It's the twenty-fourth day of the ninth month. Year one hundred and ninety-eight of the Interval, and yes, that's a bit ominous. Since I was a child I've been taught how the Interval will end in the year two hundred and Thread will fall from the sky again. But still, that's over a year away and at the moment, I do have other concerns.

I suppose that first of all, I should make my introductions. My name is Lizza, I'm seventeen Turns old, and I'm proud to be one of nearly a thousand dependents of great Ruath Hold, in the most beautiful valley of the Northern Continent of Pern. My father, Parker, is a Master Baker who has lived and worked at Ruatha since he got his Journeyman's knots, and my mother is also a talented cook in her way, mostly gifted in stews and soups. Together they have started a small, intimate kitchen on the third level of the Hold, which by the given word of Lord Holder Jerood, my father runs as surely as if it were his own small Craft Cot.

It sounds from that as if my life should be filled with promise, and perhaps it'll yet be so. But something strange beyond my imagination has happened, and it is this that drove me to start a journal, writing down the events of my own life as if I had pretensions of being like Lady Nerilka, living through the plague and marrying the widower Lord. Anyway, the whole thing started yesterday morning.

I was doing drudge-work in the Klah Lounge, (that's what my father's kitchen is called,) fetching and carrying, as I do to spend much of my time. Father and Mother hoped that I would inherit some of their craft, or at least basic cooking skills, but I'm mostly hopeless with preparing food. I'm still not sure what I'll make of my life, if I don't just marry and have lots of kids, or keep drudging.

I know I'm bright, (and always full of curious questions,) but I don't have a good enough voice to make it as a Harper, and not strong enough to try my luck at the smith-craft. I'm too - too fastidious to be a beast crafter, or a healer, or a fisherwoman... and the list goes on. More than anything, I'm fascinated by trying to find out the way the planet works, from the way the landscape is fashioned by forces mostly unseen, to the unusual beauty and function of the smallest insect - but nobody gets room and board for trying to answer questions like those, my father says.

So, anyway - I had just delivered a red fruit pie and was on my way over to ask if two other diners wanted anything else to start their morning off right when a knife-fight broke out between them, starting way too fast. I've seen duels before, and my mother always said to just back away if one began in the Lounge, but I didn't even realize what was going on before I was between them, and one of those big men screaming about how he had to have his marks before tomorrow, and not an eighth of a mark less than what I was owed.

I was actually starting to run before I realized that something was splashing on my feet, and looked down to see what had been knocked off the table. To my immense surprise, a knife was falling away from my black tunic, and the stains on my legs and feet were red, redder than red fruit juice even. I saw the ragged hole that had been torn in my tunic, and was feeling to see how badly I was hurt when my legs gave way from under me. I don't even clearly remember hitting the floor.

"Open your eyes," a firm voice commanded me. I didn't really want to do anything, least of all that, but the owner of the voice continued to beg and plead a few times to look at him, and finally I cracked my eyes open for a second, just to satisfy a bit of curiosity more than anything else.

Maxx was staring down at me, and the world held still. At first, I didn't think that there was anything so unusual about that effect. I did feel a faint pain in my midriff and a lot of stickiness all over that part of my body, but that certainly didn't seem too important. My thoughts wandered around Maxx in a lot of different ways in that moment, and I don't think I could put them in order and make sense, but I'll recap some of the high points so that you can understand them.

My best friend Mari and my parents tease me about Maxx a lot - that he likes me, that I like him, that we'll be espoused in a few years. (At least, I prefer to think of it as 'teasing' from my parents, because I can't quite come to grips with the notion that my parents are really expressing serious opinions in my love life, or lack thereof.) I can't deny that he's cute, with this dark and sensitive streak a dragon-length long, but I've never caught him staring back in my direction like Mari says he always does. Maybe he's just good at covering it.

As big a place as Ruath hold is, it's still small enough that everybody really knows everybody else's story, so even though I've never talked much to Maxx, I know the details of his family and so on - his father's a kind of a Harper Journeyman, who lost most of his voice so he can't sing anymore, and isn't great with instruments, but he's the most respected Arbiter of law in three holds, so that alone gives him a good position. (Nice work if you can get it, I think!) Father says that 'Journeyman Evan' should have gotten his Mastery years back, except that he'd made some friends unwisely back at the Harper Hall.

