111Disclaimer: Pern and the Dragons of Pern belong to Anne McCaffrey
AN: This was going to be the last chapter, but it got so very long that I had to split it up. Easiest chapter I've ever written; it just came pouring out onto the page. I think that may be because some of the things that happen in this chapter are the ones I've been planning for the whole story. Or maybe I'm just in a good writing mood today. Whatever.
The baby is crying, said Rosith, apprehensively. The green had leapt out of the way of the sudden onset of people rushing towards the Hatching Grounds and gone to perch up on their weyr ledge, where her head was cocked inquisitively to listen to the bawling infant inside. He is very loud, Rosith continued plaintively.
What? Oh shards - K'beth, who had grabbed Jarrin's arm and was dragging the Harper as fast as he could through the crowd, paused and looked around him. Where's Lystar?
Busy busy busy, Caliath says. She asks us to deal with this.
'Shards!' K'beth howled, out loud. 'Jarrin - no, you have to get to the Hatching Grounds. Go on without me - get there as soon as possible. Good luck! I'll make sure I get a good place to watch.'
He shoved his friend - who was, the greenrider thought, unaccountably pale and silent - in the direction of the Hatching Grounds, and himself dived out of the crowd, making for the steep and treacherous staircase that would take him up the cliff side.
Marti was surprised to find herself buzzing in anticipation of the Hatching. She fidgeted excitedly on Amerenth's back as the queen soared into her place in the stands, letting Marti climb down before lifting away again to find a space near the roof; a roof that was full of golden and bronze hides today, with almost no space left for the lesser coloured beasts. Polla of Igen shuffled along to make space for the host Weyr's junior weyrwoman, gesturing for one of her own juniors to cram up as well. Marti saw for the first time that all the other queen- and bronzeriders from the other Weyrs had come down from the heights when the dragons began announcing the Hatching. She smiled round at the group, hoping that not too many more were still on their way. Space was already running short.
Marti knew that Reia had gone to get R'lan; Hanna, when consulted, had declared that as long as he was well looked after it was unlikely that any harm would come to him from being supported as far as the warm Hatching cavern. Marti'd offered the Weyrwoman Amerenth's services to get the Weyrleader down there, since Shareth, always a broody queen, was hovering over her eggs, but Reia had told her that Aneth would do very well to carry them both there, and that she should hurry down. Even so, she'd thought that she would be one of the last to arrive; but people were still pouring in.
Marti sat down, nodding her thanks to Igen's Weyrwoman, bouncing slightly in her seat - she'd been this excited before, at her own Impression, at the Hatching of Amerenth's first clutch, but really, she thought, it was undignified. What had got into her? Was it just the peculiar and emotional nature of this day?
She glanced down at Lystar mustering her confused, scared and definitely strangely attired group of candidates - some of Ista's own candidates had managed to grab traditional white robes from their rooms, but the majority were still wearing the casual clothes or borrowed riding gear that they'd arrived in - and grinned at the sight of the sturdy, sensible group of older women looking around the sands as if they had been swept off their feet by events and weren't quite sure what was going on. But before she had more than a cursory inspection she was interrupted by a burst of clapping and cheering from the crowded stands. She looked round and saw that the dragonriders of Pern were pressed tightly together and jostling for space, all on their feet; certainly no space to sit down; but the festival atmosphere prevailed, and the remaining Ista riders were looking across at the huge golden dragon who had just flown in and showing their appreciation.
Marti looked up, identified Katriel's Lumeth, and understood. She joined the grateful applause as Benden's Weyrleaders descended neatly into their stand, and herself stood up, hastily, to offer Katriel a seat. Ista had not forgotten that Benden had flown thread over Igen to assist their beleaguered riders, nor the supply drops of food and water that riders of that Weyr had made every day.
J'sor raised a hand in thanks, acknowledging the applause, but before it had time to begin to die away it was superseded by a huge roar of cheering. Suddenly not just the Ista riders but everyone crammed into the Hatching Cavern seemed to be waving their hands in the air and bellowing at the top of their lungs. Marti felt Amerenth bugle an affectionate greeting, and grinned. Aneth, carrying R'lan and Reia, had just flown in.
