The Skies of Pern

PART 2-Disaster

(Throughout the Same Day)

Stepping out of the cothold, Sharra wrapped her cloak tightly around her. It was very cold, but the wind, which could cut like a knife down the broad avenue back to Ruatha Hold, had died out. She was tired from a long nursing, but relieved that the weaver would recover from his accident. She silently thanked Aivas once more for the medical information he had left. She had been able to repair the tendon in Fossil's hand-something she could not have done five Turns earlier-and to stitch shut the jagged wound. She could honestly tell him that he would have the use of his hand and be as skillful as ever in two months' time.

A light caught her eye. To the east! Startled, because it was automatic to be fearful of anything coming from the east, she saw shooting stars, long straight slashes in the dark sky. She stopped in her tracks. These were not like the Ghosts of Turnover, for all they'd been bright this year. Ghosts lasted a second or two. These were visibly longer, almost ribbons in the night sky. One bright spot seemed to linger, then exploded.

She blinked. This could not be the result of fatigue after a delicate surgery. Certainly not Thread! She told herself firmly. Thread isn't due to fall anywhere tomorrow, and Thread came down silver-gray, like rain, in daylight, not like a streak of fire at midnight.

She didn't realize she was running until she was halfway up Ruatha's broad causeway and could hear the fretful whine of the watchwher.

"Mickulin!" she called, remembering from the duty roster who was on guard that night.

"I'm not seeing things, am I, Lady Sharra?" Mickulin's hoarse whisper sounded scared as he leaned over the top of the smaller tower.

"If you're seeing long white streamers, you're seeing the same thing I am!" She raced up the stairs. "I'm calling Jaxom. Go rouse Brand. But it's not Thread, Mickulin, and it's not Turnover Ghosts either." Ruth! Ruth! Wake up.She felt the very reassuring presence of the white dragon-a sleepy one-in her mind. Wake Jaxom. Tell him to bring his binoculars. There's something he must see. Hurry! And it s cold.

Mickulin rushed past her to open the great Hold door just wide enough to slip through it on his way to wake Steward Brand. Sharra stood with her back to the door, facing east, hoping that this amazing display would continue long enough for Jaxom to see it.

There! Another long streamer, shading to a yellow tinge in the trail-the Ghosts never had colors-and another! A long drop and then nothing.

"What's the matter?" Jaxom hauled the door open, the sound echoed by the opening of a second door in the lower, inner courtyard as Ruth poked his head out of his quarters in the old kitchen. The white dragon's eyes began to whirl as he stared at the splashings in the sky. "Shards!" his rider cried, and lifted his binoculars to focus on the display. "What are they? What are they?"

"That isn't Thread," Jaxom said decisively, "and they're too bright for Ghosts-besides which, according to Wansor and Erragon, that cometary shower is long past us. And they seem to be coming from one place in the sky. I think. Hard to focus." He propped himself against the door frame and held his breath. "A little better. Here! Brace yourself before you look!" He handed the binoculars to her.

It took her a moment to alter the focus of double-eye; they were a relatively new acquisition, an instrument that Jancis had recently developed.

"Oh, they are beautiful! And they are radiating from one spot." She said the last in a fearful tone.

Jaxom pulled her toward him, moving oddly from one foot to another until she saw his feet were bare. "I said it was cold!" she exclaimed. "If you're not going to look, I will," he said, taking the binoculars she had lowered from her face. "Oh, Wansor and Erragon are going to want to know about this. How many sparks did you see?"

"I wasn't counting," she said tersely. She undid her scarf and put it down. "Stand on this. I'm not nursing you again."

Without looking down, Jaxom stepped onto the scarf. "Eight, nine, ten." He counted off another five rapidly, swinging round as he followed the path of whatever was burning so bright. "Possibly just another cometary tail."

"Has Thread ever fallen at night?" Sharra asked in a whisper.

Jaxom shrugged. "Too bad there's no way I can reach Tippel at Crom. He's nearly as dedicated a sky-watcher as Master Idarolan, and he's got binoculars, too. Maybe he did see it." Jaxom took another long look. "Think I'd better have Ruth bespeak D'ram's Tiroth. Cove Hold should be informed. It's early morning dawn there."

He was talking to Ruth when the door behind them opened and Brand came out. The steward saw the long streaks in the sky and stood as transfixed by the sight as everyone else. "How beautiful!" he said.

"Is, isn't it?" Mickulin said, looking up as five separate glowing spikes flared out at once. With a jaunty set to his shoulders, he moved past the three in the doorway and returned to his post.

"Yes, it is," Sharra agreed, by now overcoming her initial concern. She eased against Jaxom, who tightened his affectionate hold as he offered the binoculars to Brand.

"Did you note the time, Brand?"

"In passing, Jaxom," the steward said, his attention on the sky. "Whatever it is…"

"Meteors, I suspect, if I remember my astronomy lessons from Aivas," Jaxom said.

"They seem to be flying from east to west but-" Brand swiveled to follow another shower."-are they likely to strike the ground?"

"Probably burn up in the atmosphere," Jaxom said, almost regretfully.

Pretty,Ruth said from the courtyard. I have told Tiroth. He will tell D'ram, who is running around and very excited.

"Could be this is more widespread than it would seem," Jaxom said. "Brand, keep an eye on it, will you? I think I'll get dressed."

"You can't have been undressed," Sharra said somewhat caustically, because she could see his legs encased in the same trousers that he had worn all day.

"Not completely." He flicked his tunic away so she could see his bare chest. "I was waiting for you to get back. Were you able to repair Fossil's hand?"

"Thanks to Aivas, I was."

"I may go on to Landing, love," Jaxom said, "but you'd better get some sleep."

"And you can do without?" she asked reproachfully as he guided her into the main Hall.

"You know me. I'll rest when I find out what this is all about. If D'ram is running around at Cove Hold, then what we're seeing is more than pretty shooting stars."

H'nor and old brown Ranneth were on night duty on Telgar's Rim when the rider saw the tiny sparkles of light low on the horizon in the southeast. He blinked and turned away. Couldn't be the Red Star, he knew too well how that looked. Besides which, it couldn't bein the east: it had been nor-nor-west when it had been skewed out of its old orbit. It wouldn't be in a position to drop sharding Thread on Pern ever again. No way that sharding thing could bounce back east.

He took up the binoculars-now required watchrider equipment-and focused carefully on the sparkles. They were like a shower; could they be coming from one place before disappearing? That wasn't what the Turn's End Ghosts looked like: they were pale and strung out across the sky. Furthermore, the Ghosts were much farther north, nearer the ice regions. He had an uneasy feeling.

H'nor rose from his comfortable position on the upper arm of his brown Ranneth, eyeglass still focused on the brilliant showers. There was another long one. Definitely not Ghosts. Burned too long.

What is it?Ranneth demanded, coming out of his doze. A brown of many Turns, he slept when and where he could, but his rider's alarm was palpable. He turned his head in the direction H'nor faced and was equally startled, rearing back on his haunches. It is fire but what could stay alight so high above Pern?

H'nor gulped. I don't know.

Sometimes metal fell from the sky, large enough to cause damage. Like the big hole at Circle Runner Station.

Knowing that the Dawn Sisters had been the ships that had brought the Ancients to Pern had not been easy for H'nor to assimilate. Learning about Aivas had also been unsettling. He was too old for such complications. He wanted no flamingthings falling down before he and Ranneth could retire to a warm and comfortable weyr on the Southern continent.

As watchrider, he did have a duty to sound an alarm for any unusual occurrence and this ranked in that category.

Tell Willerth,H'nor told Ranneth. The old brown rider was glad that the Weyrleadership of Telgar had changed recently, to a younger bronze rider, J'fery. Old R'mart had become quite difficult before he'd gone to the Southern Weyr for less onerous duties. Bedella and her queen, who hadn't risen to mate in three Turns, had gone with him. Tell Ramoth while you're at it. Benden's supposed to know.

I will also tell Tiroth at Cove Hold.

Yes, yes, tell them, too. They should know all about such things.

The watchdragon reared back on his haunches and bugled a warning, as bright sparks appeared almost directly overhead in the sky.

Since it was nearly dawn in Benden, a good number of weyrfolk already breakfasting in the Lower Cavern were startled by the bugled alert. It coincided with Ramoth giving Lessa Willerth's message from Telgar, so Lessa was on her feet, grabbing at F'lar's tunic to drag him with her. Everyone else present scrambled to the Bowl after the Weyrleaders to see what was happening.

"Those aren't Ghosts," Lessa cried, coming to a stop so abruptly that F'lar had to sidestep. She could see what had alarmed the watchdragon: long flaring ribbons in the sky, almost directly above Benden. One large burst startled everyone, as if some smaller piece had broken off the bigger ball.

"No, they aren't!" F'lar agreed, gazing up, his hands on his weyrmate's arms, rubbing them to warm her.

Willerth didn't say they were,Ramoth reminded her rider.

Then she added, surprised, Ruth says there is something above Ruatha that Jaxom doesn't think are Ghosts either.

By now every dragon in the Weyr was peering up at the manifestation, their eyes beginning to whirl with agitation, creating the effect of rings of vivid color around Benden's inner walls. F'nor and F'lessan joined their Weyrleaders, peering up at the phenomenon just as more flares burst from it.

"All the shooting arrows"-Lessa gestured with her hands-"seem to come from the same source."

"I'd like to know whatsource," F'lessan said, scrubbing at his thick hair, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

"You're the one who studied astronomy," F'lar remarked, turning his head slightly toward his son but not taking his eyes off the sprays of brilliant lights.

"Not something like that," F'lessan said. "Though it could be a meteor coming through the atmosphere. We do get them."

"Yes, Circle Runner Station never lets us forget!" F'nor murmured wryly.

"Do we have to worry about it falling on us?" Brekke asked, curling her hand over F'nor's arm.

"Shouldn't it be moving?" Lessa said, becoming a little nervous. "It seems to be hanging right over us."

"I'd say that's an illusion," F'lessan replied, trying to sound reassuring. He caught F'lar's cocked eyebrow and shrugged. "It'll probably disappear in a few moments. Though the Ghosts usually travel from west to east. Noticeably."

"They're also paler," Lessa said. "This one is getting brighter!" She shivered.

F'lar dropped his arms across her to provide more warmth in the wintry early morning light.

It is very high above us,Ramoth said, and itis getting brighter.She blinked the first protective lid across her eyes.

I agree. The winter Ghosts are higher still,bronze Mnementh added.

"Would the Yokosee it, do you think?" Lessa asked. "Or is it too far north for the sensors?"

Tiroth says that he takes four to Landing to see,Ramoth said, sounding surprised.

Lessa echoed that surprise when she repeated the message to the other riders grouped around her. "Well, Master Wansor certainly should be there, and that journeyman of his-what's his name?"

"Erragon," F'lessan said.

"Erragon, to see what the Yokoreports," Lessa finished.

"I'll go, too, for Benden's sake," F'lessan offered gallantly. "Sellie-" He caught the arm of his second son, Sellessan-technically he should call him S'lan, as the boy'd Impressed a brown two Turns ago-who had sneaked out to see what was causing the commotion. The boy was as curious as F'lessan had been as a youngster. "Run get my flying gear. First table on the left." The boy raced to obey.

"Erragon has that big telescope," F'nor said.

"He'd've been off watch at dawn," F'lessan said with a grimace. "Two hours ago at least."

"Wouldn't he have seen such a phenomenon?" Lessa asked, gesturing overhead. Just as it seemed the splashings were gone, a fresh burst exploded into the predawn sky. "It just couldn't appear out of nowhere, could it?"

"There have been reports of other such things," F'nor said, dismissively enough to reassure Brekke, who was shivering beside him. "Let's go back inside."

"It'll go away because it isn't being watched?" Brekke asked, regarding him with an affectionate smile, but she went with him.

"Well, I'll find out what Yokothinks it is," F'lessan said. Summoning Golanth from his ledge, he didn't take his eyes off the long ribbons in the sky as he shrugged into the riding gear S'lan had brought him and crammed on his helmet. "Thanks, son."

"It's not going to fall on the Weyr," S'lan asked, gulping nervously, "is it?"

"Mnementh says not." F'lar gave his grandson a reassuring look. "Go finish your breakfast, young S'lan."

Obediently the brown rider moved away.

"I'd like to see what Yokoreports, F'lar," F'lessan murmured. "It may just be skimming the atmosphere, which is what's causing all the bright trails."

"But you're not sure," Lessa said, craning her head around to look at her tall son's face.

"No, but there's a great deal about that I don't know," he admitted with one of his ingenuous smiles.

"I thought you were using those fancy new binoculars you got from Jancis," she said.

"So I am, Lessa, so I am," he agreed as Golanth dropped elegantly to the floor of the Bowl just beyond the riders, "but they're at Honshu! So we'll go to Landing, where I can learn what this is all about." With an agile leap, he vaulted to the back of his bronze.

Lessa blinked. "Oh! Talina's Arwith says that T'gellan is going to Landing, too."

"I'm away. Golanth will inform Ramoth!" He raised his hand in farewell and the big bronze ran a few steps to launch himself and abruptly disappeared.

"You must have a word with him," Lessa said under her breath to her weyrmate, scowling.

"Why?"

"He shouldn't take off that quickly and scarcely a wing's span above the ground. He's setting a bad example for young riders."

F'lar grinned, surreptitiously looking around. "No young riders nearby and it's still too dark for him to have been seen."

Lessa glared up at him. "I doubt he checked. For all we know, S'lan may have seen. You know how he tries to be like his father."

"Let's finish our breakfast. Now, while we've a chance."

"With that thing still glowering overhead?"

"Why not? We've seen the displays. If it starts to drop on us, we're safer in the Lower Cavern than out here. And it's cold."

With that, Lessa agreed and, with one last look at yet another trio of bright flarings, she huddled close against his warmth on their way back inside.

Drum messages from Telgar Hold had roused Sebell. Beside him, Menolly groaned.

"Now what?"

" 'Shooting stars, unexpected, confirm.' Confirm what?" Sebell said, hauling his heavy robe from the chair.

"At this hour? Couldn't it wait until morning?" Menolly complained sleepily.

"Probably," Sebell replied, tying the belt tightly to keep out the cold. "But Larad's not generally nervous." He went to the window of their bedroom. He couldn't see anything in the east, as the cliffs around Fort Hold occluded his view. He did see a light come on up at the Hold.

Groghe! He said the name to himself. The old Lord did not sleep well at night, so he'd hear any drum message and want a full report. Sebell sighed.

"Go back to sleep, Menolly," he said softly and watched her, with the deep and abiding affection he had for his extraordinarily talented mate, as she cuddled into the warm spot he had just left. He picked up the hand light, found his fleece-lined house shoes, and made his way through their apartment, down the stairs. Ronchin, who was on duty in the Hall, was turning on more lights. He pointed out the window and Sebell saw a figure running down the steps of the Hold, toward the short tunnel that linked the Hold with the Hall. Haligon, probably, Groghe's usual messenger. He was not particularly surprised to see a dragon settle in the big forecourt of the Harper Hall. He gestured for Ronchin to throw up the bar on the heavy door and open one leaf for their visitors.

"Ruth and Jaxom called me to Ruatha," N'ton said urgently. "There's a meteor or a comet in the east, showering stuff. Had a look at it through those binoculars of Jaxom's. It isn't a late Ghost and, for all it's in the east, it most certainly is not a return of the Red Star."

"Red Star?" Haligon, just entering the Hall, repeated that with scornful incredulity. "Couldn't be. Father thinks the Abominators are up to something."

"Not this," N'ton said, shaking his head. "I spoke with Sharra, as Jaxom and Ruth had gone straight to Landing. There are reports of seeing these shooting flares from Telgar, Benden, Cove, and Landing. There'll be more messages in, Sebell, so I thought you ought to be aware."

"Then what is it?" Haligon asked, straightening hurriedly donned clothes and trying to look more alert than cold and sleepy.

"That's what we'll have to find out," Sebell said. He motioned them to go into his office. "Bring us some klah, Ronchin, will you? I'm sure the Harper Hall will be the first to know what's going to keep us up all night." He stirred up the fire and threw more black stone on it.

"It has nothing to do with Abominators, does it?" Haligon asked. "I told Father it couldn't have."

"How?" N'ton asked with some exasperation. Lord Groghe had been seeing Abominators in anything unusual. He strode to the big map of Pern hanging on the wall and pointed as he explained. "Watchrider at Telgar saw it and at the same time it appeared to be directly overhead at Benden, visible from Cove Hold and Landing. That would make it very high up, probably above the atmosphere. I doubt even Aivas could have rigged such a display over such an immense distance. So tell Lord Groghe to discard any notion of an Abominator scheme. Ramoth said Golanth and F'lessan have gone to Landing. They'll report directly to her. We'll know as soon as she does."

Haligon's face was thoughtful, obviously trying to figure out what to say to allay his father's alarm when Menolly, well wrapped in a robe, arrived with a tray of steaming cups of klah.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Sebell said.

"You didn't but Haligon's boots did," and she gave the Holder a mock-angry scowl as she passed cups around.

"You're very good to Lord Groghe, you know," she added in quiet approval.

"Then it has to have come from beyond Pern," Sebell said. "Abominators cannot have contrived that."

"Whatever it is," Menolly said cheerfully, handing Haligon his cup of klah, "the Abominators will be sure that somehow Aivas arranged it Turns ago."

"How?"demanded the three men in chorus.

She shrugged. "Or maybe the Red Star is on its way back? You know how many people feel that we should never have tampered with it in the first place."

