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Seven Turns have now passed since that triuratitude of the Holds and Crafts to the rescuing Oldtime Weyrs has faded and soured And the Oldtimers the Four hundred Turns brought too es, and dissensions mount

CHAPTER I

Morning at Mastercrafthall, Fort Hold

Several Afternoons Later at Benden Weyr

Midar Time) at

Mastersar Hold

HOW TO BEGIN? mused Robinton, the Masterharper of Pern

He frowned thoughtfully down at the smoothed,face settled into deep-grooved lines and creases, and his eyes, usually snapping blue with inner aravity

He fancied the sand begged to be violated ords and notes while he, Pern’s repository and glib dispenser of any ballad, saga or ditty, was inarticulate Yet he had to construct a ballad for the upcoenar of Lear Hold Because of recent reports of unrest from his network of drummers and Harper journeyuests on this auspicious occasion—for every Lord Holder and Craftonmen of Pern As the subject of his ballad, he had decided to tell of the fantastic ride, between tiolden queen, Rah then for the arrival of dragonriders from the five ancient Weyrs from four hundred Turns in the past

Yet how to reduce those fascinating, frantic days, those braveries, to a rhy chords could not recapture the beat of the blood, the catch of breath, the chill of fear and the hopeless surge of hope of that firstafter Thread had fallen over Nerat Hold; when F’lar had rallied all the frightened Lords and Craftmasters at Benden Weyr and enlisted their enthusiastic aid

It had not been just a sudden resurgence of forgotten loyalties that had prompted the Lords, but the all too real sense of disaster as they envisioned their prosperous acres blackened with the Thread they had dis propagating parasites, of themselves walled up in the cliff-Holds behind thick metal doors and shutters They’d been ready to promise F’lar their souls that day if he could protect theht them that protection, almost with her life

Robinton looked up from the sandtrays, his expression suddenly bleak

“The sand ofout across the settled valley toward the precipice that housed Fort Hold There was one watchht to be six, but it was planting tihe of Fort Hold had everyone who could walk upright in the fields, even the gangs of children ere supposed to weed spring grass fro, Lord Groghe would not have neglected that duty no ths of land he wanted to put under seed

Lord Groghe was undoubtedly out in the fields right now, prowling froed running beasts which the Masterherdsable, his slightly protuberant blue eyes neveran unpruned tree or a badly harrowed row He was a burly rizzled hair which he wore tied in a neat band His complexion was florid, with a temper to match But, if he pushed his holders, he pushed hi of his people, his children nor his fosterlings that he was not able to do hi, it was because he knew his own lie

Robinton pulled at his lower lip, wondering if Lord Groghe was an exception in his disregard for this traditional Hold duty of rehe’s answer to Fort Weyr’s growing agitation over the iht to protect? The Weyrleader of Fort Weyr, T’ron, and his Weyrwoman, Mardra, had become less scrupulous a

bout checking to see that no Thread burrows had escaped their wing riders to fall on the lush forests Yet Lord Groghe had been scrupulous in theequipment when Thread fell over his forests He had a stable of runners spread out through the Hold in an efficient network so that if dragonriders were coe for any Thread thatbreath of the airborne beasts

But Robinton had heard ugly rumors of late, and not just froatory whisper and accusation uttered in Pern, he had learned to separate fact from spite, calumny from crime Not basically an alarmist, because he’d found inning to feel the stirrings of alarm in his soul

The Masterharper sluht day, the fresh new green of the fields, the yellow blossoms on the fruit trees, the neat stone Holds that lined the road up to the main Hold, the cluster of artisans’ cotholds below the wide ramp up to the Great Outer Court of Fort Hold

And if his suspicions were valid, what could he do? Write a scolding song? A satire? Robinton snorted Lord Groghe was too literal a hteous to take a scold Furtherht on his elbows, if Lord Groghe was neglectful, it was in protest at Weyr neglect of far greaterin the great stands of softwoods to the south

He ought to sing his remonstrances to Mardra and T’ron as Weyrleaders—but that, too, would be vain effort Mardra had soured lately She ought to have sense enough to retire gracefully to a chair and let er attracted her To hear the Hold girls talk, T’ron was lusty enough In fact, T’ron had better restrain hihe didn’t take kindly to too onseed