“The accident was no one’s fault,” Paul said, returning to his desk and slumping down into his chair. “There’s Fulmar, blaming himself for not insisting on servicing earlier. For that matter, I shouldn’t have urged Emily to come north. The cargo was inadequately secured in the cabin. However, gentlemen, it is folly to read more into such an accident than bad timing and a lousy concatenation of circumstances. We evacuated Landing in reasonable order. A place had been prepared for us, and we’ve got to mobilize enough personnel and machines to fight Thread.” He no longer hoped for support from either dragonets or dragons.

“You did what?” Sorka cried, her skin blanching then flushing brightly in fury. Faranth, her eyes whirling orange in sympathy with her rider, lowered her head. Carenath bugled alarm.

Sean grabbed Sorka by the arms, obscurely irritated by her reaction. He managed to get the others to wait until Sorka’s wing had landed before broadcasting their feat.

“Look, it wasn’t something I planned, Sorka! Jays, it was the last thing in my head. I just told Carenath to get back to Landing as fast as possible. He did!”

It was really very simple, Carenath said modestly, I’ve told Faranth. She believes me. He swiveled his head to cast a reproachful look on Sorka.

“How … how … did the others know?” Fear returned to shadow her eyes. She ignored the general carry-on about her as Sean’s wing cavorted with her riders, babbling the good news and going into specific detail at the top of their lungs.

He told them, Faranth replied, an edge to her tone.

“We’ve spent two hours figuring that out.” Sean smiled, hoping to coax a smile from Sorka. Putting his arms about her shoulders, he drew her back to the others. “I think,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “we were all scared shitless by Marco and Duluth dying like that. Now we know, firsthand, why Marco panicked. Sorka, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen, and you can’t feel anything, even your dragon between your legs. Otto called it total sensory deprivation.”

It is between, Carenath said in an almost didactic tone. He and Faranth followed their riders back to the mass of netted bundles which would be their final load. The dragons of Sean’s wing were sitting on their haunches in a loose circle, occasionally shaking themselves to dislodge windblown ash. Faranth made a noise low in her throat, which made Sean grin. The golden queen was as skeptical as her rider.

“Can Faranth tell me how far away Dave’s wing is?” he asked Sorka.

They are in sight now, Carenath said just as Sorka replied, “Faranth says they’re in sight now.” She pointed northeast. “Polenth says that they hunted well. Meat!” Sorka gave a brief smile, and Sean decided that she was halfway to forgiving him.