How long? she thought at her dragon, flicking a rapid glance down at the sands, but she didn't catch the answer. Nearly all the Weyrleaders had climbed to their feet, and willing hands were reaching out to steady R'lan's precipitous descent from his dragon's high back.
Marti saw the Weyrleader standing - a hand on L'mek of Igen's shoulder for support, to be sure, but definitely standing on his own two feet - for a moment, before he was hustled into a hastily cleared seat at the front of the stand, and T'gin of Fort was reaching up to catch Reia, still not perfectly steady on her own feet after her recovery. But then a yell from the crowd caught her attention, almost as Amerenth said excitedly, They are hatching!
Sure enough, a couple of the eggs - very far away, they seemed from her position, very small - were rocking gently on the sand, and as Marti watched jagged cracks spread across the surface of one smooth sphere, like a dark trail creeping across the surface. Suddenly, all in one piece, the shell fell apart, and the little hatchling, creeling imperiously, set out across the hot sand to the group of nervous candidates. Melly caught a glint of reflected light from birth-wet, green-brown, metallic skin, and gasped. A bronze! A bronze first out of the egg! The best of good omens for this Hatching!
Lystar had been trying to do several things at once; find all the candidates and get them on the sands, organise and remind them of what they'd learned, reassure and comfort the scared, which was most of them. Some of the younger children had even burst into tears, and it didn't help the young Weyrlingmaster that some she'd barely met and didn't even know the names of yet, while she felt diffident about giving orders to the women who'd looked after her during her childhood at Ista. At least Jarrin wasn't worrying her; he was clearly nervous, but had smiled bravely at her as she hugged him, wished him well, and thrust him out into the sands.
Once she'd marshalled the candidates and sent them out towards the eggs she thought she'd have a breathing space; but as her immediate area cleared she could see a boy leaning back against the wall, one hand on his head.
Another one immobilised by nerves! she sighed, and headed towards him, dancing slightly as the burning heat of the sands threatened to make its way through the old and worn soles of her boots and scorch her feet.
No, he has been ill, Caliath told her.
He has? Lystar recognised the boy as she got closer, touching his shoulder. 'Ril, should you be here?'
'Meliana said this morning that I was well enough to stand,' Ril said, stubbornly. 'I am well enough.'
Lystar looked at him anxiously; the brown-haired boy looked pale and was shaky on his feet. Then her attention wavered as she heard the roaring of the crowd. The Hatching is beginning, Caliath told her.
Ril heard it too, and guessed what it meant. He pushed himself away from the wall, and slowly, taking tottering steps, made his way towards the rest of the candidates. Lystar bit her lip anxiously and half-started forwards after the boy; and then stopped and blinked in surprise.
The line of boys was faltering and scattering; and through it, like a small gleaming arrow, a dragonet was charging, tripping one boy who didn't get out of the hatchling's path soon enough. The little bronze was the only dragonet out of the shell so far; every pair of eyes in the Hatching Grounds was on the tiny creature's progress as it dashed up to Ril and head butted the weak boy's knees so hard that he staggered and almost fell.
'Reth!' the boy gasped, ecstatically; and then his knees gave out. He crumpled up, slowly, and collapsed.
Lystar, who'd been expecting it as soon as Ril tottered unsupported onto the sands, leapt forwards and caught the boy even before he hit the ground. She breathed out again, knowing what injuries the burning sands of the Hatching Ground could inflict; the same accident that had led to a girl Impressing a blue dragon was what had robbed Lystar of the sight in her left eye, many turns ago now in this very Cavern.
The plague had drained flesh and liquid from Ril's body, leaving the boy skinny and almost weightless, so that she could carry him easily. She gave him a quick check over, but she knew even before she started that the problem was exhaustion caused by the boy's recent illness. The little bronze dragonet was squealing and hissing anxiously by her foot, whether in worry for his new rider or his own stomach Lystar didn't know. Cal, reassure little Reth, she said. Tell him we'll feed him and look after Ril. She glanced up and caught her mother's eye, leaning anxiously over the edge of the stand, and waved reassuringly. 'He'll be fine!' she called, although she wasn't sure that Reia could hear her. Tell Shareth, please? And ask the little one to follow me.
