Lemos.
Mnementh obediently turned out of the leisurely glide and dropped swiftly. Fâlar could thank good fortune that it was Lord Asgenar of Lemos to whom he must explain, rather than Lord Sifer of Bitra Hold or Lord Raid of Benden Hold. The former would rant against the injustice and the latter would contrive to make a premature arrival of Thread a personal insult to him by dragonmen. Sometimes the Lords Raid and Sifer tried Fâlarâs patience. True, those three Holds, Benden, Bitra and Lemos, had conscientiously tithed to support Benden Weyr when it was the sole dragonweyr of Pern. But Lord Raid and Lord Sifer had an unpleasant habit of reminding Benden Weyr riders of their loyalty at every opportunity. Gratitude is an ill-fitting tunic that can chafe and smell if worn too long.
Lord Asgenar of Lemos Hold, on the other hand, was young and had been confirmed in his honors by the Lord Holdersâ Conclave only five Turns ago. His attitude toward the Weyr which protected his Holdlands from Thread was refreshingly untainted by invidious reminders of past services.
Mnementh glided toward the expanse of the Great Lake which separated Lemos Hold from upper Telgar Hold. The Threadsâ advance edge had just missed the verdant softwoods that surrounded the northern shores. Mnementh circled down, causing Fâlar to lean into the great neck, grasping the fighting straps firmly. Despite his weariness and worry, he felt the sharp surge of elation which always gripped him when he flew the huge bronze dragon; that curious merging of himself with the beast, against air and wind, so that he was not only Fâlar, Weyrleader of Benden, but somehow Mnementh, immensely powerful, magnificently free.
On a rise overlooking the broad meadow that swept down to the Great Lake, Fâlar spotted the green dragon. Lemosâ Lord Holder, Asgenar, would be near her. Fâlar smiled sardonically at the sight. Let the Oldtimers disapprove, let them mutter uneasily when Fâlar put non-weyrfolk on dragonback, but if Fâlar had not, Thread would have fallen unseen over those hardwoods.
Trees! Another bone of contention between Weyr and Hold, with Fâlar staunchly upholding the Lordsâ position. Four hundred Turns ago, such timber stands had not existed, were not permitted to grow. Too much living green to protect. Well, the Oldtimers were eager enough to own products of wood, overloading Fandarelâs woodcraftsman, Bendarek, with their demands. On the other hand, they wouldnât permit the formation of a new Crafthall under Bendarek. Probably because, Fâlar thought bitterly, Bendarek wanted to stay near the hardwoods of Lemos, and that would give Benden Weyr a Crafthall in its jurisdiction. By the Egg, the Oldtimers were almost more trouble than they were worth!
Mnementh landed with sweeping backstrokes that flattened the thick meadow grass. Fâlar slid down the bronzeâs neck to join Lord Asgenar while Mnementh trumpeted approval to the green dragon and Fârad, his rider.
Fârad wants to warn you that Asgenar . . .
âNot much gets through Bendenâs wings,â Asgenar was saying by way of greeting so that Mnementh didnât finish his thought. The young man was wiping soot and sweat from his face for he was one Lord who directed his ground crews personally instead of staying comfortably in his main Hold. âEven if Threads have begun to deviate. How do you account for all these recent variations?â
âVariations?â Fâlar repeated the word, feeling stupid because he somehow realized that Asgenar was not referring just to this dayâs unusual occurrence.
âYes! And here we thought your timetables were the last word. To be relied on forever, especially since they were checked and approved by the Oldtimers.â Asgenar gave Fâlar a sly look. âOh, Iâm not faulting you, Fâlar. Youâve always been open in our
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