“It’ll all come right, Mirrim. I’m sure it will,” Menolly said, putting all the confidence she could muster into her voice.

“Oh, do you really think so?” Mirrim dropped her pose of bustling efficiency and was briefly a young, bewildered girl in need of reassurance.

“I most certainly do!” And Menolly was angry with Sanra’s unkind statements of the day before. “Why, when I thought I’d be scored to death, T’gran appeared. And when I thought they’d all be Threaded ... ” Menolly hastily shut her mouth, frantically trying to think of something to fill that gap. She’d almost told Mirrim about saving the fire lizards.

“They must belong to somebody,” a man said in a loud, frustrated tone of voice.

Two dragonriders entered the kitchen cavern, slapping dusty gloves against sandy boots and loosening their riding belts.

“They could be attracted by the ones we have, T’gellan.”

“Considering how badly we need the creatures ...”

“In the egg ... ”

“It’s a raking nuisance to have a whole flaming fair that no one will claim!”

The next thing Menolly knew, Beauty appeared over her head, gave a terrified squawk and landed on Menolly’s thinly clad shoulder. Beauty wrapped her tail, choking tight, about Menolly’s neck and buried her face into her hair. Rocky and Diver seized the cloth of her shirt in their claws, struggling to burrow into her arms. The air was full of frightened fire lizards, diving at her, and Mirrim, who made no attempt to defend herself, stared with utter amazement at Menolly.

“Mirrim? Do they belong to you after all?” cried T’gellan as he strode towards their table.

“No, they’re not mine.” Mirrim pointed to Menolly. “They’re hers.”

Menolly was speechless, but she managed to contain Rocky and Diver. The others toot refuge on ledges above her, broadcasting fear and uncertainty. She was just as confused as the fire lizards, because why were they in the Weyr? And the Weyr seemed to know about fire lizards, and ...

“We’ll soon know whose they are,” said a woman’s angry voice, carrying clearly in the pause. A small, slim woman in riding gear came striding purposefully into the main section of the kitchen cavern. “I asked Ramoth to speak to them ... ”

She was followed by another rider.

“Over here, Lessa,” T’gellan said, beckoning, but his gaze did not leave Menolly’s.

At the sound of that name, she struggled out of the chair, with the fire lizards squawking and trying to retain their balance and hold on her. All Menolly could think of was to keep out of Lessa’s way, but she got tangled up in the chairs about the table and painfully stubbed her toes. Mirrim grabbed her arm, trying to make her sit down, and there seemed to be more fire lizards than Menolly could claim circling over her head and cluttering wildly.