Empty, Open, Dusty, Dead - 2. A Strange Sevenday

Zalna went back to her weyr to prepare for bed. Thoughts raced around her head. Now, she’d be unable to meet D’gar as she’d promised. She imagined T’ron would be telling all the Fort Weyr riders later, so he’d understand the reasons.

When are we going to the beach again? Gemalth asked sleepily.

Not for a while. We aren’t allowed to leave the Weyr. There is sickness and we must isolate ourselves.

That is a pity. I liked seeing my old friends again. Although I did not like Ramoth.

Oh? Why not?

She asked me where I was from, so I told her. Then she insisted she was the only queen dragon at Benden. I hope she does not come here. I think she might want my weyr. Maybe my bronzes, too.

I don’t think she’ll come here, Zalna assured her dragon. They will offer her a home at Fort Weyr.

Good, Gemalth said.

Zalna hoped it had put her mind at rest. Ramoth must be one of those gold dragons who didn’t like rivals. Although she certainly wasn’t from Benden Weyr. And yet, dragons didn’t lie…

Still, there was much more to worry about now than a possessive queen who was half the world away. She’d seen for herself how quickly illness could spread. As a young girl, growing up in her father’s Hold, she’d helped her mother nurse people through the more common complaints. Elderly folk always seemed to be more vulnerable. She’d never forget that winter when a good two thirds of the Hold’s inhabitants had succumbed to a cough and fever, leaving several dead and many others unfit to work for months afterwards. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced N’rax wasn’t revealing the whole story. He would have his reasons, of course. Despite his reassurances, the situation might be far worse than he was letting on. People had a tendency to panic, so keeping them in the dark could prove a useful policy, at least for a while.

You do not sleep yet, Gemalth sent.

I’m worrying about things.

Do not worry about that which you cannot change or control.

That was good advice, she supposed. She rearranged the sleeping furs, turned over and willed her body to relax and her mind to quiet. Eventually, she fell asleep.

Morning dawned. She knew it was early as it was still quiet out in the Bowl. Once breakfast preparation was underway, she’d usually begin to hear the hum of voices and smell the food cooking. She’d had confused dreams in which she rode Gemalth frantically around her father’s Hold, trying to find her loved ones to save them from a looming disaster. As her mind came to full wakefulness, she remembered the events of yesterday and her worries before she slept. No wonder her dreams had verged on the nightmarish.

Even though she could have called down her service shaft for klah and a sweet roll, she never liked to disturb the kitchen staff first thing, when they were so busy getting ready. She pulled a long, fur lined robe around her shoulders and slipped her feet into the soft indoor boots she wore around her weyr, then went over to her writing table. Ever since she’d been small, she’d kept a journal, using scraps of old hide. At first she’d felt slightly guilty using up precious hides for her random scribblings, but her mother had encouraged her and even provided her with materials. She’d confided that, as a young girl, she’d done the same. ‘Besides,’ she’d said, ‘It will improve your handwriting and as you will one day be in the position to manage a Hold of your own, that’s no bad thing.’

Of course, destiny, in the shape of a gold dragon, had changed that, but as a weyrwoman, many of the same skills were necessary. As she’d shown an aptitude for dragon healing, she’d been put in charge of keeping the records on that aspect of the Weyr’s management, a task she willingly took on. She also liaised regularly with Tilinea, Benden’s Headwoman, to check the quantities of herbs and plants in storage were sufficient for their needs and to organise expeditions when it was necessary to replenish them.

For now, she was writing her own, personal account. She’d always found that setting down problems was an effective way to see a way through the tangles of your thoughts. Things often became clearer once out of your head and on the hide.

She dipped her pen in the ink pot, then began to tell of the previous day’s events and her concerns about the mystery disease. The time flew by, as it always did when she was so engaged, until the unmistakeable smell of freshly brewed klah began to filter into her weyr.

Bidralth’s rider asks you to take breakfast in the dining hall this morning. All of the Weyr has been summoned as he wishes to address everyone at the same time.

So, he must be about to tell them of the current crisis facing Pern. Inform him I will be there.

