the rest of the passengers began filing off the ship, assessing the newest arrivals at Southern. More ragged ones who were unlikely to devote any time to that newest fad, sky-watching. If things fell out of the sky, they fell, and there was more water on Pern than land. What were really needed in the sky were more accurate weather satellites. That spaceship had only its southern array and the worst winds came down out of the north, which was what had happened two Turns ago and his coastline had been sharding ruined. Dolphin warning hadn't given anyone enough time.

He shifted his feet and glared as the last man off the boat led a small girl and encouraged three boys to move quickly now. Then the captain and the Runner Stationmaster emerged, the latter hefting the heavy message sack to his shoulder. The captain smiled and the Runner murmured something and made his way to the gangplank. He saw the Lord Holder and nodded courteously.

"You've nothing for me, Runner?"

"No, Lord Toric, or I would have had it to hand the moment I saw you come on board."

Toric swore under his breath, pursing his lips. The Runner Stationmaster angled past Toric, onto the pier, and up the stairs to the new Runner Station at Southern.

Sharding Fifth! He'd had no message since their meeting at Telgar. Fifth had indicated there were many men and women who obeyed his directions but not who or where they were; only the most discreet shared his theories about the Abomination and Master Robinton. Very prudent of Fifth but sharding infuriating for Toric. He consoled himself with the fact that there were plenty of men like that Ruathan renegade that he could recruit, but it meant starting out again. Dorse had been almost worth every mark Toric paid him.

Of course, he could approach Kashman! Now there was a man who had a legitimate grievance with the high and mighty Lord Dragonrider Jaxom. Toric might be able to work on that. Gain another freethinking man in the Council.

He also had had no word from Master Esselin about the meeting with Fifth that he had set up. Surely the old fool could do thatmuch correctly. Unless, of course, Fifth had decided to take the marks and disappear. Toric rather thought not. The man's obsession would keep him fueled for the revenge he sought. Kashman might be a willing associate even if he'd been only a child when the beloved Robinton had been alive.

That was when he saw the thin woman, at one side of the wharf, watching him, standing in a very awkward position, one hand in front of her clasping the elbow of her other arm. He swaggered down the gangplank, knowing she waited to speak to him, Lord Toric. There was only one person she could be: Dorse had described her in unflattering terms, but had grudgingly admitted that she was meticulous with details, uncompromising in her devotion to Fifth, and determined to destroy all Abominations if she had to do it single-handedly.

And here she was, Toric thought, seeking him out. Did she intend to take Dorse's place? Or Fifth's? Whichever, he could control her as he had Dorse, as he hoped to manipulate Kashman. She'd be very useful in Toric's scheming. Dorse had once said that she had a knack of recruiting the disgruntled to their cause. At the very least, she could give him the names and whereabouts of those already "persuaded." She'd be convenient to use as an emissary to Keroon Hold.

He smiled at her as he approached. She met his glance squarely, her face a mask, her body motionless, facing him as an equal. Toric kept his smile, but thought that he had better make sure she didn't consider herself an equal in any respect to Toric, Lord Holder of Southern!

Neither saw that the dog handler paused at the top of the stairs and observed their meeting.

The dog handler remained in Southern Hold long enough to instruct Toric's twin sons in how to care for and use the commands to which the dogs had been trained. During that sevenday, he listened but heard nothing about any untoward incident at Landing or any word about Master Esselin's demise.

When Toric set off with Fourth to some destination along the coast, Pinch summoned Bista to him. She had been inconspicuous among all the fire-lizards that darted about Southern. He met with Sintary in Southern's Harper Hall and gave the Master a sketch of Fourth, asking him to keep an eye out for her. Then he sent Bista to Sebell, requesting a dragon to convey him back to the Harper Hall.

It took two days to recover from the party. Lessa had managed to talk F'lar into staying overnight as a snowstorm had blown in over Benden from the Eastern Sea and she wanted to stay warm. T'lion, who had helped build the ramp, talked one of the Monaco harpers into coming along for the celebration: Jubb had a guitar, Sparling a fiddle, Riller a drum. Keita sang a fine light soprano, Sagassy a rich contralto, and everyone, even Tai, laughed when F'lessan tried to sing the chorus with them. He didn't try to dance but F'lar partnered everyone, including Tai, though she excused herself from other invitations on the grounds of her sore leg and sat with F'lessan when he wasn't busy trying to keep his bronze dragon from walking up and down the ramp. But it was a fine evening.