Fairs of fire-lizards blanketed the air above Landing as F'lessan arrived. They were volatile at any time, and, on this morning, were exceedingly raucous and flying in intricate acrobatic displays, screaming in cacophonous descants. Their antics did not, however, obscure the next burst from the object in the sky. It amazed F'lessan that the phenomenon of a fireball, which could seem directly above Benden, could be visible in almost the same position here at Landing. It was brighter, which meant, he thought, that it was very bright indeed to be seen in daylight over Landing. And casting odd shadows, coming from the west, which was eerier. He hoped that Yokowould have noted the increase in its magnitude. Could it be a comet, swooping down so close to Pern? Hopefully, he thought, on a hyperbolic orbit that would give everyone a beautiful display, a bad fright, and then disappear, still shedding part of its mass. Unusual! Most unusual! Exhilarating, too, in a scary way!

He saw more dragons emerge from betweenand recognized Monarth, with green Path on his right. So Monaco Bay was curious, too. A host more of dragons appeared. These were occluding his view of the fireball, clearly visible on the northeastern horizon. He shouldn't waste any time getting to the Interface office and Yoko'sscreens. He wondered how long the old ship's telemetry had been monitoring it. This would be much more interesting than astronomy accounts of things that had happened a long time in the past.

Put me down, Golly.

There're too many people.Golanth said, backwinging strongly as he was unable to find enough space in the dense swarm of people in front of Admin, nervous fire-lizards dipping and flitting above them.

They'll move.F'lessan hadto see the thing, the fireball, whatever it was, land.

They've nowhere to move to,Golanth told him.

Cursing under his breath, F'lessan examined the mass of heads and bodies, the ring of guards around the door preventing entry. It would take time to push through that crowd and he was boiling with eagerness to see Yoko'stelemetry reports.

Land on the roof,he told his dragon.

But I'm heavy.

Just get me close enough to drop on it.F'lessan swung his right leg over the last neck ridge, slightly swaying with Golanth's maneuvering to get directly over the roof. Golanth raised his foreleg. This was an exercise rider and dragon had perfected in drill for use when the dragon couldn't land and the rider had to reach the ground. F'lessan smoothly dropped to the sturdy forearm, his feet dangling in the air as he let his hands slide down to Golanth's paw, hanging on to the talons. Right over the entrance,F'lessan added. I'll just drop to the ground. Someone'll break my fall.

His right foot connected with something solid. He dropped to all fours on the roof, sliding down backward until his feet caught on the drain. Slipped on that and slithered until his knees lodged briefly in the rain gully.

"Drop, dragonrider," someone below him shouted. "We'll catch you."

Hands tugged at the toes of his boot. He went limp, committed to the downward fall. Instantly his ankles were caught, then hands fastened on his knees, letting him down, supporting his thighs. In the next moment he was on his feet, being congratulated and enthusiastically thumped for the success of his daring stunt.

Made it,he said somewhat smugly to Golanth who was hovering above.

"Thanks! Thanks, thanks!" he said, skewing around to those behind him and then turned to the door. "Benden Weyr's orders," he said to the two guards who were preventing anyone from entering. The crowd behind was bombarding him with a babble of questions. "I'm F'lessan. Lemme in," he shouted above the tumult.

They did, immediately resuming their defensive postures. F'lessan strode forward, wondering how much time that stunt had taken, opening his jacket and peeling the helmet off. She's here,Golanth said. Which she?F'lessan's tone was amused. Both of them. She studies stars, you know,Golanth added. She's shared night watches at Cove Hold.

Then please inform Zaranth that F'lessan requires her rider's assistance in the Interface office.

F'lessan turned back to the door guards. "The Monaco Weyrleader's on his way in." He had to shout to be heard above the babble outside. "See that green rider Tai comes in, too, as quickly as possible." Then to all the others shouting questions, he smiled and waved, saying "We'll sort it all out and report to you shortly."

Monarth said he saw how you got in, F'lessan,and Golanth rumbled with amusement. They'II try it.

Maybe Mirrim will break a leg,F'lessan muttered, feeling uncharitable toward her. As he continued, he nodded in a blithe, unconcerned manner to a knot of anxious men and women at the other end of the reception area and hurried down the right-hand hall to the YokohamaInterface offices.

At the end of that hall, the door to the Aivas chamber was open. He felt the usual grab at his throat when he saw the blank screen that had once given humans access to the most amazing intelligence on Pern. He swallowed the lump and turned left into the room where, seven Turns ago, he had learned how to build a computer.

There had been significant additions to the original office, of course, to deal with all the data sent down from the Yokohama,the one remaining colony ship. Ordinarily the office was pleasantly busy, people at the four banks of workstations that were arranged back-to-back in the center of the large room. Now an odd anticipatory silence dominated the room as all eyes were trained on the wall monitor, which F'lessan couldn't see from the door.

"You can't come-" began the burly door guard, whom F'lessan recognized as Tunge, one of the regular men. He skipped aside and explained with soft intensity. "Sorry, bronze rider, but everyone and his fire-lizard's been trying to get in here since that thing in the sky was spotted." Tunge was impressed, and scared.

F'lessan made a quick survey of those in the room; where was Wansor? Surely Lytol and D'ram had got him here so the phenomenon could be described to him?

"Master Wansor?" he murmured to Tunge.

"Oh, him." With a quick grin, Tunge jerked his head back down the corridor. "Him 'n' Lord Lytol 'n' bronze rider D'ram are in the conference room. There's a big screen there, too, you know, so they could tell him what information's being processed."

Directly across the room, one of the smaller monitors was blinking the legend PHO. F'lessan shook his head, trying to remember what the initials stood for-possibly hazardous object? Why had he assumed that the bright light was a comet? Below the title "Encounter Analysis" were eight columns, headed ESTIMATED TIME TO PERIGEE, DISTANCE, VELOCITY, PROBABILITY, ATMOSPHERE BREAKUP, IMPACT ERROR, LATITUDE, AND LONGITUDE. These were showing numbers that altered rapidly, either decreasing or, in the case of longitude, increasing. As F'lessan watched, the Estimated Time to Perigee ticked over to 5800.

That display gave him another frisson of apprehension. When had that clock started ticking down? He'd come as fast as he could without timing it. But then, he hadn't anticipated that this could be a real crisis.

He inched carefully along the wall, moving people who were almost unaware of being manipulated, so intent were they upon the monitor's reports. He recognized several as off-duty technicians. Being tall, he eased into a spot in the corner and still had a clear view of the monitor. In front of him, Stinar, the duty officer, was standing with the barrel-chested man of medium height, dark-haired, with a handsome hooked nose, whom F'lessan recognized as Erragon, Wansor's assistant. Shouldn't he have been in the conference room? F'lessan chided himself. Lytol and D'ram could explain adequately to Wansor but Erragon was needed in here, interpreting the Yoko'stelemetry. When this was over, he'd undoubtedly report to Master Wansor the more technical details of this unusual occurrence. The two were intent on the visual transmitted to Landing by Yoko.

At maximum magnification, Yokoshowed a small image of the nucleus, embedded in clouds of dust. Yokoadded another window, attempting to trace it back to its original orbit. Details came up as:

Semi-Major Axis = 33.712. Period= 195.734 Eccentricity= 0.971 Perihelion = 0.95 3 AU Inclination = 103.95 degrees.

But F'lessan, knowing all these figures would be available later, concentrated on the comet, now resolving jets and debris. Yes, it must be a comet. That would explain its slowing with respect to the stars. Outgassing can push a comet about, making an estimate of its orbit even harder. Furthermore, with the long axis running from the northwest to the southeast, who could tell? It may skid across our atmosphere and disappear south, thought F'lessan hopefully.

Yet another working window opened, labeled searching. Images of what F'lessan knew to be Pernese space flashed past, the streaking orbits of some of the minor planets against the background of northern hemisphere stars.

"What's all that about?" Stinar asked Erragon who was blinking at the rapidly altering display.

"I'd hazard the guess that it's searching for any old images of the comet. It is possible, you know," Erragon went on, frowning at the speed of the search pattern, "that the comet originated in the Oort cloud." His grin was forced. "It might even have been seen by our Ancestors."

"Really?"

Erragon sighed, flicking his attention to some of the other sidebars. "We have a lot of material to review, you know. Just for our home system. Ah, yes," and he pointed back to the search. "The material we're seeing was released from the comet two to three weeks ago. Here we go," he added, intent on the newest sidebar readings.

Encounter Analysis Estimated Perigee in 1800 seconds Projected Perigee Distance 16km, error± 296km Encounter Velocity 58.48kmsec ± 0.18km/sec Probability of Impact 48.9%

Probability of Atmospheric Breakup (Airburst) 1.3% Impact Error Ellipse 3698 times 592km Location and Orientation of Ellipse 9° north, 18° east, Major Axis bearing 130°

At that point, Erragon visibly tensed, leaning slightly forward on the balls of his feet in an attitude that confirmed F'lessan's bad feelings about the alteration in probability of impact. He wasn't certain that the error ellipse of impact was reassuring. Unless the comet suddenly pulled itself up in an escape parabola. Estimate to Perigee decreasing: 1500 seconds, or 25 minutes, F'lessan told himself. He also didn't like standing around, watching, in a room full of people who didn't seem to realize what could happen. The tension was palpable but everyone was so focused on the screen, too scared to ask questions or to break into the concentration of Stinar or Erragon.

New figures at 1200 seconds, from the Yoko'ssynchronic orbit over Pern, gave coordinates of Range 71377km, Yokolatitude 45.IN, Yokolongitude 118.4m. The magnitude was -5, which was bright enough and getting brighter and the fireball was suddenly moving a degree every minute. He stepped right beside Stinar and Erragon.

"Where will it impact?" F'lessan murmured for their ears only.

"We still don't know that it will," Stinar said softly, restlessly shifting his feet, turning his head sideways so that his words just reached F'lessan.

"There's a three-hundred-kilometer range error," Erragon said as if that was significant.

"Where?" Stinar demanded.

"Right now, the range extends along the farther Eastern Island Ring."

"On the islands themselves, or in the sea?"

Stinar took the hand-control unit from his pocket and punched in a command. The monitor opened a small window in the right corner, while the Probability Impact percentage rose steadily into the 50's and the error ellipse-that narrow band along the far islands to which the fireball was inexorably aimed-got smaller. The new window showed the Eastern Sea as it must be seen from Yoko,and the scattered islands of both Eastern Rings. A wide band was superimposed over the upper islands.

"Looks more like the islands," Stinar said with a little shrug.

F'lessan knew that the islands were uninhabited, too far out in the Eastern Ring Sea to be attractive for anyone, even Tone, to hold; except whichever island currently housed the Abominator exiles-and no one but N'ton knew where that was.

"I don't like that," Erragon said, stiffening.

"Why?"

"Those islands are all volcanic. An impact on them might trigger eruptions all along that chain," he said, pointing.

"Then we'll just hope it falls in the sea," Stinar said with a slightly nervous laugh.

"That will produce other hazards," Erragon said solemnly.

F'lessan caught his breath. He'd seen volcanoes erupt; the one Piemur had discovered off the westernmost tip of Southern Hold blew up periodically, sending clouds of gray ash to blot the sun and stifle even the rich tropical vegetation. The one in the near Eastern Ring, which the Ancients had called Young Mountain, liked to send immense boulders skyward and great lava flows down its side, spinning burning chunks onto its neighbors. The islands that the comet was heading for were much larger and he shuddered at the thought of all of them becoming active. They would cause tidal waves, which could have a disastrous effect on coastal areas-like Monaco.

"It could still justgraze," Erragon murmured to Stinar, in a tone that gave F'lessan no confidence in that possibility at all.

He glanced up at the legend, numbers whirring into new configurations all the time, as Yokotelemetry updated them.

"It's only got a few minutes to change course," F'lessan said.

Erragon glanced at him, blinking, as if he'd forgotten the bronze rider's presence. "Did you know your Weyrleaders are in the conference room with Master Wansor?"

Lessa and F'lar were also here? When-and why-had they arrived? Obscurely he was glad they had, especially the way this event was proceeding.

"No, but I'd rather be in here and know the worst," F'lessan said, watching Erragon's shoulders twitch in startled reaction to the last word. "Where will it hit us?"

"We don't know yet," but F'lessan saw Erragon's eye flick to the Impact Probability, which flickered onto 60 percent.

All three men caught their breath as the percentage jumped in a matter of seconds to 100 percent.

"That's still a consequence of the grazing impact,"

Erragon said but F'lessan didn't think he believed that. "The ellipse is shrinking. Can you adjust Yoko'svisuals?"

On the map in the right-hand corner, the figures flickered in latitude and longitude, following the last downward plunge of the comet. Filling that screen at maximum magnification, the tuberlike shape of the comet nucleus showed geysers and jets blowing into space; chunks breaking off, floating slowly away. F'lessan was amazed since he knew the speed at which the comet was traveling and that eerie, almost dignified, breakup of its parts was like a Gather dance.

"It's going to miss…" Stinar whispered, unconsciously pushing both hands in a deflecting motion.

"Just a few more degrees…" Erragon, too, was taut as if, by exerting sufficient willpower, he could shift the plummeting fireball south and east.

"It's got to be far enough away…" F'lessan was adding his tension in an unconscious effort to affect a descent that no effort could now alter.

F'lessan found himself squinting at the sudden brightness of the picture-the brightness of sunlit sea or the comet. The magnitude of its dust trail now registered an eye-blinding intensity of -9!

A new message imposed itself prominently: 120 seconds to perigee–705 seconds to impact.

The monitor altered abruptly, darkening, and F'lessan saw the line on the sidebar that indicated Yokowas displaying a constructed image, made up of the optical, infrared, microwave, and other print capabilities that Erragon had once tried to describe to F'lessan. The nucleus of the comet looked suddenly darker but the reduction of the glare relieved his eyes. Ominously the message now read 60 seconds to atmosphere.

Another read 20 seconds to impact, Angle 12°: magnitude of dust trail -9.

People splayed fingers in front of their eyes. The glare-reduced optical version saved them from the splintering whiteness that erupted, which the monitor hastily continued to reduce. A screen flicked to a new image-identified as "synthetic radar"-as Yokoattempted to see through the clouds.

Twenty seconds couldn't have elapsed, F'lessan thought and then realized that Yokowas slightly behind in its reporting. Where had it impacted? The island chain or the sea?

No one spoke. All seemed to be holding their breath. The silence was broken by printers churning out reams of hard copy that fell unnoticed into baskets or spilled to the floor. As the comet was spilling its substance onto the sea? Flaming molten debris down on the nearest Ring islands?

Even the image on the screen seemed to recoil from the incredible brightness. Squinting through his fingers, F'lessan saw the radar image showing the surface topography-and a series of rings on the ocean. Waves traveled outward from the impact point, immediately followed by a much higher fountain of water as the sea fell back into the impact crater. Then he had the distinct impression of a wall moving out with astonishing speed and saw a column of red-brown steam spreading down to the sea, with black bits whirling up and out, and then vast billows rushing out from it across the sea.

Still the silence in the Interface office was broken only by machines doing what they were programmed to do: disgorge columns of figures. The human observers struggled to absorb what they had just seen, were still witnessing as retinal afterimages: the creation of a storm of staggering proportions, blossoming up and outward. Steam, gas vapor, and whatever the head of the fireball had been composed of were part of the storm. The fireball had extinguished itself and then hit the sea, F'lessan repeated, making his mind believe what his eyes had seen: it made a hole that made a wave, which fell back, and sent up a fountain of water. Abruptly the data on the screen changed.

Impactor Summary

Probable cometary origin

Impact velocity 58.51 km/sec

Dimensions 597 times 361 times 452 meter ellipsoid

Volume 51 million cubic meters

Average Density 0.33 (+-0.11)

Total Mass 17 million tons

Derived Impact Energy 29.7 Exajoules

Explosive Equivalent 7.4 gigatons

8° northern latitude, 12° east longitude.

"It came down in the sea!" Stinar's sigh of relief held a triumphant note.

Ramoth saw this, too,Golanth told his rider in a muted tone. That's when F'lessan recalled that Erragon had said that the Benden Weyrleaders and Wansor had been watching this on the conference room screen.

They weren't all that lucky, after all, that the comet had missed the volcanic islands. A huge mass like that hitting open sea would cause a great deal of trouble. There'd be a shock wave, wouldn't there? In how many more minutes? How much damage would that cause? Was Landing far enough away? Monaco Bay was at sea level. It'd be flooded to the hills and they were a long way up the sloping beachfront.

He tried to calm these thoughts, to resurrect the necessary information from lessons long past. He started to recall sentences, paragraphs, and irrelevant details.

A cold fear in his guts increasing with every second, F'lessan peered at the screen as the cloud boiled, red-brown, to occlude what was actually happening. They ought to knowwhat was happening at sea level, the bronze rider thought; there was something-. Everyone in the office had now recovered their wits and their tongues. If everyone around him would only stop babbling excitedly about this spectacular event, he could think. Where was Tai? She might know. She should be here. So should T'gellan. The coast of the southern continent was not going to escape the effects of something so big dropping at that speed!

Suddenly the view on the screen altered, not only dropping the infrared screen but also presenting a new perspective, well back from the impact site. A discernible wave, a darkness of water, was moving outward, just faster than the flat-topped clouds boiling up and out. More data was being presented in margins. F'lessan blinked, unable to decipher the critical messages given.

F'lessan kept his eyes on the screen. The Yokoadjusted its viewpoint by pulling back at speed, back beyond the hump of one of the big rainforest islands just north of the impact point. It was burning! Burning? Oh, yes, memory informed F'lessan, the thermal flare of the comet would cause flash fires with the heat of its passing.

"We're very, very lucky," someone muttered. "It didn't hit any landmass."

"No, we're not lucky," F'lessan said savagely, watching the dark watery circle expand. "That island's on fire!" Then he pointed to the map in the right-hand corner. "The one due south will be burning, too. And look at that gap between them! There'll be sea pouring through that gap, circling out, spreading, and coming straight down to the southern coastline in a wall of water…" He paused, uncertainly, trying to recall the specific term.

