It was bad, very bad, to lose one queen, Jaxom knew, but to lose two, in such a horrible way! It was almost as if things were pointing toward even direr events. Jaxom was scared, a deep voiceless feeling in his bones. He almost dreaded seeing Felessan. He had never shaken off his sense of blasphemy for invading the Hatching Ground, and wondered if this were his punishment. But he was a logical boy and the death of the two queens had not occurred at Ruatha, not over Fort Weyr to which Ruatha Hold was bound. He’d never met Kylara or Brekke. He did know F’nor and felt sorry for him if half what he’d heard was true—that F’nor had taken Brekke into his weyr and had abandoned his duties as a Wing-second to care for her. She was very sick. Funny, everyone was sorry for Brekke but no one mentioned Kylara, and she’d lost a queen, too.

Jaxom wondered about that but knew he couldn’t ask. Just as he couldn’t ask if he and Lytol were really going to the Hatching. Why else would the Weyrleader send them word? And wasn’t Talina a Ruathan candidate for the queen egg? Ruatha ought to be represented at the Hatching. Benden Weyr always had open Impressions, even when the other Weyrs didn’t. And he hadn’t seen Felessan in ages. Not that anyone had done much more than Thread-watch since the wedding at Telgar.

Jaxom sighed. That had been some day. He shivered, remembered how sick, cold and—yes—how scared he’d been. (Lytol said a man wasn’t afraid to admit to fear.) All the time he’d watched F’lar fighting T’ron, he’d been scared. He shuddered again, his spine rippling with reaction to that memory. Everything was going wrong on Pern. Dragon queens killing each other, Weyrleaders dueling in public, Thread falling here and there, with no rhyme or reason. Order had slipped away from life; the constants that made his routine were dissolving, and he was powerless to stop the inexorable slide. It wasn’t fair. Everything had been going so well. Everyone had been saying how Ruatha Hold had improved. Now, this past six days, they’d lost that northeastern farmhold and, if things kept up, there wouldn’t be much left of all Lytol’s hard work. Maybe that’s why he was acting so—so odd. But it wasn’t fair. Lytol had worked so hard. And now, it looked as though Jaxom was going to miss the Hatching and see who Impressed that littlest egg. It wasn’t at all fair.

“Lord Jaxom,” gasped a breathless drudge from the doorway, “Lord Lytol said for you to change to your best. The Hatching’s to start. Oh, sir, do you think Talina has a chance?”

“More than a chance,” Jaxom said, rude with excitement. “She’s Ruathan-bred after all. Now get out.”