The next morning both rider and dragon were so lame that Tai complained that they'd used up two whole pots of numb-weed between them to ease their aches. Keita decided that she was redundant and asked T'lion for a ride to the Healer Hall. She'd send more numbweed.

The third morning saw the last of the party cleared up. Sagassy said they'd enough food left over for several days and she'd best get down to her hold. Tai offered to fly her back, with the favorite pots and pans that she'd brought up to Honshu to help out. Suddenly F'lessan had his weyrhold to himself. Taking a cup of klah out to the terrace, he sat, watching Golanth snoring, head on his forepaws.

His color's good, F'lessan thought and firmly turned his mind to wondering when Erragon would bring that new console so he could start working for his living. Which brought him right back to what he didn't want to think about! The facts that he would never lead a wing again and that Golanth might never fly Zaranth. Thathe didn't like-especially since Zaranth was a young dragon and would need a good male to keep her content. He, F'lessan, certainly didn't wish to share Tai with another rider-any other male. She enjoyed being with him now, relaxed, eager, and he wasn't going to have her response to him destroyed by some heavy-handed rider with no sensitivity for her marvelous, intricate personality. He felt himself getting quite roused by the very thought. And they had work to do, both of them, on the prints: they weren't half through that job. That was the channel he should concentrate on. The stars! The stars were important. Sky-watching was important work. He didn't need to fly to do that. He did need Tai to do that job properly. Truth be told, she knew a lot more about astronomy than he did, though he was catching up. They'd need more people in Honshu to help with that project. He couldn't keep up with Erragon's four hours of sleep a night. The daytime work, listing all the positions, seeing if there were other traces of the orbit from wherever Master Idarolan was working. Weren't there good men in Crom and Southern Boll already involved? He should meet with them. He should organize his life on a new basis-shouldn't he?

Abruptly another revelation occurred to him. Lytol, with his scarred and seamed face! Hehad been dragonless for Turns, ever since his brown Larth had died in a routine training flight at Benden: a training flight during which R'gul had allowed his dragon a chance to chew firestone and flame. Only Larth had caught flame in the face and so had Lytol. The dragon had managed to land his gravely wounded rider with the last breath in him. That should have been the end of the rider, as a person-a dragonless man.

Tradition said dragonless riders suicided rather than live without their dragon. But Lytol had defied that convention and had become far more than a dragonrider. He had been a Lord Holder for Jaxom's minority; he had then turned his hand to help Master Robinton and D'ram to manage Landing as a major Hold to the satisfaction of everyone involved. Now, Lytol and D'ram, in addition to bearing blind Wansor company, had accepted yet another role for which they were unusually qualified: as wise consultants for the complex society of the planet. Briefly F'lessan wondered, even as his soul cringed at the thought: would he have had the courage to build a new life-lives, in fact-as Lytol had done, if Golanth had succumbed to his injuries?

F'lessan gave a snort of disgust for his self-absorption. The time he had wasted. As Tai had said, there would be a way. Lytol had made several, and the example of the man's quiet heroism rebuked him.

Halfway through a snore, Golanth woke, alert, looking northward. When was the Nine Fall due? Close enough for Golanth to knowit was near.

Five riders appeared in the sky, and a sixth came swooping up out of the jungle. It was Zaranth who reached Honshu first, hovering to let her rider dismount on the terrace before she turned on her wing tip, as if challenging the newcomers. F'lessan rose, wondering at her almost defensive attitude. Then the dragons were close enough for him to recognize them: Monarth, Gadareth, Path, Galuth, and Arwith, but they made no move to land.

They come to practice,Zaranth said. Tai, I will get his jacket.

"What do they mean 'practice'?" F'lessan wanted to know. His jacket smacked into his chest and the reflex action of his hand kept it there.

"They mean to practice what they learned from Zaranth, Ramoth, and Mnementh," Tai said, as if reminding him of something he'd forgotten.

Lessa had said something about practice the other evening. "Practice what? Who on?"

What happened next was as astonishing to Tai as F'lessan. As she watched-F'lessan went white and staggered in shock-Golanth rose vertically from the stone of the terrace, hissing in surprise. Instinctively, the bronze spread his wings, though he could not extend the left far or raise it to match the other. But he was being lifted into the air.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO GOLANTH!" cried F'lessan, limping frantically to where Golanth dangled out of reach.

