The Rider's Pride - 4. Chapter 4

The Lower Caverns hummed with the crowd that filled it following the Hatching. Despite the fact that it was hours after the event, most of the people who had come to watch newly-hatched dragons pair up with humans who would be their rider were still there. Huge platters of roasted meat, tubers, legumes, and just about every other food stuff ever made on Pern filled the tables, and the three brand new weyrlings found that their entrance wasn’t unnoticed.

“You boys finally woke?” D’kov, the blue rider that had brought J’shon to the Weyr greeted them, and proceeded to clap J’shon on the back. “Congratulations J’shon! Aliarth was convinced you’d Impress today and you proved him right!”

“Thank you.” J’shon said with a blush of his cheeks. It was so new to him, and he still was a little uncomfortable around the blue rider, although he did like the man. What made him uncomfortable was the memory of D’kov rushing him off so that Aliarth could chase Tabath. Would J’shon have that look on his face one day when Liliath––

“Look at that, six other Harpers are here!” B’rrel’s exclamation cut off J’shon’s thoughts and he looked towards the side of the cavern where the six strange Harpers were playing a lively tune with Crivan.

“Aye, and the bald one in the middle is the Masterharper of Pern.” D’kov told them with a chuckle. “You lads better get to your table before the food’s all gone.”

“Bubbly pies!” B’rrel called out in excitement as a tray of them came out of the kitchen, being carried by one of the women who were fostered here at the Weyr. J’shon started towards the table they’d used as Candidates, but D’kov grabbed his arm and pointed him to the table of junior weyrlings. That reminded J’shon again just how much his life had changed in just a single morning. Certainly the weyrling table wasn’t as high up as the Weyrleader’s table, or the Wing Rider tables, but it was in a more prominent position than the table he’d ate at the last few days.

“You woke up!’ A’toly called cheerfully as they sat at the table. B’rrel claimed the spot next to the new bronze rider while J’shon sat between B’rrel and his brother. As the other weyrlings called out greetings to the three newcomers, and B’rrel introduced K’mer to those who had not yet met him, J’shon realized shamefully that he didn’t know the names of most of the other weyrlings. He knew fair-haired B’ler, who was now rider of blue Flanth. He also knew O’lar, the rider of the other bronze from this hatching. Most of the others, he’d barely bothered learning their names, having believed he’d never be here after today.

“Have some red meat.” A slender brown haired boy said as he held out a platter across the table. He was sitting right across from J’shon.

“Thanks” K’mer said as he took the platter and scooped several slices on J’shon’s plate before putting several more on his own and then passed the platter over to B’rrel who traded him a bowl of tubers.

“Can’t forget your greens, can we brother?” K’mer said with a sardonic smile as he put some tubers on J’shon’s plate. B’rrel and a few others laughed at the twist on words and J’shon found that he was smiling at his brother. He was surprised as he took a bite of the green vegetable that he really was hungry, and he began to fill his mouth while the weyrlings around him began to share their remembrances of the Hatching. Once the first eggs had hatched, things had been rather chaotic and everyone seemed to not remember anything much after they’d Impressed.

“Tarket’s gone already.” B’ler said with a satisfied smile. “He tried to claim A’toly had stolen his dragon and his father boxed his ears before dragging him out.”

“The Weyrleader assigned a green rider to take them back to Igen Hold.” A’toly said with a grin of his own.

“They should have made them walk.” The weyrling across from J’shon said with a scowl. From the talk around the table already, J’shon had figured out that he was N’sor, and that he’d also Impressed a green dragon, Sortath. He was also one of the oldest weyrlings at eighteen turns.

“Well, it took you six Hatchings, but you finally made it, didn’t you N’sor?” B’rrel commented having cleared about half his plate of food.

“Jeton and Milar didn’t make it though.” N’sor said with a frown. “I saw them talking to Delonna and crying on her shoulder.”