She hadn't even made it off the sands before she was met by one of the riders who often helped after an Impression, showing the newest riders something about how to care for their dragons. 'All right, Lystar,' he said, nodding at her. 'I guess you want to watch the rest of your brood. I'll take the lad back down to the Infirmary, and feed the little bronze too.'
'Thanks, G'ress,' Lystar said gratefully. She knew that her fellow bluerider was reliable, and surrendered Ril's limp form to him with no qualms. And he better had be fine, she told Caliath, privately. We need bronzeriders now. And little Reth is our lucky bronze, first out of the egg. Faranth's egg, Ril had better not have a relapse now!
She turned to look back across the Hatching Ground and began to step forwards when she felt a tap on her shoulder; her right shoulder. It was someone who knew well that she hated being approached from her blind side, she deduced, and turned to smile gratefully up at K'beth, who had Benellin cradled in his arms, awake but placidly blinking at the ceiling. 'Hey, I'm glad you're here. Couldn't you find a space in the stands?'
K'beth laughed. 'In that?' He gestured at the tight-packed, cheering crowd. They had gone quiet when Ril collapsed, but Lystar guessed that Shareth must have broadcast her reassurance, since the noise level had climbed again. 'Here.' He held out the baby to the bluerider. 'You can take him,' K'beth informed his weyrmate, distastefully. He grimaced. 'He'd fouled himself; I had to clean up…'
Lystar burst out laughing, accepting Benellin's warm round form into her arms, and leaning her head affectionately on the greenrider's shoulder.
'You may well laugh,' K'beth told her, craning over his weyrmate's head to watch the progress of the Hatching, 'but -' His voice altered, and Lystar felt his body beside hers become stiff. 'Hey,' K'beth said urgently. 'Where's Melly?'
'What?' Lystar whirled around. Most of the eggs were still unhatched, and there had been no signs of movement from the queen egg, so the female candidates were still standing in an uncertain group to one side, watching for any sign of movement in that giant golden egg. Lystar could see the twelve older women from Ista's Lower Caverns; she could see a small huddle of girls, some of whom she didn't know yet; but she could see no sign of Melly's tiny, beautiful figure.
She's not here. Caliath, from his vantage point near the roof, confirmed K'beth's intuition.
'Shards!' Lystar exclaimed. Then she looked round, surveying the progress of the Hatching, and stuck out her chin. 'We can still find her,' she said, determinedly. 'That queen's not hatching yet.'
'Right,' said K'beth, responding to the fighting light in Lystar's eyes. Then a sudden thought sprang to mind; a place that he'd found Melly once, on the edge of despair. 'I think I might know… I'll go…' He was hurrying away even as he said it.
'I'll go up to the bowl!' Lystar called after him. 'Check all the obvious places! And be quick!'
Jarrin felt out of place. To be sure, he wasn't the oldest candidate present, but the women were all hanging back, and he felt exposed and tall as a giant in the midst of the boys. He moved forwards with them, at the end of the line, but he knew, suddenly, that it was no use. He was a Harper, not a dragonrider… it was stupid to think…
He didn't have to move out of the way when the first little hatchling rushed through the boys to Ril's feet, but the bronze's swift choice confirmed his pessimistic thoughts. What was he doing here?
A couple of the other eggs were beginning to split open as Jarrin and the group of boys reached the large group of smooth and tumbled white ovoids. Shareth was keeping well back, hovering over the as-yet unmoving queen egg, watching the boys suspiciously, and Jarrin was glad of that; both K'beth and Lystar had told him horror stories about the protective queen, back in the days before they'd had any idea that Jarrin would ever be out here on the sands.
