“Oh, they follow their Lords quickly enough, incited with indignation and lots of new wine. But it’s quite another matter to face a dragon, hot, tired, and cold sober. Not to mention on foot without a wall or Hold in sight.” He could sense their concurrence. “The mounted men, too, will be too much occupied with their beasts to do any serious fighting,” he added with a chuckle, echoed by most of the men in the room.

“However consoling these reflections are, there are more powerful factors in our favor. I doubt the good Lords of the Hold have bothered to review them. I suspect”—he glanced around sardonically at his riders—“they have probably forgotten them . . . as they have conveniently forgotten so much dragonlore . . . and tradition.

“It is now time to reeducate them.” His voice was steel. An affirming mutter answered him. Good, he had them.

“For instance, they are here at our gates. They’ve traveled long and hard to reach this remote Weyr. Undoubtedly some units have been marching for weeks. F’nor,” he said in a calculated aside, “remind me to discuss patrol schedules later today. Ask yourselves this, dragonmen, if the Lords of the Holds are here, who is holding the Holds for the Lords? Who keeps guard on the Inner Hold, over all the Lords hold dear?”

He heard Lessa chuckling wickedly. She was quicker than any of the bronze riders. He had chosen well that day in Ruatha, even if it had meant killing while on Search.

“Our Weyrwoman perceives my plan. T’sum, implement it.” He snapped that order out crisply. T’sum, grinning broadly, departed.

“I don’t understand,” S’lel complained, blinking in confusion.

“Oh, let me explain,” Lessa put in quickly, her words couched in the sweet, reasonable tone F’lar was learning to identify as Lessa at her worst. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to get some of her own back from S’lel, but this taste of hers for vengeance could become pernicious.

“Someone ought to explain something,” S’lel said querulously. “I don’t like what’s going on. Holders at the Tunnel Road. Dragons permitted firestone. I don’t understand.”

“It’s so simple,” Lessa assured him sweetly, not waiting for F’lar’s permission. “I’m embarrassed to have to explain.”

“Weyrwoman!” F’lar called her sharply to order.

She didn’t look at him, but she did stop needling S’lel.

“The Lords have left their Holds unprotected,” she said. “They appear not to have considered that dragons can move between in seconds. T’sum, if I am not mistaken, has gone to assemble sufficient hostages from the unguarded Holds to insure that the Lords respect the sanctity of the Weyr.” F’lar nodded confirmation. Lessa’s eyes flashed angrily as she continued. “It is not the fault of the Lords that they have lost respect for the Weyr. The Weyr has . . .”