Let's see, what else about Maxx? He has one sister, Izabella, and is taking his apprenticeship with Master Healer Whitman. Which would make me think that his first reaction on seeing somebody stabbed in a duel that didn't concern her would be something practical like bandaging the wound and applying pressure, not yelling at her to open her eyes and staring at her...

But all of a sudden Maxx wasn't staring into my eyes any more, and he hadn't started treating a wound in my belly either. As I struggled into a half-sitting position, propped up with my elbows behind me, I caught sight of him at one of the tables across the narrow aisle from the two I was lying in between.

There was no immediate sign of the two diners who had had the argument, or Mari, or my parents. There were a few other diners, mostly huddled far away as if they were afraid that what had happened to me were contagious, and just as I realized that, Maxx hurried back over to me, carrying something - a big dish of red fruit syrup, which we keep a couple of around to drizzle on palm cakes. Bending over, he deliberately spilled the syrup all over my lower body.

I was about to loudly protest this, knowing that spilling stuff into an open wound is a great way to get infected and die unless you're sure that whatever-it-is is sterile, but Maxx shushed me imperatively and gestured at my abdomen. Unsure what that was supposed to mean, I ran a hand over the area where I knew the knife had gone in, over the sticky fabric of my tunic, trying to figure out how badly Maxx had messed me up - and couldn't find any trace of the wound. Totally surprised and scared in that moment, I looked up at Maxx.

"Don't give me away, Lizza," he whispered, and took off for the side exit.

My head was spinning as Mari rushed in from the kitchen proper and started assuring me that she'd called for the Healers, and the Hold Steward, and so on. "Don't die on me now, Lizza," she finished. "I'm not ready to..."

"I... I'm okay, Mari," I muttered, standing up. "There's hardly a scratch on me."

"But... but the blood," Mari muttered. "If not yours, then whose blood..."

"Not blood," I muttered, hoping that I could pull off this part of Maxx's scheme. A few things were starting to make sense, and the only reason I could think of for him to pour out the red fruit syrup was to confuse the fact that I'd been bleeding, to cast doubt on the fact that I'd ever been hurt at all. I doubted that myself, but whatever Maxx had done, if he wanted me to do this for him in exchange, and I was going to live, then I'd go through with it for the time being. "Just red fruit syrup. It got knocked over me when I fell, and drenched the knife."

Mari obviously didn't seem satisfied with that explanation, but a Healer showed up in that moment, not Master Whitman, but one of his journeymen who could move quicker, (and was probably not far away.) After the healer had confirmed that I was alright, my parents were both there to be reassured and hug me, and then it was the Steward, who had questions to ask us both about the diners, especially the one who had pulled his knife first. Duelling isn't generally a matter for Hold Discipline if it's handled properly, but there are rules to make sure that bystanders don't get hurt, and none of those had been followed this time.

I went back to the family rooms after talking with the Steward, to bathe in heated water from the deep places far underground. I also tried to wash off the tunic, but it was pretty much a wreck between the obvious red fruit syrup stains, and a few others whose color definitely didn't match. I couldn't find any rent where a blade had torn open the fabric, though, any more than I could find a wound in my own skin - but there was a faint mark of a different kind - a glowing silver handprint on my belly. Had - had Maxx touched me there, while I was staring into his eyes, and done something to save my life? I couldn't even remember feeling his hands on me.

So I wrung out the tunic as best I could, and wadded it up into the bottom of my wardrobe, until I could figure out a better way of getting rid of it, and dressed in a fresh gray outfit. I'd been expecting to go back on drudge duty once I was all freshened up, but Mom was in the drawing room, and refused to let me go back to the kitchen right away 'after giving me a fright like that,' so I found a pen and some ink and sheets of hide, and started to write down what happened to me.

I still don't know what to make of what happened. I've heard a lot of improbable stories about unlikely happenings, but can't even remember one about a person who could - could heal wounds just by laying his hands on them. Such things simply don't happen on Pern. So - was I imagining getting stabbed in the first place? No, that doesn't make sense either - why the different stains? Why would Maxx have spilled the syrup onto me?

