“Other people take only as long as fulfilling the requirements of emigrating do,” Lessa said. “Proof of being reliable people from hold or hall, with sufficient skills to survive in what can be hazardous terrain—where predators are bigger than the largest tunnel snakes they’d encounter here in the north—and a definite area where they will establish a new hall or hold. It’s no more than was required by the original Charter, and that’s another reason why it’s important that everyone knows what’s in the Charter.”

“I did remind you of that, Pilgra,” M’rand said, regarding his weyrmate with a jaundiced look. “People can get some ridiculous notions, listening to drunken Gather talk.”

F’lar accorded that a grumble, checking from map to form to be sure he had the longitude and latitude correct to minutes and seconds. “That’s why the harpers keep—you’ll excuse the pun—harping on the subject of reading and understanding the Charter.”

M’rand started to chuckle; it turned into a hard coughing spasm. Anxiously Pilgra handed him the rest of his liqueur and Lessa rushed into her room, coming back with a dark brown bottle and a spoon.

“Here! Take a dose of this. It’s reinforced with something Oldive found in the Aivas files to reduce just the sort of hacking cough you have.” She measured and gave him the dose. “Not that getting into the sun won’t correct it in short order.”

F’lar finished the official Deed, separated the copies, and shoved one with M’rand’s original little map into a plastic sleeve. While M’rand was recovering his breath, the Benden Weyrleader presented the Deed to Pilgra with a bow. “Take him there today.”

“Today?” Pilgra was as breathless as M’rand, Deed clutched in her hand.

“Certainly. What else were you going to do on such a miserable day? Get your weyrfolk to pack up what you need for a few days: plan there, ‘in the warm,’ ” and Lessa pointed southward, “what else you’ll need.”

“Go? Today?”

“Think what a pleasant surprise it’ll be to your Wingleaders and the junior queens,” Lessa said, eyes bright and wide and far too innocent. When Pilgra looked unhappy, she added more solicitously, “Oh, they’ll miss you because you’re both good-hearted and fair. But who would fault you?” She shook her as Pilgra took a breath. “And don’t say old leather-face G’dened. Cosira has her work cut out soothing his injured feelings. D’ram’s not likely to gripe. Living in Cove Hold has put Turns on his life. You’re both popular leaders but I cannot imagine anyone faulting you for going, and making the break quick.”

F’lar says if we go with them, Mnementh told Lessa, it will stifle any complaints G’dened might make. He adds, don’t think you’ll get him to retire so easily.