Jarrin could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Everyone must be able to hear it, he thought, rolling his eyes towards the boy next to him in line. But the intent, pale, red-haired boy didn't seem to notice anything. It's just me, Jarrin thought to himself. It's just…
He could feel nausea rising up his throat and clenching his gut. Oh shards, am I going to be sick? In front of the whole Weyr - no, every dragonrider on Pern?
A darker thought struck him, and he stopped dead. No. I'm not really sick, am I? With the plague?
Get a grip, he told himself. It's just nerves. You're behaving as childishly as any one of these boys. You're not going to Impress, so just pull yourself together. Think about Harper business, if that helps. You'll be going back to the Harper Hall in a couple of sevendays…
He tried to make room for that thought in his head, and failed. He'd always had friends at Ista Weyr, and visited from time to time, but now… now, after all the things they'd been through, to leave?
You'll have to, he reminded himself. No way you're Impressing. Too old. Not open-minded enough…
Even as he voiced his discouraging thoughts, he continued stumbling between the eggs. The line of boys had broken up now, as some were chosen, and others headed towards where they'd seen eggs beginning to rock and crack, hoping to be in with a chance. Jarrin glanced around. He'd come the furthest through the clutch, and he was standing alone at the far end from the entrance to the Hatching Grounds. There were fewer eggs here; he supposed that he ought to go back. He couldn't see Lystar any more; she must have gone to see to something - maybe taken Ril back to the Infirmary -
Jarrin's thoughts broke off as he heard the crackle of eggshell behind him. He spun round, surprised, to find that a large fragment had fallen off an egg just behind him, and the head and one wing of a little dragonet were poking out of the gap. Jarrin had time to taken in the little hatchling's colour - deep brown, like the warm glowing colour of polished wood, a rich autumnal colour - when the dragonet gave a heave and one of its front claws burst through the already weakened egg shell. It creeled impatiently, wriggling and hissing in exasperation as it tried to break free of the remainder of the shell. It was so hungry, and he wasn't helping it!
'Sorry, sorry!' said Jarrin. He dropped to his knees beside the beautiful little brown dragonet, oblivious to the pain as the heat of the burning sands reached through his clothing to burn the skin underneath and wrenched the last pieces of shell apart so that the little one could step out of the mess of the egg, shaking his feet fastidiously.
Food! The dragonet demanded, fixing astonishing rainbow eyes on Jarrin. The Harper could feel his own stomach aching; he was starving, a huge empty pit after all that time in the shell…
Jarrin shook his head, clearing it slightly, although he couldn't entirely get rid of the nagging sensation of starvation. 'I'll get you something to eat,' he assured the dragonet, hurriedly. 'Right away. Let me help you.' He reached out and gingerly picked up the little creature, and felt for the first time the astonishing sensation of holding a dragon in his hands; soft damp hide and sinuous strength. The hatchling's wings were no more than wisps of fine membrane, sodden with the egg's fluid, plastered against the struts of bone that would one day support the huge expanse of wing that would keep this dragon - his dragon - aloft for hours at a time.
The dragonet's tail twined firmly around his arm, and the creature's eyes met his again, begging, Food! You promised!
'Yes, I did, I will,' Jarrin assured him, hastily, and began to retrace his steps across the hatching ground. He remembered vaguely Lystar telling him that food was laid on for starving baby dragons, and he supposed someone would show him where to go.
A thought struck him. Do you have a name? he enquired, trying out the soundless speech that seemed to work for the hatchling.
I thought you'd never ask! The little brown rubbed its head comfortingly against his chest. I am Valanth, and you are J'rin. Now where's that food?
His face alight, almost laughing with the joy of the moment, Jar - no, J'rin - looked upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of any of his friends. Lystar had vanished somewhere, and he couldn't pick out K'beth in the vast and chaotic crowd; but he heard a most undignified whoop from the Weyrleaders' area, and looked up to see Marti punch the air, dancing up and down in excitement. He met the young queenrider's eyes, and to her - and the rest of the world - he shouted, 'His name is Valanth!'
