“I get to listen to old dragonmen,” Cisca informed her with a smile. She couldn’t resist adding, “Of

course, now, I’ve got you to help me.”

Fiona turned a groan into a deep breath and let it out slowly, squaring her shoulders.

“Of course, instead of just running a hold, you’ve got a dragon as well,” Cisca added.

Fiona thought of the sleeping Talenth and her expression softened. She nodded slowly. “Indeed, I do.”

She shivered in response to another thought. “And Thread is coming soon.”

“Yes, it is,” Cisca said. “But your Talenth will be too young to join the queen’s wing for several Turns

yet.”

Fiona seemed not to hear her, her attention still directed inward. “I will not fail the Weyr.” She sat in

silence for a moment, then shook herself and looked up at Cisca. “I’m sorry, Weyrwoman, you were

saying?”

“I was talking about the queen’s wing,” Cisca said. “There’s only Tannaz and her Kalsenth now.

Weyrs don’t fly a queen’s wing unless there are three queens.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Cisca waved the apology aside. “There’s nothing to apologize for, unless you know how to speed up

time and you’ve been holding out on us.”

Fiona shook her head.

“I thought so,” Cisca said. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you think a Weyrwoman’s duties are,

based on what you know from holding?”

“Okay,” Fiona said. She thought for a moment, then continued. “A Weyrwoman is responsible for the

proper running of the hold—I mean, Weyr. She has to handle the staff—” She caught Cisca’s look. “Not

staff?”

“Weyrfolk,” Cisca supplied.

“Weyrfolk,” Fiona repeated, nodding as she fixed the word in her memory. “She handles the weyrfolk

in the preparation of food—” Fiona’s brow furrowed. “—the food from tithe?”

“Yes,” Cisca agreed. “When Thread is falling we don’t have time to find food.”

“Nor do we,” Fiona replied tetchily. She caught herself and blushed, shaking her head. “I meant the

hold. Holders.”

“I’m weyrbred,” Cisca responded. “I’m counting on you to remind me of what it is to be a holder.”

“It’s just that . . .” Fiona trailed off in embarrassment.

“Go on,” Cisca said. Her tone was kind.

“It seems that dragonriders don’t do that much and yet they get whatever they need, whenever they

want it,” Fiona said, her frank blue eyes meeting Cisca’s warm brown ones. Cisca waited silently. Fiona

lowered her gaze and pursed her lips. Finally, she sighed and looked up again at the Weyrwoman. “I’ve

heard holder lads say the same thing about me.”

“And is it true?”

Fiona’s shoulders slumped. “I know I didn’t work as hard as some of them.”

“Are you lazy, then?”

Fiona’s eyes flashed angrily. “I never shirked a duty, never stopped until I was told, never—oh!”