I'm going to have to find some way to confront him about it, if I can find a way to dare so much.

#

I had lunch with mother after I finished writing, and lay down for a bit, but I couldn't sleep, just had all kinds of things running through my head, about what I should do next, and who I could trust. As much as I love my parents, I'm not sure how they'd react if I started telling them impossible things about being cured of a stab wound in my guts, especially after... well, I shouldn't get ahead of myself here.

I did think that my best friends could be trusted with the secret, probably. There's Mari, who I've mentioned before as having been around the kitchen when the fight broke out - she does drudge work there too, and we've been best friends since we were just tots, almost like sisters, except - not quite. My parents know Mari's mom, they're friendly but not best of friends or anything. Mari's father isn't around, which is really a very bitter story. He was searched to get a chance to impress a dragon at Fort Weyr when Mari was just a few months old, and he promised Mari's mother, Amada, that if he impressed he'd fly back to Ruatha and take them to the Weyr so that the three of them could be a family there. But he impressed a little bronze dragon, and he never did come back for her. Amada lives with her brother's family now, and she works a knickknack stand at gathers all over - buying and selling little amateur woodwork and jewellery at prices below what the official Craft hall merchandise would go for. Mari has to share a room with one of her cousins in her uncle's apartment too, and the cousin's a spiteful girl. I'd let Mari move in with me if I could, but we don't really have room for a second person in my room, even if I could get my parents to go with that arrangement.

So, there's Mari, and possibly also Aless who I might be able to tell about what's happened to me, though I'm not sure about that. Master Whitman, who's apprenticed Maxx, is Aless' father, and actually Aless is an apprentice Harper, though he doesn't study much with Maxx's father, though that would be an interesting case of switch-around. It's a bit odd for there to be so many apprentices around here at Ruatha, since we don't have a major Craft hall of our own, but apparently the apprentice dormitories at Fort Hold are just full up, so Healer Masters and Harper Masters all over Pern are being encouraged to take on apprentices of their own, and so I guess they're taking advantage of that.

So anyway, after running over all that and more in my head, and 'experimenting' a little with some magnifying lenses that I bought at the Crom gather earlier this summer, there was a knock at my door, and my father told me to 'pull myself together' and come out into the drawing room as soon as I could. That's a sort of a code in our family, it meant that there was an important visitor or a client who wanted to order some expensive pastry from Father, and I shouldn't do or say anything to embarrass him. I took about half a minute to make sure that I was dressed as respectfully as I could manage, came out, and nearly fainted.

An honest and true Dragon Rider was standing in our drawing room, with his hands on his hips and not far away from the door into the communal hallway. I could tell that he was a Rider because of the leather flight suit that he was wearing, and possibly also because of the look in his eyes. "Ahh, hello Lizza," he said as soon as he saw me. "I'm so sorry to disturb your rest on a day like today, but it was important that I could ask you just a few questions."

"Of course, my deepest duty to you..." I froze at that point, because I didn't recognize this particular Rider from the names that we'd had drilled into us, and nobody had introduced him to me by name. There was simply no respectful way to ask a Rider to identify himself, was there? I stared at him, trying not to make it look like I was gawking, but searching for a clue to his identity. A bronze rider from Fort Weyr, by the shoulder knots on his leathers. Could this be Mari's father? What had his name been...?

"I'm sorry, I forget my own courtesies in my excitement," the Rider said, gesturing to the chairs and stepping close to one of them. "My name is D'Peerce, and I am bronze Spakinth's rider. I'm also an experienced Wing-leader from Fort Weyr, and I've been very impressed with your father's baking for years, though I don't get the chance to indulge as often as I deserve." Keeping his tone joking, D'Peerce shot an aside over to Father. "Parker, you really should reconsider the Weyrleader's offer to set up in our Lower Caverns personally."

"Do Dragon-riders have more of a right to excellent baking than mere holders?" Father shot back at him, just casually. "I know that Fort Weyr would treat me well, but - my family and I are happy here at Ruatha."

D'Peerce took that with a calm nod. "My duty and that of the Weyrleader to you and your family - Lizza. Now, I'm sorry to have to get you to tell the story all over again, but - what happened to you this morning in the Klah lounge?"