The last time everyone had been present like this was during the Pass, when all of the riders and their Wingleaders would eat together prior to their pre-Fall briefings. Zalna had forgotten how full the dining hall could get when everyone was squeezed in. Today, in addition to the riders, the Lower Cavern staff were also in attendance. She was thankful for her reserved seat at the top table. It was standing room only around the entrances from the kitchens and the laundry staff clustered by the main entrance. She couldn’t help thinking that if anyone here was already ill, it would be an ideal way to spread it around. Once again, the feeling of something not being entirely right about the situation nagged at her.

N’rax stood, tapping on the gong next to him to get everyone’s attention. ‘Thank you for attending this morning. I’m going to keep this brief. I will be meeting with my Wingleaders and the Headwoman later on to ensure everyone knows exactly the same as I do. If you have any questions regarding what I’m about to tell you, please address them to your immediate superior.’ He continued to tell everyone why he had been called to Fort the previous day. As soon as disease was mentioned, voices rose, as Zalna had known they would. After Thread, it was the next most feared catastrophe that could strike Pern.

‘Please, calm down.’ N’rax held up his hands to still them, waiting until the initial hubbub died down. ‘As I said, your questions will be answered later. I can only tell you what I myself know at present and it may well be that this illness doesn’t turn out to be as serious as we fear. However, as a precaution, all of the Weyrleaders agreed yesterday that we should refrain from visits outside our own Weyrs. So no trips out to Holds or other Weyrs for at least a sevenday. Only scheduled Wing patrols will be allowed to leave the Weyr and they will overfly the usual areas from a safe height, not landing anywhere.’

Once he’d finished speaking, the dining hall was abuzz. ‘This is going to get all the gossip fermenting,’ Morna hissed in Zalna’s ear. ‘I just wish we had more information to give folk. There’s nothing like solid facts to put a stop to unfounded rumour.’

‘I wish I could tell them more, too.’ N’rax took a drink of his klah. ‘But unfortunately, I can’t. And it would have been worse if I’d just told them that they couldn’t leave the Weyr without good reason. Right. I’d best be off to meet the Wingleaders. I’m sure they’re already being overwhelmed by questions.’ He left the table as people began to slowly disperse, or get into huddles to discuss what they’d just heard.

Zalna was stopped more than a few times as she made her way to the infirmary weyrs. Each time, she had to say that she knew no more than anyone else and was waiting, just like them, to find out. She almost wished that this had happened before Thread stopped. At least then, people would have had other things to occupy their minds. Yet, plague during a Pass would be so much worse. Thoughts of ‘Moreta’s Ride’ filled her mind again.

Arbruthol was already there, tending to another wing injury. Not due to Fall, this one, but a strain from a particularly intense mating flight. The blue dragon involved looked stoic as his rider instructed him to move the wing in all the ways Arbruthol asked.

‘He says that’s where it hurts.’ The rider pointed at the left shoulder joint. ‘It’s when he raises the wing rather than on the downstroke. It was two days ago and he was fine right afterwards.’

‘Deep muscle injuries sometimes don’t show up straight away. Did he win the flight?’

‘Yes.’ The rider smiled at the memory.

‘Well, that’s another reason. He was probably too wrapped up in his pretty green dragon to pay much attention to anything hurting. I’d advise not flying too far for another few days and definitely nothing strenuous. You can tell your Wingleader that from me.’

‘Seeing as none of us are allowed out, that’s going to be easy enough.’ The blue’s rider turned to Zalna. ‘Do you know any more about this illness, weyrwoman?’

‘Sorry, no.’ She rolled out the same excuses again. It was getting tedious already.

After Arbruthol had provided a pot of numbweed and instructions, he took Zalna into his office. ‘Do you really not know anything else?’ he asked. ‘I appreciate the Weyrleader can’t reveal everything to everyone, but it would be good to be prepared for any crisis we might be facing.’

Zalna sat opposite him, where she had so often, after a hard Fall. ‘Honestly, I don’t know anything other than what N’rax already told you. Let’s just hope he gets some more information he can share over the next few days.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He frowned, twirling a pen between his long fingers. ‘Ah, well. If there’s nothing more we can do about it, then best carry on as normal. Don’t forget our gathering tonight.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise, getting a load of people together in a small space if there’s infection around?’

