“But you’re fighting the rising sun!” Tullea wailed. Around them, dragons and riders were just becoming visible as dark night gave way to the predawn half-light.

“We’ll do fine, don’t worry.”

“Oh?” Tullea demanded, her brows arched. “So I suppose I should tell Mikkala and Ketan to stand down, that you won’t be needing their services?”

“Tullea!” B’nik’s tone was one of exasperation mixed with understanding. He leaned down toward her to bring his face closer to hers. “We’ll be all right.”

“You’d better!”

B’nik smiled and waved at her before straightening up once more and turning to the dragons nearby, making the ancient signal to fly.

Caranth was up first, followed in rapid succession by the rest of his Wing, then S’liran’s Wing, followed by L’moy’s Wing and then by the two half-wings led by D’kel and J’han.

Tullea waited until the last of them blinked out, just visible in the gloom. She sighed, her shoulders slumped, before turning around to survey the injured riders, weyrlings, and weyrfolk left behind.

“What are you waiting for? Get to work!” Tullea bellowed and was glad to see them all scampering off.

“One thing, my lady,” a voice spoke up in the darkness. Tullea turned and found herself looking at a small dark blob: Lin, the new queen rider.

“What?”

“If he’s flying with the Weyr, he can’t go back in time,” Lin said.

“Of course,” Mikkala called out quickly from her position at the aid station nearest the kitchen, “if he gets injured then he certainly can’t go back in time.”

“Why not?”

“Because there were no reports of his being injured,” Ketan spoke up from the darkness. He snorted. “So I wonder if we should be hoping that he gets injured now?”

Tullea snorted in disgust at the notion. “What a thing to say!”

A little injury wouldn’t stop him, she thought, wondering if she could survive seeing him scored or his Caranth horribly injured. She shook her head; no she couldn’t.

“Lorana will think of something,” she told herself. “She saved us all before.”

“She didn’t save her dragon,” a voice grated in the darkness: Ketan.

“B’nik swiveled in his seat to look left and right, surveying the formation of his Wing and the other two Wings arrayed on either side. They looked good.

He turned and peered behind him, trying to pick out the two half-wings trailing behind, ready to provide more firestone or enter the fight as reserves. If he committed one half-wing, they would release their extra firestone—they’d need the extra speed they’d get without the weight of the firestone. He couldn’t make them out against the brilliance of the rising sun, especially with the added glare of the icy snow below them.