Threadfall - 21. Green and Gold

D’gar intended to talk to S’brin after dinner that night, but he was sitting with the other greens. ‘The crazy greens’, he’d found himself labelling them. The ones who seemed to try and outdo each other in wild aerobatics in the air and in drinking contests and notches on their bedposts when back at the Weyr. There was no talking to anyone sensibly when they were around, so he postponed it.

The following day was a rest day. Herebeth said he wanted to eat first thing. D’gar sat on one of the benches overlooking the feeding grounds and admired his dragon’s neat dispatch of the herdbeast he’d chosen, then his rather messy consumption of it. Dragons often ate the day after fighting Thread, so he wondered if Zemianth might also come down. With this in mind, he carried on sitting for a while, even after Herebeth had finished his meal. Zemianth obviously wasn’t hungry, though. He scanned the heights to see if he could spot her anywhere. She wasn’t there, nor on her ledge. When he asked Herebeth to bespeak her, he came back with images of large waves rolling in to a shingle beach and many other dragons bobbing around on a rough sea. They had evidently gone out for the day. D’gar gave up and joined a few others from the Wing on a trip to the sheltered cove they’d visited previously.

Will Zurinth be there? Herebeth asked expectantly.

I don’t know. J’rud wasn’t with the group who were preparing to leave.

‘Seen J’rud?’ he asked M’rell.

‘Earlier, yes.’

‘Know if he’s coming along with us?’

‘He can’t. Zurinth’s too close to rising.’

That would explain it, then. She is not allowed to leave the Weyr, he explained to Herebeth. She is going to mate soon.

I knew that, his dragon said shortly. But not today. It is a pity she has to stay behind.

He seemed to enjoy himself anyway and D’gar certainly did. Swimming always relaxed muscles which ached from riding Fall. It was good to see M’rell and Rina together, too, although it made him wonder yet again why his own relationship problems couldn’t have been sorted out so easily. No point in dwelling on that, though. They arrived back at the Weyr late and he didn’t see S’brin at all in the dining hall.

The next morning, he decided to go for a run, at S’brin’s customary early hour. Unusually, he wasn’t there. Must have had too much to drink the previous evening, D’gar supposed, although jealousy also had him imagining S’brin with one of those crazy greens and neither feeling much like getting out of bed yet.

Later, in the dining hall, J’rud came to sit with him. ‘Thought I’d better let you know that I’m pretty sure today is the day. Better get in a good breakfast.’

He’d certainly loaded up his own plate, D’gar noticed. ‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Trust me, I know.’ He grinned. ‘Usual symptoms.’

‘What’s this, then?’ T’garrin asked.

‘Zurinth is going to rise today. Why, are you about to start taking bets on who’ll fly her?’

‘Might do. Although there’s not much interest in green flights right now. Everyone’s saving their marks for Loranth.’

‘Typical.’

‘What’s this?’ M’rell asked, his mouth full of food.

‘Another green rising, that’s all.’ T’garrin stifled a yawn. ‘Is Toth going to chase?’

‘Nah. He went after Minth a couple of sevendays ago. Didn’t catch her, but he’ll not be interested again for a while.’

D’gar thought he sounded relieved at that. He cast a glance down the table toward the usual huddle of green riders; H’fra, Is’ish and A’kindry were all looking their way. So, at least none of them were with S’brin. ‘Are you going to be all right?’ he asked J’rud, quietly.

‘Fine. At least we’re both old enough now that the weyrling chasers don’t bother anymore. And Zurinth is pretty sure which dragon she wants to catch her, so barring accidents…’ He gave D’gar the sort of smouldering look that meant he was half way under the influence of dragonlust already. It was totally unlike J’rud’s normal, sensible self. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Can’t help it right now.’

M’rell had noticed. ‘Oh. So you two…?’

‘Herebeth’s been watching Zurinth, so yes, I reckon he’s going to chase.’

‘And I reckon he’ll catch,’ J’rud supplied.

‘That’s going to piss someone off.’ M’rell said, before addressing D’gar. ‘Good job you’ve got your own weyr now, ‘cos my bed’s not big enough for three and Rina might object.’

’S’brin can’t say anything. Dragons will chase who they want.’ D’gar thought that if he repeated it enough times he might start believing it.

