The White Dragon

CHAPTER V

ANOTHER THREADFALL PASSED before Jaxom could get off to the Plateau hold again. He seemed to have more success with Corana than in getting Ruth to sustain flame properly. The white dragon's throat was nearly burned from keeping in belches when fire lizards would suddenly appear at the most inopportune times. Jaxom was certain that every single one in Keroon Hold had had a look in. Even Ruth's patience was tried and they had to time it by a six hour span so that their absence from Ruatha would not be considered exceptional. Timing it tired him, Jaxom realized, as he fell into bed that night, exhausted and frustrated.

To make matters worse he would have to go to the Masterharperhall the next day with Finder because the Ruathan Harper was scheduled to learn how to use Wansor's star equations. Every Harper was expected to master that so at least one other person besides the Holder could make an accurate check on Threadfall.

The Masterharperhall was part of the sprawling complex of dwellings inside and outside the Fort Hold cliffs. When Jaxom and Finder, on Ruth, burst into the air above the Harpercrafthall, they met chaos. Fire lizards were swooping and diving, screaming in an ecstasy of agitation. The watchdragon on Fort Hold's fire heights was up on his hind legs, front ones pawing the air, wings fanning at the stretch, bellowing in fury.

Angry! They are angry! was Ruth's startled comment. Ruth! I am Ruth! Ruth! he called in his inimitable tenor bugle.

«What's happened?» Finder demanded in Jaxom's ear.

«Ruth says they're angry.»

«Angry? I've never seen a dragon that angry before!»

Filled with apprehension, Jaxom directed Ruth to the courtyard of the Harpercrafthall. So many people were dashing around, with fire lizards zipping wildly about, that he had trouble finding a clear spot. No sooner had he landed than a wing of fire lizards danced about him, projecting anxious, agitated thoughts that Ruth told Jaxom made no sense to him and even less to Jaxom when he received them secondhand. He did perceive that these were Menolly's beasts, sent to find out where he was.

«There you are! You got my message?» Menolly came racing out of the Hall up to them, dragging on her flying gear as she ran. «We've got to go to Benden Weyr. They've stolen the queen egg.»

She was scrambling up behind Finder on Ruth's back, apologizing for crowding him and urging Jaxom to get a move on. «Are three too many for Ruth?» Menolly asked with belated concern as the white dragon seemed to hesitate before launching himself.

Never.

«Who stole Ramoth's egg? How? When?» Finder asked.

«This half hour past. They're calling in all the bronzes and the other queens. They're going to Southern in force and make them give the egg back.»

«How do they know it was Southern?» asked Jaxom.

«Who else would need to steal a queen egg?»

Then all conversation was suspended as Ruth took them smartly between. They erupted into the air over Benden, and suddenly three bronzes were arrowing out of the sun right at them, flaming. Ruth let out a squeal and went between, emerging over the lake and chattering at his would be attackers at the top of his voice.

I'm Ruth. I'm Ruth. I'm Ruth!

«That was close!» Finder said, gulping. His hands were pinching Jaxom's arms nerveless.

You just missed my wing tip. I'm Ruth! They apologized, the white dragon added in a calmer tone to his rider. But he turned his wing tip for a close look.

Menolly groaned. «I forgot to tell you we were to come in yelling who we were. You'd think Ruth at least would be passed without challenge.»

As she spoke, more dragons appeared, trumpeting to the three bronzes guarding from the heights. The new arrivals circled tightly to land their riders by a crowd gathered around the entrance to the Hatching Ground. Jaxom, Finder and Menolly started across the Bowl to join them.

«Jaxom, have you ever seen so many dragons?» Menolly looked around at the crowded Weyr rim, at the dragons on weyr ledges, all with wings spread, ready for instant flight. «Oh, Jaxom, what if it comes to dragon fighting dragon?»

The terror in her voice echoed his own feelings perfectly.

«Those fool Oldtimers must be desperate,» Finder said grimly.

«How could they get away with such bare faced thievery?» Jaxom wanted to know. «Ramoth never leaves a clutch.» Not since the time F'lessan and I disturbed her eggs, he added guiltily to himself.

«F'nor brought us the news,» Menolly said. «He said she'd gone to feed. Half the Benden fire lizards were in the Ground. They always are «

«With an odd one or two visiting from the Southern Weyr, no doubt,» Finder added.

Menolly nodded. «That's what F'nor said. So the Oldtimers would have known when she wasn't there. F'nor said she'd just killed when three bronzes appeared, passed the watchdragon.… I mean, why would the watchdragon question bronze dragons. They ducked in the upper tunnel to the Hatching Ground, Ramoth gave an almighty shriek and went between. The next thing three bronzes came flying out of the upper entrance, they had heard Ramoth scream. She came charging out of the Hatching Ground but they had gone between before she'd got a winglength off the ground.»

«Didn't they send dragons after them?»

«Ramoth went after! With Mnementh but a breath behind her. Not that it did any good.»

«Why not?»

«The bronzes went between time.»

«And not even Ramoth would know when.»

«Exactly. Mnementh checked the Southern Weyr and Hold and half the hot beaches.»

«Not even the Oldtimers could be stupid enough to take a queen egg straight back to Southern.»

«But surely the Oldtimers would not know,» Finder added wearily, «that we know they took the egg.»