I'm all right, F'lessan. I'm all right.

"PRACTICE!" T'lion called.

"PRACTICE!" shouted T'gellan, Persellan behind him.

That was what C'reel and Mirrim were shouting, too.

"You have to practice, as well, F'lessan. All he needs is height," cried Mirrim gaily from Path's back. Her dragon was staring at Zaranth, indulging in some communication that neither rider heard.

"You knew about this?" he demanded of Tai, recalling her whispered reassurance under the ramp.

"Me?" she was affronted. "I'm certainly the last one they'd tell. Zaranth can't keep secrets from Golanth or you."

"PUT MY DRAGON DOWN!"

It doesn 't hurt,Golanth replied, peering down at his rider, as he was supported in midair by the other dragons. I'm high enough to gobetween.

You can't gobetween without your rider,Monarth said and Golanth began to descend.

Stop!Golanth cried to reduce the pressure that was putting him back down on the terrace stones. That's better. Be careful of me! I'm not a feline to be tossed about any old way.Shaking his head, he righted himself and looked around for F'lessan. Why can't I do it to myself?

We don't know–yet!Arwith replied, blinking her lids with puzzled embarrassment. Queens were supposed to know everything.

"We're lucky we've got this far," T'lion shouted. "Get aboard!"

As Golanth crouched to allow him to mount, F'lessan hesitated.

"I'll try it from the left," he said and, trying to disguise his limp, hauled himself up to the neck ridge, though his left leg hung down stiffly straight.

Are you ready, F'lessan?Monarth said. This time we'll lift Golanth high enough for safe passagebetween.

Where?

Swimming. We're to get Golanth in the water, too,Tai said.

You're expected at Cove Hold today,Path told Golanth. I mean swim at Cove Hold, too, you know,he replied.

And Erragon has something for you to bring back. I don't think he needs all of us, you know,Path added in an aside to the other dragons.

Ramoth says we are not to take chances with them,Arwith remarked. Lift!

F'lessan, once again in the air astride his dragon, felt Golanth's unmistakable elation. Within that joy was a core of deep fear that told F'lessan something else: as he had been hiding his fears from his dragon, Golanth had been concealing his from his rider-clowning up and down the ramp, exhausting them both so they could neither grieve nor think. Then he was aware of Zaranth on Golanth's left side. Poised to lend him her wing if needed? Well, he would certainly choose Zaranth and Tai as wing riders. Honshu Hold receded behind them until they were well clear of it. He could see as far as the clump of holder cots, the fields they had cleared for crops, the river-and the terraces.

It is good,and Golanth gave a sigh of relief, craning his head hard left to make up for his impaired vision.

Let's go to Cove Hold, Golanth.Bright in his mind were the blue waters, streaked with green over shallower bits: the observatory on the right. Unconsciously raising his arm in the Wingleader's command, he brought it down and told Golanth to go between.

They did it!Ramoth jubilantly told her rider. Then she added in a slightly critical tone, Not as neat a landing as could be but, under the circumstances, it was well done. I don't think that five dragons were needed to lift Golanth. Just Mnementh and I could have done it.

Most certainly,Lessa agreed but she herself was smiling with relief. But the Monacan riders needed the practice and so many offered, that it might well require five to control each other.

She had never seen the ebullient F'lessan so despairing as the moment he finally realized that Golanth would never again be able to fly Thread. And, by that disability, he could no longer be Wingleader.

She thought back to the day when she and F'lar had been overjoyed, the magical moment when F'lessan had Impressed Golanth at the first Hatching he'd been old enough to stand as candidate. The pair had been unusually well matched and had, almost without visible effort, succeeded in all the training and tests. At sixteen, he'd impudently encouraged Golanth to fly a female when the mating flight of a junior queen had been opened to all bronze dragons. The same Turn had seen the birth of his first child. Two Turns later he had been made Wingleader of a newly formed wing-Benden was at near capacity as a Weyr, so F'lar could take a chance on a new young rider assuming a full wing.