“That’s too bad.” B’rrel said with a frown. “Jeton is a good guy, and this was the last Hatching H’mal will let him stand because he’s getting too old.”

“Who are they?” K’mer asked around a mouthful of meat he was chewing.

“They were fostered to the Weyr a few turns ago.” N’sor answered. “Their father was a minor holder near Igen but he beat them real bad. Lord Poldice found out after a Harper visited their hold and he took them away from their abuser and fostered them to the Weyr. Everyone hoped they’d Impress, but they haven’t.”

“Milar’s still young enough, but Jeton is too old now.” B’rrel said with a shrug. “If he hasn’t Impressed by now he’s not going to do it at all. Some people just aren’t meant to be dragon riders.”

“What will they do now?” K’mer asked and J’shon recognized the tone in his voice. He was thinking of something, and after a moment he figured out what his brother was probably thinking. That got him to frown as he thought things through. It wasn’t likely, but there was a possibility it might work.

“Probably go to a hold, or maybe a craft.” B’rrel answered with a shrug. “Milar’s pretty good with runners, but they’ve always wanted to stick together and Jeton’s not much good with runners so he wouldn’t be happy in the Beast Craft.”

“Are they good workers?” J’shon asked and got an elbow in his ribs from a grinning K’mer who looked happy that J’shon had figured out where he was going with this.

“Too good sometimes.” N’son said with a frown. “They put the rest of us to shame some days and Delonna would give us crap jobs for a sevenday after.”

“What do you think J’shon?” K’mer asked with a conspiratorial wink.

“They’d have to want to go…” J’shon said and K’mer shrugged.

“What are you two talking about?” A’toly demanded.

“Where’s Delonna?” K’mer asked of the new bronze rider.

“How should I know?” A’toly shrugged.

“She’s in the kitchens making sure there’s more food and pulling up some of the wine.” N’son answered. “She came looking for helpers and dragged a few of the Candidates who’ll be staying for the next Hatching. Have you seen Willeth? She’s getting more golden every day. I bet she rises in the next three days.”

“Five days.” B’rrel countered, and the table was filled with betting on when the next queen would rise to mate. J’shon looked at K’mer who nodded towards the kitchen and they stood together, unnoticed by anyone else at the table.

“You need something?” One of the drudges asked J’shon and K’mer when they entered the busy kitchen. She was filling a tray with more bubbly pies, causing J’shon’s mouth to water at the thought of the pastry. She laughed when she saw his look at the plate. “Don’t worry young green rider, all you new weyrlings will get your fill of these in a bit.”

“Thanks.” J’shon said and then shook his head as K’mer’s elbow struck again. K’mer was the brown rider, wasn’t he supposed to take charge in things? “Um, is the Headwoman around?”

“She’s over yelling at the cook.” The drudge said with a bright smile on her face as she picked the tray up and bustled past them to head out towards the main table with her burden. Sure enough, they found Delonna near the back of the kitchen, yelling at the baker who was apparently too slow in getting the bubbly pies out of the oven.

“What do you two need?” She said without turning around to look at them, rather making the baker sweat a little longer under her glare. Her tone wasn’t exactly nice, but J’shon sensed her anger wasn’t directed at him, and with K’mer at his back he didn’t shake quite as much as he might have otherwise.

“Uh, this is my brother K’mer, he Impressed…” J’shon stared to say, stuttering just a bit, but she cut him off.

“I know very well who your brother is and that he Impressed brown Sharth.” Delonna said shortly. “I heard H’mal and your father going at it for half the morning after the Hatching. Now what do you want?”

“Uh, we, uh, I, ah, that is…” J’shon sputtered because that last sentence was full of anger and directed at him. Her face softened as she turned to look at him, and it looked like she swallowed up her anger, causing it to disappear.

“Calm down, lad, and just tell me what you need.” She said with a soft smile and in such a concerned tone that J’shon stopped shaking right away and took a deep breath.

