Lessa, Lessa, his mind cried endlessly, damning her one moment for her reckless, thoughtless daring, loving her the next for attempting such an incredible feat.
“I said, F’lar, you need sleep now more than wine.”
Robinton’s voice penetrated his preoccupation. F’lar looked at him, frowning in perplexity. He realized that he was trying to lift the wine jug that Robinton was holding firmly down.
“What did you say?”
“Come. I’ll bear you company to Benden. Indeed, nothing could persuade me to leave your side. You have aged years, man, in the course of hours.”
“And isn’t it understandable?” F’lar shouted, rising to his feet, the impotent anger boiling out of him at the nearest target in the form of Robinton. Robinton’s eyes were full of compassion as he reached for F’lar’s arm, gripping it tightly.
“Man, not even this Masterharper has words enough to express the sympathy and honor he has for you. But you must sleep; you have tomorrow to endure, and the tomorrow after that you have to fight. The dragonmen must have a leader… .” His voice trailed off. “Tomorrow you must send for F’nor … and Pridith.”
F’lar pivoted on his heel and strode toward the fateful door of Ruatha’s great hall.
Oh, Tongue, give sound
to joy and sing
Of hope and promise
On dragonwing.
BEFORE THEM loomed Ruatha’s Great Tower, the high walls of the Outer Court clearly visible in the fading light. The claxon rang violent summons into the air, barely heard over the earsplitting thunder as hundreds of dragons appeared, ranging in full fighting array, wing upon wing, up and down. the valley.
A shaft of light stained the flagstones of the Court as the Hold door opened.
Lessa ordered Ramoth down, close to the Tower, and dismounted, running eagerly forward to greet the men who piled out of the door. She made out the stocky figure of Lytol, a handbasket of glows held high above his head. She was so relieved to see him that she forgot her previous antagonism to the Warder.
“You misjudged the last jump by two days, Lessa,” he cried as soon as he was near enough for her to hear him over the noise of settling dragons.
“Misjudged? How could I?” she breathed.
T’ton and Mardra came up beside her.
“No need to worry,” Lytol reassured her, gripping her hands tightly in his, his eyes dancing. He was actually smiling at her. “You overshot the day. Go back between, return to Ruatha of two days ago. That’s all.” His grin widened at her confusion. “It is all right,” he repeated, patting her hands. “Take this same hour, the Great Court, everything, but visualize F’lar, Robinton, and myself here on the flagstones. Place Mnementh on the Great Tower and a blue dragon on the verge. Now go.”
Mnementh? Ramoth queried Lessa, eager to see her Weyrmate. She ducked her great head, and her huge eyes gleamed with scintillating fire.
“I don’t understand,” Lessa wailed. Mardra slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“But I do, I do trust me,” Lytol pleaded, patting her shoulder awkwardly and glancing at T’ton for support. “It is as F’nor has said. You cannot be several places in time without experiencing great distress, and when you stopped twelve Turns back, it threw Lessa all to pieces.”
“You know that?” T’ton cried.
“Of course. Just go back two days. You see, I know you have. I shall, of course, be surprised then, hut now, tonight, I know you reappeared two days earlier. Oh, go. Don’t argue.
F’lar was half out of his mind with worry for you.”
“He’ll shake me,” Lessa cried, like a little girl.
“Lessa!” T’ton took her by the hand and led her back to Ramoth, who crouched so her rider could mount.
T’ton took complete charge and had his Fidranth pass the order to return to the references Lytol had given, adding by way of Ramoth, a description of the humans and Mnementh.
The cold of between restored Lessa to herself, although her error had badly jarred her confidence. But then there was Ruatha again. The dragons happily arranged themselves in tremendous display. And there, silhouetted against the light from the Hall, stood Lytol, Robinton’s tall figure, and … F’lar.