F’nor staggered back, aware of nauseating pain, aware of Canth’s scream of protest, the green’s wild bawl and the brown’s trumpeting.

“Get him out of here,” F’nor gasped to B’naj, as Terry reached out to steady him.

“Get out!” the Smith repeated in a harsh voice. He signaled urgently to the other craftsmen who now moved decisively toward the dragonmen. But B’naj yanked T’reb savagely out of the Hall.

F’nor resisted as Terry tried to conduct him to the nearest bench. It was bad enough that dragonrider should attack dragonrider, but F’nor was even more shocked that a rider should ignore his beast for the sake of a coveted bauble.

There was real urgency in the green’s shrill ululation now. F’nor willed T’reb and B’naj on their beasts and away. A shadow fell across the great portal of the Smithhall. It was Canth, crooning anxiously. The green’s voice was suddenly still.

“Are they gone?” he asked the dragon.

Well gone, Canth replied, craning his neck to catch sight of his rider. You hurt.

“I’m all right. I’m all right,” F’nor lied, relaxing into Terry’s urgent grip. In a blackening daze, he felt himself lifted, then the hard surface of bench under his back before the dizzying shock and pain overwhelmed him. His last conscious thought was that Manora would be annoyed that he had not seen Fandarel first.

CHAPTER II

Evening (Fort Weyr Time):

Meeting of the Weyrleaders at Fort Weyr

WHEN MNEMENTH BURST out of between above Fort Weyr, he entered so high above the Weyr mountain that it was a barely discernible black point in the darkening land below. F’lar’s exclamation of surprise was cut off by the thin cold air that burned his lungs.

You must be calm and cool, Mnementh said, doubling his rider’s astonishment. You must command at this meeting. And the bronze dragon began a long spiral glide down to the Weyr.

F’lar knew that no admonitions could change Mnementh’s mind when he used that firm tone. He wondered at the great beast’s unexpected initiative. But the bronze dragon was right.