“We heard the others talking about Jeton and Milar at the table.” J’shon said softly, but with a little bit more confidence. “Have they said what they want to do?”

“You weyrlings do love your gossip and you haven’t even been Impressed for more than a few hours!” She responded with a little chuckle. “It’s none of your business, really, but Jeton and Milar have expressed an interest in finding a hold that will take both of them on. They’re good workers, the both of them and I’ll hate to see them go, but it’s not really what they want, staying here and being reminded of their failure, or the Egg forbid, Milar Impresses and Jeton doesn’t.”

“Do it, J’shon.” K’mer whispered fiercely to his brother.

“Uh, do you think they might like to go to Kapian Hold?” J’shon asked the Headwoman who looked at them with crinkled eyes for a moment.

“You father made it clear the hardship he’d have with losing the both of you, and I can’t imagine he could find two better lads than Jeton and Milar.” She said thoughtfully. “Of course when Thread comes your father’s hold will be in trouble and I can’t see sending those two good boys to a fate like that.”

“Thread won’t be falling.” K’mer said firmly before J’shon could speak up. “Our father says…”

“It’ll fall.” Delonna said instantly and in an edgy tone. “You’ll learn soon enough. You’re dragon riders now, not holders.”

“If Thread does fall, they won’t die.” J’shon said. “Our father’s made plans either way, just in case he’s wrong. He’s man enough to know he might not be right.”

“He’s made plans, has he?” She said rhetorically, but J’shon mustered the courage to look her in the eyes with determination. After a long moment of meeting his gaze, she shook her head and smiled at him. “Fine lad, if you’re so sure of him, let’s go talk to Jeton and Milar. One thing, though, I want your word, both of you, that when Thread does fall that you’ll be there to pull those boys to safety if they need it.”

“You have our word, by the shards of our dragons’ eggs.” K’mer said firmly, adopting the dragon rider oath automatically. It was probably the strongest oath any dragon rider could give, J’shon knew from the songs.

“That’ll do.” She said with an approving nod. “Now let’s find those boys and see what they have to say.”

Both Jeton and Milar accepted the idea immediately. They’d been worried that they’d not be able to find a hold to take both of them in together. Jeton, the older, was taller than both J’shon and K’mer, and looked fairly strong, as did the slightly shorter Milar. Both had dark hair that they kept cut short, and wide hands with plenty of calluses.

“Let’s go ask father.” K’mer suggested nodding his head to where Kapian sat next to Weyrleader H’mal at the head table. That was a place of honor, as evidenced by the fact that on Kapian’s other side was Lord Poldice of Igen Hold, and Lord Bisal of Keroon, Kapian’s own Lord Holder, was further down from Poldice. The Benden Weyrleader was on the other side of H’mal. Their mother was further down the table, sitting next to Weyrwoman Febrina herself. J’shon started to shake again as they approached the head table, and he totally missed the attempt by Delonna to stop him. She gave up and waved the two boys after the two weyrlings and went back to her kitchen, shaking her head and muttering about impulsive weyrlings.

“Weyrleader.” J’shon started off by saluting the Weyrleader the way he’d seen the weyrlings do it over the last few days. H’mal returned the salute and frowned, making J’shon shake even more as he turned to face his father. Kapian was frowning as well, and J’shon realized the Cavern was going quiet as people noticed them near the head table. He was visibly shaking now, but he took a deep breath as he turned to his father. “Father, I hope you’re doing well.”

“I am, green rider.” His father said, and J’shon felt like he was going to pass out for a moment. Instead he swallowed and gathered his tattered nerves before speaking again. “I’m sorry you’re going to be shorthanded, father, because of us. I think there might be a solution for that, at least for not having enough hands. This is Jeton and Miral. They’ve been fostered at the Weyr for a couple of turns, but they’re looking to find work at a hold now, only they want to stay together. They’re the only family each other has now. Some of the other weyrlings, people I’ve come to trust in my time here, say they’re good workers, as does the Headwoman.”