"Tsunami!"

Tai's soft shocked voice behind him in the silence of the Interface office gave F'lessan the word he had been trying to remember. She stood with T'gellan and Mirrim against the wall. He hadn't even seen them arrive. She stared with awed fear and fascination at what the monitor depicted.

The distant cloud expanded sideways and skyward, and the surface of sea was reacting in its depths and sending ominous black undulations out in all directions. And something swirled up and over the rainforest island. Then the view retreated to show a new aspect; the island had been subsumed! And a thick line of debris: the lush huge trees, some thirty meters tall, were now just sea wrack, bobbing until finally they would be tossed upon beaches as jetsam. The dark circle continued to spread outward, westward. East, too, F'lessan now realized, though the cloud obscured that fact. He checked with the radar screen and yes, the rings were heading east and south, right at unprotected lowlands, possibly as far as the Hook Islands, and certainly speeding right toward the lovely little bays that dotted the Monaco coast, and Monaco Bay itself, the Harbor, the busy boatyard with sheds, pier, and cotholds. And Cove Hold? Would the Kahrain Cape protect it?

"That's what a tsunami does to what's in its way," F'lessan said, pointing to the wreckage, the shocking disappearance of two substantial islands. A shaft of cold, deep fear engulfed his bones. He urgently signaled Tai to join him.

"Tsunami?" Mirrim echoed in a surprise tinged with denial, fear, and resentment. She lifted her hand to stop Tai but F'lessan scowled at her as he waved the green rider to his side.

"I thought tsunami occurred with sea or earthquakes," T'gellan said, stunned.

"Tsunami can also occur when something very hot and heavy falls out of the sky," Erragon said in the tone of someone who wishes he did not have to announce such news. "And a comet just did!" He pointed to the grim Impactor Summary figures.

F'lessan shook his head, unable to deal with such incredible quantities as a mass of 17 million tons and a derived impact energy of 29.7 exajoules. Now thatwas a typically esoteric Aivas word. He was almost relieved to see Erragon and Stinar were also struggling to put such terms into Pernese contexts.

"What does all that mean?" Mirrim asked, her tanned skin pale. In all the Turns he had known her, F'lessan had never seen this confident woman so scared.

Erragon swiveled on his heel, giving her such a piercing look that she recoiled slightly against T'gellan. He gave his head a final shake, took a deep breath, and regarded the Monaco Weyrleader.

"I don't know how big the tsunami will be. That depends on the shoreline and what might deflect or diffract it, but Monaco-" He pointed to the map still up in the right-hand corner of the big screen. "-will be inundated, flooded." He gestured with his fingers, west, north, and east. "The force of the impact will send the tsunami in every direction." He shook his head again as much in denial as emphasis. Then he took F'lessan by the sleeve with one hand as he reached out for T'gellan with the other, giving the Weyrleader's shoulder a resolute shake, his expression filled with compassion. "You must evacuate the coastal holds to the hills, to high ground. The harbor, too!" He put a hand to his forehead, obviously marshalling his thoughts. "Stinar, are there maps of the coastlines we can access?"

"There are," said a gruff new voice, rising above the stutter of printers and the low anxious murmuring of frightened people in the office, "and I have them." Master Idarolan stood in the doorway.

Mirrim wasn't the only one to stare blankly at him. F'lessan felt a sense of relief. They'd need the retired Master-fishman more right now than at any time in his resourceful life. Fleetingly he realized that the captain had probably been taking his usual morning weather scan: the deck of his hold in Nerat was above the sea, facing east, and he might well have seen the comet. If it had been visible at Benden Weyr, it had probably been visible to anyone looking in the right direction. Master Idarolan could have seen it from Nerat's Ankle.

"But how…" F'lessan stammered.

"The Weyrleaders required my presence," and Idarolan winked at F'lessan before turning to T'gellan. "You've a lot to do, Weyrleader, and we won't stand in your way. You, bronze riders-." He paused significantly. "You will need to make good time"and he stressed that word, "to get all accomplished or so the Benden Weyrleaders inform me and you!" He made a sweeping gesture for the dragonriders to make their exits. As they started to move, he added, "Warn Portmaster Zewe to ring the Dolphin Bell and get any ships in harbor out to sea. It won't be as dangerous offshore."

They were out the floor by then, hearing his gruff voice saying, "And 1 need your best mathematician and the use of a computer that isn't talking to the Yokohama!"

"Does that mean we're to time it?" Mirrim asked T'gellan in a hushed tone as soon as they were past Tunge, who had not recovered from the multiple shocks.

"What else?" F'lessan asked, right behind her, hauling Tai along beside him.

"How else could we do what is to be done?" T'gellan added as he dragged his weyrmate into a near run. "Yes, Ramoth just confirmed it to Monarth."

"But what do we do first?" Mirrim demanded in a scared voice.

"Monarth's bespeaking Talina's Arwith. I've told her to take four wings at once to Monaco Bay, to warn Portmaster Zewe and to start moving people to safety."

"The dolphins will be safe?" Tai asked.

Mirrim shot her a furious look. "We have to think about the Weyr. It's spread out all over!" Despair made her flush. "So many people."

"The dolphins will know what to do," F'lessan said, taking a firmer grip on Tai's arm, hurrying her along. "If we can time it," and he couldn't resist grinning at the permission, "we will makethe time we need."

"But our Weyr's no more than fifty meters from the sea," and Mirrim's voice rose with anxiety, her face pale under her tan. "On low-lying ground."

"Weyrfolk are a lot better at taking orders than holders or crafters," Tai said, for once the one to reassure.

"And all those seaholders?" Mirrim gasped at the enormity of the task ahead of them.

"I've maps in my office of every holding that looks to Monaco," T'gellan said as they strode, ever faster under the impetus of their anxieties, toward the back door. The guards at the front entrance were now shouting that there was an emergency: specialists to stand right, other volunteers muster to the left. Landing itself was completely safe here in the foothills. Except from the shock wave. When would that be hitting them? "We'll warn them all."

"How long ago did you leave?" F'lessan asked as T'gellan straight-armed the door open, holding it for the others to exit. "We can go back as soon as you've left. Get a bit of a head start."

"I don't know," T'gellan said, startled. "When we finally made it into the office, Time Remaining stood at 4870.1 remember that!"

"An hour and a half ago? As well as the time we wasted talking," F'lessan said. Had so little time elapsed? And yet it had seemed so long-watching the stunning visuals as mere curiosity in a bright point in Benden's morning sky turned into a planetary disaster at midday in Landing.

Ramoth says only bronze riders are to manage the timings,Golanth said, his tone awed.

T'gellan gave a sharp bark of laughter, glancing over his shoulder at the Benden Wingleader. "So which of us has more experience timing?"

"Not a point to argue," F'lessan said. "Let's do it. All we need are our dragons."

There wasn't enough room for four dragons, even if two were green, to land on the area outside the rear door, and the guard was goggle-eyed at the flurry of so many wings.

Next avenue over,F'lessan told his bronze. Tell Zaranth."This way, Tai, between the buildings. Meetcha there!" He raised his voice so T'gellan would hear over the noise of Monarth's descent. Path crammed herself against one wall to drop as close as she could to Mirrim. He glanced at his watch before he drove his fist into the sleeve of his flying jacket. "Golanth! See the comet as we saw it coming in to land."

F'lessan and Tai ran through the space between buildings that had become classrooms for the many youngsters studying at Landing. Golanth was in the act of putting his feet down when F'lessan leaped to his forearm and vaulted astride. As the bronze immediately began to ascend, F'lessan caught sight of Tai astride Zaranth's back.

Golanth, tell Zaranth to take her coordinates from you,F'lessan said, not even bothering to close his flying jacket or jam his helmet on his head. Maybe the seconds betweenwould cool him down from the heat that he hadn't even noticed in the Interface office. He concentrated on timing it and Golanth took them between.

Once again Landing had become a command center, Lessa thought. Though she could wish it otherwise, she would be happier, as well as more useful, here than at Benden Weyr. It had been Ruth's query to her through Ramoth that made her wonder if perhaps that bright spark in the sky, still hanging overhead at Benden, was dangerous. Tiroth had already brought Wansor, Lytol, and D'ram to Landing. Maybe the Benden Weyrleaders should join them, if only to see what the old Star Master had to say about this intruder. Stinar was quite willing to turn on the screen in the conference room so that Lytol and D'ram could describe what was happening to Wansor. He could still distinguish light from dark but no details. Despite his blindness, he had cultivated an uncanny ability to locate other people in the same room with him, sometimes calling them by name when they came near.

His round face with its opaque eyes had lit up with an extraordinary smile when Lessa and F'lar entered. "Lessa!"

"How did you know?" Lessa asked, swiftly moving to take both his hands in hers. She had half a mind to give him a kiss for his unqualified welcome.

"My dear Lessa, wherever you go there is a vibrancy that is unmistakable. And then," he chuckled, "you wear a fragrance that is unique." He held out his right hand toward F'lar and returned the strong grip.

Craggy-faced Lytol and D'ram, whose weathered skin was nearly the color of his bronze's hide, had risen at their entry and now Lytol was holding a chair for her, one facing the screen with its view of what the Yokowas seeing.

"Is all this serious?" Lessa asked, taking the seat and noting a bewildering amount of information scrolling down one side of the monitor. The fireball that had seemed almost directly overhead was now coming straight at them, even from Yoko'saltitude above the surface.

"It could be." Wansor said. "Erragon is watching with Stinar-and, of course, we now have you here." He smiled. "Do go on, Lytol. Any new information on that error ellipse?"

"Some of this will be very technical, Lessa," Lytol said courteously, reseating himself before he leaned close to Wansor to describe the scene and recite the numbers that were flowing down the side of the monitor.

Beside her, F'lar gave it his attention, though he, too, she noticed, scowled subtly; the complicated astronomical data was beyond him. Someone brought in a tray of klah and meatrolls and, eyeing the screen warily, departed as quickly as possible. There was a degree of fear in the girl's manner that troubled Lessa. She was accustomed to listening to her instincts. As she served D'ram a cup of klah, she bent close to his ear.

"What would happen if that fireball came down anywhere?"

Clearly that possibility had occurred to the old bronze rider.

"It could be a miss," he whispered softly.

"A near one?" Lessa said, hazarding her opinion.

"We can hope so," he replied, shifting his position in his chair. "Yokohasn't displayed any information about its size, but it's clearly a large object."

"Flaming," she said sardonically. "So it will make a large hole and shake the surface."

D'ram gave her a startled glance. "We don't know that it will impact, Lady Lessa."

"Let's think of the worst that could happen and then we can be pleasantly surprised."

"Fortunately there's a lot of sea for it to cross," he murmured.

"Then it's best if it falls into water and does no harm."

His eyes widened. "It will cause harm! If it falls, there will be tidal waves of tremendous force, flooding all low coastal areas and surging inland. You remember the high waves caused by the last eruption of Piemur's volcano?"

"Indeed, but the hurricane of two Turns ago caused a great deal more havoc."

D'ram thinned his lips. "This would cause more widespread damage, believe me. That is," he amended hastily, "if the worst should happen." He paused, frowning and twisting his lower lip between two fingers. Looking her full in the eyes, he added. "But if we knowabout it, we could prepare, evacuate."

"We-meaning dragonriders?"

He nodded quickly. "People could be lifted to higher ground beforethe wall of waves reaches them."

Maps hung on the conference room walls behind them. She skewed herself around and saw the big map that Aivas had called a Mercator projection. "Faulty," she remembered him saying, "in that the polar areas are larger than their actual size but it gives you a coherent grasp of the disposition of land and sea masses." She wished with all her being that somehow Aivas's deep quiet voice would issue from the speakers, informing them how to deal with this crisis. But Aivas was gone! Whatever problem this fireball presented was theirs and D'ram had suggested a way in which they could-in an emergency-reduce the potential damage. Master Idarolan had once told her about seeing a huge wall of water drowning an island; a tsunami, he called it.

"If it's coastline we need to protect, we will need Master Idarolan's experience and knowledge," she murmured to D'ram. "He still has his charts of deep harbors and shallow moorings."

"What are you two whispering about, Lessa?" F'lar asked as quiet-spoken as they.

"If that thing,"-she gestured to the fireball and it suddenly looked a lot less amusing-"falls on us, we need to be prepared."

"But…"F'lar began.

"Besides," she went on, intensifying her glance at him and giving an indolent shrug, "even if it misses, this is a phenomenon that would fascinate Idarolan. He'll see it better from here than from his deck at Nerat's Ankle."

"You say," and Wansor's light voice turned excited, "that the probability reads fifty-eight percent?"

"Go, F'lar. And give Idarolan enough time," she said, stressing the word, "to bring all the records he might need."

"I'll be-" F'lar grinned at her, "right back."

Lessa glanced over at the wall clock: 11:35!

"Is he going to-" D'ram began, stopping in surprise. "But you don't encourage-"

"No, I don't, but, as I said, if we prepare for the worst, we can be pleasantly-rather than unpleasantly-surprised. Something about that-." She regarded the fireball. "When a dragon's eyes are that color, she's at her most dangerous."

D'ram looked at the screen. "Yes, you're right."

Seven elapsed minutes later, when the clock registered 11:42, F'lar and Idarolan swung into the conference room. Both of them were laden with bags of chart rolls and looked as if they had been running. Idarolan's eyes swept those gathered, then were held by the monitor as he swung his burden to the tabletop.

"I see that I am in time,"-his roughened seaman's voice caressed the word-"to be of use."

"Oh, yes, Idarolan, yes, I'm glad you're here," Wansor said excitedly. "I don't think the cometary fragment is going to miss us." He sounded as if this were an achievement to be relished. "What's the object's magnitude right now?"

"It's sending a brightness of minus eight," Idarolan exclaimed and sat down heavily, ignoring his paraphernalia. "I'm glad I did some calculations before I came." He swung about. "Where's Erragon?"

"Interface office," Lytol said as repressively as he could, trying to concentrate on giving Wansor at least some of the readings.

"It will hit us then, won't it?" Lessa murmured.

"Yes, I fear so," Wansor said, all his initial enthusiasm and excitement lost in acceptance of that reality.

They were all silent as the screen depicted the catastrophe that was on its way to them.

Master Idarolan was the first to recover his wits. "I will need the help of your best mathematicians," he said, hunting through the bundles on the table and selecting a tightly wrapped tube of papers. "Monaco must be evacuated first. I don't know how long they will have-two, maybe three hours."

Lessa stood also and clasped the hand holding the papers. "Tell the dragonriders there that I want them to make-" She paused to impress that on him; his eyes twinkled as he took her meaning. "-time to accomplish what needs to be done."

Golanth and Zaranth were hovering at tree level above the wide clearing that surrounded the large long building that was Monaco Bay Weyr. The space was big enough to accommodate many dragons, F'lessan thought. Then he winced. So much time was consumed by doing "safe" landings and take-offs. They had no time to waste right now. As Golanth sank to the ground in front of the Weyr center, F'lessan caught one glimpse of the sea, tranquil and pale green, and a bright streak slightly north and east of Monaco Bay.

As much as I wanted to see that comet, I may wish I never had,F'lessan remarked ironically.

Zaranth's rider said that, too.

Well, tell Zaranth to remember the position. We can use it as a handy time-mark today.

Monarth arrived, too, inches above ground. Without waiting for the bronze to touch ground, T'gellan was sliding off and racing up the steps to the wide porch, shouting orders, banging on doors as he went down the wide porch that surrounded the Weyrhold. Path landed even closer to the steps, Mirrim dropping right onto the porch and scrambling to the nearest wide door.

"But you just left!" a woman exclaimed, coming out of the Weyr's main building.

"Well, we're back and there's an emergency, Dilla," Mirrim said, going to the bell and rigorously pulling its rope. "C'mon, Tai, we can start evacuating the children. You can help, too, F'lessan, while Gell gets the maps." She raced inside and F'lessan heard her announcing the crisis to all within.

Typical Mirrim, he thought, but at least she was over the panic that had seized her in the Interface office. Immediately there were screams, sobs, shouts, and general confusion. The loudest complaint was "There's bread to be baked…"

"How far inland is safe?" F'lessan cried, catching Tai before she could follow Mirrim indoors.

"They can get high enough in twenty minutes fast-walking." Tai pointed toward a well-used path that led around one corner. "Not much time for packing but we'll need some things."

She wavered for a moment on the threshold, looking beyond the clearing, then sighed and shrugged her shoulders, hurrying on inside.

Mirrim's shrill voice was organizing the weyrfolk inside, while others, alarmed by the tolling bell, were racing in on the various paths, to find out what was wrong. Just then a crowd of half-grown boys and girls came swarming to the end of the porch, joining the other worried weyrfolk.

"The Weyr must be evacuated," he told them.

"I told you that fireball was bad luck," one of the older boys told the others.

"How could it make the sea burn?" a girl demanded, looking to the bronze rider for an answer.

"It won't," F'lessan said authoritatively. "Don't make guesses. Right now you need to do what you're told." He gave them his best reassuring grin. "This is going to be an adventure! You've got to get to your own weyrs. Pack as much as you can as quickly as you can. No more than you can carry. Tell everyone to make for the heights." He pointed the path Tai had indicated. "You need to be at least two hundred meters from the shore, up into the grove of fellis trees." He gave the bell another clanging to reinforce the urgency and those who had heard what he had to tell them dispersed in seconds, running in all directions.

Mirrim came out, herding little ones in front of her, helped by her sturdy son, Gellim, while other weyrwomen followed her, some carrying sacks and bundles. Tai had one arm burdened with packs and the other around a screaming toddler.

