“That’s double dragon size,” Fiona said. “Dragon size is used for most wounds; for wing-work we use regular human sutures; but this required the larger ones.” She paused, thinking back to her time at Igen Weyr in the past, when she’d had to learn all this on her own, by doing it. “When we were at Igen, we had the hardest time getting dragon sutures until I managed to explain what we needed to the traders.”

“Where did they find sutures?” Tintoval asked, her eyes narrowed worriedly.

“They didn’t,” Fiona said with a shake of her head. “They discovered that the Fishers use a similar rope and convinced them to produce a sterile version.”

“Clever.”

Fiona smiled in agreement. “I often wonder how much more we could do if we asked others to help us.”

“That’s a good thought,” Tintoval said reflectively, her eyes falling on Terin. Fiona gave her a quizzical look but the healer merely shrugged and smiled in response, clearly not yet ready to share her thinking.

It wasn’t until they were seated in the Kitchen Cavern for a late lunch that Tintoval broached her idea. Waiting until Terin had swallowed her last mouthful, the healer asked, “Terin, are there any young weyrfolk who’d like to help us?”

Terin frowned in thought before saying, “Mostly Ellor keeps them in classes or working, but I’m sure the ones whose fathers are riders would love to help.”

“We didn’t check on those whose families are tending them,” Fiona told Tintoval. “But there aren’t that many because too many of the women are working.”

“In the kitchen?” Tintoval asked, glancing around at the few helpers.

“In the tanneries, on the looms, in the pastures, in the storerooms, on spinning wheels, knitting, dyeing, tailoring, leatherworking, and metalworking,” Terin replied, adding, “and in the nurseries and classrooms with the children.”

“It was a bit of a shock to realize how much like a Hold a Weyr really is,” Fiona said with a grin. “Only there are more women than men.”

Tintoval mulled on Fiona’s last comment for a moment before asking, “Why is that?”

“Well, with a Weyr’s strength of about five hundred dragons, you’d expect around the same number of mates,” Fiona replied slowly as she examined the question. “I imagine that many of the boys who don’t Impress leave the Weyr.”

Tintoval’s raised eyebrows begged her to explain. “They would find themselves welcomed in every Craft and Hall.” She waved a hand expansively around the Kitchen Cavern. “They’re well-fed and tended, trained to handle most any task so they would be a boon to any holder or crafter. And,” she concluded, “there’s all the prestige associated with the Weyr and being able to boast of weyrblood.”