Since the former residents of the Southern Weyr had not been farmcraft trained, they had been oblivious to the significance of the larval sacks in the southern woods. It was fall now in the southern hemisphere but F’nor, N’ton and another rider had agreed to jump between to the previous spring. Brekke helped, too, knowing as she did so many facets of the Southern management that she was able to tell them where they would not collide with others in the past. Though farmcraftbred, Brekke had been occupied with nursing during her tenure at Southern, and had deliberately stayed away from the farming aspects of the Weyr to sever connections with her past life.

Although F’lar did not press Masterfarmer Andemon, he proceeded with his plans as if he had farmcraft cooperation. Several times, Andemon requested Thread and grubs which would be rushed to him, but he issued no progress reports.

Mastersmith Fandarel and Terry had been informed of the project and a special demonstration arranged for them. Once he’d conquered the initial revulsion over the grubs and horror at being so close to live Thread, Terry had been as enthusiastic as anyone could wish. The performance of the grubs elicited only a deep grunt from the Mastersmith. He had limited his comments to a scornful criticism of the long-handled hearthpan in which the Thread was captured.

“Inefficient. Inefficient. You can only open it once to catch the things,” and he had taken the pan, stalking off toward his waiting dragon-messenger.

Terry had been profuse in his assurances that the Mastersmith was undoubtedly impressed and would cooperate in every way. This was indeed a momentous day. His words were cut off by Fandarel’s impatient bellow and he’d bowed his way out, still reassuring the somewhat disconcerted dragonriders.

“I’d’ve thought Fandarel would at least have found the grubs efficient,” F’lar had remarked.

“He was struck dumb with amazement?” F’nor suggested.

“No,” and Lessa grimaced, “he was infuriated by inefficiency!”

They’d laughed and gone on to the next job. That evening a messenger arrived from the Smithcrafthall with the purloined hearthpan and a truly remarkable contrivance. It was bulbous in shape, secured to a long handle from the end of which its lid could be opened, operated by a trigger inside the tubular handle. The lid was the truly ingenious part for it fanned open upward and outward so that Thread would be guided down into the vessel and could not escape if the lid was reopened.