Manora rose slowly. Without taking her eyes from Lessa, she began to gather up her records.

“It is said that Fort and Telgar had unusually good harvests,” she suggested, her light tone not quite masking her anxiety. “Keroon, too, in spite of that coastal flooding.”

“Is that so?” Lessa murmured politely.

“Yes,” Manora continued helpfully, “and the herds at Keroon and Tillek had good increase.”

“I’m happy for them.”

Manora shot her a measuring look, not at all assured by Lessa’s sudden affability. She finished gathering up her Records, then set them down again in a careful pile.

“Have you noticed how K’net and his wingriders chafe at R’gul’s restrictions?” she asked, watching Lessa closely.

“K’net?”

“Yes. And old C’gan. Oh, his leg is still stiff, and Tagath may be more gray with age than blue, but he was of Lidith’s hatching. Her last clutch had fine beasts in it,” she remarked. “C’gan remembers other days . . .”

“Before the world turned and times changed?”

Lessa’s sweet voice did not mislead Manora now.

“It is not just as Weyrwoman that you are attractive to the dragonmen, Lessa of Pern,” Manora said sharply, her face stern. “There are several of the brown riders, for instance . . .”

“F’nor?” Lessa asked pointedly.

Manora drew herself up proudly. “He is a man grown, Weyrwoman, and we of the Lower Caverns have learned to disregard the ties of blood and affection. It is as a brown rider, not the son I bore, that I recommend him. Yes, I’d recommend F’nor, as I would also recommend T’sum and L’rad.”

“Do you suggest them because they are of F’lar’s wing and bred in the true traditions? Less apt to be swayed by my blandishments . . .”

“I suggest them because they believe in the tradition that the Weyr must be supplied from the Holds.”

“All right.” Lessa grinned at Manora, seeing the woman could not be baited about F’nor. “I shall take your recommendations to heart, for I do not intend . . .” She broke off her sentence. “Thank you for apprising me of our supply problems. We need fresh meat most of all?” she asked, rising to her feet.

“Grains, too, and some of the southern root vegetables would be very welcome,” Manora replied formally.

“Very well,” Lessa agreed.

Manora left, her expression thoughtful.

Lessa reflected for long moments on that interview, sitting like a slim statuette in the capacious stony chair, her legs curled up under her on the padding.