"Umm - there's not that much to it, really," I muttered. "Two men got upset with each other, almost started a duel. I was too close, got knocked down, syrup spilled all over me. A few people thought that I'd been cut and was bleeding, I guess, but I only got scratched a bit from falling on the stone floor. Everybody's making too much of the whole thing, I think - well, except that they weren't being safe with their knives, and that's a serious thing. But as far as me..."

"I do understand that, up to a point," D'Peerce said, leaning over a bit and looking intently into my eyes. His own irises were a sort of a dark greenish with a slightly brown tinge to them. "But there are a few things that don't add up. Like Hawthiss - he was one of the customers who were involved in the incident, you know. A carter based in Southern Boll, just passing through - he'd gone to a lot of trouble to deliver fragile glass panes to a client here in Ruatha, and needed the marks to fix up his wagons and keep them on the road. That's why he was upset enough to draw a blade - but Hawthiss tried to sneak out of the Hold without his wagons, because he was desperate to get away before the Steward found him. Do you realize why, Lizza?"

I was starting to get the idea, but knew I had to play dumb, so I just shook my head, hoping that Father wouldn't insist that I answer out loud. My voice might give away too much nervousness to even be explained by the Rider. After a moment, D'Peerce continued. "Hawthiss was certain that he would at least be banished from all Holds on Pern - not just unwelcome here at Ruatha, but that Lord Jerood would send word to Southern Boll to blacklist him there, and add his name to the Harper's lists of outlaws that are circulated everywhere. He was even worried that he might be flown to the remote islands, marooned and unable to return to the continent. Because Hawthiss was certain that he'd stabbed a serving girl, not just knocked her down. He was quite clear on that point, and you wouldn't expect him to be confused on a detail like that."

I was just speechless by this point, but my father had no such problem. "With all due respect, Wing-leader, are you accusing my daughter of lying to you?"

D'Peerce looked over at Father and smiled. "By no means, Master Baker - at least, not of speaking an untruth on purpose. After all, a healer examined her after the incident, and found no hurt, is this not so?" We all nodded vehemently. "So, Lizza gets in the middle of the fight, she could hardly know for certain what happened in that moment, she falls, she wakes, possibly not even remembering 'going between' or waking from it, and finds herself unhurt. What other explanation could a reasonable person come to? That is, a reasonable person who is not aware of certain quite extraordinary things."

"Extraordinary things, like Hawthiss' delusion that he stabbed her?" my mother nearly cried out.

"More extraordinary yet," D'Peerce continued. "I will tell you some of them, so that you will understand the significance of what has happened. Some fifteen turns ago, when you were but a babe in your mother's arms, Lizza, and when I was yet only a boy running wild in the Fort Weyr lower caverns, a patrol wing over the Ruath highlands noticed something strange. It looked somewhat like a cracked eggshell fashioned of steel and white glass, and it had obviously landed from the sky, knocking down well over a hundred sky-broom trees in the process."

"You're exaggerating the tale," Father countered. "I remember hearing about the sky-rock that fell that year, and it wasn't nearly that large - hardly larger than your head or mine."

"No, I'm sorry, Master Baker, but it is you who heard a corrupted version of the tale," D'Peerce insisted. "One that the Dragon-riders and certain other individuals of rank agreed should be circulated, to avoid alarming those who didn't need to know the truth. I tell you it was not rock, but metal - and hollow. Even despite the damage of the landing, it was quite clear that the egg was some manner of flying wagon or boat - with seats for a captain and a passenger, and a sort of cargo hold."

"And what does this have to do with my troubles?" I asked the rider quite boldly. "Are you trying to say that Hawthiss was the one who flew around in this air-cart?"

"No, not that one," D'Peerce continued. "But the one who saved your life from his knife - that one might have been. Think about it - such flying ships are known nowhere on Pern, as far as any of us can tell. But we riders also know well that Pern is not alone in our universe. There is the thread, which comes to us across the black night from the Red star, and the small rocks that do fall out of the sky upon occasion. Why not another far star, and some sort of people crossing to Pern in a metal egg?"

"Master Woodblack used to say that he wondered if the first Crossing mentioned in the old records was a journey to Pern from some other place that we've forgotten," I chimed in.