By that time they had reached the outskirts of the crowd, where dragonriders from other Weyrs as well as Lords Holder and Craftmasters had gathered. Lessa stood on the ledge of her weyr, F'lar beside her along with Fandarel and Robinton, who both looked extremely grim and anxious. N'ton stopped hallway down the steps, talking earnestly and with angry gestures to two other bronze riders. Slightly to one side were the three other Benden weyrwomen, and several other women who must be queenriders from the other Weyrs. The atmosphere of outrage and frustration was oppressive. Dominating the entire scene was Ramoth, who paced up and down in front of the Hatching Ground, pausing now and again to peer in at the eggs remaining on the hot sands. Her tail started lashing and she let out angry buglings that obscured the discussions going on above her on the ledge.

«It's dangerous to take an egg between,» someone in front of Jaxom and Menolly said.

«I suppose it could go a ways, so long as the egg was good and warm to start and took no hurt.»

«We ought to just mount up and go down and run those Oldtimers out of the Weyr.»

«And have dragon fight dragon? You're as bad as the Oldtimers.»

«But we can't have dragons stealing our queen eggs! This is the worst insult Benden's ever taken from the Oldtimers. And I say, make them pay for it.»

«The Southern Weyr is desperate,» Menolly said in an undertone to Jaxom. «None of their queens has risen to mate. The bronzes are dying, and they don't even have any young greens.»

Just then Ramoth gave a piteous cry, throwing her head up toward Lessa. Every dragon in the Weyr answered her call, deafening the humans. Jaxom could see Lessa leaning over the ledge, one hand outstretched toward the despairing queen. Then, because he was a good head above most of the crowd and looking that way, Jaxom saw something dark fluttering in the Hatching Ground. He heard a muffled cry of pain.

«Look! What's that? In the Hatching Ground!» Only those around him heard his exclamation or noticed him pointing. All Jaxom could think of was that if the Southern bronzes were indeed dying, the Oldtimers might use this confusion to try and steal a bronze egg as well.

He took to his heels, followed by Menolly and Finder, but he was overcome by such a wave of weakness that he was forced to stop. Something seemed to be sapping his strength, but Jaxom had no idea what it could be.

«What's the matter, Jaxom?»

«Nothing.» Jaxom pulled Menolly's hands from his arm and all but pushed her toward the Ground. «The eggs. The eggs!»

His injunction was drowned in Ramoth's bellow of surprise and exultation.

«The egg. The queen egg!»

By the time Jaxom had recovered from his inexplicable vertigo and reached the Hatching Ground, everyone was staring with relief at the sight of the queen egg, now safely positioned once again between Ramoth's forelegs. A fire lizard, reckless with curiosity, got a scant winglength into the Ground before Ramoth's bellow of fury sent it streaking away.

In relief, people began to chatter, as they moved back out of the Hatching Ground to where the sand was not so uncomfortable underfoot. Someone suggested that perhaps the egg had merely rolled away and Ramoth only thought it had been taken. But too many had seen the empty place, where the queen egg had too obviously been missing. And what about the three strange bronzes streaking out of the high entrance to the Ground. More acceptable was the notion that the Oldtimers had had second thoughts about the theft, that they, too, were reluctant to pit dragon against dragon.

Lessa had remained in the Ground, trying to persuade Ramoth to let her see if the egg had come to any harm. Soon she came hurrying out of the Ground to F'lar and Robinton.

«That's the same egg but it's older and harder, ready to Hatch anytime now. The girls must be brought.»

For the third time that morning, Benden Weyr was in a state of high excitement happier fortunately, but still generating as much chaos. Jaxom and Menolly managed to keep out of the way but remained close enough to hear what was going on.

«Whoever took that egg kept it at least ten days or more,» they heard Lessa saying angrily. «That demands action.»

«The egg is back safely,» Robinton said, trying to calm her.

«Are we cowards to ignore such an insult?» she asked the other dragonmen, turning away from Robinton's calmer words.

«If to be brave,» Robinton's voice laid scorn on the quality, «means to pit dragon against dragon, I'd rather be a coward.»

Lessa's white hot outrage noticeably cooled.

Dragon against dragon. The words echoed through the crowd. The thought turned sickeningly in Jaxom's mind and he could feel Menolly beside him shutting off the implications of such a contest.

«The egg was somewhen for long enough to be brought close to hatching hardness,» Lessa went on, her face set with her anger. «It's probably been handled by their candidate. It could have been influenced enough so that the fledgling won't Impress here.»

«No one has ever proved how much an egg is influenced by pre Hatching contact,» Robinton was saying in his most persuasive voice. «Or so you've had me understand any number of times. Short of dumping their candidate on top of the egg when it hatches, I can't think their conniving can do them any good or the egg any more harm.»

The assembled dragonfolk were still very tense but the initial impetus to rise in wings and destroy the Southern Weyr had cooled considerably with the return of the egg, however mysterious that return was.

«Obviously, we can no longer be complacent,» said F'lar, glancing up at the watchdragons, «or secure in the delusion of the inviolability of the Hatching Ground. Any Hatching Ground.» Nervously he pushed the hair back from his forehead. «By the First Shell, they've a lot of gall, trying to steal one of Ramoth's eggs.»

«The first way to secure this Weyr is to ban those dratted fire lizards,» Lessa said heatedly. «They're little tattlers, worse than useless…»

«Not all of them, Lessa,» Brekke said, stepping up beside the Weyrwoman. «Some of them come on legitimate errands and give us a lot of assistance.»,

«Two were playing that game,» Robinton said without humor.

Menolly dug Jaxom in the ribs, reminding him that the Harperhall's fire lizards, hers included, did a lot of assisting.