“You’ve been here less than a seven-day, and you expect me to believe you know them well enough to trust them implicitly?” Kapian scoffed at the idea, and J’shon felt an anger rise in him.

“I do.” He said in a voice that miraculously did not shake. His father blinked at the words and studied him for a long moment.

“Not even a sevenday and you’ve changed a lot already.” Kapian whispered, almost as if to himself. “What will you be like in a turn?”

“I’ll come to Kapian hold and you can find out in a turn.” J’shon said in his anger, surprising not only himself, but K’mer as well from the way he stiffened. His father stared at him for another long moment before he started laughing, and a genuine smile formed on his face.

“Alright, you two, what were your names?” Kapian asked, turning to the two boys.

“I’m Jeton, and this is my brother, Miral.” Jeton said firmly. “We’d be honored to work our best for you, holder, if you’d let us stay together.”

“Let’s go have a talk.” Kapian said as he stood from his table. He turned and bowed to the Weyrleader who nodded his permission to leave the table and all of a sudden, J’shon found himself the center of attention of several Lord Holders, Weyrleaders, and even the Masterharper of Pern. He started to shake again.

“Your pardon, Weyrleader.” K’mer said nervously as he grabbed J’shon’s arm and led him away from the table. Unfortunately he immediately bumped into someone, and both boys looked up to find the Weyrlingmaster scowling at them.

“Just what did the two of you think you were doing?” S’lag demanded in a voice that left both boys quivering this time. J’shon almost passed out again because everyone in the Cavern was seeing this. What had they done wrong? They’d just helped…

“I, uh, we…” K’mer stuttered nervously, not able to form words.

“We were trying to help…” J’shon found his voice first.

“I know what you were doing, everyone knows what you were doing, and it’s a good sign for the weyr that two weyrling, on the day they Impressed, still care enough about others that they wanted to help Jeton and Miral.” S’lag said forcefully.

“Then why are you upset?” K’mer asked meekly, but with a hint of anger.

“Of course, you weren’t even a candidate, but J’shon, you’ve been here for several days now.” S’lag said with a hint of scorn in his voice. “You at least should have known better.”

“Known better about what, Weyrlingmaster?” J’shon asked, remembering at the last moment to add the man’s title.

“A rider does not just approach the Weyrleader without approaching his Wingleader, or in your case, the Weyrlingmaster, first!” S’lag said in a deadly calm voice that somehow filled the Lower Cavern without being a shout.

“Oh.” K’mer and J’shon said at the same time. It made sense, when you thought about it, but they hadn’t thought about it and now…

Where are you? I itch? Is something wrong?

“No, nothing’s wrong, Liliath.” J’shon said aloud, stunned by the voice in his head. He knew already that a dragon could reflect the emotions of her rider, so it was important he remain calm, and he took a deep breath, trying to push away his fear.

“Liliath is awake?” S’lag said, all anger drained from his voice to be replaced by concern. J’shon nodded. “Then what are you doing standing here? Go to her! There’s a pot of oil and a paddle next to her perch. I trust you know what to do?”

“Yes, Weyrlingmaster.” J’shon said with a breathless rush as he turned to race out of the Lower Cavern and head towards the Weyrling Barracks. When he entered, there were several sets of whirling eyes watching him as he crossed to the perch Liliath was reclining on. She was half-stretched, trying to reach part of her hindquarters with her tongue. When she saw J’shon heading towards her, she let out a little bugle of welcome.

I itch there, can you get it? She asked him.

“Just a moment, love.” He said, almost panicking in his haste to find the pot of oil. Luckily it was easy to find, along with the paddle he’d seen dragon riders use to oil their dragons. She let out a sigh as he applied the oil and used the paddle to rub it in the spot where her skin was starting to flake. Hearing his brother talk to his brown, he turned to see K’mer watching him before copying his motions with the paddle.

