“And if she wants to go, she’ll go with all my support,” Fiona said, nodding at Kindan and Lorana before adding, “But with her ability to hear any dragon, I would hope that she would stay at the Weyr.”

Seban nodded. Kindan gave Lorana an inquiring look that the older woman answered with a quick jerk of her head toward Fiona, saying, “Someone has to keep her from bullying all the other Weyrwomen!”

Fiona surprised everyone—including herself—with an indignant squeak. Kindan, Lorana, Bekka, and Seban allowed themselves a quick chuckle at her reaction while the healers all looked on, too anxious to make any noise, although Fiona was pretty certain that Tintoval’s eyes danced with glee.

“Well, Seban?” Fiona asked with all the dignity she could muster.

“Master Zist and Master Betrony would be overjoyed,” Kindan said.

“It’s a lot of hard work, little sleep, and you’d have everyone muttering about your age,” Tintoval cautioned. Fiona bit off a retort, realizing that the healer was taunting the ex-dragonrider with exactly the right tone.

“And you think that I’d let my daughter take up a challenge her father couldn’t handle?” Seban snorted. “Can we think about it?”

“No,” Fiona said. “I’ve promised to get Tintoval and two of the healers back before dinner and you’re to go with them.”

Seban turned his eyes toward T’mar who had watched the whole exchange silently. “Weyrleader?”

“I will stand by your decision,” T’mar told him softly.

“If you go as an apprentice in your own right, no one can say that you are there to guard Bekka,” Fiona said. Seban gave her a look that made it quite clear that he’d arrived at the same conclusion and Fiona felt her cheeks blushing at the unspoken rebuke his eyes conveyed.

“Very well,” Seban said, reaching down fluidly and pulling Bekka up into his arms, “we’ll go!”

Bekka buried her face in his shoulder but even so, her squeal of delight filled the room.

“You said two healers?” Tintoval asked, facing Fiona. She turned quickly toward Zirenth’s weyr and the Weyr Bowl beyond, saying, “I’d best get Birentir.”

“Leave him,” Fiona said. The others all looked at her. Apologetically she told Cerra and Lindorm, “I don’t question your abilities, nor your desires. But, as I have been recently reminded, sometimes my duties require me to learn new abilities.”

Lorana smiled at her in agreement.

“Birentir came to the Healer Hall not long after the Plague,” Tintoval said, her expression grave.

“As a patient,” Fiona guessed. Tintoval nodded even as her brows rose in surprise. “When he recovered, he—like our Bekka here—made a vow.”

“Yes,” Tintoval said.

“How did you know?” Cerra asked in surprise.

“I’d even guess that he had a daughter near my age,” Fiona continued, “and lost her in the Plague.”

“Yes,” Lorana said, following Fiona’s line of thinking.

“‘Arrogance is usually born of fear,’” Fiona said, nodding toward Kindan, who had told her that many Turns ago. Kindan jerked in surprise, delighted that she’d remembered. With a wry grin, she added, “I seem to have made it a habit to collect arrogant people.”