Prologue
A brown rider was trying to cool down after a very weird conveyance trip. Ever since his dragon had chosen him at the Hatching almost five years ago, he'd had to get used to this kind of thing.
But no trip had ever been like this one. The rider had picked up his brother, and transported him to Nuhair's Mine in Crom. As a High Reaches rider, he knew all the coordinates to all the mines in Crom.
But what threw the rider was that his brother had returned after less than five minutes, and had urged him to take off immediately. The rider had done so, of course, but ever since, he had wondered what it was all about.
Now, along with the rest of the Weyr, he was eating supper, and trying to forget that trip. The food was good. The Headwoman of High Reaches knew how to make good food.
The rider's dragon had eaten well, too. The herds on the Feeding Ground were well-stocked, and all the Weyr's dragons ate well.
When the rider finished his meal, he was about ready to exit the dining hall when the Weyrleader stood up.
"Riders, I have bad news. I've just received word that a tunnel collapsed at Nuhair's Mine recently, trapping two visiting Smiths and their escort. The mine is asking for volunteers for a rescue effort."
This would have been routine, almost. Even the most well-run mine had a few tunnel collapses now and then. But it wasn't routine for the rider. He had a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that this was what the visit to Nuhair's Mine that afternoon had been about.