“You learn this while you’ve been here?” K’mer asked as other weyrlings began to enter, panting from the running they’d done to get here. The barracks filled with the sounds of dragons welcoming their riders, and riders promising to care for their dragon’s itches.

“Yes.” J’shon said, grateful for Liliath’s timing in getting him out of trouble.

“That’s right boys, your dragons always come first.” S’lag’s voice filled the barracks without being a shout. He walked up and down the row of cots, observing and offering tips to each of the weyrlings as they cared for their dragons. He stopped in front of J’shon after making a complete round of the barracks. Liliath was already curling up, preparing to go back to sleep after having been well-oiled. J’shon was sweating, and wondered what it would be like doing this when she was fully grown. He almost felt sorry for K’mer, since browns would be half again as large as Liliath, and little A’toly was going to be exhausted when Nikkoth reached his full growth. Maybe he’d be lucky and find a weyrmate that would help him oil the bronze.

“That’s right Liliath, I’ll always be here to fix the itches.” J’shon said fondly to his little green as she let out a yawn before settling down into a little ball before falling back asleep.

“Doesn’t look like you missed a spot on her hide.” S’lag said with approval in his voice.

“Thank you, Weyrlingmaster.” J’shon said nervously, fully aware the Weyrlingmaster’s tirade from earlier had been interrupted.

“Your father is still talking to the two boys, but it looks like he’s going to take them.” S’lag said softly. “You had good instincts there, matching them up like that. The Weyr’s cared for them for two turns now, and they’re both good lads. Having them go with your father will hopefully help to mollify his anger at losing two sons to the Weyr today. We’re glad to have you, and we’d have been more than glad to keep those other two on, but it’s best for them to move on now, and going with your father benefits everyone, including them. If he raised two boys good enough to be dragon riders, he’ll do good by them.”

“He will.” J’shon assured the dragon rider.

“The only thing you did wrong was not stop and talk to me first.” S’lag’s voice hardened a bit.

“We’re sorry about that, Weyrlingmaster.” K’mer’s voice came from behind the Weyrlingmaster who nodded.

“I trust it won’t happen again?” S’lag asked.

“No, sir.” Both boys said in unison.

“Good, then you’ll be on punishment detail for only a sevenday.” S’lag said and K’mer groaned aloud, but shut his mouth when the Weyrlingmaster glared at him. “That means you’ll muck out the barracks after the dragons defecate, and they will, probably after they wake up. Most dragons fly out from the Weyr to defecate, or they do it between, but weyrlings can’t do either for months. Just be glad it’s only for a week.”

“Yes, Weyrlingmaster.” K’mer said in a defeated voice.

“Good, now if you’re dragons are asleep, you can head back to the Caverns.” S’lag said. “If Delonna’s got the kitchen in order finally, there should be enough bubbly pies for everyone by now.”

“Thanks, sir.” J’shon said with a smile. He really did like bubbly pies.

The sun was setting past the Weyr rim when the Weyrlingmaster called K’mer and J’shon from their table. Their parents were standing in the Weyr bowl, with the rest of their siblings, as well as Jeton and Miral, who had packs on their back with their possessions. Both of them rushed up to thank J’shon and K’mer for helping them, and then the two weyrlings were left to face their family alone.

“You’re dragonriders now, boys.” Kapian said with a nod of his head to his two sons.

“Yes father.” J’shon said softly, hoping he wouldn’t hear recriminations in his father’s voice.

“I’m so proud of you both!” Serece cried out, rushing forward to hug both of them and gently kiss each of them on their cheeks. “You be safe, promise!”

“We will.” K’mer said softly while J’shon sniffled to keep tears from falling down his cheeks. It was suddenly all so real. He was here, in the Weyr, with a dragon of his own and he’d never be returning to his father’s hold, at least not to live there.

