“I can try,” Finlar replied, breathless with excitement.
From among the other children, Kindan quickly gathered a makeshift orchestra and set to singing and calling tunes until relieved by Silstra and Terregar, who proved to have very good voices.
Fiona found T’mar and danced with him once before finding herself tapped by N’jian, then F’dan, J’keran, and what seemed the entire Weyr one after the other until she honestly declared herself exhausted.
In a lull between sets, she pored over the food laid on the groaning tables, piled her plate high, found herself some sweetjuice and sat in a quiet corner, glad to be unnoticed for the moment.
When someone suddenly spoke beside her, she jumped.
“M’tal tells me that you know Arella and Jaythen.” It was Kindan.
“I do,” Fiona admitted.
“And Nuella, you were her honor maid.”
“Yes,” Fiona said, feeling very uncomfortable. She glanced around anxiously for T’mar or any of the dragonriders but could not make out any of them in the dim light and motion of the dancing throng.
Kindan peered closer at her. “You remind me of someone,” he said. “Are you related to Nuella?”
Panic enveloped her. In desperation, she lifted her cup to her lips and let it slip, splashing juice down her front. “Oh, no!”
Kindan looked around futilely for something to help dry her off.
“I must go or this will stain,” she said, jumping up and scurrying away as fast as she could.
“Will I see you again?”
“Certainly,” Fiona called over her shoulder. She found T’mar, who took one look at her frightened expression and stained dress and picked her up in his arms.
“It’s Kindan,” she breathed into his ear. “I need to get away, back to the Weyr.”
“Very well, it’s getting late anyway,” T’mar said. With a grin, he added, “And I think we’ve done well by the Weyr this evening.”
“Indeed!”
When T’mar dropped her off, Fiona slipped quietly into her weyr. Eyes accustomed by the starry night to the light of the dim glows, she found her nightgown, quickly changed, and, seeing her bed full and squirming with the youngest of the trader children, snuggled herself into the crowd of older children nestled up against Talenth’s warm hide.
No one was quite prepared for the next morning. The trader children were desperate to stay with Talenth the whole day, while the adults — trader and rider alike — were all weary from the excitement and drink of the evening before.
Neither T’mar nor Fiona pushed the others hard that day but as the sun sank once more on the horizon and they gathered for the evening meal, T’mar told the diners in the Kitchen Cavern, “I think it is time for the older riders to depart.”
“They’re all recovered,” Fiona agreed.
“We were only waiting for the wedding,” N’jian remarked. He cocked a glance toward T’mar. “Same plan as with K’rall? Meet you here at the third Turn?”
“Yes,” T’mar said. “Use the same coordinates.”
“The stars will guide us,” F’dan murmured in his seat next to Fiona.
The next day was marked by a flurry of activity as the older riders collected their gear, sorted out their quarters, and prepared for the jump
“You’ll have sixteen Turns when we meet again,” F’dan said as Fiona hugged him goodbye. “You’ll be full grown, a lady in your own right.”
Fiona laughed at the description.
“I doubt I’ll have changed all that much,” she said.
“You’ll be a dragonrider when next we meet,” N’jian told her, glancing down from his mount on Graneth.
“And your queen won’t be long from rising,” F’dan reminded her. He pushed her away from him to look her in the eyes. “Be careful, Weyrwoman.”
“I will,” Fiona promised.
The dragonriders mounted, the dragons rose in the starry night, circled up to the Star Stones, and blinked
EIGHTEEN
Weyrling and rider,
First jump, no higher.
Glide to ground,
Then go round.
Igen Weyr, Early Morning, AL 499.13.11
Fiona started pestering T’mar on her fifteenth birthday. She tried to be subtle.
“I’ve fifteen Turns now,” she told him. “Isn’t that a great age for someone on their first flight?”
“It is,” T’mar agreed, grinning. “Let me see how Talenth seems in the morning.”
In the morning he said to her, “No, she’s strong, but I think you should wait.”
And so she waited. And waited. She let another fortnight go by before she broached the subject once more. “Isn’t Ladirth wellformed?” she asked as the weyrlings gathered for their late-night gliding.
“Yes, he is,” T’mar agreed with a long-suffering sigh. “And he’ll be a fine flyer too, when the time is right.”
The next month passed with Fiona valiantly refraining from a single comment, although she caught T’mar eyeing her speculatively several times. She spent more time with Terin, with the younger weyrlings, with the traders, while T’mar was busy training the older weyrlings in formation flying, flaming, and recognition points.
“Tomorrow have the weyrlings set the riding straps on their dragons,” T’mar told Fiona the next day when the weyrlings had finished their early morning glide.
Fiona’s eyes lit, but that was nothing compared to the shouts of joy when she told F’jian and the rest of the weyrlings.
“Too much exuberance,” T’mar muttered disapprovingly when he heard the outburst. Fiona stuck her tongue out at him, which was very un-Weyrwoman-like but satisfying all the same.
The next morning, the weyrlings were lined up extra early, eyes gleaming, but T’mar disappointed them, merely inspecting their riding straps and murmuring quiet corrections to each individual rider. Fiona wasn’t spared the ordeal.
“Have them try again tomorrow,” T’mar said after ordering the harnesses removed before the weyrlings had their practice glides.
The next day things were much better, but T’mar ordered them once again to remove their harnesses before the dragns flew.
“If one harness is wrong, they are all wrong,” T’mar said when the chorus of groans arose from the collected weyrlings.
“Whose harness was wrong?” Fiona asked.
“You don’t know?” T’mar replied, shaking his head sadly.
Fiona’s face burned with shame.
“Tomorrow, we get here before T’mar and we check everyone’s harness,” F’jian said.
The next day, to everyone’s intense relief, T’mar allowed the dragons to fly with their harnesses on.