Then, responding to the brown's - to his Valanth's - increasingly urgent promptings, he crossed the last bit of the distance to the cavern entrance at a run and went to look for some food.
It was Lystar who found Melly. The little dark girl hadn't gone anywhere; she'd simply been left behind when everyone began rushing towards the Hatching Ground. Now she was standing alone in the centre of the bowl, an upright and lonely figure under the curious eyes of the dragons, mostly greens and blues, that were still perched around the rim, watching the Hatching through the eyes of partners or friends who had been able to squeeze into Ista's over-crowded Hatching Cavern.
Melly was feeling very strange; distant, and almost fragile. She was putting all the strength in her mind into holding herself together, as if she might dissolve, or fly into fragments, if she let herself go.
Almost unconsciously, she lifted a hand to her cheek, to the place where K'beth had kissed her. Her insides were cold and flat, but that spot glowed warmly; she was convinced that it must be visible, pink against her white skin. He'd kissed her; because he was happy and proud of her, as part of the celebration, but still…
He'd kissed her.
And she knew she couldn't go into the Hatching Ground, under the eyes of the crowd and the roar of all that noise and compete for the notice of the queen dragon; with the Istan candidates who half-feared her and the others who saw her as a rival and an obstacle to their success; with the weight of expectations and hopes pressing down on her; and K'beth, who wanted her to Impress a queen, who liked her as a friend, a very dear friend maybe, but never more than that.
And she'd heard awful tales about Hatchings, too. She'd heard that people were mauled by the dragonets and sometimes died; and the Hatching Ground itself could do damage, couldn't it? Look at Lystar's eye - and it was that injury that had led eventually to the white feathering of old thread scars all over the left side of the bluerider's body. Who'd be a dragonrider? Melly wondered, her heart making undignified leaps into her mouth. No, it would be better to stay out here, keep well away from the Hatching Cavern. Well away.
'Melly!'
She jumped and spun round to see Lystar rushing towards her from the cavern entrance. The bluerider had the baby tucked into the crook of one arm, dribbling peacefully over her good tunic, and was out of breath. She'd obviously been running hard. 'Thank goodness I found you!' she panted. 'Come on, Melly, there's still time!'
'No,' said Melly, quickly, instinctively. She had dropped her hand guiltily away from her cheek when K'beth's weyrmate came running over to her.
Lystar stared. 'Whyever not?'
'The heat, the crowds, the noise…' Melly shuddered, and made a helpless gesture with her hands. 'And it's dangerous, isn't it?'
Lystar looked at her strangely, and then, incongruously, began to smile crookedly. 'Melly! I can't believe what I'm hearing! You're afraid? You? Who've been as calm and cool as a High Reaches winter this whole time?'
Melly blinked. 'That wasn't very much to be afraid of. It just needed careful planning. But I'm not very good with crowds and loud noises and sudden decisions. I panic…'
'Melly.' Lystar hefted the baby up until he was leaning against her shoulder, and reached out with her free hand to grip the younger girl's shoulder. 'The Hatching is nothing to be afraid of, I swear. I've only ever seen one really serious injury. And Melly, Impression is worth the risk.' She shrugged and gestured at her own clouded eye. 'It's worth this, Melly, and being grounded for threadfall, and all the awful things that have happened. I've regretted a lot of things, but I've never, never wished to change them. Not if it would mean losing Cal too. It's that amazing, Melly. It's that special. You know, I -' She swallowed. 'I'd give almost anything - I'd give my life - to have Gilda and G'zul and all my other friends back. Sometimes I think that today I'm the only person remembering them; and I know I'll be remembering them every day for the rest of my life, no matter how long I go on. But to get them back, I wouldn't give one second of the time I've spent with Cal. I couldn't. Not one heartbeat.'
Melly, watching Lystar with surprise and concentration, heard the bluerider's voice falter and break, and felt as though she was standing on the brink of a huge precipice of understanding. 'It's… like that?' she asked, timidly.
Lystar nodded, her lips pressed together and her eyes suspiciously bright. 'Yes. Now come on!' She grabbed Melly's arm and tugged the small girl after her; and Melly didn't resist.
