"Wine? Or some of Master Oldive's liqueur?" she asked him.

"That'd do fine, Lessa," M'rand said, and a spasm of coughing shook him.

Why hadn't she noticed that M'rand was aging? When was the last time the Weyrleaders had seen each other? The queens exchanged messages from time to time but the riders had not visited. The mental image she had of the High Reaches leader, hearty, vigorous, straight, underwent a distressing revision: he was slightly stooped in the shoulder; his solid features-once handsome-were thinned and dry, his cheeks a network of red lines; the tip of his nose was mottled and the flesh sagged slightly under his chin and neck. Pilgra's dark hair showed no glint of white but the density of the color suggested to Lessa that the woman made use of some of the personal products that had become available from Aivas's files. There'd always been a red dye available from Pernese roots but the result was not as natural-looking as the new ones that had many shades to choose from.

F'lar served the liqueur to all, and Lessa asked after friends in the Weyr and Lord Bargen who, she was informed, was still annoyed that three of his sons had abandoned him to find holdings in the south.

"Hosbon's done quite well," Pilgra said. "Has a pier, a drum tower, and a sloop at Seminole."

"He got that much out of Toric?" Lessa said, exchanging surprised looks with F'lar who chuckled.

"Must be a chip off the old block if he can wheedle amenities out of Toric," he said.

M'rand nodded enthusiastic agreement. "Well, Bargen brought 'em all up to work hard so that he'd have a choice when it comes time for him to quit holding."

"Which is why we're here, Lessa, F'lar," Pilgra said, sitting forward on the edge of her seat. "We want to step down."

"Four good Wingleaders who know every bit as much as I do about Threadfall," M'rand added in a rush. "Weyr'll follow any one of them. Three good strong queens and a young one not yet old enough to mate. So we want to go south. Found a place down there in Cathay, when we were helping after the Flood. Small bay, protected east and west, not a big holding but don't want a big one. Got four to five weyrfolk want to warm their bones along with us. Wanted to ask you, can we?"

"Can you?" F'lar regarded him with surprise. "Of course you can. You and Pilgra have done more than your share of flying, in this Turn and the old one."

"You don't think we're deserting?" Pilgra directed her question to Lessa, her face screwed with anxiety.

"By the Egg, no." Lessa leaned across the space between them and patted Pilgra's hand, noticing the brown spots and the puffiness of her fingers holding the glass.

"Segrith hasn't had any of the old urgings to fly," Pilgra went on, adding, "though she's clutched every two Turns since we got here."

"With at least fifteen eggs and all living to fly. I wonder you've any space left in the Weyr."

"Well, it's space another queen can fill from now on," Pilgra said with a touch of asperity. "M'rand wants to see the Pass out but…" and she raised one hand in a helpless gesture.

M'rand cleared his throat, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Did hope to, F'lar, not many get the chance, you know." His grin was a brief echo of his former vitality and charm. "But, after seeing the place in Cathay, what with R'mart stepping down, I thought maybe, with three queens available and I've got some fine bronze riders, we might… well… go south and get warm!"

"You don't have to ask our permission, you know," Lessa said gently, smiling with genuine gratitude. "You didn't have to come Forward from your own time to help F'lar and me during this Pass."

" 'That was twice decided,' " M'rand murmured softly, quoting the old Question Song. "We came because that was what we'd done, had to do, did."

"And, for thirty-one Turns, we've been grateful for your splendid generosity," Lessa said.

M'rand demurred with a chuckle. "Wasn't having as much fun in the Interval. I was young enough to accept the challenge. Now I'm old enough to think R'mart was right. We got you started and now we can retire in good faith. Of course, he still wants to be ina Weyr. Ourselves, we've been in one too long and Pilgra and I'd like to be by ourselves. Not," and he held up a hasty hand, "that you can't call on us and our dragons whenever you need to!"

"Now, if you're trying to get us to argue you into staying in that cold Weyr of yours, you've come to the wrong ledge," F'lar said, with an amused tilt to his mouth. He flicked one hand at M'rand. "Go, rider, and enjoy a well-deserved rest. May it take you into the next Interval."

"You mean that?" Pilgra turned to Lessa, eyes wide.

"Who thinks this is wrong?" Lessa wanted to know. And when both exchanged uncertain glances, she went on. "Let me guess: G'dened."

"Well, he's the oldest of us," Pilgra said.

M'rand cleared his throat. "Stubborn, too, won't let go at Ista because he's been at that Weyr-" He paused to guffaw. "-a half a hundred Turns and he knows all there is to know about leadership and Fall."

"One can appreciate such a sense of loyalty," Lessa said after a moment, and smiled. "Tenacity, too, and dedication, sense of purpose, perfectionism."

F'lar dropped his head, looking away from Lessa who was being outrageous and sounding so sincere.

Pilgra caught it first, blinking with astonishment as Lessa found a few more similar adjectives. Then M'rand roared with laughter, which turned into the hacking cough.

"Go before you die of the cough and get done out of your ease," Lessa said sternly.

"But-but-"

"Four good bronze Wingleaders? Let each one lead in turn during the next Falls until a queen rises," F'lar said pragmatically. "You'll be available for any problems. In fact, it'll take you time to step down even after you have. Now where's this splendid cove in Cathay? Did you think to get-ah, you did," he went on as M'rand withdrew a folded paper.

"Got Master Idarolan to do the map work for me. He's good at that." M'rand offered it to F'lar, once again the decisive leader, and a very relieved man. "I don't know which is better to have, map readings or your dragon knowing where to go."

Lessa had had a woodsmith make a cabinet with long, deep drawers where they could store the documents and charts that displayed chosen sites in the southern continent. The fact that the Weyrleaders controlled such dispositions rankled with many but, after heated debate in the Council, that had been agreed. What had also been stipulated was that each new holding had to be self-sufficient and had to have instructions about the dangers, as well as the advantages, of life in the south.

F'lar found the chart, flipped it to the worktop, angled M'rand's map, and found the coordinates.

"You're not asking for very much."

"Don't need much, and it's one in the eye for Toric," M'rand said.

Pilgra and Lessa came over as F'lar was outlining the new hold with a silver marker, reserved for dragonriders.

"A hundred square meters?" Lessa exclaimed. "A patch!"

"The nicest patch you could imagine," Pilgra assured her stolidly and started to describe the amenities. "There might even have been an Original Settlement there. Stones piled, like they finally fell, and just where you'd get a marvelous view of the sea below. All kinds of frees and it was so warm for First Month."

"There really aren't that many holdings allotted there yet, are there?" M'rand said, surprised.

"More than there were," Lessa said, "and far fewer than there will be when certain folk can make up their minds." She favored her mate with a dour look.

"More than I expected," Pilgra said with a sweeping glance of the chart. "That isn't all of Southern there is."

"No, it's not," F'lar said, tapping the drawer. "That's just the Cathay area, eight degrees to ten degrees longitude, fifty to twenty latitude. From the aerial photos on the Aivas scale, so they're big enough to delineate holds. I'll send the official register down to Admin." He opened another drawer and took out the register documents, which he tossed back inside. Opened a third, smaller one and took out a form. "This'll be your Deed." He riffled the side to show there were several pages. "I'll just fill it in, Lessa and I will sign it, and get it witnessed by the Weyr harper and perhaps Manora or G'bol and the holding's yours."