“She does as well as can be expected. F’nor insisted that we bring her to his weyr. The man’s emotionally attached to her—far more than gratitude for any nursing. Between him, Manora and Mirrim, she is never alone.”

“And—Kylara?”

Lessa pulled her hand from his. “She lives!”

Robinton said nothing and, after a moment, Lessa went on.

“We don’t like losing Brekke as a Weyrwoman—” She paused and added, her voice a little harsher, “And since it is now obvious that a person can Impress more than once, and more than one dragonkind, Brekke will be presented as a candidate when the Benden eggs Hatch. Which should be soon.”

“I perceive,” Robinton said, cautiously choosing his words, “that not everyone favors this departure from custom.”

Although he couldn’t see her face in the darkness, he felt her eyes on him.

“This time it’s not the Oldtimers. I suppose they’re so sure she can’t re-Impress, they’re indifferent.”

“Who then?”

“F’nor and Manora oppose it violently.”

“And Brekke?”

Lessa gave an impatient snort. “Brekke says nothing. She will not even open her eyes. She can’t be sleeping all the time. The lizards and the dragons tell us she’s awake. You see,” and Lessa’s exasperation showed through her tight control for she was more worried about Brekke than she’d admit even to herself, “Brekke can hear any dragon. Like me. She’s the only other Weyrwoman who can. And all the dragons listen to her.” Lessa moved restlessly and Robinton could see her slender white hands rubbing against her thighs in unconscious agitation.

“Surely that’s an advantage if she’s suicidal?”

“Brekke is not—not actively suicidal. She’s craftbred, you know,” Lessa said in a flat, disapproving tone of voice.

“No, I didn’t know,” Robinton murmured encouragingly after a pause. He was thinking that Lessa wouldn’t ever contemplate suicide in a similar circumstance and wondered what Brekke’s “breeding” had to do with a suicidal aptitude.

“That’s her trouble. She can’t actively seek death so she just lies there. I have this incredible urge,” and Lessa bunched her fists, “to beat or pinch or slap her—anything to get some response from the girl. It’s not the end of the world, after all. She can hear other dragons. She’s not bereft of all contact with dragonkind, like Lytol.”

“She must have time to recover from the shock…”

“I know, I know,” Lessa said irritably, “but we don’t have time. We can’t get her to realize that it’s better to do things…”

“Lessa…”