“I can’t think of anyone better,” T’mar told him. “You’ve raised watch-whers and fire-lizards, you know all the dragon lore, and”—he frowned as honesty compelled him to admit—“we can’t easily spare any fighting pair for the duty.”

“He’s flown Threadfall, too!” F’jian declaimed loudly with a challenging look in H’nez’s direction. The older bronze rider snorted derisively.

“Actually,” Jeila spoke up, her tone conciliatory, “he has more experience than anyone else.” She smiled at Kindan as she ticked off her fingers, “Raising a watch-wher, and a fire-lizard.”

“It won’t be forever,” T’mar told Kindan, with a half-glance in H’nez’s direction. “But …”

“Weyrleader, I …” Kindan groped for the right words and trailed off as he realized he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He glanced at Lorana, his eyebrows arched questioningly.

Lorana met his eyes for a long moment, then turned to T’mar. “What if he Impresses on the Hatching Ground himself?”

H’nez snorted in surprise at the question. A moment later, he admitted, “I suppose it might happen.”

“I think he should still take the duty,” Jeila said. “His age would make him steadier than any other rider and his understanding of dragons would make him a natural choice as senior.”

“And it’d be about time!” C’tov agreed heartily, pounding the table before him emphatically. Kindan found himself grinning broadly at the man who had been his boyhood enemy. C’tov grinned back, then wagged a pointed finger toward him. “Although you may find your age makes your aches all the greater.”

“I think we’re counting our eggs too quickly,” T’mar said, bringing the conversation back to the ground. He rose and leaned on the table, looking down at the harper, his expression firm, hand outstretched. “Will you accept the position?”

“I will, Weyrleader,” Kindan said, taking T’mar’s hand.

“Heard and witnessed!” C’tov and F’jian roared in approbation.

“You do realize that you’ve agreed to take on a third job, don’t you?” Fiona asked Kindan later that evening as they prepared for bed. Lorana, who was already curled up in a comfortable spot, chuckled wickedly.

“Three?” Kindan repeated blankly.

“Harper, Weyrlingmaster, and father,” Fiona said, ticking the duties off on her fingers.

“Four, if you count mate and lover,” Lorana murmured from the bed.

“Not to mention comforter and caresser,” Fiona agreed, turning to Kindan and tugging him toward the bed. The older man gave her a startled look, but before he could make any protest, Fiona giggled and shook her head, gesturing toward Lorana.

“It’s her that needs the comforting and caressing,” she assured him, turning toward Talenth’s unoccupied weyr. “I’ll see that T’mar gets some rest.”