The Honshu attack had been a near thing, even though both F'lessan and Golanth had survived. Riders often had trouble accepting such severe, and limiting, injuries to themselves or their dragons. The ones who were not strong enough in character and resilience to deal with the reality would just go between.That had been the most important factor to the Benden Weyrleaders: that F'lessan, once he understood the severity of Golanth's crippling, would not suicide. Keita had dismissed that fear instantly. F'lessan did not have that sort of personality. Then there was Tai to comfort him. Frankly, Lessa had not foreseen F'lessan making such an attachment but the combination had lasted well past mating, and Zaranth was as supportive of the bronze as her rider was of the man. Ramoth had kept an ear open for Golanth and Zaranth every moment of the crucial period. So, Lessa thought privately, had F'lar and Mnementh.

Lessa could now be doubly grateful for F'lessan's keen interest in Honshu and she'd been much relieved to know that he and Tai had begun to pick up the sky-watching during the convalescence. F'lessan was too important-not just as their only living issue, but to Pern. How he had given heart at that Weyrleaders meeting! When she herself had despaired of finding a solution to what the dragonriders could do After, her one child had supplied a direction.

She gave herself a little shake, reliving that moment of cold terror when Ramoth had gone, without her rider, to aid Golanth and Zaranth.

"That moment is nearly a month ago," F'lar said, coming from behind to bend and embrace her. "I know you wanted to be there, but Zaranth is a Monaco dragon and having the support of her Weyr is as important as learning how to give Golanth just enough lift to get airborne. It's not as if we aren't getting plenty of practice in telekinesis lifting those telescope components for Erragon." He hugged her. "A fine control you and Ramoth have."

"And Mnementh's potential is seemingly unlimited," she said, returning a sincere compliment as she leaned against him, accepting the strength he always shared with her. "So many new things to learn in this new dimension of dragonkind."

F'lar gave a dry chuckle. "It's no wonder it's too much for some people to absorb."

"We've not had more trouble with Abominators, have we?" Alarmed, she turned in his arms to see that he wasn't hiding anything from her.

"Fortunately, we have enough to do."

"But you don't think we've heard the last with that death at Landing?"

F'lar sighed. "Pinch has evidently seen Fourth in Toric's keeping. Who can be sure? Such people are afraid of what they don't understand, won't understand. So they pretend to despise and reject it since they can't and won't understand. They retaliate by defiance and witless destruction. And claim they're acting on behalf of people and for reasons those people don't understand either. It may just be a sign of our changing times. And life on our planet is indeed changing."

"For the better?" she murmured.

He tipped her head up with one finger and lightly kissed her lips. "Definitely for the better!"

"You do believe that?" Lessa said, seeking reassurance.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it. After how many Turns, don't you know I wouldn't give you false hope, dear heart?"

She put her hands on the arms that enfolded her. "We lived for nearly a whole Turn on nothing but hope."

"And I survived three days without any," F'lar said, kissing her as he reminded her of his own private despair when she had gone back in time to bring forward the five missing Weyrs.

As F'lessan counted the eight seconds in his head, he never thought he'd be so happy to be in the black coldness. Then they were above the blue waters. Golanth eased to the right, lowering the left wing's sail to compensate as they glided toward the lightly rippling surface.

This is good! I have missed this!Golanth said.

All right, my friend, how do you propose to land?F'lessan almost laughed as this problem had to be considered. And quickly.

I will settle as neatly on the water as I always do,Golanth said, but in his joy at being aloft, he'd briefly forgotten that the stiff joint would not respond as usual.

Later, Erragon and D'ram who had been watching from the deep porch of Cove Hold said that, considering the handicaps, it hadn't been a bad landing. Golanth, who had been gliding in without assistance from the other dragons, tried ineffectively to backwing. He couldn't balance and tilted, trailing his left wing tip in the water and that swung him round. Before the left wing could be wrenched by a rough immersion, he was skimming the water, supported by his guides. He had time to fold his wings before he splashed down, skidding forward another length. With no riding strap, F'lessan lost his grip, went over his right shoulder and into the water. He was able to turn his assisted dismount into a creditable dive.

Sorry!Monarth said. Should have caught you, F'lessan. There's a trick to this we haven't figured out. Getting Golanth up is one thing. Getting him down is another. Water is at least soft.

Water is not the least bit soft!was F'lessan's response.

Although his heavy riding jacket was sodden and hampered him, he surfaced and started swimming to Golanth, now bobbing on the sea, and looking anxiously about for him.

