Speaking loudly enough for his voice to carry across the ford, Paul directed some of his party to find the alleged cairn and pole of Hanrahan's. The river was high from the rains the previous week, but not quite as high as it had been the night Red had gotten his party across.

"River's a bit high, isn't it, Dad?" Brian said, a little anxiously. "Could the cairn have come down?"

"I hope not. You did cement it, didn't you, when you returned the sleds?"

"Sure did, and put my initials on it, but there's growth now along the bank on that side. Maybe it's hidden." Brian started to urge Cloudy forward.

"Well, we're just wasting time," Red said, and kneed King forward, pressuring him just slightly to get him to yield left to the exact center of where Red knew the ford was. "Guess we'll just have to lead the blind into the kingdom of the sighted."

As he entered the water, he heard Brian's chuckle, and a surreptitious glance over his shoulder showed that his escort had fanned out in a phalanx as wide as the ford. The water was not quite to King's knees as the big horse pranced across, all too eager to make a show of his stallion self.

"I found it!" one of Paul's party cried, planting his foot on the top of the cairn.

"Hiding your precious landmarks, are you?" Paul roared. "The arrogance of you, walking on the water like that!" He stood hands on his hips, grinning with sardonic good humor as the welcoming party splashed up to him.

Leaning down, Red reached for Paul's hand and gripped it firmly. "Well, the river's running muddier'n usual, or you'd have seen the shale that makes fording possible right here," he said. He motioned for Brian to go check the cairn and the pole.

"You could at least have painted it," Paul suggested as his mount, one of Caesar Galliani's lean-legged, ribby walking horses, was led forward by one of Caesar's girls. She was giving King the once-over, too, and grinned up at Red.

"I'll add it to my list of chores," Red said, grinning, "and maybe build the cairn higher so no one can miss it."

The Galliani girl, whose name escaped Red, gave Paul a leg up, checking the girth and deftly slipping the stirrup on the admiral's foot when she was finished.

"You got here so fast, you can't be far away?" Paul's remark had a tinge of hope in it.

"Not at the rate I usually ride," Red said with a slightly malicious grin. "But even at a steady pace, we're not more than an hour and a bit away. Had a comfortable ride?"

It was clear to Red that Paul was not really riding into his saddle as one accustomed to the exercise. As the bay gelding stepped out into the very smooth flowing pace that was his natural stride, the admiral winced slightly and eased his butt. Riding would never be more than a necessary evil for Benden. Still, he had come, so Red made no disparaging remarks. Zi Ongola looked more comfortable on horseback, and so did Ju Adjai Benden. In fact, she looked downright pleased, glancing about her, taking in the lay of the land.

Cecilia Rado had come along to see how Red had translated her architectural drawings. Balding and slightly tubby Arkady Sturt and the lean and grizzled Francesco Vasseloe were also in the party, and Red decided he knew who was joining Zi Ongola in settling the western peninsula. Three of the numerous Duff offspring and two more young Schultzes made up the rest of the expedition.

Even at a gentler return pace, the imposing facade of the Hold was soon in sight, its stone blending from an orange to an orangy red. Indeed, Red had planned the sweep of the road with just that view in mind and listened with real pride to the complimentary remarks from all sides about the distinctive orangy red of the cliff face.

Then the Galliani girl drew up beside him, sitting on a rather fractious little chestnut mare

"Dad sent me along as a spy," she said. "I'm Terry, case you need to know."

"You're welcome, Terry, and spy all you like, " Red said, grinning amiably down at her.

"That stallion's one of Sean's Cricket's produce, isn't he?" she asked, her eyes feasting on the superb conformation and easy forward movement that came effortlessly from King's shoulder.

"He is."

"This weed is all Dad would let me have," she said with disgust. "He's such a pain sometimes."

"He's your father," Red said a little severely, though he sympathized with the girl, noting the mare's jarring trot.

"That is all too true," she said, unrebuked, "but, if a person's got a few ideas of her own to try, isn't this planet big enough for differences?" Her tone was plaintive.

"Going with Zi Ongola?"

She nodded. "I'd like to. He'll need a tougher horse than we breed." Once again she admired King and the others that had been ridden out from the Hold. "You may well have a customer in Zi." She gave him another grin and circled around to fall back beside Cecilia.

Baths can wait, Mairi," Paul Benden repeated firmly when Mairi again tried to insist that he ease his sore muscles immediately. "I'd rather do the lot after we've seen that damned door in place. The klah'll do me till then." So he sipped from his mug and was even persuaded to eat some of the freshly baked sweets that the fosterlings were passing around.

Tables had already been set up outside with klah and a variety of snack and finger foods, chilled and hot. The roasting meats were a good advertisement for the feasting to come.

"Mairi, now we've all got travel dust out of our mouths," Cecilia said, "why don't you give me and Ju the five-credit tour while the muscles do their mite?"

"We'll give a shout before we shut you in," Red said jovially as he was showing Paul, Zi, and Fran Vasseloe the preparations that had been made, and how cleverly Peter Chernoff had set the lock frame into the stone of the portal. Once he glanced toward the position of the sun and Paul sent him a querying look.

"Sorka and Sean said they'd be here to watch the Dooring and join us in the feast. And…" Red paused, looking from Ongola to Benden. "Once we get producing, I plan to send the Weyr a tithe of all we grow and make. They've enough to do without having to forage for food, as well.

"Ah, yes." Paul rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting anyone's glance. "As it is now, they often bring us fresh meat and fruit when they've had to go south to feed the dragons. I don't know how much longer the Ierne Islanders can hold out, but"—Paul grinned wryly—"as you all know, it's meant the difference."

"Tell me, Paul," Red said, leaning over conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling, "is it Ierne Island produce they get, or some of the stock the Logorides and Gallianis had to let loose?"

"Well, now, you know, I've never asked," Paul replied, regarding Red with a very bland expression.

"Still and all, they shouldn't have to scrounge for provisions," Red said. "The Hold should supply the Weyr that protects it."

"I shall tithe from my holding, as well," Ongola said, his deep voice making his words a solemn vow.

"Alianne's death has certainly made all in Fort aware that we're asking a great deal from these young men and women," Paul went on, "and they've met the challenge magnificently. I had a chance to discuss support personnel with Sean, and he's suggested that we send him some of the older fosterlings to take over maintenance and domestic chores. They'd be available, too, as candidates for the new eggs. I got Joel to spring loose enough supplies so additional personnel won't be a burden on the Weyr's resources. They've got space, we've got too many warm bodies…" He gave a wry smile. "Alianne's mother is staying on, to help rear the grandchildren. She's widowed and says the place needs a firm hand in its domestic management. The queen riders really don't have enough time, especially if they've a broody queen."