Half-unconsciously, Jory was biting her nails. She wasn't sure what to do. She glanced over at the queen egg again; it still wasn't moving. Was that normal? Her father was a seaholder from Nerat; she'd never been to a Hatching before. And the people around her were definitely strange; why, half of them were grown-up!
She hopped from one foot to the other to try and reduce the pain of the hot floor scorching through her sandals. She'd put on the white candidate robe, too; she'd thought you had to, but now she felt really silly wearing this huge shapeless garment when most other people were just dressed in their normal clothes. There was no one she knew around, only dull thoughtless Maia. She'd have welcomed even Kindra's company now, snob though the other girl was, but the black-haired beauty was down in the infirmary; not sick to death, but too bad to come to the Hatching. Well, it served her right! She was so sure that she was going to Impress the queen, just because she was a Lord Holder's great niece; even though Jory thought that it was much more likely that Meliana would. But even Meliana wasn't here now.
Some of the other girls were whispering together, letting out shrill, hysterical giggles. Jory checked the queen egg again, flicking short stringy hair out of her eyes. It still wasn't moving.
What exactly did happen when an egg began to hatch? Jory looked over towards the main bulk of the clutch, where the boys were spread out, anxiously looking around. Over half of the eggs had hatched already, and there was beginning to be a sense of panic, of desperation, among the boys who were left. As Jory watched, an egg at their edge of the clutch began to rock; gently at first, and then with a sudden vigorous shove the shell splintered and a haughty green stood among the fragments, shaking her head and emitting piercing shrieks.
A large number of boys who were standing nearby turned and rushed towards the dragonet, looking hopeful; the little hatchling reared and squealed aggressively as a number of figures suddenly loomed over her, and behind Jory someone swore. 'The idiots! Can't they see they're scaring her?'
A bulky figure rushed past Jory, and she realised in astonishment that it was one of the Lower Caverns women who'd been standing in a group beside the girls. Grateful for someone to break the tension, Jory drifted after the woman, who had scattered the group around the dragonet, and was reaching down to pick up the little green. 'There, there,' the woman crooned reassuringly. 'It's all right, little dear, little Teneth.'
Jory looked up in amazement, her hand dropping away from her mouth in her shock. That was Impression! That woman knew the green hatchling's name!
The girl watched in astonishment and envy as the woman carried her life's companion off the sands, murmuring encouragement and reassurance to the creature. So the grown-ups could Impress too! And that green was such a pretty colour; subtle and glowing…
Jory had never considered herself an ideal person to be a weyrwoman; after all, she was only a mere scrub of a fisherman's daughter, wiry and gap-toothed and barely literate, hardly what people imagined in a queenrider. But golds were the only chance for a girl to Impress. There was Lystar, of course, but she was a unique case. Wasn't she?
Jory looked again after the Lower Caverns woman. She had Impressed a slender little green…
She looked around her with sudden decision. A largish egg was rocking in the centre of the clutch, and most of the fifteen or so remaining boys were gathering around it. But Jory could see that a little way around from her a much smaller egg was beginning to hatch; and she even fancied she could catch a glimpse of summer-leaves-green flashing inside the crack. She began to make her determined way towards that egg.
She had only covered half the distance when her egg gave a loud crack and a huge jagged crack spread across the surface, engulfing the smaller one already there. Now Jory was sure that she could see a distinctive emerald colouring…
But the noise had attracted the attention of the boys too. One or two, certain that they weren't going to have a chance at the bronze or brown which must be inside the big egg, turned smartly and began heading towards Jory's little one.
The girl hitched up her robe and began to run in earnest. She was going to get to that egg first, no matter what anyone said afterwards! And she was tougher and faster than she looked; using a trick that always fooled her brothers she ducked under the peremptory outstretched arm of a lordly-looking boy who looked as though he was scandalized to find a girl on the Hatching Grounds and headed on to where the little egg was waiting. It was really moving violently now, being attacked from the inside with a strength born of desperation and hunger. Jory had time for a quick awed appreciation of the determination of the dragonets, kicking themselves out of their cold hard prisons and into the world, and then the egg rocked violently one last time. A huge piece of shell came off; for a moment there was no movement and Jory caught her breath; and then the slim, delicate head emerged, sniffing the air and looking around cautiously.
