“Fine,” H’nez said sharply to Fiona, “you stand for him; I’ll stand for his son, D’lin.”

“I think that’s an excellent compromise,” Norik said. “D’lin was well-respected within the Weyr.”

“I’ll have the men form up,” H’nez told Fiona.

Events moved quickly as dragons deposited riders by H’nez who, after having them form up, handed out the lists that Norik had prepared.

Fiona sidled over to them, gauging their mood.

“Most of you have seen or done this before,” H’nez told the assembled riders, “but never on this scale.”

“I haven’t,” F’jian spoke up. “What do we do?” In a lower voice, he added, “I don’t want to get it wrong.”

“Tonight we will take roll for the Weyr,” H’nez replied, directing a tight, intense look at the youngest bronze rider. “When any of the names on your list are called, you’re to stand for them.”

“The light’s bad,” F’jian said.

“You’ll have to memorize your list,” T’mar spoke up.

“It’s tradition.” “It’s considered an honor to answer for those who can’t,” a voice spoke up from the dark. It was Seban. His tone was shaky as he continued, “Among other things, it signifies that you are a rider and that you take on the mantle of the rider you stand for.” He paused. “You stand for him.”

“So you’d best memorize that list well,” H’nez continued with a thankful nod toward the ex-dragonrider. “Because you answer for those men and anything they did.”

Fiona had a sudden insight and spoke up, “Think carefully before you agree to this.”

H’nez looked toward her, gesturing expectantly. All eyes were on her.

“If you do this, you are no longer of Fort,” she told them. “For by standing for these riders, you stand for Telgar.”

There was a long moment’s silence broken by F’jian’s voice. “We stand for you, Weyrwoman.”

Fiona smiled and nodded low in gratitude. “Then you stand for Telgar.”

With an acknowledging look, H’nez stood back in front of his men. He said one word, loudly, clearly in the night, “Telgar!”

“Telgar!” the riders shouted back, their voices echoing resoundingly around the Weyr.

As if in answer, a slow, steady beat began from the harper’s big drum.

“Memorize your lists,” H’nez told the riders. Fiona took a long moment to examine her list, reciting it to Talenth and repeating it to herself until she had mastered it.

Drawn by the mournful, slow, steady sound of the bass drum, Telgar’s weyrfolk slowly began gathering. Seban marched forward to the dragonriders and collected the lists.

“Are you ready, Weyrwoman?” H’nez asked politely as he placed his list on top of Seban’s pile.

“Yes.”

“Riders of Telgar,” H’nez spoke, his voice low but firm, with a strength Fiona had never heard emanate from him before.