"Yes, a bit like that," D'Peerce said severely. "But these strangers probably didn't come from the same place as our ancestors, and they are not like us."

"How can you be so sure, and does your certainty extend to crediting these 'strangers' of yours with healing powers?"

"I'm not going to go into many details," D'Peerce said stiffly. "But since the egg was discovered, dragon-riders, especially those of Fort Weyr, have kept a watch out for strange tales that might lead us to find the truth of the visitors. There are stories of strangers who can heal with a touch, or kill just as easily, have popped up here and there over the years."

"Just old campfire stories, I expect," my mother put in, with what seemed to me to not be 'proper respect.'

"And just what gives you the right to spy on good Holders gossiping, and hunt down these strangers who might or might not be here?"

"This is another aspect of our duty!" D'Peerce roared, losing our temper. "It is not merely a matter of defending Pern against the Thread, when that is falling. For centuries riders have done what we could to aid and protect those in danger from rocks falling from the sky - not that we often have enough warning to do much in advance. Have we not been told the same thing in a hundred different songs and stories? What falls down from the sky is deadly to people and good living things on Pern - and it is the duty and responsibility of the dragon-riders to battle against it."

There was a long, silent moment, and then my father rose and stood as tall as he could, right over D'Peerce. "Thank you for apprising us of your vision of duty, Wing-leader," he said in a very cold voice. "We'll consider what you have told us very carefully, never fear about that."

D'Peerce stood too, and he had nearly a hand in height above Father. "Don't think that you can get rid of me so quickly, Master Baker," he said lowly. "You may think that my brains are thread-addled, but you will not be able to dismiss all who believe in the thread-men as mad fools."

"I don't think that you're crazy, bronze rider," Father told him in a somewhat soothing, conciliatory way. "Just - overexcited and so focused on your goal that you can't see the full vista. Take a little time to reconsider, and we'll speak about this later - maybe in a seven-day."

"No, there is more that I must know now!" the rider exclaimed. "When the thread-men kill or cure, there is a silver handprint left on the one that they affected. Lizza - if you are so marked, I imagine you will have already seen it!"

"That is well and enough, Wing-leader!" my mother chimed in. "Without my daughter's expressed permission, you will not be examining her body for silver handprints."

D'Peerce was about to argue further, but then something about what my mother said deflated him - possibly the little dig about me giving him permission. It's true that a lot of girls are eager to, well, to meet up with dragon riders, especially bronze riders and some brown riders, and spend time with them alone. I even know a few ladies not much more than twenty turns old who are raising rider's children here in Ruath hold - not in the bounds of a traditional espousal, but as long as the rider fathers acknowledge their children and vow to support the mother should any need arise, it seems to be an exception to the usual stigmas about having illegitimate children. As D'Peerce strode away, I wondered if he did have any Holder ladies that he liked to keep company with or maybe a girl back home in the Weyr.

The green and blue riders tend to be mostly interested in each other, of course, even though nearly all green riders are men, so a lot of time they're exclusive with that orientation and don't pay any attention to girls at all.

But anyway, after D'Peerce left, my mind was spinning, and I wondered if Mother and Father would ask me questions about the silver handprint, and what else had happened in the lounge, but they seemed to think that it would be best if we all pretended that the entire thing hadn't happened, which was fine with me. At least, I could pretend that it hadn't happened with them.

I did need to find some friend that I could talk this out with, though; especially since I was no longer even sure if should be protecting Maxx anymore. I left the family apartments and started climbing down toward the lower levels. Was Maxx really the 'thread-man' that D'Peerce and the other riders were looking for? Could there even be a thread-man walking around among other people without being discovered? Thread was neither patient nor capable of hiding, I knew that much from my lessons - well, except possibly for hiding deep underground in a burrow, but even as thread burrowed, it was eating. (I'd even seen Maxx eat, that morning before the knife incident, and he'd shown no sign of a thread-like appetite.)

On the other hand, it was possible that D'Peerce was being metaphorical when he described the stranger that he was looking for as a 'thread-man,' or at least less direct than speaking of a man made out of the same stuff as thread. Thread came from the red star, which the Harper had taught me was possibly a world of itself, very different from Pern, but around the same size, impossibly distant in the sky. Was it possible that there were many different kinds of life on the red star, one of which was thread, and another was people like D'Peerce had described, people like Maxx?

