He caught her hand, pulling her into the crook of his arm, disregarding the stabbing pain at his waist for the triumph of her instant response, the surrender in her slender body. “Not while I have you.” The words came out in a whisper, and because he couldn’t express his gratitude to her, his pride in her, his joy of her any other way, he sought her lips, held them in a long, passionate kiss.

She gave a languorous sigh when he finally released her. He laughed down at her closed eyes, kissing them, too. She struggled to a sitting position and, with another reluctant sigh, rose determinedly to her feet.

“Yes, Pern will follow you, and your loyal advisers will keep you from making mistakes, but I do hope you’ve an answer for pop-eyed old Lord Groghe!”

“Answer for Groghe?”

“Yes,” and she gave him a stern look, “though I’m not surprised you’ve forgotten. He was going to demand that the dragonmen of Pern go directly to the Red Star and put an end to Thread forever.”

F’lar got slowly to his feet.

“I’ve always said that you solve one problem and five more appear from between.”

“Well, I think we’ve contrived to keep Groghe away from you tonight, but we promised to have a joint meeting of Hold and Craft at Benden Weyr tomorrow morning.”

“That’s a blessing.”

In the act of opening the door, he hesitated and groaned again.

“Isn’t the numbweed helping?”

“Not me. It’s Fandarel. Between fire-lizards, Threads and T’ron, I can’t face him.”

“Oh, him!” Lessa pulled the door open, grinning up at her Weyrmate. “He’s already deep in plans to bury, coat or thicken those ungrateful wires. He’s planning installations with every Lord Holder and Craft. Wansor’s dancing like a suncrazed wherry to get his hands on the distance-viewer, all the time wailing that he needn’t’ve dismantled the first apparatus.” She tucked her arm in his, lengthening her stride to match his. “The man who’s really put out is Robinton.”

“Robinton?”

“Yes. He’d composed the most marvelous ballad and teaching songs and now there’s no reason to play them.”

Whether Lessa had deliberately saved that until now, F’lar didn’t know, but they crossed the courtyard, laughing, though it hurt his side.

Their passage would have been noted anyhow, but their smiling faces subtly reassured the diners seated at the makeshift tables about the yard. And suddenly F’lar felt there was indeed something to celebrate.

CHAPTER XI

Early Morning at Benden Weyr

“I WISH YOU’D give me fair warning the next time you rearrange the social and political structure of this planet,” F’nor told his half-brother when he strode into the queen’s weyr at Benden the next morning. There wasn’t, of course, a trace of resentment on his tanned, grinning face. “Who’s where now?”