“I’m so sorry, father.” J’shon moaned as he moved to cling tightly to his father. After a moment of hesitation, Kapian wrapped his arms around his son. “I failed you. I tried to keep them from wanting me, but she snuck up on me. She’s not even a blue, much less a bronze or a brown, and I know why you won’t like that, but I love her and I won’t…”

“Shh, now Jashon, I mean J’shon.” Kapian said softly and moved to hold his son at arm’s length. He had a gentle smile on his face. “As H’mal and Lord Bisal reminded me, it’s the dragon that always knows the rider that is perfect for him or her. Even without Thread, Pern needs its dragons and their riders, and I know you’ll do your best to be a good rider. I’m not ashamed of you, son.”

“You’re not?” J’shon sniffled in disbelief.

“No, I’m not.” Kapian said softly. “I won’t pretend I approve of things that go on in a Weyr, and by now I know you’ve been here long enough to know of what I speak.”

“Yes father.” J’shon sniffled, again not trying to think about it, especially since he was a green rider now. He didn’t know if he’d ever be comfortable with that aspect of things, but he’d endure because it was all part of having Liliath, and he wouldn’t trade her for anything in or out of the world.

“Whether I approve of them or not is irrelevant now, for you and K’mer.” Kapian said, including the new brown rider in the conversation. “When you lived with me, I expected you to live by my standards, but now you are part of the Weyr, and I expect you to live by the Weyr’s standards. Do you understand?”

“I think so, father.” J’shon said after a moment of thought. What his father said fit, in its own way, with the Teaching Ballads and Songs. They taught the duty of Weyr, Hold, and Hall. Each of the three parts of Pern’s society was different, with different purposes, different responsibilities, and different privileges. When you were in a Hold, you did what was right for the hold, and in the Weyr, you did what was right for the Weyr. Yes, that did make sense. That was why they had Teaching Ballads after all, so you would know what was right and what was wrong, what was your duty and what was your right.

“I understand, father, and if I don’t, J’shon will explain it to me.” K’mer said with a grin that set their father to chuckling.

“I’m sure he will.” Kapian said fondly, actually reaching out to ruffle K’mer’s hair. “I’ll miss the both of you. K’mer, the riders who are taking us home will wait long enough for your mother to pack your things and they’ll bring them back to the Weyr. I’ll make sure they include the drums. Crivan will appreciate having the both of you available to play and sing at night.”

“Father…” J’shon started to say something, but he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say about Crivan.

“I should have told you boys more about your grandfather.” Kapian said with a sigh. “He… he’s changed over the turns. Maybe when your dragons are old enough to allow you to visit you’ll bring him with you, let him see our hold?”

“We will.” J’shon said with a soft smile. So his father had apparently patched things up with his own father. That was good.

They each said farewells to their other brothers and sisters next. The older brothers both seemed jealous, while their tired sister was excited and proud. Their youngest brother was still too young to understand much about what it all meant, but he was fully aware he was flying home on a dragon, and thought he’d soon have two dragons as personal conveyance when his brothers came home.

A bronze dragon was joined by a brown dragon in taking their family home, an honor in its own right since the higher colors rarely acted as conveyers. K’mer and J’shon hung on each other as they ambled back to the Barracks, both suddenly realizing how much they’d miss home. J’shon had been away longer, but K’mer had begun the day thinking he was just going to watch his brother on the Hatching Grounds, not that he’d be staying permanently at the Weyr.

Both of them were asleep by the time the bronze rider returned with K’mer’s possessions in three tight bundles. He also had another, smaller bundle, of things for J’shon. Twice that night, J’shon was awoken by Liliath who needed oiling and scratching, another feeding, and to defecate. Remembering the punishment set by S’lag, he grabbed the bucket and scrubbing brushes to clean up the mess from not only Liliath, but three other young dragons as well.

When the sun rose over the horizon, he woke exhausted to find Liliath’s eyes whirling in red hunger again.

