“I think Masterharper Zist,” Fiona said. “I think we shouldn’t tell Kindan just yet.”

“Perhaps not,” Lorana said. “We wouldn’t want to shock him too much just now.”

“Did you tell him about the baby?”

“No,” Lorana said, amusement spilling out of her voice. “I was hoping we could present him with a double event, as it were.”

Fiona giggled. “That would be nice.”

And now Fiona, Lorana, and Kindan were arrayed side by side to greet J’lantir as he jumped nimbly from his perch atop bronze Lolanth. The air was still cold and the clouds above threatened rain or, more likely, snow later in the day. Dragons’ breath was clearly visible as streams of fog wisping through the air. Fiona noticed some of the Istan riders shiver and was glad she and Shaneese had preparations made to keep them warm—used, as they were, to the much warmer climate of Ista.

“Kindan!” J’lantir exclaimed, racing over to hug the shorter man quickly. “M’tal told me I’d have a surprise, but I didn’t expect it to be you!”

In the background, Fiona noted, weyrfolk spread out with mugs of warm klah and extra sweaters for the colder Istan riders. Fiona took a careful breath, not wanting to freeze her nose, just enough to get a good sniff of the amazing pine scent that wafted down from the trees in the mountains surrounding the Weyr. She could never get enough of that special, fresh smell.

“I suspect I’m only a part of it,” Kindan said with a smile, gesturing to Lorana. “This is Lorana.”

J’lantir’s eyes widened in recognition and he drew himself back, bowing low in front of her. “My lady, I grieve for your loss and applaud your extreme fortitude in saving all the dragons of Pern.”

Fiona could feel Lorana tense beside her. Not all, she thought, remembering that her beloved friend felt every dragon’s loss.

“Fiona, Weyrwoman,” Fiona said in introduction, distracting the bronze rider from his gaffe.

“Weyrwoman,” J’lantir returned with a brisk nod, his frank eyes clearly registering his surprise. “Aren’t you awfully young for the duty?”

“I’ve nearly seventeen Turns, bronze rider,” Fiona corrected him.

“Nearly,” J’lantir said, his brows rising with his words. “That many; I hadn’t realized.”

“I spent three Turns back in Igen,” Fiona said. She gestured to one of the weyrfolk, who handed J’lantir a steaming mug, and she added, “I remember all those warm days very fondly.”

J’lantir chuckled appreciatively, muttering thanks to his server and draining his mug with evident relish.

“We’ll try to keep you warm,” Fiona said.

J’lantir raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise and turned his head enough to see how his other riders fared. He gave Fiona a grateful nod as he saw that they were being bundled up and hastened out of the cold morning to their quarters.

“So I see!” he said.