“Well, I want it clearly understood that this is a working Weyr. We’ve no time for pets who serve no purpose. I’ll deal severely with anyone shirking their duties or—” She broke off.

“No shirking or tramping the beaches until you’ve had a chance to get one first, huh, Kylara?” asked F’nor, still grinning pleasantly.

“I’ve better things to do.” She spat the words at him and then, skirts kicking out before her, swept out of the room.

“Maybe we ought to warn the lizards,” F’nor said in a facetious way, trying to dispel the tension in the Infirmary.

“There’s no protection against someone like Kylara,” Brekke said, motioning the rider to take his bandaged blue. “One learns to live with her.”

G’sel gave an odd gargle and rose, almost unsettling his lizard.

“How can you say that, Brekke, when she’s so mean and nasty to you?” Mirrim cried, and subsided at a stern look from her foster mother.

“Make no judgments where you have no compassion,” Brekke replied. “And I, too, will not tolerate any shirking of duties to care for these pretties. I don’t know why we saved them!”

“Make no judgments where you have no compassion,” F’nor retorted.

“They needed us,” Mirrim said so emphatically that even she was surprised at her temerity, and immediately became absorbed in her brown.

“Yes, they did,” F’nor agreed, aware of the little queen’s golden body nestled trustingly against his ribs. She had twined her tail as far as it would reach around his waist. “And true weyrmen one and all, we responded to the cry for succor.”

“Mirrim Impressed three and she’s no weyrman,” Brekke said in a dry, didactic correction. “And if they are Impressionable by non-riders, they might well be worth every effort to save.”

“How’s that?”

Brekke frowned a little at F’nor as if she didn’t credit his obtuseness.