Fiona left it to Lorana and Kindan to organize the loading of Zirenth and Talenth while she went to the Dining Cavern. She was not surprised to find Birentir at one of the pottery wheels, working the clay under the tutelage of Mekiar.

“How is he doing?” Fiona asked, startling the older healer and causing him to ruin the bowl he was forming on the spinning wheel.

“He is learning,” Mekiar replied drolly, glancing up to Fiona. “I would say that at this moment he is learning patience.”

“Good,” she replied, “see that he does.”

Birentir looked askance at her words.

“You’re staying,” she told him. Birentir’s eyes widened further in surprise. “Bekka and her father are going back to the Healer Hall and I don’t need you there causing her grief on a daily basis.”

“You would prefer me causing ‘daily grief’ here?” Birentir asked with a flash of humor.

“You won’t be causing me daily grief, healer,” Fiona assured him. She softened her tone as she confided, “I’m more worried about fighting Thread without enough dragons.”

“I’d heard,” Birentir said, rising from his chair, his expression grave. “How bad is it?”

“No one really knows,” Fiona said. She shook her head, adding, “We all know that it’s bad but we haven’t exact numbers until we can figure our losses per Fall.”

“Master Archivist Verilan could help with that.”

Fiona cocked her head at him measuringly. “So, when you get over the fact that I’m nearly the same age as your late daughter, and deal with me for myself, you are willing to think, aren’t you?”

Birentir flushed hotly and Fiona held up a hand in apology.

“I don’t recall seeing you whenever I visited the Harper Hall,” Fiona said. “Were you hiding?”

“I was studying.”

“You’re older than most.”

Birentir nodded in acknowledgment.

“Tell me about it,” Fiona said.

“It was the Plague,” Birentir said. “I lost my whole family, wife, two boys, three girls.” He glanced into her eyes as he added, “My youngest would be about your age now.”

“I’ve nearly seventeen Turns,” Fiona told him.

“Yes,” Birentir said, “she had five Turns when the Plague struck.”

“I had only two,” Fiona told him. Birentir gave her an inquiring look. “I spent three Turns back in time at Igen Weyr.”

Birentir’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t heard.”

“We haven’t been back for very long, and we were sent here after …” Her voice trailed off, but Birentir nodded. The news of the death of Telgar Weyr had traveled quickly to the Harper Hall. Fiona shook herself. “So, you’ll be staying here,” she told him. “I’ll ask Master Betrony to give me your stuff and we’ll put you in the healer’s quarters.”

“Are you certain, even with my daily grief?”

Fiona smiled at the taunt and nodded.