Dragonheart

Do you see it?

A woman in a dress,  Talenth told her. Is that Nuella?

Yes,  Fiona agreed. And if you can give Nuellask the image and ask her to send it to Nuella — I know she’s very young.

She tries . . . now,  Talenth replied. This is fun, she likes it too!

“Close your eyes, Nuella, reach out to your watch-wher,” Fiona instructed. “What do you see?”

Nuella gasped in astonishment. “Is that me?”

“As best I can see  you, as best Talenth can share the image, and as best Nuellask can send it to you,” Fiona said.

Nuella grabbed Fiona’s hand tightly in hers. “Oh, thank you!” Her free hand reached down to her dress. “Oh, it’s as beautiful as I’d hoped!”

“Well, then,” Fiona said, her lips curved up in a huge grin, “the music has started. Let’s not keep your red- haired lad waiting.”

Her face split in a huge beaming smile, Nuella walked with Fiona out into the crisp night air.

The music swelled and suddenly was the only sound as the gathered crowd grew hushed.

Ahead, at the raised platform, Fiona could make out the figures of Zenor and Kindan, standing side by side. Zenor had never looked more handsome. Kindan stood beside him, resplendent in harper’s blue, his gaze resting proudly on Nuella.

“Definitely  you should marry him,” Fiona whispered as they reached the first of the stairs. She added, warningly, “Step.”

Nuella took the step easily, and Fiona guided her beside Zenor, took the hand with which she’d been guiding her, and placed it into Zenor’s outstretched hand.

As Fiona moved to the side, Kindan moved around in front of the pair. From the shadows, C’rion and M’tal appeared on either side. Terin appeared with a small plush pillow bearing two gold rings, each crafted of three bands twined together.

“We are here for a joyous occasion,” Kindan told the gathered crowd. “It is all the more joyous for me because we celebrate the joining of two of my dearest friends in a new life at a new and prosperous hold, the craft of their hands, and the bonding of their hearts.”

Kindan paused and looked out down the trellis pathway. “Terregar? Silstra?”

Fiona looked in surprise as Terregar and Silstra, arm in arm, walked quickly up the path to stand before Nuella and Zenor.

As the hush of the crowd dissolved into excited whispers, Kindan spoke up loudly.

“Tonight also,” he said, “it is my pleasure to announce another union.” At his gesture, Terregar handed a rolled parchment up to Zenor; a short moment later, Silstra handed a similar parchment to Nuella.

“Actually, two unions,” Kindan corrected himself, his eyes dancing mischievously. He gestured to the rolls Zenor and Nuella clutched in bewilderment. “By order of Mastersmith Veclan, I am pleased to announce that the Plains Wherhold has been designated a smithcraft, the Goldhall of Plains Hold.”

Zenor’s eyes went wide with amazement while the crowd gapsed in surprise.

“And by order of Lord Holder Ospenar and holder Kedarill, I am also pleased to announce the establishment of the Wherhold of Plains Hold.”

Kindan went down on one knee before them, intoning quickly, “My lord, my lady, it gives me joy to be the first to greet you!”

Zenor shook his head, shocked, while Nuella’s eyes streamed with tears of joy.

Their shock and joy redoubled as Kindan rose and C’rion and M’tal bowed to them. “To the Wherhold!”

Their cry was echoed loudly by the collected holders, their elation echoing all around them.

Kindan had to wait a long time for the crowd to be quiet once more.

“And now, my lord,” he said nodding toward Zenor, “my lady,” he bowed toward Nuella, “I understand that you have come to express vows before this company.” He turned to Nuella. “Is this so?”

“It is,” Nuella declared loudly.

“And you, my lord?” Kindan asked of Zenor.

It took Zenor two tries before he could sound out, “It is.”

Kindan smiled at him and Fiona was pleased to see M’tal rest a comforting hand on Zenor’s shoulder as Kindan continued through the vows. At last the rings were exchanged, and the newlyweds kissed.

Kindan stepped back then, shouting to the crowd, “Zenor and Nuella!”

Now,  Fiona called to Zirenth.

She was lucky to be facing away from the wherhold so that she saw the long trails of glows in the sky as they approached. As T’mar’s Zirenth, bearing a basket full of green glows, and N’jian’s Graneth bearing a basket full of yellow glows, flew into view of the rest of the crowd, Kindan called out, “What? Watch-whers?”

“They fly well,” M’tal noted approvingly. “I’d always known that watch-whers were up to such things.”

“Dansk flew with just one basket,” Kindan said as he looked to the sky in awe. “I’d never thought of seeing so many watch-whers in flight . . .”

The massed wing of forty-two dragons, all the older werylings and recovered riders, flew overhead in a graceful display of color, then reformed and swung back around, performing intricate maneuvers, making tight circles and trails in the sky to the delight of all the observers, at a height such that only the glows themselves, and not the dragons carrying them, were visible.

“That’s some flying,” C’rion exclaimed, glancing toward M’tal.

“I didn’t know watch-whers could do so well,” M’tal remarked.

“They are very capable,” Kindan declared. “Although . . .” He shaded his eyes, squinting into the dark sky above.

Quick!  a voice implored Fiona.

She didn’t need any urging and, feigning a loss of balance, tumbled into Kindan.

“I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, “I got dizzy.”

“Not a problem,” Kindan said, setting her back on her feet and resuming his scan.

Talenth! Tell T’mar it’s time to finish!  Fiona thought, glancing toward M’tal, who had stopped staring at the sky long enough to look her way.

“Oh, it’s you again,” he said, smiling at her. He pointed up to the sky. “Some sight, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, my lord,” Fiona said. “I hear that Arella and Jaythen practiced forever on it.”

She wasn’t lying, as presently two lights separated from the others descending in a steep dive, resolving themselves into the shapes of a green and bronze watch-wher, each triumphantly carrying large glows in their foreclaws and — to Fiona’s surprise — bearing riders on their backs.

With their descent, the final performance was over and the dragons of Igen disappeared between.

The party swelled as the Igen dragonriders, garbed as plain holders, arrived from their landing behind the wherhold. Under the pretext of helping the newlyweds settle in, Fiona escorted Zenor and Nuella, glad to get out of the sight of Kindan and the Weyrleaders.

“I’m so glad we primed Arella and Jaythen,” Fiona sighed as she helped Nuella out of her gown and into more comfortable party clothes.

“They were thrilled to fly with dragonriders,” Nuella replied. “I just wish that Nuellask were older.”

“On your wedding night?” Fiona exclaimed in exasperation.

“Well,” Nuella considered, “maybe not.” She paused for a moment. “But I’m getting one of those saddles when she’s older.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Fiona said in agreement. “Come on,” she said, hastily changing the subject before Nuella might question her tone, “let’s get you out there for the dance!”

Nuella followed her lead gladly until Fiona could return her to Zenor and the two of them led off in the first dance in the square laid out beside the garlanded trellis.

“Who’s good on the drums?” Kindan called out, searching the crowd. He spotted Finlar and gestured to him. “You look like a strong likely lad — are you up for it?”