«I don't care,» Lessa told Brekke and glared around at the assembled, looking for fire lizards. «I don't want to see them about here. Ramoth's not to be pestered by those plaguey things. Something's to be done to keep them where they belong.»

«Mark 'em with their colors!» was Brekke's quick reply. «Mark 'em and teach them to speak their name and origin the way dragons do. They're quite capable of learning courtesy. At least the ones who come to Benden by order.»

«Have them report to you, Brekke, or Mirrim,» Robinton suggested.

«Just keep them away from Ramoth and me!» Lessa peered in at Ramoth and then whipped around. «And someone bring up that wherry that Ramoth didn't eat. She'll be the better for something in her belly right now. We'll discuss this violation of our Weyr later. In detail.»

F'lar ordered several dragonmen to get the wherry and then courteously thanked the rest of the assembled for their prompt reply to his summons. He gestured to several of the Weyrleaders and Robinton to join him in the weyr above.

«There's not a fire lizard in sight,» Menolly said to Jaxom. «I told Beauty to stay away. She's answered me scared to her bones.»

«So's Ruth,» Jaxom said as they crossed the Bowl to him. «He's turned almost gray.»

Ruth was more than scared, he was trembling with anxiety.

Something is wrong. Something is not right, he told his rider, his eyes whirling erratically with gray tones.

«Your wing was injured?»

No. Not my wing. Something is wrong in my head. I don't feel right. Ruth shifted from all four legs to his hindquarters, and then back again to all four, rustling his wings.

«Is it because all the fire lizards have gone? Or the excitement about Ramoth's egg?»

Ruth said it was both and neither. The fire lizards were all frightened; they remembered something which frightened them.

«Remembered? Huh!» Jaxom felt exasperated with fire lizards and their associative memories, and their ridiculous images which were making his sensible Ruth miserable.

«Jaxom?» Menolly had detoured to the Lower Caverns and shared with him the handful of meatrolls, she'd cadged from the cooks. «Finder says Robinton wants me to go back to the Harpercrafthall and let them and Fort Hold know what's been happening. I'm also to start marking my fire lizards. Look!» She pointed to the Weyr rim and the Star Stones. «The watch dragon is chewing firestone. Oh, Jaxom!»

«Dragon against dragon.» He shuddered violently.

«Jaxom, it can't come to that,» she said in a choked voice.

Neither of them could finish their meatrolls.

Silently they mounted Ruth, who took them aloft.

As Robinton climbed the steps to the queen's weyr, he was thinking faster than he had ever done. Too much was going to depend on what happened now the whole future course of the planet, if he read reactions correctly. He knew more than he ought about conditions in the Southern Weyr but his knowledge had done him no service today. He berated himself for being so naive, as unseeingly obtuse as any dragonrider for assuming that the Weyrs were inviolable and a Hatching Ground untouchable. He had had warnings from Piemur; but he simply hadn't correlated the information properly. Yet, in light of today's occurrence, he ought to have arrived at the logical conclusion that the desperate Southerners would make this prodigious attempt to revive their failing Weyr with the blood of a new and viable queen. Even if he had reached the proper conclusion, Robinton thought ruefully, how ever would he have been able to persuade Lessa and F'lar that that was what the Southerners planned today. The Weyrleaders would have been properly scornful of such a ridiculous notion.

No one was laughing today. No one at all. Strange that so many people had assumed that the Oldtimers would meekly accept their exile and remain docilely on their continent. They had not been cramped in their accommodation, merely in their hope of a future. T'kul must have been the motivating force T'ron had lost all his vigor and initiative after that duel with F'lar. Robinton was reasonably certain that the two Weyrwomen, Merika and Mardra, had had no part in the plan; they wouldn't wish to be deposed by a young queen and her rider. Had one of them returned the egg?

No, thought Robinton, it had to be someone with an intimate knowledge of the Benden Weyr Hatching Ground… or someone possessed of the blindest good luck and skill to go between into and out of the cavern.

Robinton relived briefly the compound terror he had experienced during the egg's absence. He winced thinking of Lessa's fury. She was still likely to arouse the Northern dragonriders. She was quite capable of sustaining the unthinking frenzy that had all but dominated the events of the morning. If she continued in her demand for vengeance against the guilty Southerners, it could be as much a disaster for Pern as the first Threadfall had been.

The egg had been returned. Robinton clung to the comforting fact that it was apparently unharmed despite its aging in that elapsed subjective time. Lessa could choose to make its condition an issue. And, if the egg did not hatch an unimpaired queen, there was no doubt in Robinton's mind that Lessa would insist on retribution.

But the egg had been returned! He must drum in that fact, must emphasize that obviously not all Southerners had been party to this heinous action. Some Oldtimers still honored the old codes of conduct. No doubt one of them had been perceptive enough to guess what punitive action would be launched against the criminals and wished, as fervently as Robinton, to avoid such a confrontation.

«This is indeed a black moment,» someone with a deep sad voice said. The Harper turned, grateful for the sane support of the Mastersmith. Fandarel's heavy features were etched with worry and, for the first time, Robinton noticed the puffiness of age blurring the man's features, yellowing his eyes. «Such perfidy must be punished and yet it cannot be!»

The thought of dragon fighting dragon again seared Robinton's mind with terror. «Too much would be lost!» he said to Fandarel.

«They have already lost all they had, being sent into exile. I often wondered why they didn't rebel before.»

«They have now. With a vengeance.»

