“I’ve limits, too, F’lar of Benden,” she screamed as the two men strode quickly toward the Weyrhall. “Don’t push me. D’you hear? Don’t push me!” She kept up her curses until Prideth, now highly agitated, drowned her out with piteous cries.

At first the two Weyrleaders went through the motions of studying the map and trying to figure out where Thread might have fallen elsewhere undetected on the Southern continent. Then Prideth’s complaints died away and the clearing was vacant.

“It comes down to manpower again, T’bor,” F’lar said. “There ought to be a thorough search of this continent. Oh, I’m aware,” and he held up his hand to forestall a defensive rebuttal, “that you simply don’t have the personnel to help, even with the influx of holderfolk from the mainland. But Thread can cross mountains,” he tapped the southern chain, “and we don’t know what’s been happening in these uncharted areas. We’ve assumed that Threadfall occurred only in this coastline portion. Once established though, a single burrow could eat its way across any land mass and—” He made a slashing movement of both hands. “I’d give a lot to know how Thread could fall unnoticed in those swamps for two hours and leave no trace of a burrow!”

T’bor grunted agreement but F’lar sensed that his mind was not on this problem.

“You’ve had more than your share of grief with that woman, T’bor. Why not throw the next flight open?”

“No!” And Orth echoed that vehement refusal with a roar.

F’lar looked at T’bor in amazement.

“No, F’lar. I’ll keep her in hand. I’ll keep myself in hand, too. But as long as Orth can fly Prideth, Kylara’s mine.”

F’lar looked quickly away from the torment in the other’s face.

“And you’d better know this, too,” T’bor continued in a heavy low voice. “She found a full clutch. She took them to a Hold. Prideth told Orth.”

“Which Hold?”

T’bor shook his head wearily. “Prideth doesn’t like it so she doesn’t name it. She doesn’t like taking fire-lizards away from the weyrs either.”

F’lar brushed his forelock back from his eyes in an irritated movement. This was the most unhealthy development. A dragon displeased with her rider? The one restraint they had all counted on was Kylara’s bond with Prideth. The woman wouldn’t be fool enough, wanton enough, perverted enough to strain that, too, in her egocentric selfishness.

Prideth will not hear me, Mnementh said suddenly. She will not hear Orth. She is unhappy. That isn’t good.

Threads falling unexpectedly, fire-lizards in holder hands, a dragon displeased with her rider and another anticipating his rider’s questions! And F’lar had thought he’d had problems seven Turns ago!