Merika cast a knowing look toward Fiona as she replied, smiling, “He’s been known to have that effect; I’ve heard he’s even been able to charm young girls into behaving, on occasion.”

“He certainly had it with me!” Tintoval agreed with a laugh. She continued, pressing Merika, “So, will you let Bekka train with me?”

“Train?” Merika had repeated in surprise.

“As a journeyman healer, I can take an apprentice,” Tintoval told her.

“Don’t you want to meet her first?”

“From what I’ve heard, I meet her every morning in the mirror,” Tintoval told her.

Fiona, who’d had only a brief experience with the new healer before she’d gone back in time to Igen Weyr with the weyrlings and convalescents, found this exchange alarming. Tintoval must have noticed her look. “It’s a good thing in a healer,” she explained. “We have to be alert in a moment and awake for long periods of time.”

“That’d be Bekka,” Terin murmured in agreement.

Merika had summoned her most irrepressible child and, with some lingering reluctance, had entrusted her into Tintoval’s care.

Fiona’s concern over the age and responsibility of the child evaporated with their first visit that morning. Not only was Bekka’s cheerful energy infectious, she was also genuinely concerned for the well-being of both injured rider and dragon, to the point of running up and down the stairs to the infirmary on several different errands and still finding time to give words of comfort to both dragon and rider.

“Some of the injuries are worse,” Tintoval had cautioned her as they made their way to their second patient.

“They won’t get better if we don’t help, will they?” Bekka had asked.

“No, they won’t,” Tintoval admitted.

“It’s like when babies are born,” Bekka mused. Terin made a disagreeing noise and the young girl rounded on her. “If there’s no one to help, the baby’s still going to be born. Mother’s there to see to it that the baby and mother live.” Fiona could feel the sense of pride and vocation in the girl’s tone. “If we aren’t there to help, then maybe the dragons and riders would recover or maybe they wouldn’t. It’s our job to see to it that they live.”

“Yes,” Tintoval agreed, “that’s it exactly!”

Bekka’s exuberance faded when they visited the first of the seriously sick dragons.

“Serth is only hanging on,” Tintoval cautioned them before entering the weyr.

“It’s been over a fortnight,” Fiona murmured, remembering her last visit to S’ban and Serth: her first time escorting Tintoval on her rounds. She remembered that S’ban had been surprised at her ready willingness to clean up the nasty green ooze that blue Serth had coughed up—that all the sick dragons coughed up. “Will he make it?”