"Tai, get aboard Zaranth and I'll hand the babies up to you. F'lessan, use the safety straps to tie them to her. Oh, do stop screaming, Vessa," Mirrim said to the hysterical child behind her. "F'lessan, get her aboard Golanth. She can hold another once she's on his back. He can follow Zaranth to the heights with this lot. Then come back for another. It's too far for them to make it on their own."

Mirrim's bossy streak was in full operation, F'lessan thought as he hoisted an hysterical mother up to Golanth and started passing up sacks and bundles. Tai placed the screaming toddler on Zaranth's neck, an action that instantly silenced it. She leaped astride and took the others Mirrim lifted up to her.

"I'm ready," Tai cried.

Follow Zaranth, Golly!

Of course!

"I know we're responsible for all of Monaco but I can work better if I know our folk are safe," Mirrim said, excusing her actions. "While Golanth's gone, you can help me organize the others inside. We have cradlers to take, too. Will Golanth mind?"

"Not likely," F'lessan said; even his dragon would not thwart Mirrim in this mood or under these circumstances. Fortunately Mirrim was already on her way back inside the room and did not see how close to the ground both green and bronze had been when they went between.Think of the time they saved, he told himself.

"You, you can go on Path," he heard her saying and she nearly ran him down on her return with three older women, barely able to move for the things they were clutching. "F'lessan, we'll need rope to tie the cradles to Golanth. Over in that closet."

"We have some time to spare, Mirrim," he told her as he complied. Golanth! Carry cradles? Well, who better?

"I'll send these off on my Path. She knows where to go. F'lessan, when you've got the ropes, put them on the porch. The tanner journeyman needs your help with his materials. And we've rolls of fabric in the loft we simply must save."

"There's Monarth doing nothing," F'lessan muttered under his breath, but he got the ropes, put them on the porch, and went to the assistance of the crafter who was trying to carry too many hides as well as various tools, and dropping things. And where was T'gellan with his maps?

By the time much of the Weyr's most urgent household items had been shoved or bundled into packs, brown, blue, and green dragons had arrived to be loaded and sent off. Three other blues took the cradled children. Browns were draped with fabric rolls and sleeping furs, and bulky items were tied to willing backs.

It was as well that dragons had an innate instinct for avoiding each other on the ground as well as in the air, for the traffic in and out of the main Weyr clearing was amazing. With Zaranth, Golanth had made three more trips betweenwithout his rider, conveying the healer and half a dozen patients.

T'gellan finally came to F'lessan's end of the porch, lugging one end of a heavy chest as two brown riders held the other. Tucked under his belt were maps. While the brown riders lifted the chest to Monarth's back, T'gellan beckoned to F'lessan, who was beginning to worry about how much time this was all taking.

The Weyrcook, arms full of bundles, nearly fell down the steps, followed by weyrfolk struggling with sacksful of clicking pots and leaking supplies just as Golanth touched down again. T'gellan rolled his eyes significantly at the younger rider and F'lessan offered Golanth's services. The cook mounted first, securing as many things as she could to Golanth's ridges. When no more could fit on his back, he raised just high enough above the ground to go betweenyet again.

Then T'gellan was at F'lessan's side, unrolling one of the maps just as three bronze dragons deposited their riders on the recently cleared space. Two riderless brown dragons hovered above the trees, waiting to land.

"I suspect you're more adept at timing than that trio, my friend," T'gellan said, admirably cool in manner, "so you get to go the farthest. Take St'ven on Mealth and C'reel and Galuth to help." The Weyrleader gestured to the browns. He unrolled the map to F'lessan who took one edge as he recognized a copy of the aerial maps that Aivas had supplied to all the Weyrs. "We were out over this area last time you flew with us. You'll remember this orange cliff!" T'gellan tapped at the recognizable landmark. "Long wide bay, long, sloping sands to the sea." He grimaced at the thought of the clear path that would give the incoming tsunami. "Granite cliff. White sands stand out against it. Bay looks like the sea took a toothless bite out of the coastline." He gave the younger rider a reassuring grin. "Don't let them talk you into conveying their boats. Those are replaceable. Lives are not!"

With that philosophy F'lessan agreed, but he also knew how difficult it was to make holders abandon whatever treasures they might own.

"Holds're mostly near this stream, but that would provide the tsunami with a channel to flood badly way inland. Be sure everyone is well back on the summit. We can't estimate how high the tsunami crest will be. Reaching the heights will be a climb for some but there're switchback steps cut in the lower levels. But among the three of you, you ought to be able to evacuate them all. Somehow or other." T'gellan's expression was grim again as he thrust the map at F'lessan. "You're a good rider." He gave F'lessan a supportive clout on the shoulder. "Secure that chest on Monarth, will you, C'reel, St'ven? Then F'lessan's your Wingleader."

"I've called in as many riders as can be spared to clear Monaco Harbor and Cove Hold," T'gellan said, his forehead furrowed with worry. "Sweep riders are warning inland holders but we can't take time to figure out how far above sea level they are. They'll just have to get as high as they can. But all have got to be warned." In a final aside, before the Weyr– leader mounted, he leaned into F'lessan. "Don't shave time too close! Lessa would kill me if you got time-lost."

Then he was astride his dragon and Monarth leaped skyward and was gone betweenbefore the upper sail of his wings cleared the rooftree on the Weyr building.

"C'reel, St'ven, mount up! Golanth? Golanth?"He felt the sudden air pressure on his body and didn't need to look to know that his bronze had landed on the ground beside him. He couldn't resist a proud grin at such accuracy. "We're going to the Sunrise Cliff Seahold. Take your directions from me," he added, stuffing the aerial map into a thigh pocket. Remember where the fireball was when we got here first, Golanth?

Of course.

Put it in the same place above Sunrise Cliff Seahold and let's gothen! F'lessan vividly imagined the grass-topped rock face with white sands for contrast.

Golanth sprang upward, once again going betweena leg-length above the ground. In the cold between,F'lessan had just time enough to wonder if the dragons were all embarked on something like Moreta's Ride. What had she used for a time-mark? Or had its absence caused her death?

After seeing Master Wansor leave with D'ram and Lytol to return to Cove Hold to organize its evacuation, Lessa's mind raced with all the details that had already been sorted out. She'd need time, of another sort, to organize her thoughts. How F'lessan must be loving this license, she thought sardonically. Erragon or Idarolan would be here soon enough to explain how bad this tsunami-tidal wave-wall of water phenomenon might be. She turned off the monitor. She'd had enough of its depressing show of figures for the time being. She felt the klah pot and decided its contents were still warm enough to be drinkable. Who knew when she might have time to eat or drink in the time-tossed turmoil that had just been set into motion? She sipped as she reviewed the last hectic half hour. She thought they'd done rather well, leaping into action after the initial shock.

F'lar had gone to muster Benden Weyr, sending sweep-riders to warn the most obviously vulnerable holdings along the Nerat and Benden coastline. Few on the rest of the planet would have any idea what had just happened in the Eastern Sea. It was Monaco that would suffer the first huge wave. T'gellan had thirty-four experienced older bronze riders to manage evacuations. F'lar would ask J'fery at Telgar and G'dened at Ista to send more bronzes to assist. Manora and Brekke would organize supplies, food, medicines, and healers. She would organize Landing. She had before. Ramoth had called Benden's junior queens to help with dragons coming and going. Jaxom and Sharra would bring Sebell. They'd have to call a conference with Lord Holders and Craftmasters-that is, as soon as she had enough details.

She finished the last of her klah and turned as she heard the door click open. Erragon stood there, his face expressively conveying that his "details" were not going to be good news. Resolutely, he closed the door and strode over to the Mercator projection, fumbling to extract a red marker from his pocket.

"I'm afraid," he said, "that while Monaco Bay is in the direct line of only one main wave, it will also be inundated by several waves, diffracted by the inner Ring islands." He put his red marker on the islands and made a rapid downward stroke, ending at the coastline. "I figure the first wave-"

"First wave?" Lessa exclaimed.

"Urn, yes, first wave of five, to be accurate." While Lessa was speechless, he hurried on. "The first will strike at Monaco Bay at four hours fifteen minutes, local time-three hours and twenty five minutes after impact-and hit the Jordan River mouth an hour and a half later. Rather spectacularly, in fact." He paused. "I can't help it, Lady Lessa."

"That's just the first wave?" she asked grimly.

"Stinar's trying to do a diagram so you-so we all-can see how the waves will be spaced and reflect against the shore. One comes in a straight line from the impact site. The others won't be as strong, of course, as the unimpeded tsunami." He tapped the headland that jutted out into the sea east of Monaco Bay. "The cape may provide some protection, but the harbor facility…" He shrugged with regret. "I'm confident that the dolphins will warn ships at sea. We know they do. They will surely have feltthe impact. They are so tuned in to their medium. Ships may not experience more turbulence or be much the worse for it. It's when a tsunami meets the shore, or shoals or shallows, that it crests and runs in. As to Cove Hold, Lady Lessa, it's shielded by the point east of the coast and the islands between-" He tapped it by way of demonstration. "-from some of the waves that Monaco Bay will experience. Additionally, the underwater extension of the eastern point at the Upwelling will break incoming waves. Spectacular breakers but much less actual wave height until fairly far west along the coast. Most of what the Cove will see is a splash wave as a result of the secondary wave breaks." He gave her a swift ingratiating smile.

Lessa shifted restlessly in her chair. Devastated by Erragon's talk of fivetsunamis striking Monaco Bay, she felt perversely irritated by the fact that they had only recently restored the Hold to its pre-hurricane elegance.

"I suppose the news about Cove Hold provides a little relief." Instantly aware of how bitter she sounded, she held up her hand, "Which is none of your fault, to be sure." She nodded at him to continue. Better to hear the worst and clear her mind to plan how to proceed.

"Now, there will be flooding west of Cove Hold." His pen crossed the open area to the out-jutting of Southern. "These two coastlines will also be flooded," his pen moved again, "possibly with less force."

"The new Dolphin Hall?" she asked, hoping that young Readis's new project would survive.

"I believe it's on the west side so this headland," and he marked the spot to the right of the mouth of the Rubicon river, "will protect it. There might be a very high tide but the dolphins will surely have spread the warning."

"That's their bargain with humans," Lessa said drolly. "However, to go on west," Erragon continued, almost as inexorably as that wretched tsunami, Lessa thought to herself, "Macedonia will experience four different waves, but I understand that coastline is not well settled."

"Then Monaco has not been singled out?" Lessa asked caustically. She had to find some balance in this calamity; her mind roiled with all they would have to do. At least this time they would be able to rescue those most vulnerable, unlike the hurricane that had taken them by surprise. She had to keep that thought foremost in her mind.

"Oh, no," Erragon assured her. "The most direct wave will arrive in Macedonia about nine hours after impact, about four in the afternoon local time. Then a direct tsunami will strike Southern Hold about eleven hours after impact-four in the afternoon local time. The second will arrive about fifteen minutes later and the third at about four fifty, local time."

"Toric is going to be furious," Lessa commented, but that caused her none of the heartache that she had felt on hearing about Monaco Bay.

"On the Northern continent," Erragon went on as he shifted his all too busy red marker upward, "a tsunami will strike the Foot of Nerat, and all the way up the shore." Lessa sat straight up as she saw him reddening the entire eastern coastline.

"But there's time," Erragon assured her. "Three to four hours afterimpacting on the southern shores, the other section of the waves will reach High Shoal in front of Loscar and demolish it-which, I understand from seamen, might reduce the dangerous currents the Shoal produces. Loscar will definitely need to be evacuated but there's time enough to get people to foothills. Even a good portion of their belongings and herdbeasts. You see, there's not much to stop the straight line of the tsunami as it radiates due west from the impact site."

Lessa stared, disbelieving the extent of a "wave,"

"Ista," Erragon continued, producing a tentative smile, "will only get ripples produced by reflection off Nerat's Toe. They did suffer far more damage during the hurricane." He paused briefly, and turned to the other side of the Mercator projection. Lessa gasped.

"The Western Ring of islands will absorb much of the tsunami's force, though, from the tip of Tillek and south to the end of Southern Boll, they can expect to experience tsunami about sixteen hours after impact, or four-thirty in the morning their local time. It will reach the west coast of Fort, much of which is rocky, about twenty-one hours after impact, seven in the morning their time. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Lessa echoed.

"Yes, it takes time even for something as violent as a tsunami to cross that much sea. The farther away from the impact point or the secondary points, the less the expected effect of the incoming wave. It will spread out and reduce amplitude until it encounters an obstacle."

"Like Monaco Bay," Lessa murmured bitterly.

"For instance," Erragon said, trying to interject a positive note, "the west coast of Southern, from lerne Island to the tip on the east side of Great Bay, will feel only a small effect from the eastward wave." Now he looked closely at the map and, checking longitude and latitude, made a little X. "The two waves, what's left of them after losing much of their energy, will intersect in the open sea at about Longitude two degrees at Latitude fifteen degrees, but I don't think that'll be notable."

Lessa regarded him blankly. Erragon continued.

"The worst of all this should be over in about sixteen to seventeen hours" he said in an attitude of encouragement.

"I hope you'll be able to repeat this, Erragon," she said wearily. "We are obliged to inform those Lord Holders most affected. Now that we know who they are."

He bowed his willingness. She closed her eyes briefly while she contacted Ramoth to bespeak the dragons at the various Holds. It saved some time, at least, that Benden had the right to convene an emergency meeting and expect those invited to respond speedily. Even as speedily as that sharding wave was going to smash along both coasts.

When she opened her eyes, Erragon's expression showed deep concern. He was rather a good man, she thought, and not like some who could thoroughly enjoy spreading bad news.

"Sit down, man, and I'll get us something more to eat. We'll need to fortify ourselves." She left the room, giving him a few moments alone.

Twenty minutes later, Master Idarolan and Erragon had contrived to red mark the vulnerable portions of coastline along both continents, including some quick estimates of how deep inland the flood would surge. To Lessa's intense sorrow, they had intricately marked the projected paths of the five different assaults on Monaco. F'lar had returned with F'nor. No sooner had the two Benden riders started to eat a hasty luncheon from the food Lessa had found than Lords Ciparis and Toronas arrived. Close behind them came Haligon, representing Lord Groghe, Jaxom, and Sharra; Lord Ranrel of Tillek with the new Masterfishman Curran; Fortine of Ista; Langrell of Igen; Kashman of Keroon; Janissian from Southern Boll as Lord Sangel was too old to travel anywhere, even a-dragonback, and the other six Weyrleaders.

"What's this about some sharding wave going to destroy the coast?" demanded Fortine. "Surely it can't reach from the Ring Sea all the way to my coast?"

"Come, come," Master Idarolan said, gesturing impatiently to the newcomers. "All of you be seated." He waved at Haligon to distribute chairs from those stacked in one corner.

"It had better be good," Toronas of Benden said, "getting us up and down here so precipitously."

"Oh, it is, I assure you," Lessa said in such a caustic tone that no one else spoke as they hurried to get settled around the table.

"At least it was already morning for you, Toronas," Jaxom said, seating Sharra, who was blinking to clear her eyes from what little sleep she had had. "Not the middle of the night and yet you see Ranrel, Haligon, and Janissian wide awake and with us."

Lord Toronas clearly wanted to object to the presence of Janissian, who looked younger than she was, even if she had been sent to represent her grandfather, Lord Sangel.

"Sit by me, Toronas," Lessa said, smiling encouragingly at Janissian who remained close to Sharra and Jaxom. The Southern Boll girl composed herself to listen but her eyes were darting to the red-streaked maps and then back to the other members of this emergency meeting. Ranrel nodded a greeting to her and Kashman stared boldly.

"If you will begin again, Journeyman Erragon," Lessa said formally, "then everyone will have a better understanding of why this meeting is so vital. Some of us have less time than others and none of us have time to waste."

Just as Erragon was about to explain how the multiple waves would inundate the southern coastline, a rumbling boommade him stagger. Lessa clutched at the arm of her chair as the awesome noise vibrated through the soles of her feet.

"What was that?" she cried. They could both hear the shouts and screams from the hallway.

"That," Erragon said on his way to the door, "was the ground shock wave from the fireball impact." He glanced at the clock. "Right on time! Excuse me!" He hauled open the door. "It's all right! That's the shock wave reaching us!" He shouted to those milling in fright in the hall and closed the door behind him, leaving Lessa to contemplate the multiple disasters of the day.

The three dragons arrived at Sunrise Cliff Seahold circumspectly, above the first rank of dunes that marked high tides. The dunes would no doubt be wiped away, dragged back by the tsunami, F'lessan thought. The dragons glided along the shore to where the granite escarpment had been broken during an earthquake, tumbling boulders, creating the wide shallow bay and a defile along which a stream now found its way to the sea. Beyond the stream, the escarpment began to rise again, ending in another height on the eastern arm. Along the white sand beach, they could see small fishing craft pulled up. Don't let them talk you into rescuing their boats, T'gellan had said, but maybe they could somehow sling…

Not before people,Golanth told him sternly. People we save today.

It looked like the entire population of the Seahold was out, standing on the dunes, gazing northward. White sands sloped down to the little waves lapping serenely up the wide beach with a picturesqueness that would shortly be devastated. They had barely two hours to evacuate. F'lessan sensed that was not going to be easy. Who would believe his tale of catastrophe in the making? Everyone was so intent on the fiery ball inclining now toward its impact. The air was so crystalline clear!

There were twelve holds leaning up against the orange cliffs where the granite began to rise from the sands. These seaholders had done well in the fifteen or so Turns since they'd settled here, F'lessan thought. They wouldn't abandon their prosperity so easily. Babes were being held up to see the fireball, and a scatter of children, in various states of dress, had followed their parents to behold the wonder! Near to a hundred people in all, F'lessan estimated quickly. Some of the older folk would have a hard time scrambling up the switchback way to the safety of the cliff height.