‘He might not say anything,’ M’rell waved a spoonful of scrambled egg at D’gar. ‘He might just throw J’rud across the dining hall. Hey, T’garrin,’ he nudged the blue rider. ‘Want to take bets on how far S’brin could chuck J’rud?’

‘I’m not afraid of him,’ J’rud said, bolstered by Zurinth’s pre-mating confidence.

‘He won’t do anything,’ D’gar said. Now that they were in a Wing, fighting wouldn’t be tolerated. S’brin could end up with a sevenday or more of nighttime watch duty if he tried it. ‘The worst you’ll get are a few bitchy comments from that lot.’

‘Which I get enough of anyway.’ J’rud glared at his fellow green riders. ‘Just ‘cos I don’t throw myself at every rider who looks my way.’

S’brin doesn’t do that either,’ D’gar said, feeling the need to defend him.

‘No, he throws other riders instead.’ M’rell obviously wanted to keep his joke going. ‘I’m looking forward to today. Might be worth sticking around instead of going out somewhere.’

D’gar carried on eating, while checking on Herebeth. He was perched somewhere along the rim, watching the fluffy white clouds floating by and thinking about air currents over the Weyr.

J’rud touched his arm. ‘Zurinth’s going to go high and fast today. She’ll catch a thermal and soar.’

So that’s why Herebeth was checking out the conditions. ‘I know.’ There was something about mating flights that enhanced the link between you and your dragon, even before it began.

Herebeth. Are you waiting for something up there? he asked, half-teasingly, even though dragons didn’t really understand humour. At least, not the sort of jokes weyrfolk made. He’d tried telling a few to Herebeth and they’d been met with bafflement.

I am waiting for someone to fly with. But she is not ready yet.

D’gar almost laughed at the image that formed in his own mind, of Zurinth pampering herself and choosing what to wear, like some Lord Holder’s spoilt daughter.

‘What’s so funny?’ J’rud asked.

‘Herebeth. He’s hanging around on the heights like some lovelorn swain in a ballad.’

J’rud’s eyes unfocussed. A moment later he smiled at whatever Zurinth must have told him.

D’gar felt absurdly light-hearted, as if everything was funny this morning. The misery that had hung around like low cloud over the Weyr in winter, seemed to have gone. Even his food tasted better than usual. It was almost like falling in love…

That thought seemed to wake the observer in the back of his mind from stupor. Of course it’s like falling in love. Zurinth wants Herebeth and J’rud wants you. All of their emotions are getting stirred up and fed back. He’d never felt like this prior to a flight before, but then he’d never had this much warning.

It felt perfectly natural to stay at the table after breakfast had gone, topping up his klah and chatting with J’rud. He felt as if he almost knew what J’rud was going to say before he opened his mouth. He didn’t even care when S’brin made an appearance, glowered at them both, then took himself to the farthest end of the table to eat and after he’d finished, left without a word.

Zurinth flies, Herebeth said. D’gar watched her through his dragon’s eyes. She was normally a dark seaweed green, but today the sun made bright patterns on her flanks and she glowed with an inner light. She flew up to the heights, chose a place close to Herebeth and bugled softly, in a musical tone. A few other male dragons began to wing across, similarly fascinated by her.

‘I think we’d better get to the flight cave,’ J’rud whispered in his ear. ‘Don’t want to get caught out.’ He linked arms with D’gar and led him out of the dining hall.

Having experienced this a few times now, feeling half-dragon and half-himself wasn’t anywhere near as disorienting as it had been. He was aware of wing muscles flexing, ready to launch after Zurinth, even as he walked across the Bowl.

After the bright morning sunlight, the flight cave seemed dingy. A few figures waited in the shadows; as usual, the glow baskets needed refilling. Mind you, it was probably for the best the place wasn’t too brightly lit. That way, it didn’t look so bad.

Zurinth regarded her suitors, as if making sure they’d all arrived. Through Herebeth’s eyes, D’gar recognised Jekkoth and Tiaketh from their own wing. There was a grizzled, brown dragon, his hide seamed with long-healed scores. Herebeth provided the name; Jurmuth. His rider must be the older man who stood just inside the cave, picking his teeth.

Zurinth flicked her tail coquettishly towards Herebeth. These other dragons don’t matter, she seemed to say. This one is for you and me and you already know how I’m going to fly, so…catch me!