‘No worse than them all packing into the dining hall this morning,’ he said, voicing her own thoughts. ‘Besides, no one in the Weyr appears to be ill and we’re not even sure how infectious this thing is going to be. It may well turn out to be a case of overreaction. Now that Thread’s gone, I’m sure situations like this will become more common.’

‘Illness?’ Zalna asked.

‘No. Blowing minor problems up out of proportion. Check your records, weyrwoman. You’ll see that during an Interval, there are far more disputes and concerns over things that wouldn’t even be an issue when everyone’s pulling together to keep the land Thread free.’

She considered that. ‘You may be right,’ she admitted.

‘So you’ll come along, then?’

‘All right.’

The day passed uneventfully. She spent much of it in her weyr, where she could, at least, get away from the endless questions. The weather had improved marginally, in that no rain or sleet was falling, but the sky over Benden Weyr was still grey and the wind had a bitter edge. She recalled the warm sun at the cove yesterday afternoon, half a world away. Strangely, having been told she was unable to leave the Weyr made her want to even more. Others must surely feel the same way.

Many dragons say their riders do not like it. Some have friends in other Weyrs they are concerned about.

Gemalth often listened in on the dragon chatter, passing on snippets to Zalna. A lot of what they talked about was of limited interest to their riders, but you could get a feel for the main topics of conversation - or speculation - around the Weyr from it. I know. I feel the same way about our friends at Fort. But there is nothing we can do. All of us must obey the Weyrleader. Dragons understood that. As a species whose social structure was dependent on hierarchy, they instinctively obeyed commands from the gold and bronze dragons at the top of their tree.

They understand, Gemalth said. Nonath has spoken and reinforces the order.

All other colours deferred to the senior queen. Zalna expected there to be grumbles, but in the end, everyone would do as they were told.

She finished writing her journal, then decided what to wear for the gathering. Arbruthol, as head dragon healer, had a ground level weyr he shared with his weyrmate, blue rider U’bron. They had spent many Turns seeking out interesting and beautiful things with which to furnish it and it was always a pleasure to visit. Had there not been a prohibition on leaving the Weyr, there might even have been a visiting Harper present tonight. As things stood, some of Benden’s own musicians would have to suffice.

She riffled through her small rail of dresses. Unlike some weyrwomen - Tirelle at Fort being a prime example - she wasn’t hugely interested in clothes. What was the point in having thirty or forty good dresses when there were limited occasions on which to wear them? She supposed that might change in the future. Gathers in the old times, she’d heard from some of the retired riders, had been much more extravagant affairs, going on for three or four days. With no Threadfall, there would be much more opportunity for folk without dragons to travel safely from one place to another.

The short-sleeved, pale blue dress looked good on her, she knew, but it was probably rather lightweight. Weyrs were heated, but tended to be draughty and pimply bare arms wasn’t a good look on anyone. If she went for the green woollen one, with the matching wrap, then she could take that off for dancing, yet not get cold when sitting around. She sifted through her jewellery box and chose her favourite necklace. It wasn’t of any great value, but held happy memories. Every Gather she visited she’d buy some pretty beads or colourful stones, which she’d threaded together onto a fine chain. She could remember each place and time when she’d added to it. There were even a few shells she’d picked up on different beaches. She added a matching bracelet and another, more valuable gold one she’d had from her parents as an Impression gift, then surveyed herself in the mirror. It made a change from riding leathers, or the slightly scruffy practical clothes she wore when working around the Weyr. She didn’t look bad, really. ‘Although,’ she addressed her reflection, ‘You aren’t out to find a man, remember.’ Life was full enough without complications like that.

Do you need me to fly you? Gemalth asked. She was curled on her heated couch and looked very comfortable.

Zalna peered out into the growing darkness. It wasn’t raining so she could wear boots and keep to the walkways. She’d put her matching green leather shoes into a small bag. Most riders and weyrfolk changed footwear inside a weyr, especially in the winter. It’s fine. I can walk across the Bowl. She put on her long coat as protection against the wind, then set off.

A few folk were already converging on the weyr. Glowbaskets had been set out on the ledge so that no one tripped. U’bron’s dragon, Korinth, raised an eyelid as she passed. Good evening, weyrwoman.

