“It would have to be, if T’mar is still unconscious,” Mekiar replied, his tone not wholly devoid of emotion but also not overwhelmed by it. “Ride with them if you wish.”

Fiona caught some hint of disapproval—no, it was less than that—in the older man’s tone. Caution.

Fiona thought she understood even as she felt the passions grow. She forced her feelings back to her fingers, felt the clay, reached for some cool, wet water with which to slick up the shape she was working and felt her fingers flow once more over the shape as her leg pumped the wheel round and round.

Even as her fingers reported their sensations, Fiona felt a counter pull from high above her as wings beat, hearts pounded, lungs pumped, all joyfully, purposely. Tension grew, threatened to pull her apart until—finally—

Fiona felt the maleness of Kindan come to her through her connection with Lorana. She felt T’mar’s steady, calm breathing, felt the passion of his breath on her cheek, felt the roar of the wind high in the sky above, felt Lorana’s heat as she stood next to Kindan, felt Zirenth’s growing elation—mixed with approval—felt herself at the potter’s wheel, felt—

Suddenly she gasped and opened her eyes. The clay was a misshapen mess, all mashed together.

“Sometimes that happens, too,” Mekiar said softly from beside her, his words sounding somewhat forced. She looked up at him and he smiled calmly, then she saw his work.

He must have stopped spinning his wheel early on. For on his wheel stood a mix of wings and limbs, as though dragons and riders were each clutched in the same mating embrace.

He frowned at it. “I’m not sure if that’ll fire well.”

“It’s beautiful all the same,” Fiona said, even as her breathing returned to normal.

“I’m afraid we can’t keep it,” Mekair said sadly, folding the wings inward and slowly lumping the shape back into a ball. “Some beauty is only for an instant, to be admired just in the moment.”

Fiona nodded in understanding. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“My pleasure as well, in your company,” the ex-dragonrider said.

From on high, a loud contented bellow filled the sky.

“Ginirth,” Fiona said.

“About as I would have expected,” Mekiar said. Fiona raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. “There was a way the lass looked at the lad, and she came back here on purpose.”

Fiona nodded once more in understanding. Then a thought struck her. “And me? Could you tell?”

Mekiar smiled. “You, Weyrwoman, love everyone.”

Fiona looked at him in confusion.

“It’s your way,” he told her gently. “And it would be foolish to deny it.” He saw the pained look in her eyes and added, “If your heart is big enough, there is nothing better than to love as many as you can.”

“And is my heart big enough?”