“How can you tell a man what he doesn’t want to hear? We couldn’t even get them to admit that T’reb was in the wrong. T’reb, not Terry, and not F’nor. But I don’t think there’ll be another lapse like today’s and that’s what I really worried about.”

“What?” T’bor stared at F’lar in puzzled confusion.

“That such an incident could occur worries me far more than who was in the wrong and for what reason.”

“I can’t follow that logic any more than I can follow T’ron’s.”

“It’s simple. Dragonmen don’t fight. Weyrleaders can’t. T’ron was hoping I’d be mad enough to lose control. I think he was hoping I’d attack him.”

“You can’t be serious!” T’bor was plainly shaken.

“Remember, T’ron considers himself the senior Weyrleader on Pern and therefore infallible.”

T’bor made a rude noise. Despite himself, F’lar grinned.

“True,” he continued, “but I’ve never had a reason to challenge him. And don’t forget, the Oldtimers taught us a great deal about Thread fighting we certainly didn’t know.”

“Why, our dragons can fight circles around the Oldtimers.”

“That’s not the point, T’bor. You and I, the modern Weyrs, have certain obvious advantages over the Oldtimers—size of dragons, number of queens—that I’m not interested in mentioning because it only makes for bad feeling. Nevertheless, we can’t fight Thread without the Oldtimers. We need the Oldtimers more than they need us.” F’lar gave T’bor a wry, bitter grin. “D’ram was partly right. A dragonman can never forget his purpose, his responsibility. When D’ram said ‘to his dragon, to his Weyr,’ he’s wrong. Our initial and ultimate responsibility is to Pern, to the people we were established to protect.”

They had proceeded to the ledge and could see their dragons dropping off the height to meet them. Full dark had descended over Fort Weyr now, emphasizing the weariness that engulfed F’lar.

“If the Oldtimers have become introverted, we, Benden and Southern, cannot. We understand our Turn, our people. And somehow we’ve got to make the Oldtimers understand them, too.”

“Yes, but T’ron was in the wrong!”

“Would we have been more right to make him say it?”

T’bor bit back an angry response and F’lar hoped that the man’s rebellion was dissipating. There was good heart and mind in the Southern Weyrleader. He was a fine dragonrider, a superb fighter, and his Wings followed him without hesitation. He was not as strong out of the skies, however, but with subtle guidance had built Southern Weyr into a productive, self-supporting establishment. He instinctively looked to F’lar and Benden Weyr for direction and companionship. Part of that, F’lar was sure, was because of the difficult and disturbing temperament of the Southern Weyrwoman, Kylara.