«To be met with more vengeance. My friend, we must keep our wits today as never before. I fear Lessa may be unreasonable and unthinking. Already she has let emotion dominate common sense.» The Smith indicated the leather patch on Robinton's shoulder where his fire lizard, Zair, customarily perched. «Where is your little friend now?»

«Brekke's weyr with Grall and Berd. I wanted him to return to the Harpercrafthall with Menolly, but he refused.»

The Smith shook his great head again in sad slow sweeps as the two men entered the Council Chamber.

«I do not have a fire lizard myself but I know only good of the little creatures. I never occurred to me that they constituted any threat for anyone.»

«You will support me in this then, Fandarel?» asked Brekke, who had entered behind them with F'nor. «Lessa is not herself. I do really understand her anxiety but she cannot be allowed to damn all fire lizards for the mischief of a few.»

«Mischief?» F'nor was perturbed. «Don't let Lessa hear you call what happened mischief. Mischief? Stealing a queen egg?»

«The fire lizard's part was only mischief… popping in to Ramoth's cave like how many others have been doing since the eggs were laid.» Brekke spoke more sharply than she usually did, and a tightness about F'nor's eyes and mouth indicated to Robinton that this couple were not in accord. «Fire lizards have no sense of wrong or right.»

«They'll have to learn…» F'nor began with more heat than discretion.

«I fear that we, who have no dragons,» said Robinton, quickly intervening lest today's event fracture the bond between the two lovers «have been making too much of our little friends, carting them about with us wherever we go, doting as parents of a late child, permitting too many liberties of conduct. But a more restrained attitude toward fire lizards in our midst is a very minor consideration in today's affair.»

F'nor had dampened his aggravation. He nodded now at the Harper. «Suppose that egg hadn't been returned, Robinton…» His shoulders jerked in a convulsive shake and he pushed at his forehead as if trying to eliminate all memory of that scene.

«If the egg hadn't been returned,» Robinton said implacably, «dragon would have fought dragon!» He spaced out his words, putting as much force and distaste as he could in his tone.

F'nor quickly shook his head, denying that outcome. «No, it would not have come to that, Robinton. You were wise…»

«Wise?» Spat out by the infuriated Weyrwoman, the word cut like a knife. Lessa stood at the entrance to the Council Room, her slender frame taut with the emotions of the morning, her face livid with her anger. «Wise? To let them get away with such a crime? To let them plot even more base treacheries? Why did I ever think it necessary to bring them forward? When I remember that I pleaded with that excrescence T'ron to come and help us? Help us? He helps himself! To my queen's egg. If I could only undo my stupidity…»

«Your stupidity is in carrying on in this fashion,» the Harper said coldly, knowing that what he had to say before the Weyrleaders and Craftmasters assembled in the Council Room might well alienate them all. «The egg has been returned «

«Yes, and when I «

«That was what you wanted half an hour, an hour ago, was it not?» Robinton demanded, raising his voice commandingly. «You wanted the egg returned. To achieve that end you were within your rights to send dragon against dragon, and no one to fault you. But the egg has been returned. To set dragon against dragon for revenge? Oh, no, Lessa. That you have no right to do. Not in revenge.

«And if you must have revenge to satisfy your queen and your angry self, just think: They failed! They don't have that egg. Their actions have put all the Weyrs on guard so they could never succeed a second time. They have lost their one chance, Lessa. Their one hope of reviving their dying bronzes has failed. They have been thwarted. And they face…nothing. No future, no hope.

«You can do nothing worse to them, Lessa. So with the return of that egg, you have no right in the eyes of the rest of Pern to do anything more.»

«I have the right to revenge that insult to me, to my queen, and to my Weyr!»

«Insult?» Robinton gave a short bark of laughter. «My dear Lessa, that was no insult. That was a compliment of the highest order!»

His unexpected laughter as well as his startling interpretation stunned Lessa into silence.

«How many queen eggs have been laid this past Turn?» Robinton demanded of the other Weyrleaders. «And in Weyrs the Oldtimers would know more intimately than Benden. No, they wanted a queen of Ramoth's clutch! Nothing but the best that Pern could produce for the Oldtimers!» Adroitly Robinton left that argument. «Come, Lessa,» he said with great sympathy and compassion, «we're all overwrought by this terrible event. None of us is thinking clearly…»

He passed his hand across his face, no sham gesture for he was perspiring with the effort to redirect the mood of so many. «Emotions are running far too high. And you've borne the brunt of it, Lessa.» He took her by the arm and led the shocked but unresisting Weyrwoman to her chair, seating her with great concern and deference. «You must have been half crazed by Ramoth's distress. She is calmer now, isn't she?»

Lessa's jaw dropped in amazement and she continued to stare at Robinton with wide open eyes. Then she nodded, closing her mouth and moistening her lips.

«So you'll be more yourself then, too.» Robinton poured a cup of wine and passed it to her. Still bemused by his startling attitude, she even sipped it. «And able to realize that the worst catastrophe that could happen to this world would be for dragon to fight dragon.»

