“Don’t you ‘Lessa’ me too, Robinton.” In the reflection of the glow lights, the Weyrwoman’s eyes gleamed angrily. “F’nor’s as daft as a weyrling, Manora’s beside herself with worry for them both, Mirrim spends more of her time weeping which upsets the trio of lizards she’s got and that sets off all the babes and the weyrlings. And, on top of everything else, F’lar…”

“F’lar?” Robinton had bent close to her so that no one else might hear her reply.

“He is feverish. He ought never to have come to High Reaches with that open wound. You know what cold between does to wounds!”

“I’d hoped he’d be here tonight.”

Lessa’s laugh was sour. “I dosed his klah when he wasn’t looking.”

Robinton chuckled. “And stuffed him with mosstea, I’ll bet.”

“Packed the wound with it, too.”

“He’s a strong man, Lessa. He’ll be all right.”

“He’d better be. If only F’nor—” and Lessa broke off. “I sound like a wherry, don’t I?” She gave a sigh and smiled up at Robinton.

“Not a bit, my dear Lessa, I assure you. However, it’s not as if Benden were inadequately represented,” and he executed a little bow which, if she shrugged it off, at least made her laugh. “In fact,” he went on, “I’m a trifle relieved that F’lar isn’t here, railing at anything that keeps him from blotting out any Thread he happens to see in that contraption.”

“True enough.” And Robinton caught the edge to her voice. “I’m not sure…”

She didn’t finish her sentence and turned so swiftly to mark the landing of another dragon that Robinton was certain she was at odds with F’lar’s wishing to push a move against the Red Star.

Suddenly she stiffened, drawing in her breath sharply. “Meron! What does he think he’s doing here?”

“Easy, Lessa. I don’t like him around any better than you, but I’d rather keep him in sight, if you know what I mean.”

“But he’s got no influence on the other Lords…”

Robinton gave a harsh laugh. “My dear Weyrwoman, considering the influence he’s been exerting in other areas, he doesn’t need the Lords’ support.”

Robinton did wonder at the gall of the man, appearing in public anywhere a scant six days after he’d been involved in the deaths of two queen dragons.

The Lord Holder of Nabol strode insolently to the focal point of the gathering, his bronze fire-lizard perched on his forearm, its wings extended as it fought to maintain its balance. The little creature began to hiss as it became aware of the antagonism directed at Meron.

“And this—this innocuous tube is the incredible instrument that will show us the Red Star?” Meron of Nabol asked scathingly.