Fiona frowned. She’d forgotten H’nez’s argument with K’lior, so many Turns ago for her and those who had come back in time from Igen Weyr, so recently for the bronze rider. H’nez had demanded the right to transfer to the first available Weyr.

“We need all the riders we can get,” T’mar reminded her. “We’ve only forty in all.”

“More would have come,” F’jian added with a nod toward her. “When K’lior asked for volunteers, nearly every man in the Weyr stepped forward.” He grinned as he told her, “All those who’d been with us in Igen, of course, but even those who hadn’t were eager.”

“Well, K’lior has his own Falls to fight,” Fiona said agreeably. Her expression fell as she glanced at H’nez once more.

“Don’t be fooled by him,” Seban spoke up from where he sat, nodding toward H’nez, as he helped Bekka tend a pot near the hearth. Fiona shot him a surprised look and the ex-dragonrider explained, “He’s a good leader, he looks after his riders and makes them look after his dragons.”

“You were in his wing.”

“And proud of it, weyrwoman,” Seban declared. She noticed that he hadn’t stressed her title and took it for the reproof it was.

“He needs a smaller head,” she muttered.

“Unlike some,” Seban teased in response, surprising her at his hearing.

Fiona dimpled, then made a dismissive gesture with her hand and turned back to T’mar, who gave her a worried look.

“What?”

“Until your Talenth rises, the question of who is senior wingleader is a problem,” T’mar told her.

“It’s not a problem at all,” Seban declared, jerking his head toward H’nez. “He Impressed Ginirth Turns before any bronze here.”

“Shards!” Fiona said.

If H’nez noticed that he was the topic of conversation, he didn’t show it. In fact, Fiona realized, he was busy playing with some of the younger weyrfolk; he’d coaxed them out of hiding with the promise of sweets in return for work and information. He was, she admitted sourly, doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing.

“We’ll have a hot lunch soon,” Terin said as she plopped down next to F’jian. The bronze rider smiled at her and tousled her hair affectionately. She batted his hand away, snarling, “Not now or I’ll have you scrubbing up.” She glanced toward Fiona. “So what now, weyrwoman?”

“Seban?” Fiona called over to the ex-dragonrider. “Do you think you and Bekka are up for a tour?”

The young girl looked up from the boiling pot, her eyes alight.

Fiona stepped over to them, gesturing for the cooking glove. “Terin and I can handle the cooking, I need you two to get to know people here.” She glanced challengingly at Bekka. “How many people do you think you can meet in the next two hours?”