“For the next few sevendays, that’s all they’re going to be doing.” B’rrel said sagely. He knew that, because he’d lived all his life in the Weyr, as had four others of the new weyrlings. Even they were finding it a new experience though, actually caring for their own dragons instead of watching or helping others do the caring. O’rel, rider of bronze Tipeth, one of the assistant Weyrlingmasters arrived during the morning feeding and carefully observed each rider’s interactions with his dragon.

“That’s right boys, good small chunks and make sure they chew their meat!” He praised them until one of the greens let out a bellow of pain. All the dragons got excited at that, but he urged the riders to calm them down.

Onath bit her tongue! Liliath exclaimed in excitement. That is what happens when you chew too much!

“No, that is not what happens when you chew too much!” J’shon admonished her. “That is what happens when you eat too fast. Now, slow down and chew each piece thoroughly before trying to take the next one.”

But I’m hungry! She complained and he started laughing, bending down to hug her. Her body was already soaking up all the oil he’d applied over the night, and she’d need to be oiled soon after she was done eating.

“I know she’s hungry G’don.” O’rel said to the rider of the green who had bitten her tongue a moment ago. “The numbweed needs to mix in and the ichor needs to coagulate before she eats another piece. Calm her down, you’re her rider. Don’t let her emotions get you all riled up like this.”

“Yes, bronze rider.” The young weyrling said sullenly as the green stopped her keening. J’shon knew from experience how effective numbweed was at killing pain. When boiled down to a thick paste, it made an excellent painkiller, and could even be used on the tongue or mouth of not only a dragon but humans as well.

“B’rrel, feeding your dragon is not a game.” O’rel chastised B’rrel, who had been holding up pieces of meat and dropping them for Ojeth to catch. Both weyrling and dragon looked glum at the chastisement, but a smile slipped onto B’rrel’s face as soon as the older rider turned his back and B’rrel chucked another piece to Ojeth, who caught it deftly and chewed it quickly before swallowing.

“I saw that, B’rrel.” O’rel said shortly. “You can join the brothers in mucking out the barracks for the next sevenday.”

“Yes, bronze rider.” B’rrel said as he hung his head. It was all J’shon could do to not laugh at his friend.

I’m done. Liliath said with a burp. It was a good thing, because he’d just given her the last piece of meat. O’rel had already informed him that they’d need to cut more themselves before the dragons fed again. As much as they ate, that was going to take a good part of the morning since they’d need to cut the meat from a freshly killed beast. Oil me before I sleep?

“Yes I will, you beautiful girl.” J’shon said with a great deal of affection. He could swear she’d grown a handspan already. That was why dragons need so much oiling at this age. B’rrel had already mentioned that in the next two months they could expect them to triple or quadruple their size. The smaller dragons, like Liliath would reach their full growth in six to eight months, and be ready to fly by then.

“You’ve a deft hand at that, J’shon.” O’rel said as he watched J’shon rub the oil into Liliath. He found a brush that morning that did a good job of flaking the patching skin off before he used the paddle to spread the oil, and then another brush to rub the oil in evenly. By the time he was done, Liliath’s dark green hide would be glistening beautifully.

“Forgive the comparison, but it’s not all that different from grooming a runner after a long, hard run.” J’shon said softly. “Her skin is oh so much better than anything a mere runner could hope to have, but the principle is the same.”

“I see.” O’rel said with a sniff, but when he stopped by K’mer and Sharth, he got much the same reaction from J’shon’s younger brother.

The two brothers weren’t the only hold-bred weyrlings in this group, but they were the two with the most experience with beasts of any kind. About a third of the weyrlings came from holds that looked to Igen for protection. Four others were from craft halls, while the rest were weyr-bred. J’shon was surprised to learn that half of the weyr-bred didn’t come from Igen, but rather had been fostered by the other Weyrs. Last night, B’rrel had explained that it was a custom of Weyrs to occasionally foster out their weyr children in order to keep inbreeding from becoming a problem. J’shon shuddered at the concept that a woman could have several children, each by a different rider and think nothing of it. Outside, in a hold or hall, that would have resulted in her being shunned at the least, or exiled at the worst.