Dolphins!Golanth said. Startled, F'lessan switched his gaze to the sea. Scarcely fifty meters offshore, where the shallows sloped into deeper, bluer water, the curving bodies of eight or ten dolphins dove in and out: but not idly. He could hear their high-pitched screeing. He was accustomed enough to their graceful movements to realize that their antics today were frantic. Three rose, tail-walking, then splashed heavily back into the water, their dorsal fins cutting the waves they made. Their squeeing was shrill though he couldn't hear what they might be saying.

So they know!Relief diminished at least that worry from F'lessan's mind. Natua and her calf, all the Monaco Bay pod, would be somewhere safe. I can't hear them but it's obvious this pod is trying to warn the seaholders!

If they are, no one's watching them,Golanth said, gliding in to a landing. We will be more noticeable.

"Look!"One of the youngsters had noticed the dolphins. "Da, da, the dolphins! They're squeaking their warning calls. But there's no storm! What's wrong with them?" So the boy was the first to see the dragons out of the corner of his eye, heard the grunts as dragon feet made contact and skidded in the soft sand, backwinging adroitly to a halt.

"They are warning you,"F'lessan shouted, hands cupped about his mouth. "That fireball in the sky. It will land in the sea and cause tidal waves. Worse than the worst storm you ve ever been in."

"We can hear you, dragonrider," said one of the men, turning slightly toward F'lessan without taking his eyes off the fascinating orange ball that was far more of a spectacle than three dragons.

"They've gone!" cried the youngster with keen disappointment. He whirled at the dragonriders as if their appearance had frightened the dolphins.

F'lessan was intensely relieved that not a single dorsal fin remained visible. They might be cutting it fine to reach safe depths, but they'd kept their pact with humans once again in giving an alarm.

"The dolphins… the shipfish," he continued in a voice loud enough to reach those still mesmerized by the vision, "are warning you. Surely you know they consider that their duty to all sea folk." He pointed at the man who had challenged him.

"Yeyah, they let us know where fish schools, when squalls're coming, but never seen 'em act like that before." The man preferred to watch the sinking fireball than attend the dragonrider.

"Look, man, it's not just Thread that falls from the skies!"

F'lessan said. "We're here to move you to the cliffs, up there, high enough to be away from the wave."

"Wave?" Another man walked toward F'lessan, his expression patronizingly amiable. "We're well above the high tide… "

"Not this one," F'lessan said.

"Ah, now, bronze rider, I can see you ain't even wearing Monaco's badge. What call have you to-"

"We're Monaco!" C'reel said and St'ven nodded emphatically. "Listen to F'lessan, Golanth's rider!"

"We're evacuating you," St'ven added. "All the coastal holds. Every Weyr is helping!"

F'lessan swung his leg over and slid down, gesturing for the brown riders to dismount. Maybe face-to-face, not perched on a bronze dragon, he could instill some urgency for the present crisis.

"Who's Seaholder?" he asked, striding as fast as he could across the soft sand to the crowd.

"Me!" The first man jerked a thick, scarred thumb at his tanned chest. He wore the customary sleeveless top and shorts. He had strong hairy legs and was barefoot, toes splayed in the sand. "Binness, Journeyman, FishCrafthall!"

"Journeyman Binness, we are acting under orders from T'gellan, your Weyrleader and-" F'lessan had a sudden surge of inspiration-"MasterFishman Curran, to evacuate all your people to high ground." He gestured broadly to the western arm of the cliff, higher by a half dragon-length than the eastern one.

Binness chortled. "Don't try that one on me, bronze rider. The Master's way east at Tillek as he should be."

"It makes no difference where he should be,Journeyman," C'reel said, losing patience. "He isat Landing, meeting with everyone trying to save lives."

"Binness, wake up and listen!" F'lessan said. "When that thing hits the ocean," and he pointed to the bit of the fireball still visible on the horizon, "the biggest wave you ever had nightmares about is going to come straight to this bay. There's no Ring island in its way to break its crest and this holding is going to be drowned!"He scissored both hands together to indicate the totality of the disaster. He caught sight of his watch, visible as his jacket cuff pulled up. "In one minute, that fireball hits the ocean. You might be able to see the cloud of steam that the impact creates!" Again he pointed northward.

"It's gone!" a woman cried, flagging her hand in a pathetic farewell to the novelty the fireball had presented to an isolated community.

F'lessan closed his eyes at the waste of time. Two hours to move over a hundred people, and whatever possessions they could grab, and he hadn't even managed to get them to see the gravity of their peril.

"You've a far-seer," he shouted, abruptly noticing the one slung in a holster at Binness's side. "Take a goodlook!"

Binness did use the glass, more as an accommodation to the dragonrider's whim than because he expected to see anything. It took him more precious time to focus the instrument. Only because F'lessan knew exactly in which direction to look did he see the top of the rising cloud.

"Sompin's there, Binness," one of the net-bearers said. "He's right about that. You know my far-sight's good."

"Yeyah," Binness grudgingly admitted. "Probably a storm." He collapsed the telescope and returned it to its keeper.

"Dolphins was warning us then," another fisherman put in his opinion.

"Why… will… you… not… believe… me?" F'lessan demanded, spacing his words as he sensed the passage of such valuable time. "Pack your belongings! We'll convey children, your aunties and uncles first."

The reaction of the women was to hug their children to their legs, suddenly frightened of his presence. F'lessan struggled to control his aggravation. Didn't they trust dragonriders? T'gellan was a good Weyrleader.

"Look, spread out that fishnet," he said, pointing to the nearest man with one draped across his shoulder. "That will carry a lot."

"Ever had a ride a-dragonback?" C'reel asked, hunkering down by the youngster who had seen the dolphins.

F'lessan kept checking his watch. Maybe he'd just have to wait for the shock wave to hit to prove that an emergency existed. Being nearer the point of impact, this Seahold would feel it a lot sooner and harder here. It'd be seismic, wouldn't it, traveling ten times faster than sound along the rock of the seabed. They'd feel it, then hear it!

Right up through his boots-and the bare feet of most of the seaholders-came the shake! A boomthat beat eardrums with its intensity. Several people fell to the sands; even the dragons were unbalanced, raising wings to steady themselves.

"D'you believe me now, Binness?" F'lessan demanded, brushing sand off his leathers.

Two of the women began to keen, nearly as unnerving a sound as dragons made when one of their kind died.

"Believe you, dragonrider!" The Journeyman could also see the disturbed ripple of the waves in the bay. "Go! Go!Pack!" Wide gestures of his arms sent the women scattering. "Lias, spread that net. Lads, go with your mothers. Collect everything you can carry. Petan, get the other nets. You sure your dragons are strong, bronze rider?"

"As strong as they need to be, Journeyman," F'lessan replied, grinning. He gestured for C'reel and St'ven to help spread nets. "We'll need rope…"

"Line…" C'reel corrected him when Lias looked puzzled.

"Line, then, in the corners, to make a knot for the dragons to lift the nets with. Where's the most sheltered place up on those cliffs, Binness? Are there woods? You'll need shelter. There will be winds and rain, not to mention the high seas."

"Plenty shelter a-top," Binness said, deftly nipping another net wide on the sands.

A lad came running up with a rocking chair.

"No, no, furniture will come last," F'lessan cried, waving the boy and the chair to one side. "Bring pots, pans, food, necessities," he called as the scared boy dropped the chair and sprinted back to the largest cothold.

"That's my old dam's chair," Binness said, pausing to prop his fists challengingly against the wide belt, which had knife sheaths as well as the telescope holster.

"Where is she?" F'lessan demanded.

"Coming. Lady Medda's coming." Binness pointed to the largest cothold. Two women, their hands making a seat, were hurrying out with an old woman, white braids bouncing. "Joint-ail but she runs us right well!"

"She can be the first to go." If the woman managed the hold, then F'lessan would station her where she could do some good.

"She'll show you where!" Binness shouted back, grinning maliciously before he grabbed a piece of line and tied it to the back of the rocking chair. "Where?" he asked F'lessan.

Shards! But it wasted time to argue with him. F'lessan swung his arm in Golanth's direction. "Loop it on the third neck ridge. I'll take her myself and the two carrying her."

He ended up with far more draped on his bronze than the delighted Lady Medda, whose wrinkled face suggested nine or ten decades of living. She was in high spirits as she settled on Golanth's back, shouting orders to those who jumped to obey.

"Use tablecloths for the food and loose things. Bring the water skins. Stuff each pot with what comes to hand. Dragon-riders don't haul empty space when you can fill it with something useful."

C'reel's brown Galuth had two younger women on his back, with two children apiece, and rough packs hung from the neck ridges and trailed down his backbone. St'ven was leaning over Mealth's side at a dangerous angle to be sure nothing was spilling out of the first of the packed nets the dragon lifted from the sand.

It took much more-time to disencumber the dragons on the summit. To his disgust, F'lessan found the knots with which Binness had tied the rocking chair were hard to undo. Awaiting her usual seat, Lady Medda was upright on the trunk of a fallen tree and continued her stream of succinct orders, using a frond to keep the biting insects from her. Beyond her, Mealth carefully maneuvered his net to the ground, and landed beyond it to let his passengers off. The old lady gave a whoop of a cheer for such precise flying. F'lessan struggled with the knot until the youngster who'd seen the dolphins came running over. With a pitying look and a flip of one trailing end, the boy released the knot and the rocking chair was loose.

"You should know how!" he accused F'lessan and ran the chair to his grandmother.

F'lessan rued not his ignorance of sea knots but the time consumed fussing with them. Time! Time! He vaulted-not as effortlessly as usual-astride Golanth. The bronze ran toward the precipice, wings wide, and fell off the edge. When F'lessan heard shocked cries of alarm from behind him at Golanth's timesaving exit, he grinned.

Binness and the other men had filled two more nets and held up the knots for the browns to grab. F'lessan managed five children, two more women, and a string of sacks down Golanth's back on the next trip. He could see women and girls filing up the uneven steps zigzagging up the cliffside, everyone laden with so many bundles he wondered how they moved.

On his way back down to the sands, he saw that one of the fishing dories had been manhandled up over the dune high-tide barrier. Four men were racing seaward, obviously to get a second one. "Don't let them talk you into conveying their boats," T'gellan had warned him.

"We can't handle that!"F'lessan cried, leaping off Golanth's back to confront a belligerent Binness. Beside him was Lias, equally determined.

"No boats, no fish, we starve."

"We sailed 'em all the way down from Big Bay, dragon-rider," Lias put in, his wizened face fierce. "Days of sailing. We can't abandon them."

Gasping for breath, the other four arrived with a second dory.

"The masts're unstepped," Binness said, as if that made transport feasible. It would make them less unwieldy. "We can rig the hulls to be lifted like you did the nets. We got the line."

F'lessan delayed his answer, wiping sweat off his face and neck. Did they have the time? He glanced at the two small craft, then at his watch. These seaholders were about to lose their cotholds, and neither of the dories was longer than a dragon's body. He saw they were clap-sided, only the sharp V of the transom covered. They couldn't weigh that much. Lias grabbed a cleat, slung a line quickly about it as if this proof would be sufficient to sway F'lessan's doubt.

"You said dragons're as strong as they need be! Be they strong enough, dragonrider?" Binness's eyes were wide and fierce with an entreaty and a challenge that F'lessan could not resist.

F'lessan swallowed.

"Rope 'em, then. We'll give it a try. Be quick about it."

"Three dragons? Three sma' little dories?" Binness cried, eyes suddenly full of hope again. "Outta the nine boats we got?"

F'lessan groaned. He couldn't believe he was agreeing.

"Quick, a-fore he changes his mind," Binness cried, sending off the four who were still gasping for breath. They turned to stagger back down the dune. He and Lias began to secure lines. He paused, tossed a coil of rope at F'lessan. "Start on the second one. Be sure the lines are the same length."

And F'lessan found himself wrapping lines around cleats on the second dory.

"Everyone out of the holds? Everything you need?" F'lessan cried as the exhausted fishmen arrived with the third hull, collapsing against it, wheezing, their sweating bodies covered with sand where they'd stumbled.

"You, go check!" Binness ordered and the man crawled gamely to his feet and staggered toward the nearest cot. "Lias, tighten that line. You, rig the portside. You, do a running bowline through the anchor bracket. Make it realtight!"

When C'reel and Galuth arrived to find the first ship rigged to be conveyed, the brown rider obviously thought F'lessan was asking too much of them. All sorts of odds and ends, buckets, rakes, hand nets, a pair of sandals, more nets, fish spears, small buoys, floats, light anchors, and even some folded sails had been dumped in the dories.

"Nothing really heavy," F'lessan said, peering over the new cargo as he wondered how all that had been stashed in when he was looking elsewhere.

"We can do it, C'reel. Galuth can do it! Upyou go, Galuth!" And he gave the Wingleader's signal to lift.

Golanth added a roar and Galuth was aloft so fast C'reel's head snapped, but the brown dragon had the knot in his claws and the dory was rising, swinging erratically in the air. Galuth waited until its swaying lessened and slowly rose, leading the sway slightly. If he didn't get the height, the ship could be dashed to bits on the cliff. It just cleared the edge. The fishmen cheered and then Mealth positioned himself to receive the knot for the second.

F'lessan nervously eyed the still-calm surface of the wide bay until a spray of sand announced the return of the man who had gone to check the cotholds.

"Everyone's out, Binness."

"Then we're for the steps, dragonrider. Mount and I'll give the knot to your bronze."

Just then the sea seemed to creep up the sands, leaving behind a wide lacy border. Binness stared at it.

F'lessan swept his eyes across the sea but he could see nothing that looked like the crest of a tsunami. The shoals were at least fifty meters out, where the dolphins had been swimming. And shoals were bad when a tsunami was rolling shoreward.

"Lift, dragonrider," cried Binness, knot in one hand, waving urgently with the other.

F'lessan obeyed, Golanth rising and craning his head down, trying to look between his front legs. F'lessan felt Golanth catch the knot and take up the slack in the lines. They had barely risen a few feet from the sands when they saw Binness, arms and legs pumping as the fishman raced toward the steps.

It isn 't that heavy,Golanth reassured his rider, but it took him time to lift so as not to unbalance his load or lose his grip on the rope cradle. The summit was alive with people and goods, leaving no clear spot for the dory. Shouting orders from her rocking chair, the old woman solved the problem. It was with great relief that F'lessan felt the tension ease in the bronze shoulders as Golanth succeeded in getting the third dory landed. Golanth soared up, bugling with his success. Well, it wouldn't be their problem to get the dories back down to the shore.

Not today!

Golanth tilted northward, dipping low around the granite outcrop, so that they could see the last of the seaholders reach the top of the rough stairs, crawling a little farther from the cliff edge. Rider and dragon could see Binness still racing for the first step. The man stumbled, obviously winded, and regained his balance with difficulty.

That's when F'lessan saw the water being sucked back, away from the beach, all along the shoreline.

He will not make it!

Golanth did not wait for an order but dove sideways toward the man who was straining with effort, head up, arms carried tight to his chest, elbows flaring to suck air into his labored lungs, knees pumping.

The bronze intercepted him, dipping to secure the man in his front paws.

Binness looked up at the outstretched claws, panic contorting his face. Out of the corner of his eye, F'lessan could see the wall of water that was rising higher, higher, higher and coming straight at them. He saw the cliff looming up: if the tsunami didn't drown them, they'd smash against the cliff. Having slowed to catch Binness, Golanth did not have enough air speed to gain altitude!

Betweenhad never been so cold or so comforting. Eight seconds, four deep gasping breaths, and then a watery deluge all but drowning them.

The wave is nearly as high as this cliff,Golanth said, sounding amused. He had changed position to bring them out of betweennot far from the point where they had first entered over Sunrise Cliff Seahold.

The bronze had also timedthat rescue! On his own initiative!

Dazed, F'lessan stared down at the tremendous tsunami wave that should, by any rights, have drowned them. Water splashed high, its topmost point lapping the summit. Behind the first, a second tsunami roared ashore, battering the land, taking with it the steps that had so recently led the way to safety.

I will put him down near the others,Golanth said, back-winging, hovering in front of the terrified seaholders who were clutching at each other, watching as the crest of the second wave just missed the summit. Mealth and Galuth had spread their wings high, providing some cover from the windblown spray for the ancient woman sitting very upright in her chair that was rocking in the wind. I hope my claws did not scratch him badly.

He's lucky to be alive to be scratched,F'lessan responded weakly. He couldn't quite believe they had survived the double peril. One more second and the three of them would have been pasted on the cliff face!

I knew you wouldn't mind getting here before that happened.Golanth turned his huge head to his left as the tsunami flooded inland, boiling up the streambed. Almost daintily, Golanth turned on his forequarters and paused midair, lowering Binness safely to the damp ground.

F'lessan stared down at the man, supine on the thick drenched ground cover. There were indeed red marks on Binness's bare arms, where the dragon had clutched him. The bronze rider sagged across Golanth's neck ridge. He was aware of a booming noise, not like the shock wave but frightening in its intensity. Water splashed high on the cliff again, as if seeking to regain a victim that only the initiative and quickness of his dragon had rescued. He did feel Golanth land; he was aware of Golanth tucking his wings loosely along his back, of the darkness that had replaced the bright sun, of the cries of those who had seen the tsunami curl and nearly inundate their summit refuge. These were dim, background noises to the rush of blood pounding in his body, the dryness in his throat, the extreme weariness he felt.

Breathe deep,said his dragon with proud affection. We're all safe now.

"Who has the wineskin?" The rasping voice cut through his self-absorption. "Help him down. Can't you see he's wore hisself out saving us. Give him a drink. Cona, go help your man. He thinks he's dead of drowning."

