“Normally, I’d insist,” H’nez said by way of agreement. He gave her a brittle smile. “But with things the way they are, I’d prefer meeting as many of the weyrfolk as I can.”

Fiona nodded in understanding.

H’nez reached to grab the mug at his place setting and poured it full of klah. He took a quick drink. “Normally, before a Fall, the Weyr sends out a watch rider but—” He paused, shaking his head in consternation.

“We’re shorthanded,” Fiona agreed. “Perhaps I should visit Nerra first.”

H’nez pursed his lips tightly.

“You’re not one of those who thinks women shouldn’t be Lord Holders, are you?” Fiona asked, glancing at him sharply. She was willing to bet that he was; H’nez had always struck her as a stickler for tradition.

“If I ever were,” H’nez replied slowly, his eyes dark, “my experience with Weyrwoman Cisca—and with you—would have cured me.” He paused. “No, I was worried about your queen. Is she up to it?”

Fiona checked with Talenth who, having had a good, long sleep only occasionally interrupted by coughing, informed her that she would love to go flying. “She is,” Fiona told him. “Why?”

“I think that given what we’ve heard of D’gan’s dealings, it might make more sense if you and your queen met with the Lord Holders,” H’nez said regretfully. Fiona could easily imagine how much he’d prefer cementing alliances with the Lord Holders himself rather than relinquishing the duty to her.

“I suspect you’re right,” Fiona agreed after she swallowed. The food was good. She detected some subtle seasoning in the vegetable that she associated with Terin’s cooking, but she had no problem with the flavors of the spiced roast or the other dishes that clearly hadn’t felt Terin’s hand.

T’mar joined them at that moment and the conversation turned to matters of the fighting wings.

“I’m worried about the firestone,” T’mar began without preamble.

H’nez nodded sourly in agreement.

“I’d prefer not to burden K’lior, if possible,” he allowed.

“Where else could we get firestone in time?” T’mar wondered.

The rangy bronze rider twitched a shrug of agreement.

“If we had the hands, we could go back in time to Igen and mine it ourselves,” Fiona said.

T’mar appraised the notion for a moment before shaking his head. “We’ve neither the hands nor the dragons for that.”

“And wouldn’t they be too tired timing it?” H’nez wondered, glancing reflectively at T’mar. “You were certainly exhausted after your time there.”

T’mar’s lips flickered in a frown. “It wasn’t so much going back in time in itself but that we were there for so long.”

“Explain.”