Southern Weyrleader admitted reluctantly, âbut I donât understand the Oldtimers and lately Iâm not sure I care.â
Mnementh hovered by the ledge, one leg extended. Beyond him, the two men could hear Orthâs wings beating the night air as he held his position.
âTell Fânor to take it easy and get well. I know heâs in good hands down at Southern,â Fâlar said as he scrambled up Mnementhâs shoulder and urged him out of Orthâs way.
âWeâll have him well in next to no time. You need him,â replied Tâbor.
Yes, thought Fâlar as Mnementh soared up out of the Fort Weyr Bowl, I need him. I could have used his wits beside me tonight. I could have used his thinking on Târonâs invidious attempts to switch blame.
Well, if it had been another rider, wounded under the same circumstances, he couldnât have brought Fânor anyhow. And Tâbor with his short temper would still have been present, and played right into Târonâs hands. He couldnât honestly blame Tâbor. Heâd felt the same burning desire to
make
the Oldtimers see the facts in realistic perspective. Butâyou canât take a dragon to a place youâve never seen. And Tâborâs outbursts had not helped. Strange, Tâbor hadnât been so touchy as a weyrling nor when he was a Benden Weyr Wing-second. Being weyrmate to Kylara had changed him but that woman was enough to unsettle; to unsettle Dâram.
Fâlar entertained the wild mental image of the blonde sensual Kylara seducing the sturdy Oldtimer. Not that sheâd even glanced at the Istan Weyrleader. And she certainly wouldnât have stayed with him. Fâlar was glad that theyâd eased her out of Benden Weyr. Hadnât she been found on the same Search as Lessa? Whereâd she come from? Oh, yes, Telgar Hold. Come to think of it, she was the present Lordâs full-blooded sister. Just as well Kylara was in Weyrlife. With her proclivity, sheâd have had her throat sliced long ago in a Hold or a Crafthall.
Mnementh transferred them
between
and the cold of that awful nothingness made his bones ache. Then they emerged over the Benden Weyr Star Stones and answered the watchriderâs query.
Lessa wasnât going to like his report of the meeting, Fâlar thought. If only Dâram, usually an honest thinker, had seen past the obvious. He had a feeling that maybe Gânarish had.
Yes, Gânarish had been troubled. Maybe the next time the Weyrleaders met to confer, Gânarish might side with the modern riders.
Only, Fâlar hoped, there wouldnât be another occasion for this eveningâs grievance.
Â
CHAPTER III
Â
Morning Over Lemos Hold
Â
Â
Â
R AMOTH, Bendenâs golden queen, was in the Hatching Ground when she got the greenâs frantic summons from Lemos Hold.
Threads at Lemos. Thread falls at Lemos!
Ramoth told every dragon and rider, her full-throated brassy bugle reverberating through the Bowl.
Men scrambled frantically from couch and bathing pool, upset tables and dropped tools before the first echo had rolled away. Fâlar, idly watching the weyrlings drill, was dressed for fighting since the Weyr had expected to be at Lemos Hold late that day. Mnementh, his magnificent bronze, sunning himself on a ledge, swooped down at such a rate that he gouged a narrow trench in the sand of the floor with his left wingtip. Fâlar was atop his neck and they were circling to the Eye Rock before Ramoth had had time to stamp out of the Hatching Cavern.
Thread at Lemos northeast,
Mnementh reported, picking up the information from his mate Ramoth as she projected herself toward her weyr ledge for Lessa. Dragons were now streaming from every weyr opening, their riders struggling into fighting gear or securing bulging firesacks.
Fâlar didnât waste time wondering why Thread was falling hours ahead of
Mnementh hovered by the ledge, one leg extended. Beyond him, the two men could hear Orthâs wings beating the night air as he held his position.
âTell Fânor to take it easy and get well. I know heâs in good hands down at Southern,â Fâlar said as he scrambled up Mnementhâs shoulder and urged him out of Orthâs way.
âWeâll have him well in next to no time. You need him,â replied Tâbor.
Yes, thought Fâlar as Mnementh soared up out of the Fort Weyr Bowl, I need him. I could have used his wits beside me tonight. I could have used his thinking on Târonâs invidious attempts to switch blame.
Well, if it had been another rider, wounded under the same circumstances, he couldnât have brought Fânor anyhow. And Tâbor with his short temper would still have been present, and played right into Târonâs hands. He couldnât honestly blame Tâbor. Heâd felt the same burning desire to
make
the Oldtimers see the facts in realistic perspective. Butâyou canât take a dragon to a place youâve never seen. And Tâborâs outbursts had not helped. Strange, Tâbor hadnât been so touchy as a weyrling nor when he was a Benden Weyr Wing-second. Being weyrmate to Kylara had changed him but that woman was enough to unsettle; to unsettle Dâram.
Fâlar entertained the wild mental image of the blonde sensual Kylara seducing the sturdy Oldtimer. Not that sheâd even glanced at the Istan Weyrleader. And she certainly wouldnât have stayed with him. Fâlar was glad that theyâd eased her out of Benden Weyr. Hadnât she been found on the same Search as Lessa? Whereâd she come from? Oh, yes, Telgar Hold. Come to think of it, she was the present Lordâs full-blooded sister. Just as well Kylara was in Weyrlife. With her proclivity, sheâd have had her throat sliced long ago in a Hold or a Crafthall.
Mnementh transferred them
between
and the cold of that awful nothingness made his bones ache. Then they emerged over the Benden Weyr Star Stones and answered the watchriderâs query.
Lessa wasnât going to like his report of the meeting, Fâlar thought. If only Dâram, usually an honest thinker, had seen past the obvious. He had a feeling that maybe Gânarish had.
Yes, Gânarish had been troubled. Maybe the next time the Weyrleaders met to confer, Gânarish might side with the modern riders.
Only, Fâlar hoped, there wouldnât be another occasion for this eveningâs grievance.
Â
CHAPTER III
Â
Morning Over Lemos Hold
Â
Â
Â
R AMOTH, Bendenâs golden queen, was in the Hatching Ground when she got the greenâs frantic summons from Lemos Hold.
Threads at Lemos. Thread falls at Lemos!
Ramoth told every dragon and rider, her full-throated brassy bugle reverberating through the Bowl.
Men scrambled frantically from couch and bathing pool, upset tables and dropped tools before the first echo had rolled away. Fâlar, idly watching the weyrlings drill, was dressed for fighting since the Weyr had expected to be at Lemos Hold late that day. Mnementh, his magnificent bronze, sunning himself on a ledge, swooped down at such a rate that he gouged a narrow trench in the sand of the floor with his left wingtip. Fâlar was atop his neck and they were circling to the Eye Rock before Ramoth had had time to stamp out of the Hatching Cavern.
Thread at Lemos northeast,
Mnementh reported, picking up the information from his mate Ramoth as she projected herself toward her weyr ledge for Lessa. Dragons were now streaming from every weyr opening, their riders struggling into fighting gear or securing bulging firesacks.
Fâlar didnât waste time wondering why Thread was falling hours ahead of
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