"It was real close, Granddam," a young voice said.

A hand tugged at his sleeve. "Dragonrider, here's the wineskin."

St'ven and C'reel had to help him down, Golanth crouching as low as possible to make that easier. The brown riders propped him up against his dragon and put the spout of the wineskin against his lips. He opened his mouth to accept a sip of wine. It was a rough sort, but its effect was more important than its quality.

"Get a cup, someone!" Lady Medda ordered. "Can't have a dragonrider who saved our lives drink like a sot right from the skin!"

"Get several cups…" St'ven yelled over his shoulder.

"Could only find one," said a woman, a moment later extending it to the brown rider. "Everything's mixed up."

"But it's here," said Lady Medda. "Lias, Petan, haul Binness back outta all that splashing. Then come back and carry me to shelter. Don't aim to sit in all this wet any longer'n I have to. You fixing to stay longer, dragonriders, you'd better get under cover, too. Never saw a storm blow up so fast."

"It'll pass," F'lessan whispered to C'reel who repeated his words loud enough to be heard.

The wine revived F'lessan sufficiently to get to his feet, propping himself against Golanth, hoping no one but his bronze noticed his trembling.

Ramoth says to come back to Landing,Golanth said. Evidently an order which Mealth and Galuth heard because the brown riders straightened up at the same time.

"We are ordered to return to Landing…" F'lessan began.

"Can ye get that far?"

F'lessan turned himself toward the sound of her anxious voice.

"Yes!"

Lady Medda had pushed herself to her feet-she had a cane on which she leaned heavily-as she extended her right arm in a gesture that still retained a vestige of youthful grace.

"We owe you, dragonriders. We owe you much." Behind her, the wet and bedraggled seaholders paused in transferring their belongings and, as one, bowed!

"We owe you much, dragonriders."

The dignified simplicity of their tribute rewarded all three riders for the effort they had made to save the ships. Then Lias and Petan waited until Binness's dam had reseated herself before they carried her into the shelter of the forest.

"Send the lads out to see what fruit's on the ground. Find enough dry wood to build a fire…" Lady Medda was saying as she went.

"Thought you were dead, F'lessan," C'reel murmured, his face wet. "Here, get your arms in your jacket or you'll freeze solid between."

When St'ven saw F'lessan's hands trembling, he did the jacket fastenings, then found F'lessan's helmet and put that on, too. Then he and C'reel heaved the bronze rider astride Golanth. "You're some Wingleader, F'lessan. Proud to fly with you!"

"I, too, bronze rider," C'reel said and saluted before he ran to his waiting brown.

"I'vegot to break the news to Toric?" F'nor demanded, staring first at his half brother, then at Idarolan who nodded emphatically.

"You and K'van are the logical messengers," F'lar said.

"I'd send G'bol as my emissary but he's…" He quirked one eyebrow expressively. "… making time."

K'van shrugged, raising both hands in reluctant acceptance. The expression on his angular, tanned face did not suggest great enthusiasm for the task. "We could take Sintary with us. He's used to dealing with Toric."

"He respects me," Idarolan said with one of his fierce growls. "Get him organized and we can proceed on to assist at Southern Boll," he added with a quick sideways glance at young Janissian. He'd heard good things about her, taking hold with her grandmother ever since old Sangel became so erratic. This might be an excellent time for the girl to show her leadership qualities. She was the best of Sangel's blood. "Unless, of course, Master Curran," and he deferred amiably to the successor of his rank, "you have need of me."

"I have need of you, Master Idarolan," Ciparis of Nerat put in quickly, almost apologetically. "Nerat has more coastline to be affected." He glanced at F'lar. "We'll need so much help."

"Sweepriders are already out informing holders," F'lar said, "but, Master Idarolan, if you will share those invaluable charts of yours?"

"They can be copied, indeed, they can." Idarolan slid out the relevant sheets.

Idarolan was, F'lar thought, the only one who had come at all prepared to this meeting. An early riser by nature, he was in the habit of scanning the morning skies for weather signs, so he had seen the fireball. He was also aware of the phenomenon of tsunami and had immediately consulted his charts and logbooks. As Erragon had done, he had used red for the most vulnerable seacoast, orange for danger, and blue for easily accessible highlands. Before the Benden Weyr-leader appeared to ask for his help, he had a pretty good idea how serious the situation was.

"Here!" With a deft finger Idarolan extracted an open sheet and flicked it toward F'nor. "Toric likes charts and maps and details. This'll give you what he needs to know. He'd have-let's see…" Idarolan turned his eyes up, mentally figuring.

"Eleven hours, minus the time of this meeting," Erragon said with an apologetic nod to the old MasterFishman for giving the answer, "before the tsunamis meet the shoreline of his hold."

"At that he'll get off lightly. And consider himself ill-used to be assaulted from east and west," Lessa said, her expression inscrutable. F'nor gave her a long wide-eyed look. She responded with a smirk as Erragon agreed with her.

"But not entirely. He has many seaside holdings."

"Southern Boll will be hit harder," Idarolan said, nodding solemnly at Janissian. "And Tillek."

"More rock face than shallows along that south-facing coast of ours," Ranrel said, speaking almost for the first time; he'd been taking copious notes. "We are very lucky that there has been such advance warning."

"The Yokohamahas more than justified her continued existence," Idarolan said with a slightly sanctimonious air, glancing sideways at Kashman of Keroon.

"I wonder what the Abominators will say about this," Jaxom remarked in a deliberately languid tone.

Into the dismayed silence that greeted that comment, F'nor noisily pushed back his chair, reached across the table for the sheets Idarolan had sent in his direction and finished the last of the klah in his cup.

"C'mon, then! We can send a fire-lizard to apprise Sintary of our arrival." He looked to Lessa and F'lar.

"Might as well," Idarolan said, also rising to his feet. "I shan't be long, Lord Ciparis, and then I'm yours to command. But I'll point out that the Keys, and Long Beach at the head of Nerat River, will reduce the violence of the tsunami there. The Tip of Nerat, Bent Ridge, Grethel, Saluda, and Berea will be affected and the river may flood all the way up to Waneta. I'll be back."

"I'll return Janissian to Southern Boll," Jaxom said, "once we've copies of all this for you and Curran, Ranrel, and for us."

The instinct that saved dragons from colliding during Threadfall kept Golanth and his rider from disaster as they came out of betweenover a Landing that, at first, seemed covered by dragon wings, like a vast multicolored sunshade.

Ramoth says to land on the square. We are to rest!And, without waiting for F'lessan's comment, Golanth pivoted wearily on one wing tip, gliding over to the edge of the wide Gather square. F'lessan had time enough in that spin to see Ramoth, perched behind and above Admin, wings half open as she constantly swung her head from side to side across the area below her. Two more queens-the juniors from Benden who were accustomed to working with Ramoth-sat on either side, slightly below her position. They also were watching and, quite likely, directing dragon traffic in and out of Landing.

Golanth was making his way toward the roasting pits and the nearest open space.

She is here.

Wearily F'lessan blinked his eyes at the several green dragons immediately below him.

Both shes?F'lessan asked, trying to inject some humor into his voice. His body felt as battered as if they had been rolled by a tsunami.

Both. I land. Should you see a healer?

I'll be fine when I've had some rest.

Golanth's thought rumbled with disbelief but he landed, flicking his wings up so that the tips and claws touched over his head and he didn't touch the greens on either side of his chosen landing site. Zaranth was on his right, several shades lighter than she had been that morning. The other green had curled her head under one wing and was asleep, her rider's head pillowed on her wrist. With narrowed, blurry eyes, Zaranth watched Golanth settle. When the green extended her head to nuzzle the bronze's shoulder, F'lessan, tired as he was, felt a spurt of surprise. The touch was more caress than acknowledgment.

She likes me,Golanth said.

F'lessan saw that the green cradled Tai on her forelegs, the girl's sprawled figure covered by two beautifully marked feline pelts.

So, F'lessan thought, she did save them.

"F'lessan?" Someone pulled at his leg. He looked down at S'lan, amazed to see his son in the south. The boy and his brown Norenth were only just out of the weyrling barracks.

"What are you doing here?"

Grinning proudly, S'lan held up a small cup.

"All of us were brought down to help. Healer says to drink this down and then dismount and eat."

He climbed onto Golanth's foreleg to hand the cup to the bronze rider and F'lessan tossed back the liquid. Just as well, he never would have sipped the beverage if he had sampled the taste of it. What a taste! Worse than the seaholder's wine! It did revive him enough to dismount, if only to eat something to get rid of the taste of it in his mouth. Golanth groaned as he sank to his belly, stretching out as much as he could without interfering with the tired dragons on either side of him. Using Golanth's shoulder as a prop, F'lessan slid down to a sitting position against his dragon.

"Help me out of my jacket, Sellie." I must remember to call him S'lan now, F'lessan thought. "Hang it on Golanth to dry, will you?"

That done, he took the breadroll the boy offered.

"You have to rest," S'lan said, scowling at his father and looking, at that moment, like his grandmother. He unslung the two canteens looped over his shoulder. "One's water. Don't drink the klah in the other one yet. It'll keep warm. Ramoth says every dragon and rider has time to rest."

"Ramoth says we have time? Good. Do I get back what time I lost?" F'lessan murmured facetiously, more to himself than for his son's ears. "Thanks, S'lan," he added.

F'lessan glanced slowly across the panorama of so many dragons sprawled in or near the square. Sticking the breadroll between his teeth, he put the canteens on the ground beside him. Was Lessa aware of how much his son looked like her? Dark haired, dark eyed, with a certain familiar tilt to the chin? Scamp!

"No one argues with Ramoth, you know," the boy said. "Gotta go! I'll be back."

It seemed to F'lessan more like a threat but he chewed a huge bite of the roll-the bread was crusty and still slightly warm. With his free hand, he slipped the sweat-soaked helmet off his head and spread it where it could dry. Shards! That tsunami shed a lot of water! Wearily, he looked over at Tai but she was sound asleep. She was lucky. Would he see that damned wave hovering over him if he slept? Or himself, Golanth, and Binness plastered like insects on the cliff? A vision out of a nightmare sure to become one! Golanth really was the best dragon on all Pern.

Of course I am,murmured the bronze immodestly.

F'lessan chuckled around the last piece of the breadroll that he barely tasted, he was so tired. He swallowed the last of it with a sip from the water canteen. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Had there been a dash of fellis in that healer's cup? He took a long swallow of water.

Golanth groaned and dropped his muzzle to one foreleg. F'lessan reached up to pat the right eye ridge, nuzzled himself into a comfortable spot against Golanth's shoulder, and immediately fell asleep.

At wintry Fort, F'nor and Idarolan informed Sebell of the dangers and the details. Idarolan had acquired sufficient extra copies of the projected tsunami path through the Southern and Western Seas to give a set to the MasterHarper. The Interface office had the only automatic copier, another of the many technological wonders that were coming in so very useful. Considering the panic of drum messages into the Harper Hall from those minor holds and halls that had drummers, Sebell needed accurate information to give them. It was still night in the west but the constant drums had interrupted the sleep of many and lights were on in cotholds as well as in Fort's great facade. A messenger came running up from the Healer Hall with queries from Master Oldive as to where he was to send healers to help in this emergency of which he'd like pertinent details so he could organize his craftsmen and -women.

"Have you time for something to eat and drink?" Sebell asked when the core of the emergency had been explained to him.

"No, it's earlier at Southern Hold and we'd best not delay explaining it all to Toric," F'nor said, grimacing.

"He'll demand to know why he's had to wait to learn about the fireball," Sebell added. Then he chuckled, his eyes bright in the gleam of the Hall's night lamps.

"I could use a laugh," F'nor said.

"I think he may regret having so many-ah, shall we say undisclosed-coastal holdings?" Sebell snorted, his expression amused. "Truth will out. K'van probably knows."

"We'd best go. He and Sintary will be waiting for us at the old Weyr site."

"We will try to defuse rumor with fact," Sebell said.

A task that F'nor did not envy him.

Idarolan gave a malicious smile. "Keep ears open for what those seaworm Abominators spread."

"It's a natural disaster, isn't it?" F'nor remarked.

"Reported by the Yokohama,"Sebell demurred.

"And sharding fortunate we are to have at least one eye on the skies above," Idarolan said in his caustic fashion.

F'nor thought about timing it; there was no question in F'nor's mind that Toric's informers would eventually mention the exact minute and hour Landing had recognized the fireball as a threat, but he decided against making the effort just as Canth spoke.

Ramoth said not to! We do not know what else we will have to do today.

All right, Canth. I'm chastised.

You are not!his dragon replied in mild protest.

You know me too well.

Another drum message rolled in and with a backward wave, Sebell trotted up the steps to deal with it. Once sure that Idarolan was seated comfortably again behind him, F'nor gave Canth a vivid view of Southern Hold's rocky cliffs-at night.

Ruth is not the only dragon who knows when he is,was Canth's exit remark.

F'nor experienced an odd dislocation as they arrived over Southern Hold; the peaceful sight of the riding lights of four coastal ships anchored in the harbor and night glows up the harbor steps: all serene here. Landing had been chaotic! Fort Hold had been alive with activity and tension. Silently and, F'nor hoped, unseen by anyone watching below, Canth glided through the warm air over the sleeping Hold and on to the original Southern Weyr site. He was painfully aware that right now, on the other side of the planet, Monaco Bay Weyr would be experiencing the tsunami. There had been enough dragons to rescue every man, woman, and child, hadn't there?

The news he brought Toric was not as dire, though the Southern Holder might not agree. Idarolan was reasonably sure that Southern Hold's cliffs were high enough to withstand the diffraction effect of the tsunami, compressed between Ista Island and the Southern headland. Unfortunately, Toric would be experiencing the event on both sides of his Holding. Idarolan's chart, and Erragon's calculations, indicated a direct line of westbound tsunami, which might-just-lose significant energy. Either way, there were coastal holds that must be evacuated and herdbeasts moved inland from the low-lying pastures. However, during the bad, bad, bad blow of which the dolphins had warned Toric, he had not moved quickly enough to reduce the devastation of the horrific gale winds of that hurricane.

K'van, with his Weyrwoman, Adrea; Master Sintary; and four of the Southern Wingleaders, moved out of the shadows as Canth landed in the flower-scented night. Five pairs of blue-green eyes shone as the brown dragon crooned a greeting and went to join them. K'van distributed hand lights.

"Neither moon's out tonight," the young Weyrleader said, his white grin visible in the reflection of the light he carried. "R'mart wanted to come but we convinced him that retired means no more responsibility."

F'nor bowed to Adrea, nodded to the other bronze riders, and finished stripping off his flying gear. He was grateful for the fresh breeze on the plateau.

"I have my own light," Sintary said, turning his beam on the well-worn track from the old open Weyr to the Hold.

"Of course, Toric could just ignore all this," F'nor remarked in a low tone as the eight of them carefully proceeded to the Hold.

Before they reached the first bend, a fierce challenge stopped them.

"Who's out there?"

"F'nor, Canth's rider," and F'nor tilted the light to his face.

"K'van, Adrea, M'ling, N'bil, S'dra, H'redan," the Weyrleader said, also lighting his face and flashing it at his companions as he named them.

"Idarolan and Sintary," the Harper said in turn.

"Bringing an urgent message to Lord Toric from Landing," F'nor said.

"A very urgent and very important message," Idarolan said, stepping forward in a purposeful manner, "and you had best guide us to him immediately."

"It's the middle of the night!" was the protest.

"Since when has the middle of the night been free of trouble!" Idarolan did not pause in his stride and the guard gave ground.

"You sound like Idarolan," he said dubiously.

"If you don't know your Weyrleader by sight," Sintary remarked acidly, "you're in a lot of trouble."

"This way, Master Harper, Weyrleader K'van. This way." They were going past the large square when he made one more remark. "You've got to wake him, not me!"

F'nor wasn't the only one who chuckled.

Luckily, it was Ramala who answered their summons, holding up a glowbasket to identify the visitors.

"Bad news?" she asked, leading them to the main hall.

"Perhaps not as bad for Southern as it is for others," Idarolan remarked which made her stop and regard him speculatively in the dimly lit hall. "If you would be good enough to wake Toric?"

"Yes, it had better be me," she said and waved them to chairs as she opened the nearest glowbaskets.

She disappeared on her errand and, because they were listening, they heard Toric's muffled shout of protest. Then she came back, nodded at them and said, if they wouldn't mind opening more lights, she would get fresh klah.

"Or wine, if you feel that would suit better."

"Both," F'nor said bluntly. He could use a glass of wine right now. Breakfast at Benden seemed to have been a long time ago despite the food that had been served during the emergency meeting at Landing.

Sintary and two of the bronze riders opened only sufficient glowbaskets to light the front part of the big hall. They had taken seats at one end of the long table when they heard the scrape of sandals on stone. Idarolan grinned, arranging his papers on the table, preparatory to an argument with Toric.

Shirt open, drawstring shorts rucked at one hip, the Lord Holder swung into the room, scowling, and the scowl deepened as he paused on the threshold, regarding those awaiting him.

"What the shards is the matter now? This can't constitute a Council!"

"A fireball impacted in the Eastern sea at approximately twelve hours twenty minutes Landing time," F'nor said bluntly.

"The impact of what we believe is a cometary fragment has created tsunamis," Idarolan said. "You will remember what happened when that volcano Piemur discovered erupted."

Toric's eyes rounded, thick sun-bleached eyebrows turning his scowl into an expression of unpleasant surprise.

"Some of your Hold is in the path of the tsunamis-two sets of them, one with three different waves from the east and the other from the west," Idarolan went on relentlessly. He used the map in front of him to point them out. "Journeyman Erragon and Master Wansor confirmed the phenomenon." He paused for a moment and then rushed on, as a man who regretted what he had to say. "Even as we speak, Monaco Bay is probably being drowned!"