Is your wing all right?

I think so.Golanth demonstrated by cautiously stretching it out as fully as he could. Waves lapped across its surface, the stiff joint sinking into the warm sea. That feels good!

F'lessan had done no more than seven or eight strokes when his outstretched right hand was filled by a dorsal fin. He caught it gratefully and was conveyed toward Golanth at speed. Others surfaced beside him, squeeing with delight at his appearance, calling his name and Golly's and grinning at him as they arced above his head.

"Shore, Fless? Shore, Fless?" Alta asked him. Beyond her he could see Dik and Tom. Five more of the Cove Hold pod were tail-walking about Golanth. He could hear their excited clicking. "We take care of Golly. You leave clothes on shore, Fless."

As with everything this morning, F'lessan did not apparently have any options. He could at least submit with grace. The dolphin escort, squeeing and squealing, guided him inshore until he could get his feet under him and walk out.

A grinning D'ram was there to hand him a towel, offering to take his jacket and to make sure it dried properly. Zaranth landed Tai on the beach, Monarth hovering briefly as T'gellan leaned down to speak to the green rider. F'lessan saw her stiffen and then nod in acquiescence. Monarth veered off and gained height to go betweenwith the other dragons. Zaranth splashed into the bright cove waters, swimming out to join Golanth and the dolphins who seethed in the water about him.

Tai hurried up the beach to join F'lessan, stripping off her jacket and helmet, but F'lessan knew that her conversation with T'gellan had been significant. She looked very thoughtful.

"Just the people I wanted to see," Erragon called out, waving for F'lessan and Tai to join him at the Hold. "I've got all the equipment you need for remote access to the scope."

Vigorously both F'lessan and Tai waved arms, acknowledging that good news.

Then Master Wansor, hearing the commotion, shuffled to the steps, Lytol beside him. As Tai reached F'lessan, he was wringing out his dripping shirt and trying to keep his balance on the slant of the beach.

"Clever of you to dive in," she said, giving him a proud, shy smile.

"Oh? You thought so?" he asked, teasing. Just then, his left leg gave under him. She gave him quick support until he recovered.

"I forgot the cane," he said through clenched teeth. The euphoria of his ride here on Golanth instantly dissipated. He glanced across the sands to the Hold, a long walk for a man with a lame leg. He did notwant to fall on his face in front of Lytol or D'ram. Especially Lytol. How humiliating that would be. He was still incapacitated. His dragon was still injured. He would never again be what he had once been: the carefree self-indulgent bronze Wingleader from Benden Weyr!

"We did sort of leave abruptly," Tai said with an encouraging chuckle as she laid his bare left arm across her shoulders as if walking that way was customary. "Your skin'll be dry by the time we get to the porch."

"Give me that shirt, F'lessan," the old bronze rider said, taking it from the bronze rider's limp hand. "You'll want to be out of those wet pants, too. Come along to the house now. I'll just run ahead and get things ready."

F'lessan made himself match his stride with Tai's. He told himself that walking up the long beach to Cove Hold was really just another step on his way to recovery. After all, he and Golanth had nearly died a bare four sevendays before.

"What's all the fuss? Who just arrived?" Wansor was asking, his eyes wide in his sightless face. "I can't hear what those dolphins are screaming, they're so excited. Fless? Fless, they say? Surely it can't be F'lessan? Didn't you tell me, Lytol, that he and his dragon were badly wounded?"

"Yes, they were wounded, Wansor," Lytol said, coming to stand beside him. "They are here together to see you and discuss the Honshu scope."

They are here together.Lytol's sentence reverberated in F'lessan's mind and he felt tears spring to his eyes-not of pity, but for his new perception of Lytol's victory over the loss of his brown Larth. Lytol had re-created his life, not once, but three times.

Between one careful step and the next, the staggering concept that blossomed in detail in F'lessan's mind made him reel against Tai, who instantly supported him.

As she always had, as she always would! She and Zaranth!

You are all right?Golanth asked apprehensively, halting the water play in which he, Zaranth, and Tiroth indulged while dolphins leaped and played around them.

Quite right. Quite all right!F'lessan reassured his dragon.

