“And T’mar,” F’jian said, rising and pointing toward the older bronze rider. “Many of us were,” F’jian added as heads craned back from T’mar to him. “When K’lior asked for volunteers to come here”—he paused, worried that he might be upsetting the weyrfolk, then continued unabashed—“the whole Weyr volunteered to follow Fiona.”

“The whole Weyr?” one of the weyrfolk asked, cocking her head toward Fiona speculatively.

“The whole Weyr,” T’mar agreed. He pointed toward Seban. “Even those who lost a dragon a short time before demanded a chance to be here.”

Fiona sensed a change in the room, a sense of curiosity, excitement, honor.

“It was an honor to serve at Igen,” Fiona said, feeling the focus of the room shift back toward her. “It will be an honor to be your Weyrwoman and see Telgar fly high.”

She nodded once to the faces peering up at her and then sat back down, turning toward Shaneese.

“They need time,” the headwoman told her kindly.

“There isn’t much,” Norik said.

“Have we enough wine for tonight?” Fiona asked, glancing at Shaneese. “And have we got sitters for the smallest ones?”

“Yes,” Shaneese replied. “We’ll have that by this evening.”

At Norik’s suggestion and H’nez’s concurrence, the weyrfolk constructed a huge pile of logs at the east end of the Weyr, not too near the lake and the easily stampeded herdbeasts but close enough that fresh water would be easily at hand.

“It’s a long roll,” Norik said warningly to Fiona when they met in the Dining Cavern near dusk that evening.

“We’ll skip no one,” H’nez replied, glancing at his assembled riders. Each had a large sack perched on their shoulders. “We will honor all who flew from Telgar.”

“There are only forty of you,” Norik said, the concern in his voice obvious.

“Forty-one,” Fiona said, pointing to herself.

“Each rider will stand for nine,” H’nez declared. “T’mar, F’jian, and I will stand for eleven, the weyrwoman for ten.”

Norik considered this for a moment, then nodded, sitting at the table and revising his lists hurriedly. He glanced at H’nez and Fiona as he said, “I’m not sure who should stand for D’gan.”

“I’ll stand for D’gan,” H’nez said with a quick look toward Fiona.

“You are the senior,” Fiona agreed. “But not Weyrleader.” She looked at Norik. “Will that be a problem?”

“To dishonor a Weyrleader …” Norik paused as he considered the implications. It was a common practice in the Weyrs to hold a gathering to honor those fallen. The greater the rank, the greater honor due. By tradition, the senior flightleader could honor his fallen Weyrleader … but the situation here was more complex because the tragedy was so great—never before had a whole Weyr been lost like this.