Adrea gasped, and S'dra and N'bil inhaled sharply.

Toric stared at the retired MasterFishman and then glared at K'van. "Then what are you dragonriders doing here instead of being there to help them?" He waved his arms furiously to indicate the different sites. He dropped his eyes to study the chart, pulling it toward him.

"Every Weyr has sent wings to help," F'nor said, "We're here to tell you what to expect in roughly eleven hours from now."

Toric blinked.

"I will have riders in the sky rousing the coastal holders as soon as Adrea's queen gives them the orders," said K'van with a stiff bow to Toric. "We know you prefer to be informed of the Weyr's movements. I have just returned from the emergency meeting at Landing."

"I'll rouse your portmaster myself," Idarolan volunteered, "to warn the ships at anchor. They'll be safe enough at sea. Able to ride the tsunami swell, if they notice it at all. It's the land that's vulnerable."

Ramala came in with a tray of cups and food, followed by a very sleepy and resentful pair of holder women, one bearing a big klah pot, the other a wineskin. "You all need something in your stomachs to organize the evacuations!" she said.

F'nor wondered how she knew what they had come to organize. Ramala was a good woman to have subtly on your side.

"Then, leaving you in good hands, Lord Toric," F'nor said courteous, "I will return to Landing."

"Good hands? I'll…" Toric lurched at F'nor.

Instantly, before Toric had a chance to complete his lunge at the brown rider, Idarolan stood between then. With a well-calculated blow of his fist to Toric's shoulder, he spun him off balance.

"If we're to save any of your coastal holds, Lord Toric, you'd best pay attention to me," Master Idarolan said in a loud harsh voice that had quelled argument before and made the infuriated Lord Holder think.

F'nor?Canth's mental tone was alarmed.

F'nor saw Sintary move to Idarolan's side as the stern MasterFishman held Toric motionless with his stony glare.

The Southern Lord Holder seemed to shake himself. With teeth clamped shut behind his bared lips, he gave a long hiss of breath and pivoted back to the table, spread with maps of his holding.

He's under control now, Canth,F'nor said, turning as casually as he could, trying to calm himself and his dragon. Sharding idiot!He could feel the anger of the other dragon-riders as he left the hall in measured strides. Thank the First Egg that Idarolan had been right that Toric respected him. Slowly his fists unclenched. He took his time walking back in the night to the old Southern Weyr to regain full control of himself. And to face the other disasters this day seemed to be so full of. As much as he dreaded what he must see of a flooded Monaco, he was needed there, or at Benden. He could get back to his duties in time. After all. at the very beginning of this Pass, thirty Turns ago, Lessa had sent him a full ten Turns back, to raise weyrlings. Timing it was far more wearing on the rider than the dragon. He wondered if he could make time to see Brekke at Benden. She'd undoubtedly be extremely busy organizing the mass evacuations along the Benden Hold coast. She might even be annoyed with him for interrupting her at whatever she was doing. He knew that he took strength from her slight person, strength and comfort, and he did so need to be comforted-however briefly-for the terrible reality of a drowned Monaco.

She is at Loscar. The High Shoals should protect it,Canth told him, eyes a brilliant blue as he stepped from the shadows. Other bright eyes watched the brown rider.

"Your riders will be here shortly," F'nor told the other dragons, trying to strike a cheerful note. "Lord Toric had no immediate argument with the news we brought him." He shrugged into his jacket, secured his helmet, and climbed to Canth's back, affectionately slapping him on the shoulder.

Where do we go now?

Where else, good friend? Landing.

Sometimes it was as well to do the hardest thing first, F'nor thought as they went betweento Landing.

And some hard things, F'nor realized, tears blurring his eyes, his chest painful, were harder than others. Canth had come out above Landing, facing north, so he had too good a view of the watery plain that had been forested Monaco, sparkling in the afternoon sun. He had given Canth a time afterthe waves hit Monaco, but before they pounded the Jordan River mouth. Involuntarily F'nor covered his face, but he could block out neither the gleaming expanse of water that had boiled inland on the crest of the tsunami nor the smaller seiche waves that were sloshing back and forth in perpendicular movement across what had been Monaco's crescent bay.

The water will not stay. It will drain back.His dragon's voice was so full of sympathy and understanding of the pain in his rider's heart that F'nor dropped his hands, the wind in his face drying the tears on his cheeks. He forced himself to think of the red indentations on Idarolan's chart and hoped that the tsunami had not penetrated as far as initial estimates. For partial reassurance, he could see blobs of green on the western side of Monaco Cape where stands of the big trees had survived the assault. And more, farther inland, on other hills.

A rumble penetrated his grief for the stricken coast and he felt Canth tilt and turn. There were other dragons in the sky, all facing west, all carrying at least two passengers: he easily recognized Ramoth, Mnementh, and the other Benden queens with nine more bronzes, ten browns, and some greens in attendance. They hovered above the Jordan River inlet.

Join them!Might as well twist the knife a little, F'nor thought with rare masochism.

They were not in time to witness the initial heaving of the sea, like the shoulders of a great, headless, pewter-colored beast. They did see the white spume, outlining the leading edge. And they did see the gigantic wave-dragon-lengths of it-crash against the Jordan cliff, and the way the spray-tried to curl over the massive basaltic precipice, the wind blowing back the sound of that assault! They saw the second wave lurching against the bulwark. They could see old Oslo Landing inundated, see the tsunami streaming along the sloping coastline to attack the stones of Kahrain Cape. Out of the corner of his left eye, F'nor saw that part of the tsunami now seemed to swell and race along the basalt walls lining the Jordan River, pushing it in its wake, back up the length of the deep chasm. At his altitude, he could see the tsunami race-it seemed to flow over the natural seaward current-splashing against the rocky sides, but powerless to rise to the forest above.

The tightness in his chest eased as he understood that, powerful though the tsunami was, the land could survive.

The other watchers suddenly disappeared, going between.F'nor had seen enough. He asked Canth to spiral down to Landing. Hard work was a good way to blunt difficult emotions.

F'lessan felt the tentative prod on his shoulder. Felt a second, harder one. Felt Golanth's groan in the dragon's deep chest. Smelled klah and an appetizing odor of something roasted, held under his nose.

He opened one eye and saw a figure hunkered down in front of him, holding out a cup and a small plate, heaped with bite-sized food. He pushed himself against Golanth and straightened. He nearly fell back because his right arm was half asleep.

"F'lessan? Drink! You need the liquid."

That sounded like Tai's voice. He opened both eyes. She didn't look any better than he felt; her face was dirty and haggard. Oddly, her hands were clean. She sat down cross-legged in front of him, without spilling the klah or scattering the food from the plate.

"They let us sleep longer. I don't know why, but I'm grateful."

"So am I!" F'lessan yawned mightily, holding the klah out in front lest it spill on himself or Tai.

Then he realized that it was cloudy. Landing's usually bright sun was visible as a hazy yellow orb in the forbidding sky.

"Dust in the air, someone told me," Tai said with no expression in her voice. She wasn't a volatile personality, like Mirrim or Lessa, F'lessan thought. More like Brekke, quiet, self-contained; definitely reserved.

"What's happening now?" The bronze rider jerked his thumb to the three Benden queens, still on duty.

"The tsunami keeps going," she said, her head averted.

"Did it destroy Cove Hold?" F'lessan blurted the question out. He could endure almost any other destruction but that.

"Oh, no," she said quickly, with a sudden magically reassuring smile. "Cove Hold has only a little bit of flooding in the gardens. They had nearly four hours to pack up everything portable, but the water never reached MasterHarper's porch."

He felt tension in his midriff snap with relief. He closed his eyes, thinking of Cove Hold as he had last seen it. Gardens could be replaced. Whatever other things had been destroyed by the tsunami, he was deeply grateful Robinton's last home had come through this disaster relatively unscathed. But Tai did not look happy. She paused, her eyes unfocused and her shoulders sagged again. The smile disappeared and she seemed sunk in depression. He caught her hand, thinking he knew what would trouble her more than Cove Hold.

"The observatory?"

"Not as badly damaged as it could have been. That dome is watertight. Kahrain Cape above it caught the brunt. There was a spectacularly high crest at Jordan Cliffs." F'lessan shuddered, remembering the one he had so narrowly escaped. "I'm told a lot of people watched."

The brief animation in her face faded quickly.

"I'm sorry, Tai. Not much of Monaco would have survived," he murmured, squeezing her hand hard in sympathy.

"There were five waves, you know," she said flatly. "One after another. They sort of bounced off the nearer Ring island and then plowed into Monaco." She raised one hand and smacked it slowly, five times, into the palm of the other, then her shoulders sagged and her hands dropped. "Pier went in the first one and all the cotholds on the beach. People saved a lot of the tools and supplies from the boatyard. The careening cradles are just splinters after the seiche waves. T'lion said those are the perpendicular waves, when the main ones subside. I don't know how he could go and look except that he was trying to find the dolphin bell pylon. He said it's made of an indestructible material." She gave a heavy sigh as if she doubted anything could have survived the surge of five tsunami waves. "Portmaster Zewe took down the dolphin bell, you know. T'lion said he'd been out far enough to sea for Gadareth to land on the water and call Report. It was pretty choppy and cloudy but the dolphins reported." That seemed to cheer her a bit. "No pods suffered casualties and they warned all the land people."

F'lessan stroked her hand soothingly. "I know. They warned Sunrise cliff." He hesitated. "Is Readis all right? At his Dolphin Hall?"

"Yes." She managed a weak grin. "T'lion checked. Readis was high on Rubicon Cliff."

He didn't know what else to say. He knew that Monaco Weyr Center was probably bobbing with the splinters of the pier and the vegetation. Wherever she and Zaranth had weyred was deep under water.

"Eat," F'lessan said gently and held a bit to her lips because he hadn't seen her take any of the roasted meat.

She put a piece in her mouth, chewing it slowly, automatically, not tasting anything, and not looking at him, distraught. Why wouldn't she be? he thought.

"What news of other shoreline holds? Was everyone lifted to safety?" Would he always see the panic on Binness's face when he realized he was trapped between a wave and a rock?

Irritation made her flush. She stopped her chewing and looked up at him, a small outraged frown knotting her eyebrows. "I heard there were some who didn't believe the dragonriders and …"

"Crept back to get something they couldn't live without and drowned," he finished for her. "The Weyrs are not responsible for arrant stupidity!"

"But they'd been brought to where it was safe!" She gripped her fingers so hard her knuckles were white.

"Like the dolphins, we can't help it if people don't listen to our warnings." F'lessan caught both her hands in his and tugged them to get her to look at him. "Tai, how much timedid you spend today warning, rescuing?"

She blinked furiously, tears spattering onto his hand. "I… I can't remember. The fireball was always there," and she cast a frantic glance to her right, to the north.

He massaged her taut hands and fingers, doing his best to soothe her, to relieve her inexpressible grief.

"Every dragon here did what he or she could do. I'll wager there're hundreds of exhausted dragons here. We did allwe could!" He thought of his son, barely fifteen Turns, taking his dragon on the longest trip betweenthey'd yet made, to serve food and drink. "We didn't lose a dragon, did we?" No, he would have known. Dragons made a terrible noise when one of them died.

She shook her head. He continued to stroke her hands as he looked out over the resting dragons, most of them Monacan, though he recognized a few from Telgar and High Reaches Weyrs.

"How much more do they expect of us?"

"The fireball fell. And made tsunami," she said, her tone utterly bereft. Zaranth crooned sympathetically, encouragingly.

F'lessan reached out and pulled the dejected green rider into his arms. Her skin was cold beneath his hands. He snagged one of the feline pelts from the ground by Zaranth.

"How in the name of the First Egg could dragons have stopped the fireball dropping or the tsunami from starting?" he demanded bitterly. "We did what we could!" Once again he used Golanth's shoulder as a backrest and made Tai as comfortable against him as he could. He felt Golanth's sympathetic rumbling and Zaranth shoved her nose over to give Tai's arm a brief lick. F'lessan felt the reassurances of both dragons humming through him. Tai lay motionless, her breathing gradually easing from despairingly ragged to a calmer rhythm.

"You'll see, Tai. We'll be more famous than Moreta and her ride. There were thousands of us doing it."

We mustn't say that we timed it, F'lessan,Golanth whispered.

"We're not to say we timed it, F'lessan," murmured Tai in the same breath.

"Another little miracle of the day covered up, huh?" F'lessan felt rancor building in him. What did it matter if half the population of Pern knew dragons could go betweentime as well as place? It's not as if people could learn how. On the other hand, he'd had enough timing it these last few hours-felt more like days-with that damned fireball hanging over his shoulder.

Tai, who had begun to relax against him, now tensed again and struggled to sit upright.

"Did you save these?" She held up one leg of spotted pelt.

"Me? No. Are these the ones you skinned in Cardiff? Beauties."

"How did they get here?"

Tai's eyes widened, her mouth dropped open and she stared at Zaranth who now looked very uncomfortable and dropped her head from her rider's arm, hiding her eyes.

Zaranth said to Tai that she wanted them so much and there was no time to go get them,Golanth said very softly to F'lessan.

"What does she mean by that?" F'lessan asked, seeing an unreadable expression on Tai's face.

"Sir, Masterprinter, sir," an uncertain young voice said at Tagetarl's elbow.

"Just a minute." Annoyed, Tagetarl held up his hand so he could listen to the last of the drum message being passed. He didn't want to miss a vital one; most had been seeking information. Telgar and Lemos had confirmed a fireball visible in their sky. Benden drums confirmed that it had fallen into the Eastern Sea.

Roused from his bed early that morning, Tagetarl had gone to his office to find what reassurance he could from his maps. The Eastern Sea was a long way from Keroon. But he was awake so he went down to the kitchen level to make fresh klah. He had a hunch he'd need it before this day was done. Several hours later, when the shock wave rumbled over Wide Bay, he blithely told everyone that this was natural enough. Most believed Harpers, but not all. His spouse, Rosheen, gave him a skeptical stare.

Drums rolling a message on to Keroon Hold informed him, and anyone else who could interpret drum messages, that "everything was under control." A tag to it-that only a harper would know-was an urgent invitation for Lord Kashman to be conveyed to Landing.

Nor was what "was now under control" explained. Situated in an old warehouse that had been converted to its new purpose, Tagetarl's Printing Hall was on the north side of Wide Bay. He had a good view of ships entering and leaving the harbor but the Hall was not conveniently situated to see if a dragon had taken off from Keroon Hold. With his good long-range vision, he could make out frantic activity on the wharves as goods waiting to be shipped were taken back into warehouses. He didn't need his prized collapsible far-seer to see colored sails being hoisted on the dozen or so ships, some of which he knew were waiting for cargo. All through the morning, a tension seemed to pulse in on every wave that splashed the seawalls. Gales whipping either east or west of Nerat's tip often blustered up past Igen's headland and up wide Keroon Bay. Tagetarl frequently found reasons to stop in his office for a few minutes and check what was happening in the bay. The ships were sailing south on a wide port tack, evidently heading up Keroon Bay. For safety.

A shuffling reminded him that he'd nearly forgotten the messenger.

"Sorry…" he caught back "son" because the person in front of him was a young girl. He was still not accustomed to girls as green riders. She looked very uncertain of herself, but somehow proud; he'd seen that combination when a young student managed to play a complicated score correctly. She had her riding helmet crushed in one hand and a thin message packet in the other. Hesitantly she held it out for him to take. She wore Monaco colors and a green weyrling's knot on her flying jacket. "Sorry, green rider. Is all well at Monaco?"

She stammered. "Very wet, Master. I am to deliver you this." His polite inquiry produced fear and anxiety in her face. "For your urgentattention, Masterprinter. I must wait until you've done it."

"You must, must you?" Tagetarl smiled reassuringly. She couldn't be more than sixteen Turns and he wondered if this was her first long journey as a weyrling. She also looked very tired. However, any news from Monaco might clarify and enlighten the tense situation-and explain why Lord Kashman had been called to Landing. Of course, the new Lord Holder may not be quite sure of procedure in what appeared to be a widespread emergency.

"Yes, sir, and where may I wait?"

"Sit, before you fall, girl," Tagetarl said, pointing to a stool before he opened the message. "From F'lar?" he exclaimed, recognizing the handwriting-bad enough under any circumstances, though the bronze rider had obviously tried to be legible.

"Tag, urgent notice to publish facts. Should get inland where sweepriders have not already given warnings. Runners have been asked to distribute. Give the messenger a hundred to take to Nerat. Please ask Keroon Stationmaster to distribute another hundred. Riders will be sent for the rest. Rush." This last was underscored several times.

Any irritation Tagetarl felt for the peremptory tone was discarded when he read the copy for printing. The body of the message was in another handwriting altogether, much easier to read.

"Rosheen! Turn on the big press,"he shouted down the hall. He heard her answering "What?"and continued to call orders at what his spouse called his "harper volume," audible inside and outside the hall. "Apprentices! I'll need the big notice sheets. Check the toner cartridges." He turned back to the green rider." Where's your dragon?"

"Ptath's in the court. F'lar told me we'd fit. That's why I was chosen to bring the message. The Printer Hall wasn't hard to find once I got to Wide Bay. I'm Danegga. No one here seems to mind a dragon dropping in on them," she added with a charming naivete.

"The Printer Hall is accustomed to visitors, Danegga, but you look tired and you may want to get something hot to eat. Betweenis cold." He gave her an encouraging smile. "Your first assignment out of Monaco, Danegga? Good ride. Much damage at Monaco Weyr?"

Her face twisted and tears came to her eyes but she pulled her shoulders up proudly. "They say the water will recede. We'll rebuild, Masterprinter. We saved everybody and as much else as the dragons could carry."

