Lessa turned to face him, expectantly.

“Telgar and Fort have conferred with Keroon,” F’nor went on heavily. “They’ve decided the Weyr is behind their losses. Why,” and his anger flared hot again, “if you picked K’net, didn’t you keep a close check on him? He’s too green. C’gan, T’sum, I would have . . .”

“You? You don’t sneeze without F’lar’s consent,” she retorted.

F’nor laughed outright at her.

“F’lar did give you more credit than you deserve,” he replied, contemptuous of his own turn. “Haven’t you realized why he must wait?”

“No,” Lessa shouted at him. “I haven’t! Is this something I must divine, by instinct, like the dragons? By the shell of the first Egg, F’nor, no one explains anything to me!

“But it is nice to know that he has a reason for waiting. I just hope it’s valid. That it is not too late already. Because I think it is.”

It was too late when he stopped me from reinforcing T’bor, she thought, but refrained from saying. Instead, she added, “It was too late when R’gul was too cowardly to feel the shame of . . .”

F’nor swung on her, his face white with anger. “It took more courage than you’ll ever have to watch that moment slide by.”

“Why?”

F’nor took a half step forward, so menacingly that Lessa steeled herself for a blow. He mastered the impulse, shaking his head violently to control himself.

“It is not R’gul’s fault,” he said finally, his face old and drawn, his eyes troubled and hurt. “It has been hard, hard to watch and to know you had to wait.”

“Why?” Lessa all but shrieked.

F’nor would no longer be goaded. He continued in a quiet voice.

“I thought you ought to know, but it goes against F’lar’s grain to apologize for one of his own.”

Lessa bit back the sarcastic remark that rose to her lips, lest she interrupt this long-awaited enlightenment.

“R’gul is Weyrleader only by default. He’d be well enough, I suppose, if there hadn’t been such a long Interval. The Records warn of the dangers . . .”

“Records? Dangers? What do you mean by Interval?”

“An Interval occurs when the Red Star does not pass close enough to excite the Threads. The Records indicate it takes about two hundred Turns before the Red Star swings back again. F’lar figures nearly twice that time has elapsed since the last Threads fell.”

Lessa glanced apprehensively eastward. F’nor nodded solemnly.

“Yes, and it’d be rather easy to forget fear and caution in four hundred years. R’gul’s a good fighter and a good wingleader, but he has to see and touch and smell danger before he admits it exists. Oh, he learned the Laws and all the Traditions, but he never understood them in his bones. Not the way F’lar does or the way I have come to,” he added defiantly, seeing the skeptical expression on Lessa’s face. His eyes narrowed, and he pointed an accusing finger at her. “Nor the way you do, only you don’t know why.”