F’jian’s eyes started in alarm, but he dropped his head, unwilling to meet her gaze.

Fiona felt herself in a strange place, in a moment in time where she knew that whatever she did was

crucial, would alter not only her future but the future of everyone here—perhaps even all of Pern.

You can do it. The voice wasn’t the strange one, it was an echo of Nuella’s faith in her, of Tannaz’s

eyes, of Aleesa’s confidence, of Mother Karina’s strength. Without looking, Fiona knew that the old

trader woman was near, watching, unable and unwilling to interfere.

The moment was Fiona’s alone.

She walked closer to the young bronze rider, raised a hand under his chin, and forced his head up so

that his eyes met hers. “What should we do, bronze rider?”

F’jian met her look with a mixture of shame and horror.

“I can imagine what J’gerd said to you,” Fiona told him calmly, ignoring the sudden shift of the brown

rider beside her. “And I’m sure he regrets it.”

“Bronze rider,” J’gerd spoke slowly, miserably, “I apologize for insulting you and your intentions.”

“Pretty lame,” Fiona told him out of the corner of her mouth. “You’ve been teasing him unmercifully

for at least a month, I’m sure.”

J’gerd’s reaction confirmed Fiona’s suspicions and she berated herself for not acting sooner. T’mar

might be the oldest bronze rider here, but his power over the now-grown weyrlings had been fading

every day. And, as it faded, the responsibility for the Weyr fell more and more on Fiona’s

shoulders—shoulders that up until this moment she had felt too frail for the strain.

Now, as she felt Talenth’s silent love, approval, and strength, and as she felt something even

more—the unspoken fealty not only of dragons to their queen but of their riders to their queen’s

rider—now, Fiona knew she’d made a mistake. Risen or not, mated or not, Weyrwoman or not, hers

was the responsibility and her shoulders—so much thinner than her father’s—had all the strength of Fort

Hold and Fort Weyr supporting them.

“T’mar,” she ordered, “get the suits.” She paused, glancing at J’gerd and F’jian. “These two are going

to get their chance to knock the stuffing out of each other.”

Fiona felt but did not see T’mar’s nod and heard him as he turned and delegated a group of riders to

bring out the thick stuffing suits.

As the riders set up an impromptu circle, Fiona caught sight of Mother Karina and nodded to her. The

old woman took the glance for an invitation and joined her.

“What are they doing?”

“I thought you would have seen this earlier,” Fiona said in surprise. Four riders struggled in, two each