Soon Zaranth would be practiced enough to be the only dragon whom Golanth would need for a lift to safe entry between.Tai and Zaranth were essential parts of the new future he had just stunningly envisioned for them-and for as many other dragons and riders who wished a part of such a bright, new adventure.

With such inner elation, F'lessan found it doubly hard to walk sedately when once he would have broken into a run. The ache in his left leg seemed irrelevant, even if he couldn't speed up their pace to reach Cove Hold.

"We're nearly there," Tai said, sensing the surge of excitement in her partner's body.

As he took hold of the stair post, F'lessan paused and grinned, almost reverently, up at Lytol. He saw surprise in Lytol's expression, then D'ram moved past Lytol, gesturing for F'lessan to hurry up the stairs.

"Come, lad, you're not so completely recovered that you can run around in wet clothes and not catch a chill. This way." D'ram beckoned for F'lessan to follow him.

When they finally settled at the table on the porch where the three dragonriders could keep an eye on their water-sporting dragons, F'lessan was wearing clothes supplied by Erragon while his dried. They'd had fresh klah and fruit. Boxed and ready for transport were the remote units that would control the Honshu scope from the main level. A technician, highly recommended by Master Benelek, would install these and the circuitry necessary to operate the opening and closing of the observatory roof.

"What I want to know, F'lessan, Tai," Master Wansor asked, almost testy with impatience, "is what's happened to the feline problem?"

That was perhaps the last question the two dragonriders expected, and they stared at each other. Lytol and D'ram flinched at their blind friend's tactlessness.

"Yes, well, Master Wansor," Tai began, recovering more quickly than F'lessan. "None have been seen around Honshu lately. The holders protect their fields with dragon dung and firestone mash, so we've spread that mixture on our perimeter. Seems to do the job."

"I understand," Lytol added, shifting in his chair after Wansor's blunder, "that Master Ballora sent teams to investigate the habits and lairs of these creatures on Southern." He paused. "She's of the opinion that they were originally developed to hunt the large variety of tunnel snakes that preyed on herdbeasts in the early colonial days. The experiment went wrong, the creatures escaped, and, with no predators to inhibit their numbers, they proliferated unchallenged after the Ancients went north. It would be an impossible, as well as a very dangerous, task to eradicate them. Master Oldive suggests that it should be possible to decrease their numbers by using bait tainted with an infertility substance, but first the species must be examined. Master Ballora is not the only Council member who is adamant that we may not do away with any species that inhabits this planet."

"Except Thread," F'lessan murmured, his sense of mischief suddenly dominant.

Lytol gave him a long, almost amused look. "That organism is not indigenous."

"No more than the felines," D'ram put in, "since they were developed by the Ancients." He shuddered.

"I shouldn't like to think that there were any lurking near," Wansor added, his face furrowed.

"Not with Tiroth on duty," D'ram said stoutly, patting Wansor on the hand.

Erragon cleared his throat, taking charge of conversation. "Quite true. Quite true. Now I want to thank you, F'lessan and Tai, for the work you've already completed, analyzing the images I sent. What I'd like to know is-" and the Star Master hesitated.

"If we'd be willing to undertake regular reviews of the southern starscape," F'lessan finished. "I think from T'gellan's presence here today," he said, glancing at Tai, "that Tai must gradually return to her duties with Monaco Weyr. With their agility, speed, and control, greens are the most useful dragon in any Fall."

Lytol bowed his scarred face in acknowledgment of F'lessan's tacit allusion to the fact that he would never again fly a fighting wing.

"Perhaps you should consider spending the Nine Fall here at Cove Hold with us, bronze rider," Lytol said.

"I shall hope to be able to land more gracefully by then," F'lessan replied with a self-deprecating grin.

"Practice, I believe," Lytol murmured, his eyes alive with understanding and compassion, "always improves performance."

"I will, however," and F'lessan paused, "need to pursue another future for myself and my dragon."

"Well, you've already proved that you can be useful as a star-watcher," Master Wansor blurted out. "You don't need a dragon for that." His plump hand covered his mouth as he realized what he had said. "I mean, you still haveGolanth, even if he…"

"Even if he is battered," F'lessan finished for him. "So, I entreat you, Master Wansor, Master Erragon, to allow me to study astronomy so that Honshu can become fully operational as the second Pern observatory."

"Oh, dear, there never has been a dragonrider astronomer," Wansor said, and then beamed in F'lessan's direction. "But then there wasn't even a StarSmith until very recently."

