Lessa, for she had her arms around him now. He pushed them gently to one side. Assist Mardra. Robinton, I need your help. Let it be known, and he raised his voice, harsh and steely enough to be heard throughout the listening Court. Let it be known, and he stared down at Mardra, that any of Fort Weyr who do not care to follow Bendens lead must go to Southern. He looked away before she could protest. And that applies to any craftsman, Lord Holder or commoner, as well as dragonfolk. There isnt much Thread in Southern to worry you. And your indifference to a common menace will not endanger others.
Lessa was trying to undo his belt. He caught her hands tightly, ignoring her gasp as his grip hurt.
Where was Thread seen? he yelled up to the Igen rider still perched atop the Gate Wall.
South! The mans response was an anguished appeal. Across the bay from Keroon Hold. Across the water.
How long ago?
Ill take you there and then!
The ripple of cheering grew as it spread back, as people were reminded that the Weyrs would go between time itself and catch Thread, erasing the interval of time lost in the duel.
Dragonriders were moving toward beasts who were impatiently keening outside the walls. Wher-hide tunics were being thrust at riders in dress clothes. Firestone sacks appeared and flame throwers were issued. Dragons ducked to accept riders, hopping awkwardly out of the way, to launch themselves skyward. The Igen green hovered aloft, joined by Dram and his Weyrwoman Farma, waiting for Mnementh.
You cant come, love, Flar told Lessa, confused that she was following him out to Mnementh. She could handle Mardra. Shed have to. He couldnt be everywhere at once.
Not till youve had this numbweed. She glared up at him as fiercely as Mardra had an fumbled at his belt again. You wont last if you dont. And Mnementh wont take you up until I do.
Flar stared at her, saw Mnemenths great eye gleaming at him and knew she meant it.
But he wouldnt he stammered.
Oh, wouldnt he? flashed Lessa, but she had the belt loose, and he gasped as he felt the cold of the salve on the burning lips of the wound. I cant keep you from going. Youve got to, I know. But I can keep you from killing yourself with such heroics. He heard something rip, saw her tearing a sleeve from her new gown into bandage-length strips. Well, I guess theyre right when they say green is an unlucky color. You certainly dont get to wear it long.
She quickly pressed the material against him, his wound already numbing. Deftly overlapping the outsized tunic, she tightened the wide belt to hold the bandage securely in place.
Now, go. Its shallow but long. Get the Threadfall under control and get back. Ill do my part here. She gave his hand a final grip and, picking up her skirts, half-ran up the ramp, as if she were too busy to watch him leave.
Shes worried. Shes proud. Lets go.
As Mnementh wheeled smartly upward, Flar heard the sound of music, gitars accompanying a ragged chorus. How like the Harper to have the appropriate music for this occasion, he thought.
Drummer, beat, and piper, blow.
Harper, strike, and soldier, go.
Free the flame and sear the grasses
Till the dawning Red Star passes.
Odd, thought Flar, four hours later, as he and Mnementh returned to Telgar with the wings from Igen, it was over Telgar, seven Turns ago, that the massed Weyrs flew against the second Fall of Thread.
He stifled keen regret at the recollection of that triumphant day when the six Weyrs had been solidly in accord. And yet, the duel at Telgar Hold today had been as inevitable as Lessas flight backward in time to bring up the Oldtimers. There was a subtle symmetry, a balance of good and bad, a fateful compensation. (His side ached. He suppressed pain and fatigue. Mnementh would catch it and then hed catch it from Lessa. Fine thing when a mans dragon acted nursy. But the effects of that half-kettle of numbweed Lessad slathered on him were wearing off.) He watched as the wings circled to land. All the riders had been bidden back to Telgar.