It wasn’t often that other dragons spoke to her, so she acknowledged his greeting before going through. It was still early and not too many had arrived. Morna and N’rax would have been invited, she knew, but they didn’t often accept invitations to social events, knowing that their presence might inhibit others from having fun. ‘Besides,’ Morna often said, ‘In the winter, once I’m settled for the evening in my warm weyr, it’s just too much effort to get ready and go out.’

Cassaru was already there, lounging on a couch with her favourite bronze rider, Sh’loren. Zalna waved a greeting, then was clasped in a strong embrace by U’bron.

‘Glad you could make it,’ he said. ‘Let me take your coat and those boots.’

‘Of course.’ She quickly changed into the more comfortable shoes, then let him spirit her outdoor wear away as she had a quick look around to see who had arrived. Several of the younger Wingleaders, she noticed, plus some of their Wingseconds. Headwoman Tilinea and her weyrmate, H’ran were admiring a new tapestry on the wall next to the service shaft. Several wing riders who were regulars at these events glanced over and smiled.

‘Would you like a drink,’ Arbruthol offered. ‘We’ve Benden white, or as it’s such chilly weather, some warmed red with spices.’

‘I’ll have the warmed red.’ Carrying the full cup carefully, she found somewhere to sit where she could watch other folk arriving. It wasn’t long before T’san came in, well-wrapped against the cold in a similar long leather coat to her own. He wasn’t bad looking, she reflected. In fact, he reminded her a little of D’gar as he wasn’t particularly tall, but made up for any lack of height by his muscular build. He had the same sort of complexion, too; pale at this end of a long winter, but with the fortunate ability to tan easily and quickly, unlike herself. K’torl had shared her light complexion, which had led to them often sitting in the shade of their dragons during sunny afternoons in the scorching Fort summers.

Having been relieved of his own coat and high boots, he made his way over. ‘I was hoping you’d be here tonight,’ he said. ‘Your company makes these events so much more pleasant.’

He was polite, without going over the top. Zalna hated it when men fawned over her too much. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she joked. ‘Come on, sit down. I know Arbruthol has been dying to get us together, so might as well pander to his whims.’

T’san had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. ‘I didn’t ask him to, or anything.’

‘I realise that. Pairing people up is one of his hobbies.’ She’d spoken to T’san a few times, but always in groups with other people, not really wanting to make him think she was singling him out. Now, sitting close to him, there was definitely an attraction. He looked good in his russet shirt and dark green trousers. They fit him well, without being excessively tight, like some of the green riders preferred.

‘How’s Huylonth?’ Folk always liked it when you remembered their dragon’s name as well as their own.

‘He’s well. Not enjoying this weather much.’

‘Same as all of us. Gemalth hardly gets off her couch except when she’s hungry.’

The conversation was interrupted as U’bron brought him a drink and placed a bowl of delicate nibbles between them. Zalna picked one, trying to decide whether it would be sweet or savoury. Benden food still confused her sometimes. The flavours were so different to what she’d grown up with, both at home and at Fort Weyr.

‘It’s fish eggs with a sprinkling of herbs,’ T’san provided, seeing her hesitate. ‘If you like seafood, you’ll enjoy it.’

‘I’ll give it a try, then.’ It was very tasty. She said so and sipped her wine.

‘So, what did you think about the Weyrleader’s announcement this morning?’

She might have known that would come up at some point. She sighed. ‘To be honest, I’m already fed up with folk asking me if I know anything more than they’ve already been told. The answer is, I don’t.’

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just, well, unexpected. And worrying.’

It was fair enough. She’d had longer than most others to mull it over, after all. ‘I know. I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.’

‘It’s just, we’re used to acting when there’s danger about. You can’t fight a disease like you can Thread. Makes me uneasy.’ He took a drink. ‘I had to speak to a couple of the green riders in the Wing earlier. I caught them discussing how they might slip out under cover of a mating flight.’

Zalna knew about that trick. Sometimes, if there was a mating flurry, riders who might otherwise not be allowed to leave the weyr got away with sneaking out. When there were a lot of dragons in the air, it was difficult to tell if they carried riders or not. ‘I hope you persuaded them otherwise. They could put us all in danger.’

‘I certainly did. And Huylonth spoke to their dragons. It’s difficult, though. I can understand how folk feel when they have relatives or friends at another Weyr and they don’t know if they’re all right or not.’

