M’tal had barely time to send an unspoken thanks after the rider before another clump appeared and he and Gaminth dove upon it, flaming it quickly to char.

As they scanned for more Thread, M’tal glanced over the condition of his Wings and saw that all were spread out, ragged, many had holes left by missing dragons—injured or killed by the Thread blown erratically by the hot desert air.

Here and there, however, M’tal spotted another dragon winking into existence above them, burning through unseen clumps in the same manner as he’d been saved. Each time, it was the same dragon and, whenever he could see, the rider the Benden Weyrleader’s badge. Light glinted off the dragon’s hide, specks of gold mixed in with darker colors.

A rumble from Gaminth distracted him and M’tal leaned forward as his dragon burned through another clump of Thread and another. M’tal forgot about the Benden Weyrleader as he resumed his fight against the fickle Thread.

“Shards, M’tal, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” B’nik protested once again, pulling back from the older dragonrider’s hearty embrace.

“You don’t?” M’tal repeated, his hands on B’nik’s shoulders, pushing the other man away from him so that he could see his eyes. B’nik had not much of a sense of humor, but it was foul enough that he might try to play a trick on his ex-Weyrleader, especially if Tullea had urged him on.

“No,” B’nik repeated firmly, using his own hands to push M’tal’s hands off him and stepping further away, “I don’t.”

M’tal’s face fell. “Then if it wasn’t you, who stole your jacket?”

“My jacket?” B’nik repeated blankly.

“Your Weyrleader’s jacket,” M’tal insisted. “I might have been mistaken in you—the distance was great—but the jacket and its emblem are unmistakable.” Which hardly bore the mention, as the purpose of the Weyrleader’s jacket was to be visible at all distances.

“No one stole my jacket,” B’nik assured him. “It’s in my quarters, just oiled.”

“Someone rode Fall with us,” M’tal said. “Someone rode Fall and saved us.”

“But it wasn’t me.”

“No,” M’tal said after a moment of thoughtful silence, “I think it was.”

B’nik drew breath to make a heated retort but M’tal raised a hand placatingly. “Not today, but perhaps some time in the future.”

“You mean I timed it?” B’nik asked in surprise.

“Yes,” M’tal said. “I expect you did.”

“But when?” B’nik asked. “And why only me? Why not a full Wing at least?”

“I don’t know,” M’tal said. “I suspect perhaps you wanted firsthand knowledge of the effects.”

B’nik pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That would be prudent.”

“Indeed it would,” M’tal said. “Nothing less than I’d expect from you.”