“And what about you?” Jeila had asked, casting a probing look her way.

“I think two will be enough to getting on with,” Fiona had replied, turning the question aside. Jeila had given her a thoughtful look but had not pressed the matter.

It was just possible that she was with child, but Fiona had always been erratic in her cycle, so she wasn’t entirely certain. Surely she hadn’t noticed any change in her eating habits and, if she felt a bit more emotional, it was far too easy to ascribe to the current mood of the Weyr—even, of all Pern.

There was no escaping the steady, slow attrition of the fighting strength of the Weyrs. High Reaches had fared best of all, while the other Weyrs found themselves nearly a full wing short—and this after only two months of fighting. With losses up to a wing every two months, there would be no dragons flying at any Weyr—save perhaps High Reaches—when the still-unclutched hatchlings were barely old enough to fly.

The advent of the new agenothree throwers eased the requirement of the dragonriders to perform endless patrols looking for any stray burrow after a Fall—except that, alarmingly, more and more Thread had made it through in the latest Falls to cause burrows larger than the holders could contain.

Fiona heard that Lord Holder Gadran of Bitra was practically dyspeptic with fury when Weyrleader B’nik of Benden had to burn yet another of the Bitran’s forests to check the spread of burrows. Telgar had been no luckier, having to fire two valleys—one in Telgar Hold and the other in Crom—much to the despair of all involved.

The discussion around the Weyrleaders’ table of late had turned to the issue of when to start going between times to previous Threadfalls.

“Hold off as long as you can,” Fiona had urged. “The dangers of timing it are so great that I fear you’ll lose more than you’ll save.”

“It matters not,” T’mar had said. Fiona looked at him sharply and he shrugged. “You can be certain we won’t be timing it until after we’ve timed it.”

“You mean that the first we’ll know of timing it will occur when a flight from the future comes to our aid?” H’nez asked.

“Precisely,” T’mar said, raising a hand to disguise a yawn, a move not unobserved by Fiona who snorted and handed him his mug of klah.

“Well, at least you know the dangers,” she’d observed sourly. Thoughtfully, she added, “Although, given how tired you are, going between times might be doubly dangerous.”

“Perhaps I’m tired because I’ve already done it,” T’mar said. “Perhaps we’re more accustomed to the effects.”

H’nez gave the Weyrleader a doubtful look, then turned imploringly to Fiona, who snorted and told T’mar, “And perhaps you’re eager to let H’nez have the Weyrleader’s position permanently!”

“I’ll be careful,” T’mar said.

Fiona bit back a tart rejoinder and converted her breath into a long sigh.