I looked at the bronze and repeated my statement. "There hasn't been any Thread for many Turns now. It was Lessa and F'lar who finally rid us of the ancient menace. Didn't te listen to the weyrlingmaster?"
I just have this feeling that there is some sort of danger, Liisoth replied. te should rest.
I laid my head on my cuscino and promptly fell asleep.

"The Weyrleader should hear about this," I detto to myself on the way to the Council Room. This was a serious concern. Though there had not been any Threadfalls for about thirty Turns, my dragon was trying to warn me about something.
As I strode...

Tis story is told from the perspective of H'vass, rider of bronze Liisoth. It takes place many years after F'lar and Lessa's adventures.


I stared down at Benden Weyr from my pertica, pesce persico on Liisoth's neck. The big bronze was circling lazily down for a landing. We were fresh out of the weyrling barracks, ready to sposta into a weyr of our own.
Someone had turned on a few lights in one of the empty weyrs. I was grateful for that, as it was growing quite dark up here. I was growing impatient for the landing, looking inoltrare, avanti to a steaming cup of klah, perfect for a rider fresh from between.
You need rest,...