Out of habit they both glanced across the Bowl, which was eerily silent. Opposite them, on the ledges to the Weyr-woman's quarters, they could see their dragons in the moonlight. Blue-green, two pairs of dragon eyes winked open and followed the progress of their partners across the flat, frosted Bowl.
Belior, its brightness better than a glowbasket, lit the eastern arc of the huge double crater, throwing the entrances to the individual weyrs into darkness. The moon illuminated the watchdragon and his rider, striding up and down the Rim to keep warm.
"Don't dally, girl," F'lar murmured, shrugging into the warmth of his jacket and lengthening his stride.
"If I had a Harper mark for every time I've crossed the Bowl," Lessa said.
"Add those to mine and we'd be as rich as Toric."
Lessa gave a snort and, her breath misting before her, quickened her steps. Maybe they should have gone south, where Turnover could be conducted on sun-warmed beaches and the more temperate southern night. But Benden Weyr had been home to her for thirty-five Turns now, and F'lar's for all of his sixty-three. Although they had made their traditional appearances at Benden Hold on Turnover First Night and heard marvelous music at Ruatha on the second, they preferred to end the celebration here. She was glad enough to be able to enjoy some quiet time after the frenetic pace of this Turnover Past.
She wondered if, at the end of this Pass-"After," as people referred to it-he would want to leave Benden. Or maybe, if he could not bear to leave the splendor of the Weyr, at least spend the worst of the cold months in the south. Maybe not inHonshu, which F'lessan had repeatedly invited them to share, but nearby.
She understood, on one level, that the prospect of "After" did not obsess F'lar: "During" was his responsibility, and hers. Finishing this Pass honorably and still as Benden's Weyrleader-even knowing Thread would no longer threaten Pern-was his committed goal. Especially since they had both made such a point of urging their younger dragonriders to learn an alternative skill, Lessa kept trying to insinuate After in their private conversations to see what he'd really like to do then. Idling on a sandy beach in Southern would quickly bore a man who'd always been active. And, if he would not contemplate the options, maybe she'd have to make the decision for both of them for where they'd live After. Only where?
Suddenly both dragons reared, staring up into the night sky, the color of their eyes briefly reflecting the orange of alarm. Startled, Lessa glanced over her shoulder and grabbed F'lar tightly.
"Oooh!" she exclaimed. The night cold was nothing to the fear that surged through her, making her heart race at the brief trails of fire in the north. Then she was disgusted with her primitive reaction to what she now knew were meteorites burning up in the atmosphere. As a child she'd believed her nurse-that those flares across a night sky were the Ghost Dragons of the First Pass.
"Erragon said we'd have a lot of Ghosts this Turn." F'lar chuckled at the old explanation, his breath puffing white. "So long as they keep their distance." Another flare caught his eye, barely a finger length in the northern sky. His sigh drifted white in the frosty air.
"There really are a lot more of them this Turn, as Toronas complained last night at Benden. They certainly are bright. Why that one-" She pointed her finger, following the arc in its path before it blinked out. "-looked like it might land."
"They never have."
"Well, you heard Toronas. All that nonsense about it is all"-she altered her voice to mimic the Benden Lord Holder's slightly nasal speech pattern-"because we let Aivas change the orbit of the Red Star and this is the result of meddling with things we don't know enough about."
F'lar laughed, because her imitation of the Benden Lord Holder was so accurate. "One of the reasons Aivas delayed the blast was to put the Red Star far beyond affecting any other of the planets in this system. The mathematics was accurate to the tenth decimal point. Or so Wansor assured me at the time. Or ask F'lessan. He's into astronomy with that old telescope in Honshu."
"I might indeed ask F'lessan," she said. "It's something like this that would agitate the Abominators into doing more harm than they've already done."
"You think they're behind some of those peculiar incidents of vandalism Sebell reported?"
"Who else would be that vindictive and destroy only newmedicines or materials, or waylay traders carrying components from one Smithcrafthall to another?"
"Let's talk about it in the weyr. It's far too cold to dawdle out here, woman."
He tugged her into a jog, throwing an arm about her shoulders to prevent her from slipping on the icy ground, and they quickly reached the stairs up to her quarters.
Are you two coming in?he asked the two dragons, who had not moved from their ledges.
We will watch the Ghosts until they leave,Mnementh said, a hint of amusement in his voice. As you wish,F'lar said.
"Silly beasts," Lessa murmured, smiling as she pushed aside the entrance curtain. Sometimes she wished she had a hide as impervious to weather as a dragon's. Or was it just that this winter was unusually cold? Between is colder,Ramoth remarked. Once she was inside, Lessa swiftly made for the nearest heater unit, putting Manora's basket, still warm, on the table as she passed it and stripping off her long fur. She hung it on the hooks to the left of their sleeping room.
"I didn't think we'd have to worry about Abominators again," she said with a weary sigh.
"N'ton checked the island where we exiled those that were convicted of abducting Robinton." F'lar's expression was austere, his lips thinned. He kicked the heavy curtain rather more forcefully than was needed to be sure that the hem excluded the cold drafts. "In fact," he added, his face altering to a less forbidding look, "there were some youngsters, since several spouses went with their men."
"Oh!" Lessa paused. "And the earlier group, who were caught damaging other Crafthalls? The ones who were sentenced to the Crom mines?"
"Ah, now, there's a possibility." He shrugged out of his jacket and would have dropped it on the chair but Lessa pointed sternly at it and then at the hooks where she had hung her fur. He grinned, scooped it up, and hung it with exaggerated care.
"Go on," she urged him, knowing he was going to tease her before he answered.
He got two glasses from the cabinet and deftly poured wine from one of Morilton's elegantly carved glass bottles. He handed her a glass, then stepped backward until he was close enough to feel the heat from the radiating unit on his legs.
"That meteorite-the metallic one that everyone in the Smithcrafthall is going on about-smacked a good-sized hole in the prisoners' quarters and broke one man's leg. It wasn't until evening that a count was taken. One was missing. One of those-" F'lar's lips thinned with remembered anger. "-who were involved in that attack on Aivas. He was deafened. Big man. Should be easy to find. He's missing the tip of his first finger on his left hand."
He took a sip of his wine, savoring it. Lessa allowed him that enjoyment.
"But he hasn't been found yet, has he?" she asked at length.
With a wave of his wineglass, F'lar dismissed the problem. "Telgar, High Reaches, and Fort Weyrs have been alerted. Runners carried the news along their traces and warned the traders."
Lessa gave a cynical snort. "Some of the traders are not above harboring a holdless man."
"According to the Mine Master, this man kept himself to himself. Seemed to dislike new things."