‘We just have to hope it’s a false alarm. I think the Masterhealer is advising caution just in case it proves to be serious.’ N’rax had said that, after all. She hoped she’d not given away too much.

‘Let’s hope so. I lost too many good friends to Thread over the past few Turns. Don’t want to lose any more to something else.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ She took another sip of the wine, which warmed her all the way down to her toes. ‘I’d never had this stuff before I came to Benden. It’s good against the cold.’

‘Soft southerner,’ he joked. ‘You want to hear some of the older folk talk about the winters we’ve had here. Makes this look like a warm spell.’

‘I don’t mind cold,’ she said. ‘But I like crisp and cold, with snow and blue skies. That was the kind of winter we used to have in the Hold where I grew up.’

‘Sounds like High Reaches.’

‘No, it was in the western hills of Fort. But we got the winter storms coming off the ocean and we were high enough that a lot of it fell as snow rather than rain. Then of course, at the Weyr, it was different again.’

‘I don’t know anything other than this.’ He gestured around him. ‘Born and bred at Benden Weyr.’

‘And never been further west than Lemos?’ It was a saying she’d often heard. Although having a dragon meant you could travel to anywhere on Pern easily, many riders never went much outside their own Weyr’s area.

‘I have,’ he protested. ‘I’ve been to all the Weyrs and major Holds at least once and I was seconded to Telgar that Turn when they were short of riders. Anyway, what does the rest of Pern have you can’t get here?’

‘Good weather? Sandy beaches and warm seas that are a pleasure to swim in.’ She’d been to the stony coves close to Greystones that seemed to be a favourite day out spot for Benden riders, dipped one foot into the sea and decided against going in any further. Even watching the riders play in the waves with their dragons had made her shiver.

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘Just yesterday I was down near Southern Boll. I admit the sea was a bit chilly this early in the Turn, but in another month or so, the sun will be strong enough you don’t mind.’

‘I’ve never been there.’

‘Well, we’ll have to correct that. Once we’re allowed to leave the Weyr again, that is.’ Talking to him was very easy. It reminded her of the first chats she’d had with D’gar, when she was new to the Weyr and didn’t really know anyone. K’torl had been shy at first, admitting later that he’d admired her from afar for so long that when they actually had a chance to talk he’d become tongue-tied.

The evening passed in a blur. When the musicians started up, she danced a few times, both with T’san, as a pair and taking part in some of the group dances. As people began to leave, she realised firstly how late it was and secondly that she’d had a really enjoyable time. T’san walked back with her to her own weyr, then called for Huylonth to take him to his own, which was two levels off the floor of the Bowl. As they stood, waiting for his dragon to arrive, he held her hand. It felt right. When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t resist. That felt nice too. She wondered, for a moment, about inviting him back to her weyr, then, on reflection, thought they should leave it at that for now. As Huylonth flew off into the inky darkness, she almost wished she had.

A few days passed and the initial worry in the Weyr lessened slightly. People tended to assume that if there was no further news, that was a good thing. Zalna wasn’t so sure. She imagined a winter-bare Hold, full of fevered people, riders sickening and dragons going between as they died.

On the next day, N’rax was summoned to another meeting. ‘At the Harper Hall, of all places,’ he’d told Morna, before leaving. As soon as he’d gone, she’d called Zalna into her weyr so that they could speculate on what this meant.

‘Surely, if it was more illness, they’d be meeting somewhere in the open, a long way from any habitation.’ Zalna thought it was probably a good sign.

‘There is that. He’s not been himself, though. When you’ve known someone as long as I have N’rax, you also know when they’re hiding something from you. I even asked Nonath to ask Bidralth, but he was as close mouthed as his rider.’

‘Oh well. Let’s hope he comes back with some good news.’ Zalna sipped at the klah she’d been given.

‘And what’s this I hear about you and young T’san dancing the night away?’

‘We may have danced once or twice.’ They’d also chatted briefly since, although in the dining hall, not in either of their weyrs.

‘Good for you. It’s about time you started to let yourself live again. No danger now of him not coming back from Fall.’

That was true, although there were other ways to die young. Accidents, sickness. That brought her mind back to the current emergency. ‘Not knowing what’s going on out there is really bothering me. All my friends at Fort and at my family’s Hold.’