The little hatchling's whirling eyes caught Jory's anxious green ones; they were so beautiful, thought the girl! Bright glowing colours, with huge depths and so much thought and intelligence behind them, and so much love!
I do love you, said the tiny green dragonet. I love you so much and I am Kadenth and now you are mine and could I please have something to eat?
'Me?' whispered Jory. 'Really?' Her eyes pricked with tears. One of a hoard of children, she'd grown up wild around the sea hold; fed and washed and clothed by her mother, to be sure, but no one had ever made time for her - made her feel that she was special.
Except this person; this tiny and beautiful and perfect-in-every-way dragon who was looking at her with a desperate hunger. Jory hastily reached out and gathered the hatchling into her arms. 'Of course you can, Kadenth, of course!'
Lystar arrived back at the entrance of the Hatching Grounds at a run, dragging Melly. The girl hadn't really resisted, but Lystar could feel that her steps had become more uncertain and hesitant as they approached. And I can't let her not go out there, Lystar said, half to herself and half to Caliath. If anyone deserves to Impress, then it's her; and the Weyr needs her, too. She'd be a good weyrwoman.
Yes, she would, agreed Caliath, surprisingly forthright. Hurry. The queen egg is cracking.
'Shards shards shards shards shards!' Lystar muttered. Throwing protocol to the winds, she marched out right onto the sands, towing Melly with her, right up to the group surrounding the queen egg, which was now finally beginning to move. She could feel the anticipation of the crowd, and winced; she, the Weyrlingmaster, had now definitely laid herself open to the charge of favouritism. She ought not to have made more effort for any one of the candidates, particularly one with whom she was known to be friends.
But on this day, and in this place, no one would deny assistance to Melly; not Melly, who'd found the source of the plague. Even as Lystar pushed her onto the sands a gap opened up spontaneously to let her into the ranks of women and girls surrounding the gently rocking queen egg.
'Go on!' Lystar said fiercely, pushing the little dark girl forwards. She didn't dare risk a hug in front of all those crowds, but she squeezed Melly's arm comfortingly. 'Go on! You'll be fine. Good luck!'
She shoved Melly forwards into the space, then turned away. She'd watch, of course, but she ought to get off the sands first.
Benellin's weight was beginning to make her arm ache. She hefted the baby higher, so that his head was resting against her left shoulder, and slipped her other arm underneath to support him. He is well-behaved, she said admiringly to Caliath. Most babies would be complaining and protesting at all the noise and rushing around. I suppose we just have to be grateful that Benellin has a placid temperament. At least, I suppose he's all right? Not ill or anything?
There was an odd pause from Caliath, and then her dragon said in a queer tone of voice, Very all right.
At her shoulder the silent baby gurgled with laughter. Lystar twisted her head completely to get him into the vision of her good eye; the child was leaning upright against her shoulder, looking out happily at something behind them.
She frowned. Cal, what d'you mean -
'Ma-canth,' gurgled Benellin, waving a chubby fist happily. 'Ma-canth!'
Lystar froze. 'Oh no,' she said. 'Oh no. No. I cannot deal with this now.'
Her eye made it impossible to see anything over her left shoulder. Slowly, knowing and dreading what she would see, she turned around the other way. Benellin, usually so calm, screamed with rage as he lost sight of his new friend.
And standing in the sand behind Lystar, looking forlorn and hungry and gazing up anxiously at Benellin's chubby form, was a tiny bronze dragonet.
Melly stepped forward into the gap that had been made for her among the other women and girls, feeling as though it was her heart leaping into her mouth that had made the solid lump in her throat. She managed a faint wry smile as she realized that she knew all the older women, but had no idea of the identities of the other girls; but there wasn't time to look around.