“Now that they’re all asleep, why don’t you lads go clean up in the bathing cavern and make your way back here within an hour?” O’rel made it sound like a suggestion, but J’shon knew an order when he heard one.

All the weyrlings marched as a troop to the bathing chamber where they disrobed before climbing into the warm pool. J’shon felt uncomfortable once again disrobing before strangers, but B’rrel stood on one side of him and K’mer on the other. K’mer naturally didn’t have the problem that J’shon did, but he knew his brother well enough that he worked in unspoken tandem with B’rrel to shield J’shon from the eyes of the others. The three got into the pool together, and each grabbed some sweet sand to scrub themselves clean.

“Do my back.” K’mer said after he’d cleaned every other part of him, and J’shon grabbed a new handful of the sand to comply.

“Would you look at that?” O’lar, the rider of bronze Potath said with a hint of a sneer. “K’mer’s already got a green rider to rub his back!”

“Shard off, O’lar.” B’rrel snapped back testily. “They’re brothers.”

“So what?” O’lar said with a jeer, but he didn’t tease them again. J’shon was blushing, but he finished his brother’s back, who motioned for him to turn around so he could return the favor. Everyone finished and dried off before heading back to the Barracks, wearing clean clothing. A’toly snapped at them to clean up the mess that had been made by the ablutions, which almost made them late, but they did manage to return within the time limit set by O’rel.

“Don’t worry about O’lar, he’s just jealous and upset that he can’t slip off with Sherise from the kitchens.” B’rrel whispered to J’shon as they headed back to the barracks.

“Why can’t he?” K’mer asked. “I mean, if it was alright before, why not now?”

“Until our dragons mature, they don’t want weyrlings doing things like that.” B’rrel said softly, imparting another bit of knowledge that was common to Weyr but not to hold. “It can mess up the dragon’s normal development, so it’s a no-no.”

“But we don’t have to… do anything even once they’re mature, right?” J’shon found the courage to ask and B’rrel laughed.

“You won’t mind when Liliath rises, trust me.” He said while clapping J’shon on the back.

“What about when they’re not rising?” K’mer asked with a concerned look for his brother. Last night he’d figured out from some comments that greens rose, and their riders usually slept with whichever rider whose dragon had caught the green.

“That’s up to the rider.” B’rrel said with a shrug and a frown. “Does it really bother you that much, J’shon?”

“A little.” J’shon admitted.

“Well, don’t worry about it, you’ve got at least a turn before anything like that happens.” B’rrel said in an attempt to comfort his friend. “By then you’ll be use to living in the Weyr, and not a hold. Remember, you’re weyrfolk now.”

“I know.” J’shon said with a frown as they reached the barracks. S’lag was waiting for them, and had the weyrlings sit in a half-circle in front of him.

“We’re going to start with a discussion on the bodies of your dragon and how to care for them.” S’lag said when they were all settled. “So far, you’ve dealt with their hunger, their itching, their need for oiling, and their defecating. It’s important to keep an eye on your dragon’s tail. If it gets too thick, they could be blocked and you’ll need to give them a laxative to help them break the blockage. It’s also important that they get a proper diet. They like red meat of course, but they need wherry and fish meat as well to stay healthy. Any questions so far?”

There were none, but as the discussion of dragonic health continued, weyrlings began to raise their hands and ask questions about things like why the color of dragon blood was green to how fast they grew, and how exactly they would learn to fly. Dragons could fly as soon as their wings had dried from hatching, but it would be months before they could actually support the weight of a rider, and tradition held that dragons would not learn to fly until they could carry their riders with them.

“You’re a pair, dragon and rider, and you’ll be together all your lives.” S’lag told them, and J’shon squirmed where he sat, settling in to a comfortable stance while he learned what his life would be like from now on.