And - had Maxx used his powers before - to save people's lives like he had mine, or to hurt or kill people? It seemed so hard to picture Maxx having a secret life at all, because he'd always been around Ruatha, growing up as I had grown. But I couldn't really deny the idea that something completely secret had happened in the Klah lounge this morning.

I saw Aless and Mari sitting together at one of the tables near the edge of the dining hall. Actually, it looked like two of Aless' Harper apprentice friends were with them, probably joking with Mari and trying to be clever or charming, but she made an overdramatic 'go away' gesture and they shared a look, said goodbye to Aless, and left. Smiling to myself, I walked up to the table and muttered, "I'm glad it's just the two of you here."

Mari made a sort of a gasping sound. "Honey, you look - well, I'm not sure how else to categorize it, except 'not good.' Have you eaten anything all day?"

I tried to remember. "Yeah, Mother brought bubbly pies home at lunchtime, and made me a cheese sandwich."

"Well, that was hours ago," Aless pointed out reasonably. "Dinner just wrapped up, down here, but I'm sure that we can find something that the ravening horde didn't eat all up..."

"I, I can't even think about eating right now," I told him. "Need - need to talk to both of you, alone."

Something about that got both of their attention - possibly because I rarely let my grammar slip so badly. "Alright, where?" Aless asked.

"The fire-heights?" Mari suggested.

That was usually a good place for us to meet privately, except that... "Are we sure that it's clear?" I asked. "I - I know that there was a bronze dragon visiting the Hold." Usually when riders visit a hold, the dragons find it fun to sit up on the fire-heights to wait for their rider to finish his (or her) business.

"The Wing-leader?" Aless asked, and I nodded.

"He's gone," Mari put in. "We saw him come into the hall to convey his duty to Lord Jerood, and Jerood asked him to stay and have dinner in the place of honour, but he insisted on taking off immediately. He really looked upset about something."

"I don't like to think about a rider being upset at anything to do with Ruath hold," Aless muttered grumpily.

"Well, I can tell you something about it, I think," I said. "And if the rider's gone, then let's get climbing."

It's quite a climb up to the fire-heights at most major holds on Pern. Aside from giving the dragons a place to hang out while their riders come visiting, their main function is supposedly to be part of a last-ditch defense of the hold against thread, in case something really goes badly wrong and a clump or tangle of the horrible stuff manages to land near a doorway or window and tries to slowly eat its way in. You'd have someone going out on the heights, (in the middle of the fall - I don't care how many dragons are protecting me I can't ever imagine doing that,) and dropping flaming black-water down onto the thread to burn it away. The heights also generally get used (more frequently) as a convenient lookout point for anybody approaching the area.

So, after all forty-two flights of stairs, the three of us came out onto the top of the heights and checked for dragons or anybody else up there - the coast was definitely clear, so I started to tell them the real story about what I remembered from the knife fight that morning, and D'Peerce's visit this afternoon.

"Wow," Aless muttered when I ran out of things to ramble about for the first time. "So - are you going to talk to Maxx about D'Peerce's visit?"

I turned to stare at him. "I... I guess I might. I haven't really come to any decisions about what to do about any of this. Guess that's what I'm hoping to figure out from talking to you guys, but - I admit I'm surprised that that possibility was the first thing to occur to you. Why would I go to - to someone like that, and warn him that the riders are looking for strangers like him?"

"Come on, Lizza," Mari put in. "Don't tell me that you're falling for the bronze rider's propaganda so easily. No matter what he might tell you about 'thread men', you know Maxx. We all do, sort of - I've never spent much time with him myself, but we kind of grew up together. Even if he is some kind of 'stranger', I'd want at the least to get his side of the story and weigh it before giving him up to dragon riders who think that he's made of thread or something."

I smiled a little wanly and turned out to step towards the edge of the heights, looking out at all the beauty of Ruath valley, and the river ford out in the distance. One of those other little random things that the Harper had told me came to mind, that supposedly in old words 'Rua' meant Red and 'atha' meant ford - the red ford, or ford of the red river, that was what the name Ruatha originally meant. I asked him why those words didn't mean anything except a name anymore and he couldn't really explain that part and got kind of defensive.

