“Lessa is afraid that F’lar may attempt to go to the Red Star himself,” Brekke said, watching him.

F’nor considered that as he drank his wine. “F’lar’s not a fool, my dear girls. A dragon has to know where he’s going. And we don’t know what to tell them. Mnementh’s no fool either.” But as F’nor passed his cup to Brekke to be refilled, he had a sudden flash of N’ton’s hair-braiding cloud lady.

“He can’t go,” Lessa said, her voice harsh. “He’s what holds Pern together. He’s the only one who can consolidate the Lord Holders, the Craftmasters and the Dragonriders. Even the Oldtimers trust him now. Him. No one else!”

Lessa was unusually upset, F'nor realized. Grall and Berd came gliding in to perch on the posts of Brekke’s chair, chirping softly and preening their wings.

Lessa ignored their antics, leaning across the table, one hand on F’nor’s to hold his attention. “I heard what the Harper said about miracles. Salvation in three days!” Her eyes were bitter.

“Going to the Red Star is salvation for no one, Lessa!”

“Yes, but we don’t know that for certain. We’ve only assumed that we can’t because the ancients didn’t. And until we prove to the Lords what the actual conditions there are, they will not accept the alternative!”

“More trouble from Larad?” F’nor asked sympathetically, rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles felt unaccountably tight.

“Larad is bad enough,” she said bitterly, “but I’d rather him than Raid and Sifer. They’ve somehow got hold of rumors and they’re demanding instant action.”

“Show ‘em the grubs!”

Lessa abruptly released F’nor’s hand, pursing her lips with exasperation. “If grubs didn’t reassure Larad of Telgar, they’ll have less effect on those old blow-hards! No, they,” and in emphasizing the pronoun she underscored her contempt for the old Lord Holders, “are of the opinion that Meron of Nabol has found coordinates after nights of watching and is maliciously withholding them from the rest of Pern.”

F’nor grinned and shook his head. “N’ton is watching Meron of Nabol. The man has found nothing. He couldn’t do anything without our knowledge. And he certainly isn’t having any luck with his fire lizard.”

Lessa blinked, looking at him without comprehension.

“With his fire lizard?”

“Brekke thinks Meron might attempt to send his fire lizard to the Red Star.”

As if a string in her back had been pulled, Lessa jerked up in her chair, her eyes huge and black as she stared first at him, then at Brekke.

“Yes, that would be like him. He wouldn’t mind sacrificing his fire lizard for that, would he? And it’s as old as yours.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “If he . . .”

F’nor laughed with an assurance he suddenly didn’t honestly feel. Lessa had reacted far too positively to a notion he privately considered unlikely. Of course, she didn’t have a fire lizard and might not appreciate their limitations. “He may be trying,” he felt obliged to say. “N’ton’s been watching him. But he’s not succeeding. I don’t think Meron can. He doesn’t have the temperament to handle fire lizards. You simply can’t order them about the way you do drudges.”

Lessa clenched her fists in an excess of frustration.

“There’s got to be something we can do. I tell you, F’nor, I know what F’lar has on his mind. I know he’s trying to find some way to get to the Red Star if only to prove to the Lord Holders that there is no other alternative but the grubs!”

“He may be willing to risk his neck, my dear Lessa, but is Mnementh willing?”

Lessa flashed F’nor a look of pure dislike. “And put the notion in the poor beast’s head that this is what F’lar wants? I could throttle Robinton. Him and his three-day salvation! F’lar can’t stop thinking about that. But F’lar is not the one to go” and she broke off, biting her lip, her eyes sliding toward Brekke.

“I understand, Lessa,” Brekke said very slowly, her eyes unwinking as she held Lessa’s. “Yes, I understand you.

F’nor began to massage his right shoulder. He must have been between too much lately.

“Never mind,” Lessa said suddenly, with unusual force. “I’m just overwrought with all this uncertainty. Forget what I said. I’m only imagining things. I’m as tired as – as we all are “

“You’re right there, Lessa,” F’nor agreed. “We’re all seeing problems which don’t exist. After all, no Lord Holder has come to Benden Weyr and thrown down any ultimatum. What could they do? F’lar certainly has been forthright, explained the project of grub protection so often I’ll be ill if I have to listen to it once more. Certainly he’s been open with the other Weyrleaders, the Craftmasters, being sure that everyone knows exactly what the over-all plan is. Nothing will go wrong this time. This is one Craft secret that won’t get lost because someone can’t read a Record skin!”

Lessa rose, her body taut. She licked her lips. “I think,” she said in a low voice, “that’s what scares me most. He’s taking such precautions to be sure everyone knows. Just in case . . .”

She broke off and rushed out of the Weyr.

F’nor stared after her. That interpretation of F’lar’s overtness began to assume frightening significance. Disturbed, he turned to Brekke, surprised to see tears in the girl’s eyes. He took her in his arms.

“Look, I’ll get some rest, we’ll eat, and then I’ll go to Fort Weyr. See Meron myself. Better still,” and he hugged her reassuringly, “I’ll bring Grall along. She’s the oldest we’ve got. I’ll see if she’d take the trip. If any of the fire lizards would go, she’d be the one. There now! How’s that for a good idea?” She clung to him, kissing him so urgently that he forgot Lessa’s disturbing idea, forgot he was hungry and tired, and responded with eager surprise to her ardent demands.

Grall hadn’t wanted to leave Berd where the bronze fire lizard was cuddled on the cushion by Brekke’s head. But then, F’nor didn’t much want to leave Brekke. She’d reminded him, after they’d loved each other deeply, that they had obligations. If Lessa had been worried enough about F’lar to confide in Brekke and F’nor, she was more deeply concerned than she’d admit. Brekke and F’nor must assume such responsibility as they could.

Brekke was a great one for assuming responsibility, F’nor thought with affectionate tolerance as he roused Canth. Well, it wouldn’t take long to check on Meron. Or to see if Grall would consider going to the Red Star. That certainly was a better alternative than F’lar making the trip. If the little queen lizard would consider it.

Canth was in high good humor as they wheeled first above Benden Weyr, then burst out of between above Fort Weyr’s Star Stones. There were glows along the crown of the Weyr rim and, beyond the Star Stones, the silhouettes of several dragons.

Canth and F’nor of Benden Weyr, the brown dragon announced in answer to the watchrider’s query. Lioth is here and the green dragon who must stay at Nabol, Canth added as he backwinged to a light landing. Grall swooped above F’nor’s head, waiting until Canth had taken off to join the other beasts before she took her shoulder perch.

N’ton stepped out of the shadows, his welcoming grin distorted by the path glows. He jerked his head back, toward the distance-viewer.

“He’s here and his lizard’s in a fine state. Glad you came. I was about to ask Lioth to bespeak Canth.”

The bronze Nabol lizard began to screech with a distress which Grall echoed nervously. Her wings extended. F’nor stroked them down to her back, emitting the human version of a lizard croon which usually calmed her. She tightened her wings but started to hop from one foot to the other, he eyes whirling restlessly.

“Who’s that?” demanded Meron of Nabol peremptorily. Meron’s shadow detached itself from the larger one of the rock on which the distance-viewer was mounted.

“F’nor, Wing-second of Benden Weyr,” the brown rider answered coldly.