“I don’t think so,” Tintoval admitted. Behind them, they heard Bekka sob, but before anyone could react, the girl had already run past them, into the dragonrider’s quarters.

“Bekka!” S’ban exclaimed as he caught sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

Fiona, Tintoval, and Terin rushed to intervene—only to halt in surprise. Bekka was wrapped around S’ban, her sobs muffled against the fabric of his tunic.

S’ban looked up at the sound of their approach, demanding, “What is she doing with you?”

“Merika said she could help,” Tintoval said, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Bekka was upset about Serth.”

“Well, she would be,” S’ban said slowly, wrapping his arms tightly around the child. “She’s my daughter.”

Fiona and Terin exchanged horrified looks.

S’ban frowned at them until recognition dawned. “Weyrwoman? You’re back?” He gave her an appraising look. “You’re bigger, older.”

“I am,” Fiona said, drawing herself up and mustering a smile for the stricken blue rider. “I spent three Turns back in time at Igen Weyr.”

“Then perhaps there is hope,” S’ban whispered to himself.

Bekka pulled away from him long enough to say, “They said that Serth is going to die.”

Tintoval gave S’ban a tear-streaked, apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Bekka turned from her father and stared at the three women, demanding over her shoulder, “Tell them it isn’t true, Da. Tell them that Serth’s going to be all right.”

“Oh, darling,” S’ban said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and burying his head against hers, “I wish I could.”

“What about Kindan?” Bekka demanded, glaring at Fiona and then Tintoval. “And that weyrwoman, Lorana?”

“They’re trying,” Tintoval said. “They’re trying as hard as they can.”

“Kindan won’t give up, I promise you,” Fiona declared. She glanced at S’ban. “He saved us in the Plague, he won’t give up.”

“A fortnight ago, I told you that he’d have to be quick,” S’ban reminded her, his tone bleak.

Fiona glanced toward Tintoval. “Has there been any news since we left?”

The Weyr Healer shook her head.

“You have to do something,” Bekka said, glaring at Tintoval. “You can’t just wait for those Benden riders.”

“My father was a Benden rider,” Tintoval told her with an eyebrow arched warningly.

“T’val,” S’ban said to Bekka. “Remember, I told you about him?”

Bekka nodded mutely, then glanced sympathetically at Tintoval. “Did you feel bad when he died?”

“Yes,” Tintoval said sadly.

“That’s why she decided to become a healer,” S’ban told his daughter.

Bekka absorbed this silently.

“Bekka, why don’t you and I see what we can do to make Serth more comfortable?” Fiona asked, walking over to clasp the girl by the shoulder.