Oldive and Crivellan could be more sanguine about F'lessan. Physically he would recover from his wounds; the intestinal puncture had been repaired although the loss of flesh in the left calf, the tearing of the tendon and cartilage would almost certainly impair the full use of the leg. Right now, suffering from shock and loss of blood, they doubted he would survive the death of his dragon.

Neither would I, Lessa thought, grieving within the calm and confidence she projected publicly.

Both F'lessan and Golanth must be encouraged that the other, though wounded, would survive. Before F'lessan had lost consciousness, he-as Tai briefly had-may well have thought that Golanth was dying of his wounds and, had he taken that morbid thought with him into his fevered state, it was possible that he would slip away from them! They must also reassure Golanth, drifting in and out of consciousness from shock and weakness, that his rider was not mortally injured. Despite her own distress (numbweed deadened any pain), Zaranth kept assuring Golanth that F'lessan was alive, that his rider was only deeply asleep from pain and the exhaustion of their fight. Ramoth had given the bronze dragon the same reassurances and been a trifle testy when it seemed that Golanth put more reliance on what green Zaranth told him-when he was conscious enough to hear anything.

"So long as he understands that F'lessan lives," Wyzall told Lessa, "it doesn't matter who he believes so long as he does"

"Yes, yes, of course," she agreed, but it took a little rearrangement in her mind that herRamoth should take second place to a green.

"Why not? They're weyrmates," F'lar told her, finding brief amusement in what Lessa had apparently not understood. "Each dragon speaks to the other's rider."

She gave him a long startled look. "But he's-" she began and stopped to reconsider. "Well, I suppose it's about time his humanemotions were involved. I mean, he's very good with his sons, even if S'lan's the only one who ever lived in Benden. I just thought-"

F'lar put an arm around her shoulders. "Ramoth approves,"he murmured in her ear. "Mnementh does. When you consider what that green did today …"

"What she did today-" Lessa broke off. "Well, we won't bother her about how she did what she did today. She did it and-and I'm more grateful than I can ever express."

"Me, too," and he rolled Lessa more firmly into his arms, holding her against him, comforting them both. It would be a long sleepless night.

Once Oldive and Crivellan had left the unconscious F'lessan with Keita to watch him, the two Masters had insisted that the Weyrleaders get some rest. Sharra showed them to a small room, just down the hall from F'lessan and Tai.

Propping pillows behind them, since both knew they wouldn't be able to sleep, they kept trying to figure out the sequence of the astonishing events of the attack and how to explain the extraordinary actions of Ramoth.

"I don't know as I can explain," Lessa told F'lar, "and she's my dragon. I linked with her mind the moment I realized she had gone in answer to Golanth's alarm. I saw what she saw, and that was too many of those wretched predators latched on to him and the green. The green was-somehow-picking them up and flinging them off. It was a-motion-that Ramoth imitated. So did the other dragons. Grabbing the felines and tossing them off the two dragons." She rubbed her forehead as if that would clear the confused images Ramoth had projected to her rider. "F'lessan was on the ground, being viciously attacked; he'd no more than his belt knife, you know. And-Tai-was jumping from the ledge with something flaring out behind her.

"Then," and Lessa paused, frowning, "I think Golanth shouted 'time it' and Ramoth saw the one feline Zaranth hadn't deflected with her body." Her frown deepened and she spoke slowly, measuring the words with the fleeting moment that had made all the difference. "If its jump had connected, the beast could easily have severed Golanth's spinal cord." A shudder ran down Lessa's body and F'lar pulled her head against him in a tight embrace as if he could press the horror of that moment out of her mind-and his. "It had to have been Golanth. Greens don't know the mechanics of timing it without guidance, and Golanth had done so much at Monaco and Sunrise Cliff," Lessa said softly. "The others had just come. Even Ramoth didn't grasp the danger immediately. So it had to have been Golanth who said 'time it.' He must have seen his peril through Zaranth's eyes. Or Tai's. And Ramoth perceived what action was imperative. To deflect the feline's spring. I lost touch with her-and you know that sense of blankness that is between!"she asked, looking up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "I felt that. It's unmistakable. Ramoth timed it back to push the feline just far enough off balance so it missed its target. And didn't kill Golanth. Oh, F'lar, if it had, F'lessan wouldn't have been able to survive Golanth's death. Wouldn't have wanted to. We'd have lost them both!"

She crumpled then, having been calm, steadfast, and efficient for the past few hours. She burrowed into F'lar, struggling to hold him closer, closer, to drive away the appalling words she had just uttered.

"It's reaction," she sobbed. "I'm just reacting!" Tears streamed down her face; Lessa of Ruatha and Benden Weyr, she who had rarely cried, not even when Fax had slaughtered her family and everyone else in Ruatha Hold: now she wept!

She felt other tears drop onto her forehead, as she clung to her weyrmate and realized that he, too, cried even as he stroked her body and tried to soothe her, and let her weep. She couldn't stop, even if everyone or anyone else in Honshu heard her.

No one hears,Ramoth said, and her mental voice sounded very deep and echoing, but us.

It took time for both Weyrleaders to release pent-up emotions and regain composure. In the dark F'lar found the room's water basin and tap, discovered a towel, left behind when Monaco riders had been at Honshu, and they washed faces and hands. Still trembling, Lessa made an attempt to braid her hair and F'lar found a cup.

"Amazing!" he said, sitting beside her again, close enough that their thighs touched, as if he could no more bear separation in the aftermath of their emotional storm than she could. "The theory has always been that, if we knew the time, we could forestall a-a fatal-accident," he said in a low, shaky voice, reaching for her hand. "Like Moreta's death."

"Theory," she said with a derisive shrug. She sipped slowly from the cup of water, willing her body to stop shaking. F'lessan hadn't died because Golanth hadn't died. Golanth hadn't died because Ramoth had prevented it.

It isn't theory,Ramoth said, her mental tone tart, I timed it to the exact moment. Golanth showed me just how he had saved F'lessan and himself from being crushed by the tsunami wave. He was most resourceful to act on his own initiative. He learned something important that day and was too tired when he got back to Landing to tell even me. Today, Zaranth showed us how to push without touching. I admit that I had never thought greens could do something so unusual. I saw how she did it. Very clever of her. We two taught the others. But it was I who timed it to save Golanth from that last feline. Only I could have done that.

Lessa managed a shaky little laugh. Only you, my dearest. I do admit that today I learned something from a green dragon.Ramoth sounded as chagrined as her rider had ever heard her. I have told the others what Zaranth showed me how to do, how shepushed felines away,she added calmly. It is a useful skill for all to know.

Stunned by her dragon's attitude toward this new ability, Lessa turned to F'lar, whose expression was probably as incredulous as hers. Lessa gave one last hiccup.