Lessa set the cup down then, spilling wine on the stone table. «You… with your clever words…» and she pointed at Robinton, rising from the chair like an uncoiling spring. «You…»

«He was right, Lessa,» F'lar said from the entrance where he'd been watching the scene. He walked into the room, toward the table where Lessa sat. «We only had cause to invade Southern to search for our egg. Once it was returned, we would be damned by all Pern to pursue vengeance.» He spoke to her but his eyes had gone to each Weyrleader and Craftsmaster to judge their reactions. «Once dragon fights dragon, for whatever reason,» his gesture wiped away any possible consideration, «we, the dragonriders of Pern, lose the rest of Pern!» He gave Lessa a long hard look which she returned with frozen implacability. Squarely he faced the room. «I wish with all my heart that there'd been some other solution that day at Telgar for T'ron and T'kul. Sending them to the Southern Continent seemed to be the answer. There they could do the rest of Pern scant harm…»

«No, just us just Benden!» Lessa spoke with palpable bitterness. «It's T'ron and Mardra, trying to get back at you and me!»

«Mardra would not favor a queen to depose her,» said Brekke, who did not turn aside when Lessa whirled on her.

«Brekke's right, Lessa,» F'lar said, putting his hand on Lessa's shoulder with apparent casualness. «Mardra wouldn't like competition.»

Robinton could see the pressure of the Weyrleader's fingers whitening his knuckles, although Lessa gave no sign.

«Neither would Merika, T'kul's Weyrwoman,» said D'ram, the Istan Weyrleader, «and I knew her well enough to speak with surety now.»

More than any of the others in this room, Robinton thought that the Oldtimer felt this turn of events most keenly. D'ram was an honest, loyal, fair minded man. He had felt compelled to support F'lar against those of his own Time. By such backing, he had influenced R'mart and G'narish, the other Oldtime Weyrleaders, to side with the Benden Weyr at Telgar Hold. So many undercurrents and subtle pressures abounded in this chamber, Robinton thought. Whoever had conceived of kidnapping the queen egg might not have succeeded in that stratagem, but they had effectively shattered the solidarity of the dragonriders.

«I can't tell you how badly I feel about this, Lessa,» D'ram continued, shaking his head. «When I heard, I couldn't believe. I just don't understand what good such an action would do them. T'kul's older than I. His Salth couldn't hope to fly a Benden queen. For that matter, none of the dragons in the South could fly a Benden queen!»

D'ram's puzzled comment did as much as Robinton's pointed remarks to ease the multiple strains in the Council Room. Unconsciously D'ram had supported Robinton's contention that an oblique compliment had been paid Benden Weyr.

«Why, for that matter, by the time the new queen was old enough to fly to mate,» D'ram added as if he'd just realized it, «their bronzes would likely be dead. Eight Southern dragons have died this past Turn. We all know that. So they tried to steal an egg for nothing… for nothing.» His face was lined with tragic regret.

«Not for nothing,» Fandarel said, his voice heavy with sadness. «For just look at what has happened to us who have been friends and allies for how many Turns? You dragonriders,» his great forefinger stabbed at them, «were a fingernail away from setting your beasts against the old ones at Southern.» Fandarel shook his head slowly from side to side. «This has been a terrible, terrible day! I am sorry for all of you.» His gaze rested longest on Lessa. «But I think I am sorrier for myself and Pern if your anger doesn't cool and your good sense return. I will leave you now.»

With great dignity he bowed to each of the Weyrleaders and their women, to Brekke and last to Lessa, trying to catch her eyes. Failing, he gave a little sigh and left the room.

Fandarel had clearly stated what Robinton wanted to be sure Lessa heard and understood that the dragonriders stood in grave peril of losing control over Hold and Craft if they permitted their outrage and indignation to control them. Enough had been said, in the heat of the moment, in front of those Holders summoned to the Weyr during the crisis. If no further action was to be taken now that the egg had been returned, no Holder or Craftsmaster could fault Benden.

But how was anyone to get through to that stubborn Lessa, sitting there wallowing in fury and determined on a disastrous course of revenge? For the first time in his long Turn as Masterharper of Pern, Robinton was at a loss for words. Enough that he had lost Lessa's goodwill already! How could he make her see reason?

«Fandarel has reminded me that dragonriders can have no private quarrels without far reaching effect,» F'lar said. «I permitted insult to overcome sanity once. Today is the result.»

D'ram's bowed head came up and he stared fiercely at F'lar, then shook his head vigorously. There were murmured disclaimers from other dragonriders, that F'lar had acted in all honor at Telgar.

«Nonsense, F'lar,» Lessa said, roused from her immobility. «That wasn't a personal fight. You had to fight T'ron that day to keep Pern together.»

«And today I cannot fight T'ron, or the other Southerners, or I won't keep Pern together!»

Lessa stared back at F'lar for another long moment and then her shoulders sagged as she reluctantly accepted that distinction.

«But… if that egg does not hatch, or if the little queen is in any way damaged…»

«If that should happen, we will certainly review the situation,» F'lar promised her, raising his right hand to honor the condition.

Fervently Robinton hoped that the little hatchling would prove healthy and vigorous, not a whit the worse for its adventuring. By the Hatching, he ought to have some information that might appease Lessa and save F'lar's now pledged honor.

«I must return to Ramoth,» Lessa announced. «She needs me.» She strode from the room, past dragonriders who deferentially moved aside.

Robinton looked at the cup of wine he had poured for her and, taking it up, downed the contents in one gulp. His hand was trembling as he lowered the cup and met F'lar's gaze.

«We could all use a cup,» F'lar said, gesturing the others to gather about while Brekke, rising quickly to her feet, began to serve them.

«We will wait until the Hatching,» the Benden Weyrleader went on. «I don't think I have to suggest that you all take precautions against a similar occurrence.»