She sprang into the air with Herebeth only a dragon length behind. She was larger and heavier than many greens, but still nimble. They ascended above the Weyr, catching the thermal Herebeth had sensed earlier. D’gar’s mind was with his dragon, but this time he was partly aware of standing in the flight cave, too, watching J’rud as he flew with Zurinth, his body mirroring hers. Aware too, of the other riders in the semi-circle, their quickened breathing as their dragon’s desire took over their own bodies. Not that he wasn’t feeling the same himself.

Herebeth was totally in tune with Zurinth, matching her every move. The other dragons followed, trying to keep up, but they didn’t mesh together in the same way. Higher and higher she flew, until she reached the lower-level clouds, where she changed tactics. Zurinth tested them then, flicking in and out of the cloud cover. The aerial manoeuvres allowed Jekkoth and Jurmuth to regain some of the ground they’d lost. Their riders moved closer to J’rud. D’gar had never felt so strongly attracted to him before. Even though the green rider was fully linked with his dragon, he still had enough sense of where his human body was to catch D’gar’s eye and hold his gaze.

High above the Weyr, dragons strained to reach Zurinth. Herebeth kept his eyes fixed on her as she wove through the clouds, predicting her course so that each turn brought him closer. The other dragons strove to keep up, Jurmuth overtaking Jekkoth.

G’reden and the older rider pawed at J’rud, who emphatically pushed them both away. Zurinth changed direction with the abrupt precision of her colour, taking herself further from Jurmuth and within Herebeth’s reach. Herebeth, she called.

J’rud reached out a hand towards D’gar. He heard Zurinth’s voice in Herebeth’s head almost simultaneously as J’rud mouthed the words silently. Take me. It ceased to matter where he was or who he was as the flight cave merged with the open sky and he couldn’t be certain if it was hide or skin pressed against him. He kissed J’rud, he twined necks with Zurinth. Clouds rushed past as the fading glows illuminated skin. Sweat slicked between naked bodies. Cold air coursed over his wings, spread to support their gliding fall. The sky tumbled and turned although the bed was solid beneath them. Dragons’ passion mingled with human, bringing them both to a glorious crescendo, well before the ground came too close.

Even after they separated, they flew together in a great, sweeping arc, searching for a place to rest and to recover. D’gar was once more back in his own body, earthbound, heart pounding in the aftermath.

J’rud smiled contentedly. ‘That was quite a ride.’

It had been. D’gar realised that the dragon-filtered impressions were as clear as his own memories of what had happened after Herebeth caught Zurinth. It had never been quite like that after a mating flight before. He supposed that must be down to familiarity; similar to how his first Threadfalls had seemed confusing and out-of-control. While he’d still been caught up in Herebeth’s desire for Zurinth, he had also been able to think more clearly, to go beyond the mad urge to simply rip off clothes and get on with it. ‘Yes,’ he managed to say. ‘It was.’

‘Best one I’ve had so far.’ J’rud looked at him tenderly as they lay facing each other.

Herebeth’s instincts led him to want to snuggle together with Zurinth, so D’gar felt very comfortable lying here with J’rud. ‘Don’t be daft,’ he protested. ‘I’m nothing special.’

J’rud’s eyes shone. ‘You’re special to me.’

D’gar wanted to shake some sense into him, but he knew it was just his dragon talking. Once Zurinth got back to her normal state of mind, so would J’rud. He might also feel embarrassed, if he said too much in the meantime. D’gar did the only thing he could to shut him up: kissed him again. The dragonlust was still strong, so they were both willing and ready for a second round. No one could blame them for that. It was just what happened after a flight.

Eventually, they cleaned up, got dressed and left the flight cave. D’gar would have been quite happy to stay there a while longer, except that another green dragon had just risen and the riders were understandably keen for them to vacate the premises.

The angle of sunlight in the Bowl gave an indication of how much time had passed. Lunch would have been put out some time ago, he estimated. Still, if there wasn’t much left, he could always scrounge off Agarra. There weren’t many riders at the tables; most had probably gone out for the day. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t get the customary toasts and jokes, just that it would be delayed until everyone got back for the evening meal.

D’gar fetched klah and a couple of sweet rolls, then went over to sit by N’rir. J’rud followed him.

‘Had a good flight, lads?’

‘Not bad.’

‘No injuries to your dragons?’

‘No,’ they both said in unison. J’rud laughed. ‘Zurinth’s very content,’ he said. ‘So am I.’

