When they had thoroughly discussed and rejected every other possible method of securing Thread, and how they were to keep this project a secret—only Lessa and Ramoth knew of it—they parted, both assuring the other that he’d eat and rest. Both certain that the other could not.

If F’nor appreciated the audacity of F’lar’s project, he also counted up the flaws and the possible disasters. And then he realized that he still hadn’t had a chance to broach the innovation he himself desired to make. Yet, for a brown dragon to fly a queen was far less revolutionary than F’lar wanting to terminate the Weyrs’ duties. And, reinforced by one of F’lar’s own theories, if the dragons were now big enough for their ultimate breeding purpose, then no harm was done the species if a brown, smaller than a bronze, was mated to a queen—just this once. Surely F’nor deserved that compensation. Comforted that it would be merely an exchange of favors, rather than the gross crime it might once have been considered, F’nor went to borrow the long-handled hearthpan from one of Manora’s helpers.

Someone, probably Manora, had cleaned his weyr during his absence at Southern. F’nor was grateful for the fresh, supple skins on the bed, the clean, mended clothes in his chest, the waxed wood of table and chairs. Canth grumbled that someone had swept the sandy accumulation from his weyr-couch and he had nothing to scour his belly hide with now.

F’nor dutifully sympathized as he lay back on the silky furs of his bed. The scar on his arm itched a little and he rubbed it.

Oil is for itching skin, said Canth. Imperfect hide cracks in between.

“Be quiet, you. I’ve got skin, not hide.”

Grall appeared in his room, hovering over his chest, her wings wafting cool air across his face. She was curious, a curiosity with slight overtones of alarm.

He smiled, generating reassurance and affection. The gyrations of her lovely jewel-faceted eyes slowed and she made a graceful survey of his quarters, humming when she discovered the bathing room. He could hear her splashing about in the water. He closed his eyes. He would need to rest. He did not look forward to the afternoon’s endeavor.