Now she watched as dragons arrived in pairs, gliding down to waves that lapped quietly-again-up the beach. It was like a Gather dance, she thought, trying to think of something pleasant to quiet the nagging frustration that she had been experiencing ever since the Fireball Flood. From the north and High Reaches came the newest Weyrleaders, G'bear on Winlath and Neldama on Yasith-their mating had turned out felicitously, one of the few things that hadgone right lately. Slightly west of them, in from Telgar flew J'fery and Palla on Willerth and Talmanth. A single dragon appeared from the west, with two passengers, Jaxom and Sharra on Ruth. She wanted a word with Jaxom and N'ton about the Printer Hall incident. A second Printer Hall must be established as soon as possible. Printed documents were too important: human memories couldn't cope with all the details and the tedious act of handwriting was a process rife with opportunities for mistakes.

The visibly larger Fort dragons, Lioth and Ludeth, with N'ton and Margatta, followed Ruth immediately. Igen's Gyarmath and Baylith with G'narish and Nadira entered facing north. Lessa could hear dragons bugling over the building announcing the arrival of K'van and Adrea on Heth and Beljeth. Then three from the east, T'gellan, Talina, and Mirrim. Well, Mirrim was to be expected and, while Lessa knew the girl could be domineering and arrogant, she had great sympathy toward a fosterling she had trained.

The newly made Master Erragon had particularly invited F'lessan and a Monacan green rider, named Tai, who was one of Erragon's apprentices. Her name was familiar to the Benden Weyrleaders for her part in thwarting the vandals at Landing and being indefatigable during the evacuation of Monaco.

As the Weyrleaders filed in, Master Wansor, their official host for the night, greeted them. He stood on the threshold, a serene personality in a room that held memories for all of them. He lifted a smiling face to each new arrival as if he saw them as clearly as ever. Erragon stood behind Wansor, wearing the diamond pendant that was the sign of his new rank, and well deserved for the way he had managed information and warnings about the Fireball. He was being introduced to those few Weyrleaders he had not previously met. Lytol and D'ram were fussing with papers at a table in one corner. Nine piles of paper: one for each Weyr and who got the last? She flicked her eyes back to the door, to scrutinize F'lessan as he reached the steps, one hand under the elbow of the tall, dark-haired woman accompanying him. What Lessa noticed most were her wide mouth and curiously slanted green eyes.

Zaranth's rider,Ramoth said, almost approvingly. Lessa cleared her face of the beginnings of a scowl. F'lessan was not a child any longer. He had come very close to total exhaustion after the Impact; moving dories among other things, Ramoth had reported with critical asperity. His feat of saving the Seaholder from sure death in the tsunami wave had been notable in a day that the harpers said had been full of incredible feats of courage. F'lessan's timing had always been exquisite and someday she must ask exactly how he'd achieved such an impossible rescue. He was at Benden only when Wingleader duties required him to be present, for he seemed to prefer living in Honshu now.

His choice,Ramoth added ambiguously.

F'lessan caught sight of his mother in the window seat, gave her that engagingly charming smile of his and turned to speak to Wansor. The very casualness of his greeting amused Lessa. She was more surprised when, as Tai held out her hand, the old Smith caught it in his, his smile redoubling, his eyebrows flaring up as if by widening his opaque eyes he might somehow see her more clearly: obviously this green rider was very welcome in Cove Hold. Erragon's greeting was that of pleased teacher to best student.

"Attractive but not pretty," F'lar murmured to his weyr-mate after a very brief glance at F'lessan's companion. "No wonder he's so often at Honshu now."

He likes it there,Ramoth said in that same cryptic tone.

T'gellan, with Mirrim and Talina, came up the steps now and Lessa thought Monaco's Weyrleader was much too thin, his eyes haunted. He had been working all the hours of the day to rebuild his Weyr. For that matter, neither Mirrim nor Talina looked much better, but they didn't look as gaunt as the bronze rider: they didn't have the full responsibility that a Weyrleader shouldered.

Lessa realized that all were now assembled and F'lar led her to their places on one end of the long, oval-shaped table.

"We're all here, aren't we?" F'lar said with a weary smile. He waited until the others seated themselves.

Twenty-two riders, three men who should have been enjoying their last decades in leisure, two Masters, and a Lord Holder: twenty-eight men and women to solve what she felt in her bones was impossible. But then, killing Fax had been-once. And ending Thread. Why should she consider thiscrisis to be beyond their capabilities? She gave her shoulders a little shake and took her place beside her weyrmate. She heard his sigh. Then he, too, stood straighter, to address the assembled.

"I'm sure we've all heard that dragonriders should do something about anything that falls from the sky." He let the various angry and resentful reactions to that peculiar assumption fade. "Ridiculous as that notion is, I think we all realize that that's the first question the Council will put to us in two days' time. Somehow that Fireball has become our fault." He altered his voice, affecting a querulous tone. " 'Dragons can fly between.Can't they just push rocks out of the way? Can't they burn them out of the skies? Can't they dosomething?' "

"Didn't we do enough?"F'lessan said with a brittle edge to his voice that surprised Lessa. Then he shrugged and his expression altered to one of detached indifference as other bronze riders muttered about ingratitude and impossible demands.

"Dragonriders did more than enough," said Lytol, the former Lord Warder of Ruatha, his craggy face fierce.

"Every Weyr performed magnificently," D'ram added, prideful.

"In the time allotted," Jaxom said, his expression very bland, turning his head ever so slightly toward Lessa. That sly remark subtly defused the unspoken resentment. Some even chuckled.

"I never understood quite how you accomplished as much as you did," Wansor said in all innocence. But then his expression turned to respectful awe. "The miracles you managed! In the face of what could have been catastrophic. Why the Storm of 'Twenty-nine Present Pass was a shower in comparison!"

"Fortunately, we're not considered responsible for the weather," F'lar said satirically.

"Not yet," G'dened added in a sour voice. Though Ista had been spared the full impact of the tsunami waves, the island had suffered badly from the hurricane.

"You know, there are those who feel we failed them in that storm, too," G'narish said, shaking his head.

"This time we had sufficient warning," K'van remarked, "before the winds made it impossible to fly."

"Back to what you said, F'lar, it isn't as if dragons couldflame rocks in space," N'ton said. "Dragons need oxygen to make fire."

"Meteorites are moving too fast to be caught by dragons," K'van added, "not to mention the fact that they're so hot, mere dragon fire would have no effect whatsoever and be a total waste of time and effort."

F'lar grinned broadly. "Other facts Lord Holders and Craftmasters tend to forget. Still, I'd like to take the initiative. We've been on the defensive since that sharding Fireball impacted."

"You mean, there issomething we can do?" G'dened demanded, sitting up straighter and glaring around the table.

"Oh, indeed," Wansor said, smiling beneficently around the table. "My Craft hasn't been idle a single moment. We have solid recommendations to make to the Council."