"Then you did very well, Danegga. Very well indeed. Now, run down to the kitchen-just follow your nose. There's always soup on the stove and there was fresh bread this morning. Might just be time for you to get a short nap while I print these. Monaco will be proud of you."

"Thank you, sir, thank you," and as she turned to leave, she nearly ran Rosheen down, bobbing again to excuse herself.

As Rosheen reached Tagetarl, he flourished F'lar's message at her, not allowing her time to read it.

"We'll both need to set copy. Headline in the boldest print face we have, biggest letters," he muttered, pulling her down the hall to the Print Hall proper.

"FIREBALL WILL CAUSE COASTAL FLOODING!" he said, making a big bracket with his hands. Good time to try that 26-point they'd just added.

She grabbed the message from his hand.

"So this is what's got the ships sailing away. A fireball? What's that? Oh, the text explains. And they got Master Esselin to sign this, too?"

She nearly tripped in surprise and Tagetarl grinned at her. They'd both done their stints of copying under his critical eye.

"Makes it more official, though, doesn't it?" Tagetarl grinned. "Apprentices, front and center! We'll need to wrap in hundred-copy packets."

"Did I see Monaco colors on the girl?" Rosheen asked as they took the last few steps to the Hall floor.

"You did and you know as much as I do. Let's get this job done as fast as possible. Rumors of course will spread faster, but if the Runners distribute a written message, people are more likely to believe the printed word."

"Considering how scarce they are…" was Rosheen's whimsical remark as she followed him.

The results were not bad for a rush job: the new toner dried fast so the copies didn't smear. He gave Danegga the first packet; he'd be on up the hill to deliver the second one as soon as he saw her off. Over his shoulder, he saw Ptath lift from the ground, but only high enough to safely go between.It didn't take him long to reach the Wide Bay Runner Station, situated as it was on the wide main road. He paused on the threshold since the entrance was full of men and women, a few dressed as Runners. When the very air buzzed with excitement, Stations were good places to garner news.

"Stationmaster," Tagetarl said, effortlessly projecting his voice through the babble. To his right, inside the main room, Arminet stood on tiptoe to see him.

"Let the MasterPrinter pass. He's just the man to explain all this," cried Arminet in his equally loud deep bass voice.

People stepped on each other to get out of Tagetarl's way but almost everyone asked "The fireball? Do you know about the fireball?" as he passed them.

Tagetarl held the package over his head, waving it. "It's all in here." He almost stumbled when he saw Pinch duck to one side. Trust that one to be in the thick of things. "Stationmaster Arminet, I've been asked by the signatories of this message to request Runners to pass these along inland. Sweepriders are warning coastal areas. I'll pay any charges you think fair."

"Ha! You know we carry community messages free, Master Tagetarl," Arminet said, his bass voice rumbling with sardonic amusement. "What does it say?"

Tagetarl began to recite the text of the message as he eased through the crowded room to hand the packet to Arminet. The Stationmaster was besieged by those who wanted their own copy. Tagetarl stopped talking, so as not to interrupt the concentration of those who had difficulty reading the smaller print below the banner headline.

"Then Aivas preventeddisaster?" Someone in the crowd said, doubtless Pinch, Tagetarl suspected, though the voice was muffled.

"And what are the Abominators saying?" Tagetarl demanded, hands on his belt, glaring around.

"That Aivas caused it, with all its meddling with the Red Star. And dragonriders let it pass. It was seen from Telgar, y'know," a man shouted.

"And Benden!" a soprano cried.

"Benden and Landing acted!" Tagetarl responded sharply.

"More than any Abominator did. I expect I'll have more news later. I'll publish as I receive. I stopped here first to start spreading truth."

"I'll see these go out with every packet," Arminet had to raise his voice again above the cries for copies.

Pinch did not follow Tagetarl out but he would probably be one of the first to spread the news where it would do the most good. Or thwart rumor quickest!

When Tagetarl got back to the Hall, he was surprised to see a crowd of people, all wanting their own copy of the newssheet. Rosheen and the two apprentices were handing them out as fast as they could. Tagetarl saw some far too curious folk circling by the shelves where he kept galley pages of work waiting for approval.

"You, there, wait your turn. Come up front," he called, gesturing authoritatively for them to stop wandering about the print shop. "You've no business back there." He went to supervise their departure and decided maybe he could do a second run of the sheet. Get people to rely on the printed word and he'd get new customers for the books and manuals he kept in stock.

F'lessan and Tai had finished eating when the word passed among the dragonriders that the emergency supplies were ready to be collected. Riders had been told to return to those holdings they had visited earlier that day. They were to check on injuries and determine if it was necessary to convey anyone betweento Landing's Healer Hall. Enough healers had been sent by Master Oldive to assist those locally assigned. There were Healer kits of bandages, numbweed, fellis juice, and fortified wine for riders to bring with them. The riders were to make their own judgments about staying overnight at holdings if critical situations had developed.

"What could be critical after this morning?" F'lessan remarked facetiously.

Tai gave him a hard stare. "I suppose we can bed down here tonight." She gave a shrug. "There's nothing left of our Weyr."

He knew that she, and a few other riders, had had the courage to overfly the flood that had drowned Monaco Bay Weyr.

"You can stay at Honshu," and before she could refuse, F'lessan extended the invitation to C'reel and St'ven nearby. "Have you been to Honshu?" he asked the brown riders.

"Hunted nearby once or twice," C 'reel said but his grim expression lightened at the invitation.

"There's plenty of space," F'lessan said expansively. "Though I'm not sure about having enough food. Bring some with you, but there's a whole cliff of space for dragons."

"How many can you accommodate?" Tai asked.

F'lessan raised his arms. "Well, not all of Monaco Weyr but two, three wings of riders and dragons. And any weyrfolk attached to them." As Tai turned away to spread his invitation, he added, "And tell 'em to bring blankets. It's cooler up there."

He and C'reel fitted Zaranth's load to her back before Tai returned.

"Everyone's grateful," she said and he knew that she was, too. "T'gellan and Mirrim may have to remain here at Landing and there're others promised to help the weyrfolk on the hills. They thank you, F'lessan. Landing's facilities are overtaxed."

"There're always the Catherine Caves," F'lessan said, trying for some levity.

"Too small for ourdragons," C'reel said, with good-natured condescension.

"Move on there, if you're loaded up," someone yelled at them.

They did. Zaranth following F'lessan, C'reel, and St'ven out of the line.

"Have you ever been to Honshu?" F'lessan asked Tai.

"Got taken there once. Oh, Zaranth says Golanth just made sure she knows the landmark. I'll see you!"

Zaranth trotted away, sacks bouncing on her back, until she had enough clear space to launch herself.

Tell her good flying, Golanth.F'lessan experienced an unusual sense of apprehension for the green rider.

She is strong. Zaranth is strong. The sooner we go, the quicker we get to Honshu. Honshu is quiet,his bronze told him and F'lessan couldn't agree more.

St'ven and C'reel mounted over the supplies. He wondered if they were as uncomfortable as he felt, perched on sacks with hard things prodding into his legs. He latched his helmet, made sure his jacket was closed and, raising his arm high, pumped it to direct his companions upward.

Let's not make shallow jumps a habit, brown riders,he said, waiting until they were well above the surface. Then he extended his arm southward to their destinations. We all know where we're going?

Riders and dragons acknowledged.

Let's go.

Coming out above an almost obscenely quiet sea front where Sunrise Cliff Seahold had been was as much a shock to F'lessan as to the other riders: he could hear their exclamations above the sad noises all three dragons made.

There might never have been human habitation here. Waves splashed idly against granite cliffs instead of wide white sands in grassy dunes, waters draining muddily back from the break in the cliff face that had been a streambed. From the flotsam deposited, piled in places, they could see how far inland the tsunami had coursed. It had not yet pulled back far enough to show what might be left of the cotholds. Whole tree trunks floated on the waves, idly being pushed in by the high water. It was logical to assume that these had been swept from the islands just off the coast. Most were craggy, with no place for a holding of any sort, except near the summits, but they had supported the same variety of fruit and timber trees that grew on this part of the continent. And the fish would return to an area rich in feed.

Mealth sees smoke,Golanth told his rider and turned his head.

F'lessan let out his breath. He hadn't known he'd been holding it. His throat ached. He hadn't a doubt that Lady Medda had organized everything to her satisfaction. Odd that there was still light in the sky-a strange sort of luminescence, possibly something to do with that sharding fragment. After today he was going to review his old astronomy lessons and he doubted he'd be the only one.

Let s see where the fire is.

Someone is waving a banner near the forest,Golanth said, and picked up the beat of his wings, angling slightly over the summit.

Why were his binoculars in Benden when he needed them here? But he could make out quite a few figures, several waving what were probably the shirts from their backs. He hoped they'd saved more clothing when he remembered the full nets that had been conveyed to the cliff top.

She is there!Golanth said and F'lessan looked about for a green dragon and her rider. The old one. In her chair.

And so she was, looking dry, her hair carefully plaited, her rocking motion reflective. It stopped at the sight of the incoming trio of dragons. They were cheered as they landed and would have been welcomed, but a barked command from Binness kept all at their chores. A circle of stones accommodated a brisk hot fire over which two huge kettles had been set on tripods. One was already steaming. At the forest edge, two men were skinning a herdbeast, fallen fruit had been gathered and lay in nets to one side, and wood was stacked under an oilskin.

Binness, his arms bandaged where Golanth had seized him, came to meet them, limping a bit. He was still barefoot, curling his toes up from the coarse ground cover.

"Didn't expect you back, dragonrider," Lady Medda said.

"You didn't think we'd check to be sure you'd survived, Lady Medda?" F'lessan asked, grinning.

Binness shrugged. "Mostly the only time we see dragon-riders is Threadfall but you saved us from far worse today. And three boats." He nodded solemnly to where the dories had been propped up on stout branches to provide shelter for sleeping children.

"Landing has sent water, bread, klah, glowbaskets, hand lights, medical supplies, and canvas for tenting," F'lessan said cheerfully.

"It's warm enough these nights," Binness said, tilting his head back.

"I believe there're wineskins, too, which we thought you might be in need of," St'ven added, grinning.

"Did I hear him say 'wine,' Binness?" shouted Lady Medda.

"Grand dam you have, Binness," F'lessan said.

"Bring him and the wine here, Binness. We've only herbal leaves to serve but it's my own recipe. Puts heart in man or beast. Wine'll increase its medicinal value."

"Anyone wounded? Sick?" F'lessan asked Binness when he had dismounted with one wineskin in his free hand.

"More shocky than hurt. May I have your name, dragon-rider?" Binness asked with a respectful bow. "I thought I was dead, between that wave and the cliff."

"F'lessan, Golanth's rider, Benden Wingleader."

They had reached her in her chair which, F'lessan could now see, rocked on a square of worn rug, with a footstool to prop her swollen feet. The dragonrider bowed respectfully to the indomitable old woman.

"Lady Medda!"

"I'm no lady," she replied with vigor but she smiled at him coquettishly. "Not but what I haven't had a dragonrider or two warm my bed at night."

"Granddam!" Binness was shocked. "That's no way to speak to the man who saved us."

"Did you thank him for saving you?" Her sharp blue eyes pinned her son before she turned on F'lessan. "He thanked you proper?"

"He did and Golanth and I were glad to be-in time."

"In time?" She gave him a long startled glare. "Closest run thing I ever saw. An' only a foolish dragonrider would've risked his neck and his dragon's for my son. Though I'm glad you did. He's my eldest." Then she flicked her hand, dismissing Binness, and peered shrewdly up at F'lessan. "How'd they fare at Monaco? I remember it's flattish there. Someone bring a cup for the dragonrider. For the others, too."

"Monaco is flooded," F'lessan said, quickly, sparing C'reel and St'ven the need to answer such a painful query. He waved away the cup that a girl offered. "There is much to do. We can't stay long. I'm to ask what supplies you'll need to rebuild."

"Ach!" Lady Medda flipped her hand. "We'll see what's left us. There'll be stone enough to rebuild. You saved some of the dories. S'all we need."

F'lessan gave her another respectful bow.

"We'll be back in a day or so," C'reel said. St'ven reinforced the promise with a quick nod.

"And you, young F'lessan?" the old lady asked, pointing her stick at him and rocking her chair forward so that it nearly touched him.

"Would that I could match you, Lady Medda," he said with his most charming smile and backed away. As he strode to Golanth and vaulted astride, he could hear her laughter, a genuine rippling laugh, not an auntie's cackle. He gave a final wave to all before asking Golanth to launch. Properly, not over the cliff edge,he added.

They reported the particulars of Sunrise Cliff Seahold to a harried archivist who had set up a temporary office in a tent on the edge of Landing's Gather square. When they were done, the archivist waved them in the direction of the tables on the other side where food was being served and remarked that they would doubtless hear from their Weyr queen when and where they would be needed.

"You wouldn't happen to know where what's left of Monaco Weyr is being accommodated?" C'reel asked.

"No, no, over there. She'll know." The man waved his pen vaguely.

"Well, I could use clean clothes," C'reel said, noticing that clothing was being stacked at the north side of the square.

"Me, too," St'ven said. Although F'lessan kept extra clothing at Honshu, he wouldn't be able to supply more than a few.

All at once, the heat of the square, the noise of those thronging about, the day's exigencies seemed too much to endure a moment longer.

"You get clothing, C'reel, St'ven," he said. "Find out where the rest of your Weyr is quartered. I'll get to Honshu and make ready for you."

To F'lessan's dismay, Mirrim was already there, and had organized the couples who were holding a little north of the Weyrhold. He had thought her safely stuck at Landing. He should have known better. He should also be grateful to her-or try to act as if he were-though she still tended to give orders to him. Very soon after his arrival, he was genuinely glad she had come. She was the one who had organized food and there was succulent meat grilling on the main terrace for the many Monaco Weyr riders who had taken up his invitation. Tai was one of them. He would have liked to be able to show her around Honshu, especially the observatory and the telescope … one of his most treasured possessions.

He had found it when he and Golanth had been repairing solar panels on the Cliffside and discovered the thin, straight seams on what appeared to be solid rock, but were instead halves of an observatory dome. Getting in had been another problem, but the telescope, covered in that thin film that the Ancients had used-vacuum packing, Aivas had called it-was still on its U-shaped mounting. Wansor and Erragon had been excited about its existence but warned F'lessan that awakening the scope would require a great deal of preparation: it required a computer to direct and focus it, and a screen to show what it observed.

Tonight he didn't have the energy to climb that long spiral staircase and he was reasonably certain Tai didn't either.

Honshu's sprawling precipice, its two terraces and ledges, were so covered with dragons that soon others had to find space on the rocky terraces down by the river. Their numbers would be sufficient to keep away the herdbeasts who often came for shelter in the lower cave as well as the felines who hunted them. Even in the early days of its discovery, Honshu had never had so many human guests.

Sitting on one of the few chairs on the main terrace, F'lessan airily advised each new arrival to dump his or her flying gear on any unoccupied space and come back for food. T'gellan had brought four wineskins and St'ven and C'reel added two kegs of the light beer Landing brewed. From Honshu's deep cellars, F'lessan sacrificed some of the good Benden he had put aside for a special occasion; surviving this day could be considered in that category. There was enough for everyone to have at least a cup of beer or wine. That would be sufficient for men and women who had served double the hours a day usually spanned.

Unaccustomed to having "his" space at Honshu so overly populated, F'lessan took his wine up to the second terrace and was delighted to find Tai there.

"I suppose we'll need time to wind down," he said, coming up behind her. "Sorry," he added as she whirled around, spilling some of her wine. "Don't waste it."

"You startled me."

"So I see. Again, my apologies."

She flicked her hand in dismissal and seemed hesitant.

"So you noticed it, too," he said, gesturing to the northeast where a silvery glow arched in the general direction of Monaco.

She sighed and then looked up, where the light from other stars was undiminished.

"Yes, but Rigel's still there." She pointed at the first magnitude star above them.

"Hard to miss," he said, laughing softly. "And Betelgeuse," he said, subtly testing her knowledge of the southern night sky. She looked in the appropriate direction and he chuckled.

"Also Acrux, and Becrux," she quickly added, taking up his challenge. "The one forty degrees away is Gacrux. Erragon said there was a fourth star in what the Ancients called the Southern Cross but you can't find it with the naked eye."

"I'll match those with Shaula and Antares," and he lightly touched her shoulder to turn her toward Adhara.

"I am glad that you retained Honshu's old name," she said softly, her voice rough with fatigue. "I think it is honorable that we use the names the Ancients had for their places, and their stars."

"Why not? They brought the names with them. The stars haven't moved that much and there are bright ones in our skies that the Ancients saw from old Earth only as dim ones."

"It isn't the stars we have to worry about," Tai said, her voice as weary as the sudden slump in her shoulders.

"No, it isn't," he agreed tiredly, "but it's good to see they don't change. I've a pair of binoculars, you know, if you'd like to use them tomorrow night."

"You do?" Excitement briefly sparkled in tired eyes and then she sighed. "Tomorrow, if you'd trust me with them. They're … hard to come by."

F'lessan managed a wry grin. "I've known Piemur and Jancis a long time, you see, so I snuck to the top of the list. Besides, they're very keen to get the Honshu instrument working. A bit of extortion!"

"Extortion?" That startled her.

"It's all friendly. A dare and challenge situation," he assured her. "Tomorrow night then. We both need the sleep tonight." He put his hand lightly on the small of her back and gave a push.

Quietly they left the Upper terrace and separated in the hall inside. For this one night, fire-lizards would stand watch. F'lessan shared his room with the last to arrive: T'lion, bronze Gadareth's rider, and his brother, K'drin, brown Buleth's rider. Fortunately, neither snored.