“Ninety-two,” she replied quickly to disprove any notion that she might not be fully alert. A moment later she added, “Ninety-four later, when two of their wounded are cleared back to flying.”

“And don’t forget that five of our own injured should be cleared tomorrow,” F’jian said, glancing pointedly toward H’nez. “We’ll have fifty-five then.”

“Less than two Wings.”

“Benden will have another five as well tomorrow,” Fiona said. “So that’ll give them over three Wings—three and a half.”

There was a moment of polite silence before T’mar cleared his throat, saying, “Yes, we’d already mentioned that.”

“Oh,” Fiona said, sitting back in her chair, feeling heat rise in her cheeks even as she explained, “I was talking with Shaneese.”

H’nez glanced pointedly away from her and back toward T’mar. “So the fighting strength of all Pern”—he cast a glance quickly in Fiona’s direction—“tomorrow will be four hundred and seventy-nine.”

“That’s over five Flights,” C’tov pointed out.

“And yet we should expect at this moment to have better than eighteen Flights with all six Weyrs,” T’mar said with a sigh and an acknowledging look toward H’nez. “We know the situation is grave, but it is less than it was when the sickness was taking dragons every day.”

H’nez turned to Fiona. “Was there ever a time, in all the Records that you read, that a Weyr’s fighting strength was less than a Flight?”

Fiona shook her head. “Igen had a time in the Interval when it was down to two Flights, but that’s the worst I recall.”

“And their solution was to merge with Telgar,” T’mar said, grimacing.

H’nez nodded, returning his gaze to Fiona as he asked, “And so, even given that we survive the next Fall, on what do you base your hopes that Pern will find the missing Flights—more than four Weyrs’ worth—before we are all annihilated?”

Fiona shook her head in painful admission of her ignorance. The other bronze riders shot angry glances at H’nez, but there was no dodging the question. “I don’t have anything,” Fiona told him slowly, “beyond a feeling, a determination that somehow we will prevail.” She paused before reminding him, “Just as we prevailed against the sickness.”

“I, for one, will go on fighting with my very last breath,” C’tov told the older rider firmly.

“He knows that,” Fiona told him sadly. H’nez raised his eyebrows in surprise. She nodded at the other riders, adding, “He knows that you’ll all give your lives to protect Pern.”

“That’s not the question,” H’nez said in confirmation.

Fiona locked eyes with him. “The question you want answered is: Who will watch over your child when you are no longer. The answer is: I will.”

Mutters went around the table. “Child?” “H’nez?”