Her words were cut short by Ginirth’s bugle, immediately echoed by the other dragons as they swarmed down into the Bowl.

“It’s time,” Fiona said. Silently she asked Talenth to take station as watch dragon and was surprised to see H’nez’s grateful look as he climbed aboard his great bronze.

“Is that a habit of yours?” Lorana asked, gesturing to Talenth.

“Well, someone’s supposed to keep watch,” Fiona said, wondering at Lorana’s tone of surprise. She thought about it for a moment and decided that she’d probably developed the idea from all her time with her father’s guards at Fort Hold—a Hold, or Weyr, should always have someone responsible looking out for its safety. Not to mention those times when she and Talenth had stood guard back in time at Igen Weyr—in penance to T’mar for one of her more foolish stunts.

The cold winter sun had done its job of burning through the early morning fog and was now, triumphant, nearly mid-sky, highlighting Talenth’s gold hide and burnishing it to a brilliance that even the harsh glare of Igen’s desert sun couldn’t rival.

Suddenly the air above the Weyr was full of dragons—bronzes, browns, blues, greens—all arrayed in formation, wing after wing. High Reaches Weyr had arrived.

A gold sparkle separated itself from the amazing display of color and dropped quickly into the Weyr Bowl.

Talenth bugled a greeting that was answered by the gold as she passed by.

Lyrinth, Talenth told Fiona unnecessarily.

High Reaches’ senior queen settled quickly nearby and her rider jumped off. Fiona had a momentary glimpse of long dark hair punctuated by a shocking white forelock streaming behind a running figure before she found herself confronted by a pair of intense green eyes that scanned her quickly, dismissed her, and turned themselves upon Lorana.

Weyrwoman Sonia was several centimeters shorter than Fiona. Her body was tight, muscled, wiry, an intense reflection of an intense personality.

“You must be Lorana,” Sonia said. She stopped her forward motion, suddenly as still as a stone.

“Weyrwoman,” Lorana said with a nod by way of greeting.

Fiona was surprised at the ex–queen rider’s wariness. Sonia surprised her further when she barked a quick laugh and declared, “Tullea’s a bitch.”

Sonia ignored Fiona’s startled gasp, keeping her attention on Lorana, eyeing her reaction critically. Somehow satisfied by Lorana’s surprise, she continued, “It’s not a requirement for Weyrwomen, even seniors.”

“Cisca’s nice,” Fiona said. Sonia turned her eyes to her briefly and dismissed her with a flick of her head before returning her attention to Lorana. Fiona’s eyes narrowed at the insult.

“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done,” Sonia told Lorana. “I’m sure you haven’t heard it enough yet.”