‘I know, dear.’ Morna patted her hand. ‘I feel the same. We might be sitting pretty here at the Weyr with anything going on out there. But it’s our duty to keep our own folk as safe as we can.’

She stayed with Morna until N’rax returned. He trudged wearily into the weyr and she thought she could see the strain on his face.

‘Not good, then?’ Morna asked, her voice full of sympathy.

‘No.’

‘Have many folk died?’ Zalna asked.

‘Oh, er, no, it’s not that. The illness is under control, I’m told.’

‘Well, there’s a relief,’ Morna said. ‘So what’s the problem?’

‘I can’t say. I’m sorry.’ He sat down on the couch, his head in his hands. ‘Please don’t ask.’

Questions popped into Zalna’s head, lots of them. But if he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - say, there was no point.

Morna pursed her lips. For a moment, she looked almost as stern and forbidding as Mardra at her worst. ‘Maybe I should ask Nonath to force it out of Bidralth.’

‘You could,’ he said. ‘Although whether she’d get any sense out of him, I’ve no idea. Just trust me when I say that nothing bad is happening to anyone outside. In a few more days…’ He shook his head. ‘Well, you’ll see.’

Something very odd was going on, Zalna knew, but she couldn’t imagine what. Why all this secrecy? A Weyrleader and Weyrwoman led jointly. Morna should know everything N’rax did. Maybe he just wouldn’t speak in front of her? She was only a junior, after all. ‘I’ll leave you. Maybe you can talk more freely without me here.’ She did feel slightly hurt that she wasn’t trusted fully. Surely she’d proved her worth sufficiently.

‘It makes no difference, Zalna. This burden, I have to carry alone. And that’s what’s tearing me apart. Now, let’s change the subject, please. And I must ask you to keep even this conversation to yourself, for the time being.’

Zalna told no one, only her journal. In there, she scribbled down all of the theories she came up with. None of them were right, of course. When she read over those entries, long afterwards, she knew that no one could ever have guessed what was going on.

Patrols carried on as usual. Zalna watched the weyrlings from Gemalth’s latest clutch as they went through flying exercises at the far end of the lake. Riders and dragons both chafed at the restrictions, at not being allowed to go where they pleased. The only dragons who ventured outside the Bowl walls were the few greens who rose to mate and even those flights were closely monitored to make sure no one slipped out with them. Then, two days after his latest meeting, N’rax called everyone together after dinner. ‘I’m lifting the restrictions as from tomorrow,’ he told the weyrfolk. ‘Anyone who wishes to visit their families in Hold or Craft may do so. I was told not to let anyone visit another Weyr straight away, but I realise the utter impossibility of that.’

‘Has the sickness gone, then?’ One of the Wingleaders, J’ton, asked.

He smiled sadly. ‘I have been less than honest with you all. And for any stress or worry that’s caused, you have my heartfelt apologies. There was no sickness…’ He paused as a ripple went round the room. ‘The story I told of sickness was a cover for something quite different that has been going on this past sevenday and for a little while before that, too. I have been sworn to secrecy over exactly what, but I’m going to have to tell you some of the truth, because I know you will find out for yourselves, all too soon.’

Whispers rose to a murmur. N’rax silenced it. ‘If and when you visit, you will find all of the other five Weyrs empty.’

Zalna couldn’t believe it. ‘What?’ she found herself saying, almost as a reflex. ‘Where have they gone?’

‘That, even I don’t know. I can only tell you that they are safe.’

The hubbub rose again. N’rax let it continue for a while. Zalna heard voices rising above, asking if they were dead, or had gone between.

‘Did your dragons keen? Did anyone feel the sort of emotional impact that would indicate anything so terrible had happened?’ N’rax shouted. ‘They are all safe, only…gone.’

The noise subsided slightly. N’rax was well-liked and trusted, after all.

He continued. ‘I have broken a promise by even telling you this much. But, to be honest, I don’t see the point in keeping a secret when it will become common knowledge before very long. The Holders will soon realise something is wrong when they no longer see patrols over their lands, or when they fly a banner to summon dragonriders and no one answers. Tithe trains will reach the Weyrs and find them abandoned.’

‘And then what?’ J’ton asked again. ‘What do we tell them?’

‘The truth. That we don’t know. From now on, Benden is the only operational Weyr on Pern.’