The smooth, gleaming curve of the great queen egg was hypnotizing as it rocked in its sandy bed. Melly had been half-consciously making her usual sweep of the area to find escape routes, but the gleam of the egg's golden highlights in the brightness of the Hatching Ground drew her eye and made the thought of running somehow stupid and superfluous.
Anyway, maybe K'beth is watching, she reminded herself. I wouldn't want him to see me running. Not again.
Perhaps the crowd had gone quiet in breathless anticipation of the queen's hatching, or perhaps it was just Melly's hearing going wrong, but she couldn't hear the shouting and cheering of the crowd any more; just a peculiar buzzing in her ears. She felt detached; around her the candidates stood in their fearful row, but they were no closer to her than the crowd of strangers watching above.
The first crack of shell was quiet, not like the dramatic breaking of some of the other eggs, but it burst sharply in Melly's ears as if it fell into silence; as if it existed on a different level to the fuzzy, indistinct noises of the everyday world. It was the only thing that seemed clear and close to her, and Melly reacted instinctively by stepping forwards.
The part of Melly's mind that was always watching told her that the other candidates had been left behind, looking at her in surprise, some of the bolder ones tentatively following, and she frowned. Hadn't they heard the cracking, quiet but so distinctive? And couldn't they see the fine cracks beginning to spread across the gleaming shell?
Behind her, the other candidates stopped in shock and horror as the seemingly fearless girl walked straight under the bristling and protective arc of Shareth's neck, extended threateningly as the great golden queen defied the women and girls to come near her special golden egg, but Melly didn't even see the huge dragon, or hear her fierce hissing. She touched the egg lightly as she reached it, feeling it rock and shudder against her hand under the unborn dragonet's fierce onslaught. It was almost as tall as the small girl's waist. She could feel the fragility of the hard, brittle shell, and the way it fractured under the impacts from inside.
A harder thrust slammed the egg away from her hand as it toppled over, pieces of shell dropping away. Melly followed its roll, dropping into a crouch to help ease the remains of the egg apart.
The golden dragonet stepped haughtily away from the pieces, her head lifted and tiny, delicately formed nostrils sniffing the air. Her deep-coloured hide glistened like wet dark fire, and when she turned her head the slow, regal movement told Melly that the little queen already knew that she was mistress of all she surveyed.
And that the golden hatchling was already intelligent enough to be difficult. Melly watched the queen dragonet scan the crescent of girls, and turn away, disdainfully, and the dark little girl almost laughed. She hadn't spent the last few sevendays dealing with fractious invalids just to let a little creature's arrogant play-acting mess her about. She stepped over to the hatchling, ignoring Shareth's warning hiss, dodged the half-hearted swipe of claws that the little queen sent in her direction, and laid a hand on the dragonet's warm, wet neck, forcing the small creature to turn her slender, wedge-shaped head and look Melly in the face. 'Now you listen to me, little lady,' she told the hatchling firmly. 'No fooling about like that. You've got to behave, and come and be fed.'
The queen dragonet stood stubbornly firm for a couple of seconds, searching Melly's face with those enormous, colourful eyes, that seemed far too large to fit the slim face in which they were set, and then she sighed. I am very hungry, she confessed, stepping hopefully towards the girl. I am Enneth.
Melly reached out a hand to caress Enneth's soft damp head, and felt her face stretch out into a smile; a smile broader and brighter than any she'd felt like giving since little Elladree took sick, back home in Keroon. No; not 'back home' in the hills on the edge of the desert any more. Melly stroked the little dragon's head and felt the tears start in her eyes and trickle warmly over her cheeks. Home right here, right now, in Ista Weyr - and with Enneth.
AN: I usually try not to do notes at the beginning AND the end of a chapter, but I felt that I had to warn people that I won't be available during the week for some time; I'm moving out to a rented room to be near my new job, and I won't have internet access there, so I won't be able to respond to people except when I come home at the weekends. So please, I want a whole stack of reviews waiting for me Friday night - but don't worry if I don't respond to them until then. I do still appreciate them, promise!