Dragonheart

“You haven’t been here a full day,” T’mar reminded her. “Perhaps you should wait to make up your mind.”

“Our ancestors founded it for a purpose,” she disagreed. “I’m sure they considered its location carefully.”

“Times change,” T’mar said with a shrug. “They might not have foreseen such a drought.”

“You were saying something about a Flight board?” she said, returning the conversation to the subject at hand.

T’mar nodded. “Every wing has them and there’s a master board — or two — one in the Records Room and the other here, in the Living Cavern.”

“I remember,” Terin piped up from her corner, pulling out another freshly washed slate and laying it on a drying board. “It was at the Weyrleaders’ table, on the wall behind.”

“That’s it,” T’mar agreed. “Although that was only a summary board. It shows each wing with totals fit to fly or injured. With one look, the Weyrleader knows the fighting state of the Weyr.”

“K’lior had it cleaned off before we left,” Terin put in, pulling another clean slate out of the washbowl.

“I imagine he — or Cisca — decided it was too depressing,” T’mar said. He glanced over at Fiona, shaking his head. “Do you realize that we have no fewer than three  of our nine wingleaders here with us?”

Fiona was surprised.

“Myself, N’jian, and K’rall,” T’mar told her. “Not to mention K’lior’s wingsecond, P’der.”

“K’rall?” Fiona repeated in surprise. She couldn’t recall the sour old bronze rider’s face among those she’d seen.

“His face was scored,” T’mar said. “He should recover in two months or so.”

“We had to dose him with fellis juice, to keep him from moving his mouth.” Terin sounded amused.

“Until the youngsters get old enough to fly, we’ll have to keep the older weyrlings for flights and other work,” T’mar declared, glancing at Fiona, who nodded in agreement. He took another breath. “In that case, we can split the thirty-three youngsters into three groups — ”

“Four,” Fiona corrected instantly. “We’ll need a work party for housekeeping chores here at the Weyr.”

“And that would give them some rest, as well,” Terin added.

“F’jian and J’nos would be the first two leaders — ”

“Are you sure you want J’nos?” Terin interjected. The other two turned to her and she shrugged as she explained, “Did you see how dozy he looked yesterday? He could barely walk.” She paused, her lips pressed together firmly and her eyes thoughtful. “He wasn’t the only one, either. It’s like — ”

“Like all those who weren’t dozy before suddenly became dozy!” Fiona exclaimed in surprise.

T’mar looked at her with eyes narrowed, then slowly nodded. “You think that timing  it has caused this?”

“We’re in two places in one time — our younger selves are now at Fort, where we belong, and our older selves are here, where we never were — why wouldn’t that cause strain and distraction?” Fiona responded.

“I don’t feel dozy!” Terin declared.

“That’s because you aren’t a dragonrider,” Fiona told her. She regretted the words the moment she saw how Terin’s face fell sorrowfully.

“At least, not yet,” T’mar told her.

“Not everyone Impresses,” Terin said with a pout.

“There are no guarantees,” T’mar agreed. “But I’m sure you’ll get your chance” — he glanced slyly at Fiona — “when her queen rises.”

Terin’s eyes widened and she glanced apprehensively toward Fiona.

“Of course!” Fiona said. “You and Xhinna — ”

“I wish she was here,” Terin interjected.

“We could use her help,” Fiona agreed. She turned back to T’mar, saying, “So this distraction could be caused by timing ?”

T’mar pursed his lips. “It could.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I’m not,” the bronze rider agreed. “It doesn’t explain why you were . . .”

“Dozy?” Fiona supplied when his words trailed off. “And you? Weren’t you also dozy?”

“Do you think it was an effect from timing  it now?” T’mar wondered. A short moment later, he shook his head and answered himself, “But that doesn’t explain why some were affected and not others.”

“Maybe everyone reacts differently,” Fiona suggested with some uncertainty.

“I can understand being distracted when in the same time twice,” T’mar said, his lips pursed again, “but I don’t understand why we would feel it when we weren’t  in the same time.”

“Perhaps — ” Fiona began but cut herself off. T’mar gave her a questioning look, but she only shook her head in response. She didn’t want to suggest that perhaps they were twice in the same time not now, but back in the “present” Third Pass. T’mar continued to look at her thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We know that if we’re distracted we can still function: if not at our best, then well enough.”

“The others will be waking soon,” Terin said as she walked back to them, leaving a drying tray full of clean slates. “We should decide on those shifts.”

“I think we can use J’nos,” Fiona said. “He’ll need watching until he gets over being — ” She cut an amused look toward Terin who grinned back at her. “ — dozy.”

“T’del and Y’gos would be the obvious candidates for the other two positions,” T’mar said.

“Why?” Fiona asked, realizing that she couldn’t remember T’del among the many weyrlings.

They ride browns,  Talenth answered.

“Browns are usually wingseconds,” T’mar replied.

“Or wingleaders,” Terin added. T’mar accepted the addition with a nod.

“Why not go by ability?” Fiona wondered.

“Brown and bronze riders are often the ones with the most leadership ability,” T’mar said.

Fiona cocked her head challengingly.

“Oh, you get the occasional blue or green rider who makes a good leader,” he explained, “but more often their skills lie in different areas.”

“Like cavorting!” Terin snickered. “It’s a wonder we don’t have more of them.”

“Greens are sterile,” T’mar reminded her.

Fiona tapped the slates. “We need to concentrate.”

T’mar heaved a sigh and gave Terin an apologetic look. “Maybe we could send you to the traders when there’s a mating flight.”

“I remember the last mating flight,” Terin said. “I’ll be fine.”

Oh, but you’re getting older! Fiona thought. Suddenly she realized that so was she. In fact — “Terin, when’s your birthing day?”

“The twentieth of the seventh month,” Terin replied promptly, surprised by the distraction.

Fiona laughed. “You’re going to have another Turn soon!”

“What?” Terin cried in dismay. “My birth date is months away!” “Not here!” Fiona told her. “Here, we’re in the seventh month already.”

“And when’s your  birthday, then?”

“The eighth day of the seventh month,” Fiona told her, her face changing expression as she realized that that date was only five days away.

“And how old will you be?” T’mar asked.

“Now or then?” Fiona asked.

“Which is now and which is then?” Terin asked with a laugh.

“You’d have fourteen Turns at your next Turning,” T’mar remarked. “So here you’d have only four Turns, wouldn’t you?”

“This is very confusing,” Fiona said glumly. “Do I Turn on my birthday here, or wait until the right amount of