"Tai's already trained to near journeywoman status," F'lessan said, laying his hand on hers. "Isn't she, Erragon?"

"She is, indeed," Erragon agreed with hearty approval.

"We work well as a team," F'lessan hurried on, "and she'll need a profession, too, when Threadfall stops."

"True, very true," Erragon said enthusiastically, slapping his hands on his knees in emphasis. "Hope you'll be the first of many." Then, in an abrupt change of mood, he said, "Do tell us, F'lessan, how didyou and Golanth get here today?"

"I was wondering when someone would ask," F'lessan replied.

"This new ability that the Weyrleaders mentioned in Council? Something…" Erragon clicked his fingers, impatient with his memory lapse. "… about the ability Aivas perceived in dragons that has some bearing on averting future dangers?"

"Given that dragonriders are apparently responsible for what falls out of the sky," F'lessan said with a touch of irony, "yes, it bears directly on that, and on my very keen interest in astronomy."

"What? What is it?" Erragon prompted.

"Actually you all witnessed a demonstration of that ability on my arrival."

Erragon, Wansor, and D'ram regarded him without comprehension, but a smile eased across Lytol's seamed face and he nodded.

"I thought so." When the grinning F'lessan gestured for him to continue, he did. "Consider, my friends, that Golanth sustained terrible injuries to eye and wing. I do not think Golanth could have launched himself from even the topmost terrace of Honshu to gain sufficient height to go between.Also, he arrives in the company of five other dragons. He falters in landing and is righted-without any use of that damaged wing. The other dragons assisted him. Correct?"

F'lessan nodded. "While it doesn't require five dragons to lift Golanth, it does require a good deal of controlto lift and land. From what the Monaco riders told us, it appears that female and male dragons work best as partners in such telekinesis."

"I still don't understand," Erragon murmured, shaking his head. "Howdid a wing-injured dragon fly?"

Beside him, D'ram was gaping open-mouthed at F'lessan and Lytol.

"Master Wansor, I know that you," and F'lessan nodded toward him, "remember that Aivas was fascinated by dragons, by a species that communicates mentally and moves freely between one place and another. He called these abilities telepathy and teleportation. He thought they should have a third: telekinesis. He very much wanted dragons to have that facet. They've evidently had it all along but-" F'lessan paused to grin at a speechless D'ram. "-until the feline attack on Golanth and Zaranth, had never neededto use it."

Turning to Erragon then, he went on. "What you saw today is a refinement of telekinesis. Controlled!" He paused to stress that. "Golanth can't-yet-use the damaged wing effectively. So the dragons lifted him vertically, high enough above Honshu to go safely between,which he can still do for himself." F'lessan leaned back in his chair, watching the reactions to his explanation: Lytol nodding, Wansor agape, Erragon frowning, and D'ram smiling in approval. "Today was the first attempt at a controlled lift of another dragon. It'll take more practice to perfect the skill. Especially landing. I'm sure, Lord Lytol, that we'll improve with practice."

Todaywas my first try, after all,Golanth remarked, somewhat irked.

Of course it was, Golly,Tai assured him, pinching F'lessan's bare arm.

"Just as he did with trundlebugs." F'lessan shot Tai a sly glance.

"Why can't Golanth 'lift' himself?" Erragon asked. F'lessan shrugged. "Perhaps because he's too accustomed to doing it the usual way. It is, as Lord Lytol knows, very dangerous to go betweenat ground level. Golly may just have to change the way he thinks." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "There's going to be a lot of that soon-a lot of traditional thinking altered to deal with our imminent future as aerial defenders of a planet no longer requiring protection against Thread."

"Hmm, yes." Lytol rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but his gaze gleamed with anticipation as he regarded the bronze rider. "So, today, to get Golanth aloft, the others supplied the initial lift and controlled the descent."

"To some degree," F'lessan said with a grin. "Have you any idea, bronze rider, what use Aivas would have made of draconic telekinesis?" Lytol asked. Had the shrewd man already jumped to the same conclusion F'lessan had?

"Surely you don't mean he expected the dragonsto alter the Red Star's orbit?" Erragon demanded, astounded.

F'lessan chuckled. "I don't know what he had in mind. Dragonriders did get the antimatter engines onto the planet. And the blast achieved an orbital shift. I have another, not completely dissimilar idea."

