Chapters (64)
- Other titles by Anne McCaffreyPublished by Ballantine Books:
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- INTRODUCTION
- PROLOGUE
- At a Gather—6.15.30
- Part 1
- Turnover at Landing—1.1.31 Present Pass Aivas—Aivas Adjusted Turn 2553
- Benden Weyr—1.1.31
- Southern Hold—1.1.31
- Healer Hall—1.1.31
- Back at Landing—1.2.31
- Fort Hold—late night—1.1.31
- Fort Hold Runner Station—1.2.31
- Keroon Printer Hall—1.3.31
- Benden Weyr—midday—1.3.31
- Monaco Bay Weyr—five days later—1.8.31
- Part 2
- Ruatha Hold—local time 12:04 in the morning—1.9.31
- Telgar Weyr—local time 4:04 in the morning—1.9.31
- Benden Weyr—local time 6:04 in the morning—1.9.31
- Harper Hall—local time 1:00 in the morning—1.9.31
- Landing—local time 10:12 mid-morning—1.9.31
- In the Conference Room at Landing—1.9.31
- Monaco Weyr—10:22 in the morning—Timing it
- In the Conference Room at Landing—local time 1:10–1.9.31
- Sunrise Cliff Seahold—timed-back
- In the Conference Room—local time 2:12 at Landing—1.9.31
- Back at Landing—local time—3:40
- Harper Hall—5:00 in the morning, and Southern Hold—2:00 in the morning–1.9.31
- Landing—late afternoon—1.9.31
- Same time at Keroon Printer Hall—local time 11:15—1.9.31
- Later, on an unusually bright evening at Landing, Sunrise Cliff, and Honshu Hold—1.9.31
- Part 3
- Honshu—1.10.31
- Circle Runner Station—1.18.31
- Harper Hall
- Benden Weyr—
- Benini Hold—east Monaco and Honshu—1.20.31
- Harper Hall—1.28.31
- Honshu Hold—2.1.31
- Fort Hold—2.13.31
- Printer Hall at Wide Bay—same night
- Honshu Hold—2.9.31
- Night at Wide Bay—2.9.31
- Ruatha Hold—late evening—2.9.31
- Core Hold—two days before Council Meeting—2.26.31
- Part 4
- Honshu Weyrhold—2.26–27.31
- Council Meeting at Telgar Hold—3.1.31
- Honshu Weyrhold—3.01.31
- Interim at Benden and elsewhere
- Honshu Weyrhold—time passing slowly
- Landing—3.21.31
- Honshu Weyrhold—3.21.31
- Southern Hold—3.23.31
- Honshu Weyrhold—3.27.31
- Benden Weyr—3.27.31
- Cove Hold—same day, same approximate time
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Tradition said dragonless riders suicided rather than live without their dragon. But Lytol had defied that convention and had become far more than a dragonrider. He had been a Lord Holder for Jaxom’s minority; he had then turned his hand to help Master Robinton and D’ram to manage Landing as a major Hold to the satisfaction of everyone involved. Now, Lytol and D’ram, in addition to bearing blind Wansor company, had accepted yet another role for which they were unusually qualified: as wise consultants for the complex society of the planet. Briefly F’lessan wondered, even as his soul cringed at the thought: would he have had the courage to build a new life—lives, in fact—as Lytol had done, if Golanth had succumbed to his injuries?
F’lessan gave a snort of disgust for his self-absorption. The time he had wasted. As Tai had said, there would be a way. Lytol had made several, and the example of the man’s quiet heroism rebuked him.
Halfway through a snore, Golanth woke, alert, looking northward. When was the Nine Fall due? Close enough for Golanth to know it was near.
Five riders appeared in the sky, and a sixth came swooping up out of the jungle. It was Zaranth who reached Honshu first, hovering to let her rider dismount on the terrace before she turned on her wing tip, as if challenging the newcomers. F’lessan rose, wondering at her almost defensive attitude. Then the dragons were close enough for him to recognize them: Monarth, Gadareth, Path, Galuth, and Arwith, but they made no move to land.
They come to practice, Zaranth said. Tai, I will get his jacket.
“What do they mean ‘practice’?” F’lessan wanted to know.
His jacket smacked into his chest and the reflex action of his hand kept it there.
“They mean to practice what they learned from Zaranth, Ramoth, and Mnementh,” Tai said, as if reminding him of something he’d forgotten.
Lessa had said something about practice the other evening.
“Practice what? Who on?”
What happened next was as astonishing to Tai as F’lessan. As she watched—F’lessan went white and staggered in shock—Golanth rose vertically from the stone of the terrace, hissing in surprise. Instinctively, the bronze spread his wings, though he could not extend the left far or raise it to match the other. But he was being lifted into the air.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO GOLANTH!” cried F’lessan, limping frantically to where Golanth dangled out of reach.
I’m all right, F’lessan. I’m all right.
“PRACTICE!” T’lion called.
“PRACTICE!” shouted T’gellan, Persellan behind him.
That was what C’reel and Mirrim were shouting, too.
“You have to practice, as well, F’lessan. All he needs is height,” cried Mirrim gaily from Path’s back. Her dragon was staring at Zaranth, indulging in some communication that neither rider heard.