"Okay, that makes sense, even given the Mari distrust of all things dragon-rider," I called back, and heard Mari making a rude noise in reply. It was true enough. Mari has a kind of bold cynicism about most authorities, though she's cautious about not making it obvious in front of the Lord Holder, for instance, or craft masters. Somehow I find it hard to believe that she'd be able to feign much respect for a dragon-rider if she ever had to speak to one, though - all the stories that she's heard all her life about her absent father, how he's never acknowledged them or supported her family ever since he impressed have completely colored her outlook. Even Amada, (Mari's mother, in case you forgot,) doesn't seem to have let her bitterness about her departed man colour her attitudes about other riders - but then, I guess Amada learned respect when she was young long before she became a mother herself, while Mari grew up knowing that her father wasn't around because he thought being a rider was more important than other responsibilities.

"May I put in a few more questions?" Aless asked, and I turned back in time to see Mari nod. "Mari, you didn't tell anybody that Maxx was the one who rushed over to Lizza after she fell, did you?"

"Umm, no, I didn't think that it was important, and - well, I guess I thought it might be something silly and embarrassing, like he took an opportunity to - to take a peek or a feel while Lizza couldn't stop him. I didn't want anybody else to know about that kind of thing."

"Hey, then why didn't you try to defend my honor?" I shot back, laughing.

"Would you really have wanted me to, to interrupt him in the middle of saving your life?" Mari countered. "Anyway, I was shouting for a Healer, a more conventional one. Yes, I know that Maxx has been studying with Master Whitman, but I didn't really think that he would keep his head clear enough to do anything useful with conventional medicine." She sighed. "And though I wasn't in the room for a lot of the time, I don't think that anybody else would have noticed that Maxx went to you, but that's not much of a defense. Somebody like D'Peerce might try to interview everyone else who was in the lounge this morning."

"Well, there's not much that we can do about that - except possibly to warn Maxx that he's coming." I sighed. "If he's different - like, not human, not Pernese like us, what if there are others - his parents, his sister?"

"We're not Pernese either, like we've always been here," Aless shot back. "Humans crossed over to Pern, just a while ago. Maybe the dragons have been here for longer."

"No, humans bred the dragons to help them fight thread," Mari countered. "From fire lizards, so maybe they're the true Pernese."

"Oh, yeah," I said. That was one bit that the Harper hadn't told us, just one of those bits of folklore that drifted from person to person. "Compared to that one, thread-people sound perfectly reasonable."

"Well - now that I think about it, let us go and find Maxx for you," Aless suggested. "Bring him up here with us. Just in case D'Peerce has anybody in the hold that'd be quite happy to report back to about whom you're talking to. A layer of indirection doesn't hurt, at least."

I thought about that - about the possibility of talking to Maxx about all of this, and somewhat to my surprise, I was alright with that. "Yeah. In fact, send him up, don't come with. I think I want a bit of privacy, and I'm not scared of him."

"Are you sure?" Mari insisted, taken aback.

"Pretty sure - but just in case, if I die mysteriously - then go to D'Peerce and tell him everything you know about Maxx."

Aless laughed. "Good enough. For what it's worth, I do hope you get things sorted out. And remember to ask about if 'strangers' and humans can have kids together."

I quickly scooped up a loose rock that had been sitting on the heights and chucked it in Aless' direction as he scrambled for the stairs, but didn't really aim it at him, just a warning shot.

Of course, now that we'd settled on this plan of action, I had to stay up on the heights until Mari and Aless found Maxx and he arrived to meet me, and as the sun set in the west a chill wind started to blow across the valley. I hadn't brought any particularly warm clothes with me, and the cold started to settle into my heart and my soul. What would the conversation with Maxx bring into my life now?

It seemed like a long time until there were finally sounds of movement from the stairs, and when I checked, there was Maxx, climbing up the last flight that led out onto the heights themselves. He certainly didn't look like a 'Thread-man' or some other kind of exotic stranger - just a young man around my age, quite handsome actually, with dark brown hair cut short, and his healer green tunic hanging neatly on his lean body. He did have slightly funny-looking ears, sticking out from the side of his head, but somehow I decided that they gave his face character or something like that.

