F’lar maintained an expression of polite interest. He knew perfectly well that Lessa suspected the child was his, and it could have been, he admitted privately, but he doubted it. Kylara had been one of the ten candidates from the same Search three years ago which had discovered Lessa. Like others who survived Impression, Kylara had found certain aspects of Weyr life exactly suited to her temperament. She had gone from one rider’s weyr to another’s. She had even seduced F’lar—not at all against his will, to be sure. Now that he was Weyrleader, he found it wiser to ignore her efforts to continue the relationship. T’bor had taken her in hand and had had his hands full until he retired her to the Lower Caverns, well advanced in pregnancy.

Aside from having the amorous tendencies of a green dragon, Kylara was quick and ambitious. She would make a strong Weyrwoman, so F’lar had charged Manora and Lessa with the job of planting the notion in Kylara’s mind. In the capacity of Weyrwoman . . . of another Weyr . . . her intense drives would be used to Pern’s advantage. She had not learned the severe lessons of restraint and patience that Lessa had, and she didn’t have Lessa’s devious mind. Fortunately she was in considerable awe of Lessa, and F’lar suspected that Lessa was subtly influencing this attitude. In Kylara’s case, F’lar preferred not to object to Lessa’s meddling.

“A fine son,” Lessa was saying.

F’lar sipped his klah. She was not going to get him to admit any responsibility.

After a long pause Lessa added, “She has named him T’kil.”

F’lar suppressed a grin at Lessa’s failure to get a rise from him.

“Discreet of her.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” F’lar replied blandly. “T’lar might be confusing if she took the second half of her name as is customary. ‘T’kil’ however, still indicates sire as well as dam.”

“While I was waiting for Council to end,” Lessa said after clearing her throat, “Manora and I checked the supply caverns. The tithing trains, which the Holds have been so gracious as to send us”—her voice was sharp—“are due within the week. There will shortly be bread fit to eat,” she added, wrinkling her nose at the crumbling gray pastry she was attempting to spread with cheese.

“A nice change,” F’lar agreed.

She paused.

“The Red Star performed its scheduled antic?”

He nodded.

“And R’gul’s doubts have been wiped away in the enlightening red glow?”

“Not at all.” F’lar grinned back at her, ignoring her sarcasm. “Not at all, but he will not be so vocal in his criticism.”