Berd chirped so smugly as he glided past the queen that Brekke smiled. He was a dear nuisance, as transparent as pool water—and she must check and see if Rannelly was right about the Weyr lake. The old woman had complained bitterly last evening that the water was fouled—deliberately; maliciously fouled by T’kul.

It was startling to come out into crisply cold air with the pinch of late frost in the early hour chill. Brekke glanced up at the watchrider by the Star Stones and then hurried down the short flight of steps to the Lower Caverns. The fires had been banked but the water kettle was comfortingly hot. She made klah, found bread and fruit for herself and some meat for Berd. He was beginning to eat with less of the barbarous voracity, and no longer gorged himself into somnolence.

Taking a fresh basket of glows, Brekke went into the storage section to begin her investigations. Berd cheerfully accompanied her, perching where he could watch her industry.

By the time the Weyr began to stir, four hours later, Brekke was full of contempt for past domestic management and considerably relieved about the resources on hand. In fact, she suspected that the best fabrics and leathers, not to mention wines, had not gone south with the dissenters.

But the lake water was indisputably fouled by household garbage and would have to be dredged. It wouldn’t be usable for several days at least. And there was nothing in which water could be transported in any quantity from the nearby mountain streams. It seemed silly to send a dragon out for a couple of bucketsful, she reported to T’bor and Kylara.

“I’ll get kegs from Nabol,” Kylara announced, once she had recovered from ranting about T’kul’s pettiness.

While it was obvious to Brekke that T’bor was not pleased to hear her solution, he had too much else to occupy his time to protest. At least, Brekke thought, Kylara was taking an interest in the Weyr and some of the responsibility.

So Kylara circled out of the Bowl, Prideth shining golden in the early morning sun. And T’bor took off with several wings for low-altitude sweeps, to get familiar with the terrain and set up appropriate watch fires and patrol check points. Brekke and Varena, with the help of Pilgra, the only High Reaches Weyrwoman to stay behind, settled who would supervise which necessary duties. They set the weyrlings to dragging the lake, sent others for immediate supplies of fresh water.

Deeply occupied in counting sacks of flour, Brekke did not hear Wirenth’s first cry. It was Berd who responded with a startled squawk, flying round Brekke’s head to attract her attention.