K’lior turned back to his room and murmured something that Fiona didn’t catch, then turned back to

her. “I’m sorry we woke you; it’s nothing to worry about.”

“K’lior!” Cisca called reprovingly. “She’ll know soon enough.”

K’lior grimaced, then gestured for Fiona to join them. “What did you hear?” he asked as she followed

him into the Weyrwoman’s quarters.

“Something about fire-lizards being banned,” Fiona replied, her hand going, uncontrolled, to the

fire-lizard on her shoulder.

“Kindan’s fire-lizard went between, ” Cisca told her softly. “They think he went between to die.”

“Why?” On her shoulder, Fire chirped worriedly.

Cisca shook her head. “We don’t know,” she said. “Apparently he got ill, something in the lungs.”

“Could this illness affect the dragons?” Fiona asked, glancing back toward her weyr, filled with dread

that she might lose both of her only true friends one after the other.

“We don’t know,” K’lior said.

“But the dragons and fire-lizards are related,” Cisca added.

“So maybe they could get sick,” Fiona surmised. “And that’s why you want to ban the fire-lizards.”

“Yes,” K’lior agreed.

“Many of our weyrfolk have fire-lizards,” Cisca reminded him.

“Yes, I know,” K’lior said. He turned to Fiona. “How will they react?”

On her shoulder, Fire creeled and Fiona shuddered. She thought of Kindan, of how he must feel in his

loss. Then she thought of—“Father!”

“That’s right,” Cisca said, “your father has a fire-lizard, too.”

“Father?” Fiona repeated numbly. “But he’s not at the Weyr.”

“It would have to be a general ban,” K’lior told her.

“Wouldn’t just this continent be enough?” Cisca asked, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” K’lior said. “As long as the fire-lizards can’t infect the dragons.”

“What happens to a fire-lizard that’s separated from its person?” Fiona asked.

“We don’t know,” K’lior said, frowning. “A fire-lizard’s bond is not as strong as a dragon’s. If we

send them to the Southern Continent, perhaps . . .”

“Not all will go, will they?” Fiona asked.

“No,” K’lior admitted.

“But without the dragons—”

“Thread comes soon,” Cisca said.

Fiona turned her head in the direction of her sleeping dragon, then back to the Weyrleaders. “My

father survived the Plague, he’ll understand. He’s strong.” She turned again toward her quarters. “Come

on Fire, we’d best tend to Talenth.”

K’lior started to say something, but Cisca held up a restraining hand, cocking an ear and waiting until

she could no longer hear Fiona’s footsteps.

“What was that about?” K’lior asked incredulously.

“She’s in shock, she’s grieving,” Cisca told him. “She needs time to say farewell.”

K’lior nodded then. “I’d like to talk with the weyrfolk in the morning,” he said. “And give all those

who have fire-lizards a chance to say farewell.”

Cisca nodded abstractedly.

“What?” K’lior said. “What are you thinking?”