"Third and Fifth?"

Pinch made a face. "They go by the numbers. The one woman's referred to as Fourth. I think the original second is dead. I got the distinct impression that they're glad he is since he objected to some of their plans. Third's the big one, Fourth the female. Seven in all or at least seven who come to the hill retreat from time to time. I'd suspected Sixth was from Tillek, with that flat nasal twang. Third's traveled-as we know-and Fourth's been in so many places I can't tell where she came from. Definitely Third is in it for money and sport. I think Third is genuinely concerned about too much technology. Fourth uses Tradition as a reason to exist. Her thinking's skewed. She wants to lead and she hasn't got the personality for it. She's too concerned about doing things the old way, the right way, the way she was taught that ought to be the way everyonedoes it." Pinch paused. "Too hidebound to know the color of her pelt."

"Are they planning something?" Sebell asked.

"They act like it, all this leaving of messages at Runner Halts so the sender can't be identified."

"How do they collect messages, then?"

"I suspect one of their docile hill folk do. I asked at Wide Bay-Stationmaster Arminet knows me-and he remarked, casual like, that a lot of hill folk were getting messages."

Sebell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "They must know that now most healer halls lock away their stores-and use Master Morilton's glass." He gave Pinch a telling look. "The Glass Halls have shifted healer-hall work to more secure places, the SmithCraftHalls have started using digital lock systems… "

"And Aivas scores another posthumous victory over vandalism," Pinch said with customary impertinence, raising his hand in triumphant gesture. "Never know what we'll need next because of them."

"Benelek's delighted. The units are easy to build and attach to alarms. I've sent some handy apprentices down for a few weeks' training with him."

"You're not worried about them breaking in here, are you?" Pinch was genuinely alarmed.

Sebell laughed, lightening his generally serious manner. "Not with the Fort Hold watch dragon!"

"Who didn't hear the vandals in the Healer Hall…"

"Because they entered quietly and wearing healer green. Then there're all the fire-lizards that live here-not just Menolly's." Sebell pointed a finger at the roving Harper. "You hear anything of their plans, even a whisper…"

"My hearing's excellent and Bista's is better."

"Send word." Sebell frowned a little, thinking. "Odd, isn't it, that those who dislike the advantages Aivas gave us should force us to use his technology to thwart them!"

"Ironic, too." Pinch rose from his perch on the desk corner. "I've read enough in Aivas's historical files to feel that Pern will never be in danger of becoming over-technical. Takes too long to develop the skills needed, except in special instances like the digital locks, and we certainly don't have the production systems the Ancients had. As a population, we have been conditioned to this slower, more methodical rhythm of living and only a very small portion will ever feel the urge to aspire to Aivasian heights."

"A Pinch of philosophy, too, huh?" Sebell said, grinning. "I wonder would such reassurance suffice to content the dissenters."

"We all have a choice," Pinch said and rubbed his hands together with an air of anticipation. "What petitions d'you want me to go over? I'm here overnight at least."

Just as Sebell was deciding which pile, the latch of the Master's office door was being pulled down. Both men heard a child's delighted laughter and then the door was pushed inward.

"Da, I learnt 'nothertune. Perfect!"

The child-and Pinch had no difficulty in identifying him by his tangle of dark curly hair as Menolly's oldest son, Robse-swung in on the door handle, waving his wooden recorder over his head. "Ooops, sorry. Dint know anyone was here."

"No, come in, come in," Pinch said, wondering if he could escape being lumbered with petitions.

"Is by Aivas!" Robse announced as if the source made all the difference.

"By Aivas, is it?" Pinch could not resist echoing the phrase.

"By Aivas!" Robse affirmed with a nod that made the curls on his head bounce and his expression turn very stern indeed.

"If it's by Aivas, then it's all right," Pinch said.

"These, Master Mekelroy, are for your perusal," Sebell said, bowing as he held out one of the larger piles to Pinch.

"Thank you, Master Sebell, thank you. You are always so generous to me. I can't thank you enough for giving me something to busy myself with while I'm here," and with such effusions, and a wink at the mystified Robse, Pinch backed out of the room. "A perfect tune really must be heard as soon as it's learnt," and he closed the door on that remark.

He'd given Sebell the most important news, though he still had to discuss the problem of far too many people wanting to know "What were the dragonriders going to do about things that fell from the sky?"

The watch dragon trilled the note that Weyrleaders were flying into Benden and Mnementh and Ramoth on their ledges rose to bugle a welcome, which informed Lessa and F'lar of important, if unscheduled, visitors.

Tileth and Segrith,Ramoth said, raising her head from her front legs.

"Really?" Lessa was as surprised as F'lar. "Did you forget they were coming?"

"I wouldn't forget something as unusual as that," he chided her as he quickly slipped off the soft, fleece-lined ankle-boots he was wearing and pulled on leather ones warming near the heating unit, shrugged off the wool vest, and rose to his feet, straightening his collar and settling the deep cuffs of his wool shirt.

With an air of not noticing his rearrangements, she wrapped her long braid into a more formal coronet and smoothed the creases out of her woolen trouser-skirt.

"We have wines, don't we? And perhaps Manora will send someone with fresh klah and whatever is freshly baked," she said. "I wonder why they're here!" she added.

"No doubt they'll inform us!" he said as he opened the thick curtain that kept cold air from leaking into their comfortable quarters. He frowned as he looked out. "They should have checked our weather first. It's turned into a miserable day."

Did they ask, Ramoth?

No, or I would have told you. I, too, do not forget any thing.Ramoth turned lightly, whirling reproachful eyes on her rider.

"Of course not."

She heard voices on the ledge and stepped around the curve of the wall to see Pilgra slipping, putting one hand firmly out to the stone to get her balance.

"My dear Pilgra, you should have checked the weather," she said solicitously. Pilgra was not her favorite of the Old-timer Weyrwomen but anyone venturing out today would receive her concern. "Come to the heat. Let me take your coat. Ah, you've one of the new long ones! Is it warmer, d'you think?"

"On a better day, it might be enough but I didn't expect it to be so miserable here. It's cold enough in High Reaches, but at least the sun's out."

Holding the wet coat, Lessa noticed that Pilgra's wool trousers were baggy at the knees and unattractively creased at the thigh.

"Oh, how warm you've made your weyr," the older woman said, her eyes taking in the heating units. "Good day to you, Ramoth," she added, nodding formally to the queen who was observing the visitor with tranquil green eyes. Then she walked rapidly to the nearest source of warmth, giving a mock shiver. "How marvelous! We have heat now, too, but nothing seems to penetrate the cold in High Reaches."

Suddenly Lessa had an idea why the two Weyrleaders had come.

The sun may shine on High Reaches, but it never warms,Ramoth remarked. I have told Tileth and Segrith to warmthemselves on our Hatching Sands. It would be better than waiting on the ledge in this weather. How thoughtful!Lessa responded. Then she turned to greet M'rand and saw the pinched look on his face. Yes, definitely, they were here about stepping down. Not that they hadto discuss such a decision with Benden since the Weyrs were autonomous, but M'rand was punctilious about such fine points.