It took Fiona a moment to recognize that the ex-dragonrider was offering her a chance to throw some pots on a potter’s wheel. The thought of sensuously occupying her hands and mind was deeply appealing to her. She smiled and reached for his hand.

They were seated and deeply engrossed in their work when Jeila’s Tolarth bellowed near the Star Stones, her tone lustful.

Tell them to meet in Zirenth’s weyr, Fiona thought hastily to Lorana, anxious about the one time when she, as Weyrwoman, couldn’t perform her duties as Weyrwoman.

Fiona was relieved to hear Tolarth glide toward the queen’s wing before tearing off to bellow challengingly in the pasture at the far end of the Weyr. She caught a fleeting snatch of thought from Lorana, partly accepting, mostly amused, and snorted as she realized that the older woman would probably have selected that course of action without Fiona’s prodding, and had gathered the bronze riders in Zirenth’s weyr.

Her concentration faltered and she twitched in her seat, feeling the urge to rise, to be there, to help Jeila who was not much older than herself, to know that T’mar and Zirenth were all right—

“Stay here, Weyrwoman,” Mekiar’s voice came to her, calmly, firmly. She glanced at the ex-rider.

“Your dragon is only sleeping now,” Mekiar reminded her. “This is Tolarth’s time. You don’t need me telling you the dangers of fighting queens.”

Fiona forced herself to sit back down, nodding slowly. She sent a quiet, fleeting tendril of thought toward Talenth and was glad to note that the gold was still slumbering, although her dreams were clearly becoming influenced by the sounds and emotions rising around her. Fiona realized that she, too, was feeling those emotions and found her breath quickening when she heard Tolarth’s challenging bugle warble as the queen soared into the sky above.

“If you put your mind to it, the clay can be your lover,” Mekiar told her softly. “Done right, you can make the most beautiful works.”

“How?” Fiona asked, aware of the rising emotions all around her, filling the Weyr as the bronze dragons—including one from High Reaches and another from Benden—bellowed and leaped into the air after the challenging queen.

“Close your eyes, still your breathing, put your mind in your fingers, shape the clay with your thoughts,” Mekiar told her calmly. She drew a breath to ask for more guidance but he forestalled her. “Hush now! Quiet, close your eyes. This is a time of silence.”

Fiona closed her eyes and—found herself soaring through the air. Startled, she opened them again. Zirenth, she had been with Zirenth. She reached out to Lorana, felt a welcoming echo tinged with concern and forced herself, regretfully, to withdraw once more.

“Lorana and Kindan are flying with Zirenth,” Fiona said quietly.