Perhaps Brekke was not so far off in her heretical doctrine, F’nor thought. T’bor had made Southern Weyr self-sufficient and productive, no small task. He’d obviously have made a good holder.

“Orth said you were here, F’lar. What brings you to Southern? You heard our news about the fire-lizards?” T’bor called, brushing the sand from his clothes as he walked.

“Yes, I did,” replied F’lar in so formal a tone that T’bor’s welcoming smile faded. “And I thought you’d heard ours, that Thread is dropping out of pattern.”

“There’s a rider along every inch of coastline, F’lar, so don’t accuse me of negligence,” T’bor said, his smile returning. “Dragons don’t need to be a-wing to spot Thread. Shells, man, you can hear it hissing across the water.”

“I assume you were looking for fire-lizard eggs?” F’lar sounded testy and not completely reassured by T’bor’s report. “Have you found any?”

T’bor shook his head. “There’s evidence, far to the west, of another clutch, but there isn’t a sign of shell or corpse. The wherries can make fast work of anything edible.”

“Were I you, T’bor, I’d not release an entire Weyr to search for lizard eggs. There’s no guarantee Thread will move in on this continent from the ocean.”

“But it always has. What little we get.”

“Thread fell ten hours before schedule across Lemos north when it should have fallen on Lemos south and Telgar southeast,” F’lar told him in a hard voice. “I have since heard that Thread fell, unchecked,” and he paused to let that sink in to T’bor’s mind, “in Telgar Hold and Crom Hold, both times out of phase with the tables though we do not yet know the time differential. We can’t rely on any previous performance.”

“I’ll mount guards immediately and send the wings to sweep as far south as we’ve penetrated,” T’bor said briskly and, shrugging into his riding jacket, trotted back to Orth. They were aloft in one great leap.

“Orth looks well,” F’lar said and then eyed his half-brother closely before he smiled, jabbing a fist affectionately at F’nor’s good shoulder. “You do, too. How’s the arm healing?”

“I’m at Southern,” F’nor replied in oblique explanation. “Are Threadfalls really that erratic?”

“I don’t know,” F’lar said with an irritable shrug. “Tell me about these fire-lizards if you please. Are they worth the time of every able-bodied rider in this Weyr? Where’s yours? I’d like to see it for myself before I go back to Benden.” He glanced northeast, frowning.