Erragon slapped both hands onto the table, his face mirroring complete skepticism. "And you are suggesting… that dragonswill be able to deflect cometary fragments or asteroids?"

F'lessan gave the Star Master a long speculative look, amusement sparkling in his gray eyes. He caught a similar twinkle in Lytol's hooded gaze. If he had Lytol on his side, his preposterous notion might just have a chance.

"Yoko's records showed the Fireball on an approach orbit months ago. If it had been moved then,by just a slight tap, if I can put it that way," and F'lessan could no longer suppress a broad grin, "the Fireball would not have impacted. Maybe it might not even have grazed the surface but trundled-"

He chuckled as he rotated his hand, index finger circling expressively."-back out into space."

D'ram, Erragon, and Wansor gawked at him. Lytol's lips formed a smile of approval, and Tai stifled laughter at his description.

F'lessan went on. "I'm not saying that we can perfect this ability to have a significant effect on what's in our skies. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

He looked around, satisfied by the thoughtful expressions. Lytol was nodding with comprehension. F'lessan leaned urgently forward across the table, the look in his eyes challenging them all.

"We already know that dragons can go into space without harm. They can manage a journey of fifteen minutes' duration before they incur oxygen debt. We lifted massive engines from three spaceships. We planted them on a dead world. The Red Star was much farther away from Pern than anything in the asteroid belt, or among the minor planets. What's to say we can't do morein our own space? We still have the helmets, suits, and the oxygen equipment. I think we should keep them in good condition. I think dragons should practice telekinesis and control their use of it.

"And another thing," he said, still noting that both D'ram and Erragon were having some difficulty in absorbing his remarks, "the Ancients may have had sleds. We have dragons. We don't have to waste time, or reinvent a fuel, to lift dragons from the surface of this planet. If a dragon knows where he's to go…" He waved his hand to let imagination finish the sentence.

"Just a minute, F'lessan," Erragon began, his eyes wide with confusion, "we can't afford to riskdragons…"

"They're risked every time they go into a Fall," Lytol said, having no difficulty with F'lessan's suggestion.

F'lessan nodded, his smile still in place. "We have the Yokoin its permanent orbit. It has the southern array of weather stations reporting to it. I often wondered why there wasn't a northern one."

"Perhaps because the southern continent was chosen, having the larger landmass and more temperate weather," Lytol suggested.

Erragon held up one hand. "Now don't tell me there are plans in Aivas records for weather satellites."

"There are," Lytol said.

"I was thinking of them more as links between the observatories," F'lessan put in, "which you know we'll need if we're to do a proper job of sky-watching."

With an exclamation of confused aggravation, Erragon rocked back on his chair, looking from Lytol to F'lessan to Tai, hoping for more explanation.

"Doesn't young Jaxom boast that his Ruth always knows where and when he is?" Wansor asked, twiddling his fingers as the tension in the room increased.

"Even in space?" Erragon's baritone voice rose to tenor levels in surprise.

"Well, not today, or even by the time the Western Telescope is lit," F'lessan said, "but we evidently have a way of putting objects up!" He pointed skyward. "Of course, it will take practice. Maybe," and he threw this out with a gleam of mischief in his eyes, "there is a prosaic use for this draconic ability-apart from defending themselves against felines."

"May we never have to do thatagain!" Tai said fervently. Outside, in the cove, three dragons echoed the sentiment.

"Meanwhile," F'lessan said briskly, gathering up the reports and prints that Erragon wanted them to study, "we have much to occupy us. Studying for our Mastery," and he gave Tai a sly glance, "and altering our ways. We must do as much as we can to make Pern fair up to our means, to make it the world our Ancestors hoped to create."

He felt his chest fill with determination to succeed in his new tasks. He could feel fears coming to his eyes as he held out his hand to Tai. She rose, inclining her body toward him, her eyes shining, too. He saw Lytol's face light up so that he seemed younger and more vital than ever. D'ram and Erragon got to their feet, while Master Wansor beamed benignly around the table.

The dragons continued to bugle and, m his head, F'lessan was certain that their call reverberated through every Weyr on the planet. He had the dragons' support.

"Whatever we have to do, we shall," he said in a choked voice "There will always be dragons in the skies of Pern!"