"Good evening, Lizza," Maxx panted softly as he climbed the last few stairs. "Based on the welcome I got from your friends, I guess that you're not too happy about what happened this morning."

I blinked. "Umm, I wouldn't say that I'm unhappy, but I'm not satisfied to leave things where they are - and you shouldn't be either, because I have information that might be important to you, too."

"What kind of information?" Maxx asked calmly.

"I had a dragon-rider visit me this morning. He seemed to be incredibly interested in finding out whether or not I'd actually been stabbed in that short fracas, and then healed - and if I had a silver handprint on my body anywhere - which I do, the last time I checked. He was full of stories about a dangerous Thread-man, who fell from the skies one night."

Maxx's calm had shattered when I said those two horrible words, and I could see panic starting to form in his face. "He said... he said that? Thread-man?" he asked his voice slightly hoarse. I nodded in silent reply. After trying several times, Maxx could only come up with one reply, "Shards of the first egg!"

"So you really are a - well, not a thread-man, that's stupid," I replied. "But some kind of a - well, a stranger to Pern, before..."

"No, Lizza!" Maxx exclaimed, turning to me. "I - I didn't realize how important it was, that you shouldn't know anything about us. It could put you in danger too."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Maxx," I insisted. "If my friends and I know the truth, we can help to protect you - and the others, whoever they are."

"What do you mean... oh, fall's sake!" Maxx shook his head angrily.

"Didn't realize just how much you were giving away with your choice of words, huh?" I asked him.

"No." Suddenly looking hard into my face, Maxx seemed to come to a decision. "Forgive me, Lizza." And he seized me by the shoulders, as if he were about to try and shake some sense into me, which I wouldn't have stood for if I could. (It's so undignified.) But he didn't actually shake, at least as far as I could tell, and something else happened to distract me.

It was like a rush of thoughts overwhelmed me - mostly still pictures, none of them lasting long, one after another, more than I could process and absorb in the two or three seconds than I could take. But some of the answers that I had been looking for were in there. "Thanks. Your - your sister?" I said. "And - and some boy, I've seen him around, but he can't live in the Hold. Is he from one of the herder cots further down the valley?"

Now Max's face fell open for a second again. "What - how do you know about him?"

"Well, you kind of - showed me," I said. "When you touched me. Didn't you intend to use - use your gift on me?"

"Well, I did, but..." Maxx trailed off at that point, and I tried my best 'Come on, fess up' stare at him. Finally he continued. "Well, I was trying to blur your memories of this morning, of D'Peerce's visit, and everything - so that you wouldn't keep pressing me to find out the truth."

I had to laugh. "Well, it looks as if that trick won't work on me - every time you try it you'll give away more secrets." I wasn't sure about that, so it seemed worth using the bluff to keep Maxx from trying it on me again. "What now, are you going to come clean with me at this point?"

"I... I still can't, Lizza," Maxx groaned, this time sounding like he was truly regretful about it. "The dragon-riders know where to find you, and if they suspect that they're keeping a secret - what's to stop them from asking their dragons to read your mind?"

The thought shocked me. "They - they can't actually do that to non-riders, can they?"

Maxx just stared at me for a moment, then turned around and headed back down the stairs from the heights.

So, that's about all for today. I left Maxx some time to climb down and then I went back to my family quarters - I didn't really feel like talking with him again. Not sure what else to do now - I feel like I want to know more about the dragons, about their mental powers and if they really extend further than their own riders and each other, but I have no idea who I could ask, especially without arousing any suspicion.

At least tomorrow's a rest-day, and the Klah lounge is going to be closed, (though Father does have it open some rest-days, so that other people can enjoy his hospitality at their leisure.) There's no big gather at Ruatha or Fort or any of the nearby big holds this week, but Mari and Aless and I had planned to borrow runner beasts from the beast-hold and ride down to the little gather at Plateau hold. We should probably go through with that plan, if only to avoid being suspicious again.

I'm not sure when I'll add to this journal, but probably in the next few days. Maybe by then I'll figure out what to do with Maxx and his sister and his friend. I've thought about confronting Izabella, but I really don't want to. She kind of scares me.