«None of us have any clutches hardening right now, F'lar,» said R'mart of Telgar Weyr. «And none of us have Benden queens!» He had a sly twinkle in his eye as he glanced toward the Harper. «So, if eight of their beasts died this past Turn, I make it that there are now two hundred and forty eight dragonriders left, and only five bronzes. Who brought the egg back?»

«The egg is back: that's all that matters,» F'lar said then half emptied his cup at the first swallow.

«Though I am deeply grateful to that rider.»

«We could find out,» N'ton said quietly.

F'lar shook his head. «I'm not sure I want to know. I'm not sure we need to know just as long as that egg hatches a live and kicking queen.»

«Fandarel has his finger in the sore,» Brekke said, moving gracefully to refill cups. «Just look what has happened to those of us who have been friends and allies for many Turns. I resent that more than anything else. And,» she looked at everyone in turn, «I also resent the antagonism for all fire lizards because some few, who were only being loyal to their friends, had a part in this hideous affair. I know I'm prejudiced,» she smiled sadly, «but I have so much reason to be grateful to our little friends. I would like to see sense prevail as regards them, too.»

«We'll have to go softly on that score, Brekke,» F'lar said, «but I have taken your point. Much was said this morning in the heat and confusion that was not meant to stand!»

«I hope so. I sincerely hope so,» said Brekke. «Berd keeps telling me that dragons have flamed fire lizards!»

Robinton let out a startled exclamation. «I got that wild notion from Zair, too, before I sent him to stay in your weyr, Brekke. But no dragon flamed here…» He looked about at the other Weyrleaders, some of whom were agreeing with Brekke's remark, others expressing concern over such an unlikely occurrence.

«Not yet…» Brekke said, nodding significantly toward Ramoth's weyr.

«Then we must make sure that the queen is not further upset by any sight of fire lizards,» F'lar said, his glance sweeping around the room for agreement. «For the time being,» he added, raising his hand to stop the half formed protests. «It is the better part of wisdom for them not to be seen or heard right now. I know they've been useful, and some are proving to be very reliable messengers. I know many of you have them. But direct them to Brekke if it is absolutely necessary to send them here.» He looked directly at Robinton.

«Fire lizards do not go where they are not welcome,» Brekke said. Then she added with a wry smile to take the sting out of her comment: «They're scared out of their hides right now anyway.»

«So we do nothing until the egg has Hatched?» N'ton asked.

«Except to assemble the girls found on Search. Lessa will want them here as soon as possible, to accustom Ramoth to their presence. We'll all assemble again for the Hatching, Weyrleaders.»

«A good Hatching,» D'ram said with a fervor that was sincerely seconded by everyone.

Robinton half hoped that F'lar might hold him back as the others dispersed. But F'lar was in conversation with D'ram, and Robinton sadly decided that his absence would be appreciated. It grieved Robinton to be at odds with the Benden Weyrleaders and he felt weary as he made his way back to the weyr entrance. Still, F'lar had supported Robinton's plea for deliberation. As he reached the last turning of the corridor, he saw Mnementh's bronze bulk on the ledge, and he hesitated, suddenly reluctant to approach Ramoth's mate.

«Don't fret so, Robinton,» N'ton said, stepping to his side and touching his arm. «You were so right and wise to speak out as you did, and probably the only one who could stop Lessa's madness. F'lar knows it.» N'ton grinned. «But he does still have to contend with Lessa.»

«Master Robinton,» F'nor's voice was low as if he didn't wish to be overheard, «please join Brekke and me in my weyr. N'ton, too, if you're not pressed to return to Fort Weyr.»

«I can certainly spare any time you need today,» the younger bronze rider replied with cheerful compliance.

«Brekke will be right along.» Then the wing second led the way across the Bowl, unnaturally silent except for the moans and mutters that issued in muffled echoes from Ramoth in the Hatching Ground. On his ledge, Mnementh swung his great head constantly so that every portion of the rim was scrutinized.

No sooner had the men entered the weyr than they were assaulted by four hysterical fire lizards that had to be petted and reassured that no dragon would flame them a fear which seemed to be common and persistent.

«What is this large darkness that I get from Zair's images?» Robinton asked when he had caressed his little bronze into a semblance of order. Zair shivered frequently and, whenever the Harper's gentle strokes lapsed, the bronze pushed imperiously at the negligent hand.

Meanwhile Berd and Grall were perched on F'nor's shoulders, stroking his cheeks, their eyes bright yellow with anxiety and still whirling at a frantic rate. «When they're calmer, Brekke and I will try to sort the whole thing out. I get the impression that they are remembering something.»

«Not something like the Red Star?» N'ton asked.

At his unfortunate reference, Tris, who had been lying quietly on his forearm, began to bat his wings and the others squealed in fright. «I'm sorry. Calm down, Tris.»

«No, not something like that,» F'nor said. «Just something… something they remembered.»

«We do know that they communicate instantly with one another and apparently broadcast anything seen that is strongly felt or experienced,» Robinton said, picking his words as he vocalized his thoughts. «So this could be evidence of a mass reaction. But picked up from which fire lizard or fire lizards? However, Grail and Berd, and certainly that little creature of Meron's, could not have known through one of their own kind that the… you know what… was dangerous to them. So how did they know to the point of hysterics? How could it be something they remembered?»

«Runner beasts seem to know when to avoid treacherous ground…» N'ton offered.

«Instinct.» Robinton pondered. «Could be instinct.» Then he shook his head. «No, avoiding treacherous ground is not the same use of an instinctive fear: that's a generality. The… R E D S T A R,» he spelled letter by letter, «is a specific. Ah, well!»

