“If you stay too close, you’ll get them all worried,” Sonia’s voice startled her as the Weyrwoman spoke at her side. Fiona turned to see that the older woman with her startling white forelock was watching her with no small amount of amusement.

“They know what they’re doing,” Fiona said, loud enough for the weyrfolk to hear her. “I just like being close to hand if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I understand,” Sonia said. “It’s a different way from my own; I tend to wait until someone asks.”

“Your father was a healer, wasn’t he?” Fiona said, recalling a chance comment from C’tov months back.

Sonia nodded.

“I’m still learning,” Fiona said. “Sometimes I can help, sometimes I can learn something new.”

“I see.” Sonia noticed the way Fiona started to raise her hands, the way the younger woman tensed to speak or move forward, and the way she restrained herself. “It’s hard not to help.”

“It’s not that,” Fiona said even as she clenched her fists once more to restrain her impulse to dart forward, “it’s not knowing when it’s help or hindrance.”

“You are young, you worry too much.”

Fiona turned to meet her eyes. “In these times, can anyone worry too much?”

“The Weyrwoman sets the mood of the Weyr,” Sonia said in answer.

“Yes, I know.” Fiona frowned. “There’s a fine line between trying anything and trying nothing. They can both be signs of despair.”

Sonia’s eyes narrowed as she examined the girl in front of her. “You won’t give in to despair.”

“Ever,” Fiona agreed. “I grew up with the example of Kindan.”

“What about Lorana, then?” Sonia asked, careful to keep her tone casual.

“I think she’s still learning from Kindan,” Fiona said after a moment. “I understand that the Plague was very hard for her.”

Sonia nodded.

“And with Tullea’s demands on top of her feeling all the dragons, it’s a wonder she’s managed to keep her baby,” Fiona added in a rush.

“Tullea’s demands?”

“She wants Lorana to find a way to save B’nik,” Fiona said, quickly recounting Tullea’s conversation with Lorana before adding, “And on top of that, there’s Tenniz’s ‘gift.’”

Sonia gave her a questioning look.

“Tenniz is one of the desert traders I met when I was at Igen,” Fiona said. “When I arrived at Telgar, he had left gifts.”

“He did?”

Fiona nodded. “Well, actually, Mother Karina left the gifts; Tenniz left his words. He was one of the traders who could sometimes see into the future. He knew that I would come to Telgar.” She frowned as she added, “And he left a gift for Terin, a gold fitting for a riding harness with the words: This is yours and no other’s.”