«Fire lizards are basically gifted with the same skills as dragons. Dragons, however, have no memories to speak of.»

«Which, let us fervently hope,» F'nor said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling, «wipes out what happened today in record time.»

«Lessa does not suffer that gift,» Robinton said with a heavy sigh.

«She's not stupid either, Masterharper,» N'ton said, adroitly reaffirming his respect for the man by the use of his title. «Nor is F'lar. Just worried. They'll both come round and appreciate your intervention today.» Then N'ton cleared his throat and looked the Masterharper squarely in the eyes. «Do you know who took the egg?»

«I had heard that something was being planned. I knew, which would have been obvious to anyone counting Turns, that the Southern men and dragons are slowing with age, and desperate. I've had only the experience of Zair wanting to mate…» Robinton paused, remembering that astounding revival of desires he had thought himself well past, shrugged and met the understanding twinkle in N'ton's eyes. «So I can appreciate the pressures that randy brown and bronze dragons can exert on their riders. Even a willing green, young enough to be flown, would help…» He looked questioningly at the two dragonriders.

«Not after today,» F'nor said emphatically. «If they'd approached one of the Weyrs… D'ram for instance,» he glanced at N'ton for corroboration, «perhaps a green would have gone, if only to prevent something disastrous. But to attempt to solve their problems by kidnapping a queen egg?» F'nor frowned. «How much do you know, Robinton, about what goes on down in the Southern Weyr? I know I gave you all the maps I'd made when I was timing it in the South.»

«Frankly, I know more about happenings in the Hold. I did get a message from Piemur recently that the dragonriders had been more private than is their custom. They don't mix much with holders, following the pattern of their own Time, but a certain amount of coming and going into the Weyr was permitted. That ceased abruptly and then no holders were allowed near the Weyr. Not for any reason. Nor was there much flying done. Piemur says the dragons would be seen midair and then they'd pop between. No circling, no cruising. Just going between.»

«Timing it,» F'nor said thoughtfully.

Zair squeaked piteously and Robinton soothed him. Again the fire lizard inserted in his mind the image of dragons flaming fire lizards: the black nothingness, and a glimpse of an egg.

«Did you both get that picture, too, from your friends?» he asked though their startled expression made the question unnecessary.

Robinton pressed Zair for a clearer image, a view of where the egg was, and received nothing but the impression of flame and fear.

«I wish they'd a bit more sense,» Robinton said, forcing down his irritation. Tantalizing to be so close, thwarted by the limited scope of fire lizard vision.

«They're still upset,» F'nor said. «I'll try, with Grall and Berd later on. I wonder if Menolly's getting the same reaction from hers. You might ask her when you've got back to the Harpercrafthall, Master Robinton. With ten, she might get that much more clarity.»

Robinton agreed as he rose, but thought of one last thing. «N'ton, weren't you among the bronzes who went to Southern Weyr, to see if the egg had been taken there?»

«I was. The Weyr was deserted. Not even an old dragon left behind. Completely deserted.»

«Yes, that would follow, wouldn't it?»

When Jaxom and Menolly, on Ruth, entered the air above Fort Hold, Ruth called his name to the watch dragon and was almost smothered by fire lizards. They so impeded his progress that he dropped a few lengths before he could get them to give him wing room. The moment he landed, the fire lizards swarmed over him and his riders, keening with anxiety.

Menolly called out reassurances as fire lizards clung to her clothing, got tangled in her hair. Jaxom found two trying to sit on his head, several had tails wrapped around his neck and three were beating their wings frantically to remain at eye level with him.

«What's got into them?»

«They're terrified! Dragons breathing fire at them,» Menolly cried. «But no one's doing that to you, you silly chinches. You only have to stay away from the Weyrs for a bit.»

Other harpers, attracted by the commotion, came to their rescue, either taking the fire lizards bodily from Jaxom and Menolly, or sternly recalling the ones that looked to them personally. When Jaxom started to shoo them away from Ruth, the dragon told him not to bother he, Ruth, would calm them down himself shortly. They were frightened because they remembered being chased by dragon fire. Since the harpers were all now clamoring for news from Benden, Jaxom decided to let Ruth handle the fire lizards.

The Harpers had received some pretty distorted images from the fire lizards returning, terrified, to the Harpercrafthall: Benden full of immense bronze dragons, breathing fire, ready to fight; Ramoth acting like a blood maddened watchwher, and curious images of the queen egg solitary in the sand. But what made the Harpers extremely apprehensive was the vision of dragons flaming at fire lizards.

«Benden dragons did not flame any fire lizards,» Jaxom and Menolly both said.

«But all the fire lizards must stay away from Benden unless they're sent to either Brekke or Mirrim,» Menolly added firmly. «And we're to mark all those that look to harpers with harper colors.»

Jaxom and Menolly were ushered into the Harper hall and given wine and hot soup. Neither of them got to eat it hot because no sooner were they served than some of the Hold people arrived, soliciting the news. Menolly recounted the major portion of the happening, being the trained Harper. Jaxom's respect for the girl increased greatly as he listened to her flowing voice evoke the emotions appropriate to each part of her narrative, without distorting what he knew to have happened. One of the senior Harpers, soothing the blue fire lizard in the crook of his arm, kept nodding his head as if approving her use of Harper tricks.

When Menolly stopped speaking, a respectful murmur of thanks was heard throughout the room. Then the listeners became the speakers, dissecting the news, wondering who had returned the egg and how and why, which Was still the biggest question. How were the Weyrs going to protect themselves? Were the main Holds in any danger? Who knew to what lengths the Oldtimers might go if they'd steal a Benden egg. Now, there'd been some mysterious occurrences insignificant in themselves but in total highly suspicious which the Harpers felt ought to be reported to Benden Weyr. Those mysterious shortages at the iron mines, for instance. And what about those young girls who were carried off and no one could trace where? Could the Oldtimers be looking for more than dragon eggs?

Menolly eased her way out of the center of the audience and beckoned Jaxom to follow her. «I'm talked dry,» she said with a heavy sigh and led him down the corridor to the huge copyroom where moldy Records were transcribed before their messages were lost forever. Her lizards suddenly appeared and she signaled them to land on one of the tables. «You lot are about to wear the very latest design for fire lizards!» She rummaged in the cabinet under the table. «Help me find white and yellow, Jaxom. This can is dried up.» She chucked it into a bin in the corner. «And what is your design for fire lizards?»

«Hmmmm. Here's white. Harper blue with journeyman light blue, separated by white and framed by Fort Hold lattice yellow. That ought to label them accurately, don't you think?»

Jaxom agreed and found himself required to hold fire lizard necks still. This assignment was rendered all the more difficult because the fire lizards seemed to want to look him straight in the eye.

«If they're trying to tell me something, I'm not getting the message,» Jaxom told Menolly as he patiently endured the fifth soulful scrutiny.

«I suspect,» Menolly said, speaking in disjointed phrases as she carefully applied her root colors, «what you've got hold him still, Jaxom is the only…dragon on Pern… that… they're not hold him scared silly of right now. Ruth doesn't… after all… chew firestone.»

Jaxom sighed because he could see that Ruth's sudden popularity was going to ruin his private plans. Much as he was loath to do so, he was going to have to time it because if the fire lizards didn't know when they went they couldn't follow him! That reminded him of his original errand to the Harpercrafthall.

«I started out this morning to get Wansor's equations from you….»

«Hmmm, yes.» Menolly grinned at him over a squirming blue fire lizard. «That seems like Turns ago. Well, we'll just patch the white on Uncle, and I'll give 'em to you. I've also got some winter summer season charts you might as well have, seeing as you've been so cooperative. Piemur hasn't written out many yet.»

A blue fire lizard came zipping into the paint room, chirping with relief when it saw Jaxom.

It is the thick man's blue, Ruth said from outside.

«I've only the one blue fire lizard and we just did him, didn't we?» Menolly asked in surprise, glancing about the room at the others.

«It's Brand's. I'd better get back to Ruatha Hold. I should've gone back hours ago.»

«Well, don't be a fool and meet yourself coming,» she said with a laugh. «You've been on legitimate business this time.»

Managing a light laugh, Jaxom caught the roll of charts she threw in his direction. She couldn't know what he had in mind. He was entirely too sensitive to her random remarks. Sign of a guilty conscience. «Then you'll alibi me to Lytol?»

«Anytime, Jaxom!»

Back at Ruatha Hold, he had the whole tale to tell again with an audience as rapt, astonished, angered and relieved as the harpers and the Fort Holders. He found himself unconsciously using Menolly's turns of phrase and he wondered how long before she'd make a Ballad of the event.

He finished by directing everyone owning a fire lizard to band the creature with Ruatha colors: brown with red squares, banded by white and black. He got that task organized when he noticed that Lytol was still seated in his heavy chair, one hand playing with the corner of his lower lip, his eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the flagstones.

«Lytol?»

The Lord Warder recalled himself to the present with an effort and frowned at Jaxom. Then he sighed. «I've always feared that the conflict might come to dragon against dragon.»

«It's not come to that, Lytol,» Jaxom said quietly and as persuasively as he could.

The man looked intently into Jaxom's eyes. «It could, lad. It so easily could. And I, and you, owe so much to Benden. Should I go there now?»

«Finder remained.»

Lytol nodded and Jaxom wondered if the Lord Warder felt he'd been slighted. «Better for Finder to travel on dragonback.» He passed his hand over his eyes and shook his head.

«You're not well, Lytol. A cup of wine?»

«No, I'll be all right, lad.» Lytol pushed himself vigorously to his feet. «I don't suppose in all the fuss that you remembered what you went to the Harpercrafthall for?»

Much relieved to hear Lytol sound like himself, Jaxom lightly announced that he had not only Wansor's equations but some charts to work with. From then until the evening meal, Jaxom wished he'd not been so thoughtful because Lytol had him instructing Brand and himself in accurately timing Threadfall.

Teaching someone else a method is a very good way to make it easier to do yourself, as Jaxom found later that night when he worked some private equations of his own, poring over the rough map he had of the Southern Continent. There was too much activity all over Pern for him to go to an alternate «when» with any safety. And since he was going to time it, he might just as well go back at least twelve Turns, before anyone had started using the Southern Continent at all. He knew just where firestone could be mined so there'd be no problem supplying Ruth. The night stars were halfway to morning before he felt he could find his way to the then he wanted to find.

Just before daybreak, he was awakened by the sound of Ruth's whimpering. He struggled from his furs and stumbled barefoot on the cold stones, blinking sleep from his eyes. Ruth's forelegs were churning and his wing elbows twitched with whatever dream disturbed him. Fire lizards burrowed about him; most of them did not wear Ruathan colors. He shooed the creatures away and Ruth, sighing, dropped into a deeper, quiet sleep.