N’rir scribbled some notes on a slate. ‘Just making sure that I keep you,’ he pointed his scriber at J’rud, ‘and S’brin on different shifts tomorrow. Don’t want any bother.’

‘I won’t make any,’ J’rud protested.

‘Not worried about you.’ He turned to D’gar. ‘Your dragon picks his moments to chase, doesn’t he?’

‘R’feem suggested I should nudge him. He was worried about the effect on the Wing if Loranth rose and sent a load of greens up.’

N’rir nodded. ‘Fair enough, then. Still, the boss doesn’t have to deal with the consequences like me and I’grast. We have to try and keep folk happy, not at each other’s throats.’

‘I’m happy,’ J’rud said, tucking in to the mound of food on his plate. ‘Reckon he is, too.’ He grinned at D’gar.

‘Happy dragons, happy riders,’ N’rir muttered. ‘Enjoy your food, lads. I’m off for a lie down. This weather tires me out.’

D’gar finished his food. He wondered how Zalna was doing. ‘Have you seen Gemalth’s clutch, yet?’ he asked J’rud.

‘Course not. I’m not the one who’s friends with the weyrwoman. First I’ll see of them is when they hatch.’

‘Do you want to?’ Zalna wouldn’t mind one extra going along and their dragons wouldn’t be back for a while yet. Through his link, he could tell Herebeth was neck twining with his dragon-love on a rocky ledge somewhere in the mountains.

‘That’d be great.’

Although there were a few more clouds about today, they didn’t do much to block the sun. The Bowl was almost deserted. A few dragons lounged on ledges. Most of the off-duty support workers, children and riders who couldn’t be bothered to go elsewhere were at the lake shore. The faint sound of pipes issued from a nearby weyr as someone practised the tune of a well-known ballad, faltering on the same phrase several times.

The Hatching Ground’s heat was of a different quality to the air in the Bowl; dryer, it seemed. Gemalth was fussing around her eggs as Zalna sat on the terraced stands.

‘It looks so much bigger when it’s not crowded with people and dragons,’ J’rud said, his voice echoing in the vast space.

Zalna saw them and waved cheerfully.

‘How do I talk to her?’ J’rud hissed.

‘Well, you open your mouth and hopefully some sound comes out…’ D’gar realised that, by comparison with himself and S’brin, J’rud hadn’t really had much experience of socialising with weyrwomen. ‘Just be yourself. She’s not Mardra, after all.’

‘Who’s this?’ Zalna asked kindly as they approached.

‘My friend, J’rud. Clutchmate and wingmate. Oh, and Herebeth flew his dragon this morning.’

Zalna smiled. ‘Congratulations. You should be glad your dragon won’t be laying eggs,’ she said to J’rud. ‘It gets tedious after a while, although I’d never tell her that.’ She inclined her head toward Gemalth.

‘Being in here always reminds me of when Zurinth hatched.’ J’rud looked around and pointed to an area of sand currently unoccupied by any eggs. ‘It was just about there. She was so tiny. She more or less fell out of her egg and I had to untangle her.’

Zalna gave D’gar a look. He knew she must be remembering her own despair at Gemalth’s clumsiness. ‘They grow so fast,’ she said.

Gemalth gently turned an egg marked with blue swirls, while leaving the one next to it alone. She then moved on to do the same to one with yellowish blotches.

‘Why does she do that to some eggs and not to others?’ J’rud asked curiously.

‘I’ve asked her that before. She says she can feel when the young dragons inside are uncomfortable and want to be turned. Some of them seem to want it more frequently than others.’

J’rud pondered that. ‘I wonder if they’re the bigger ones?’

It was a good point. ‘We’ll be finding out soon. Another three weeks, isn’t it?’ D’gar asked Zalna.

‘According to the Teaching Ballad, yes. “Count three months and more, then five heated weeks…” I think I’ll be glad to sit somewhere cool again after this. So, what’s happening, out there in the wide Weyr?’

‘Still hot. Lots of greens rising.’ He glanced at J’rud again. ‘Lot of speculation over when Loranth is going to, as well.’

‘I know. Mardra’s been in a bad temper lately. Not proddy, I think, just fed up with the gossip.’

‘I can understand that,’ J’rud said, with some feeling.

’T’ron’s edgy, too.’ Zalna sighed. ‘I hope Fidranth does catch Loranth. The thought of Z’los lording it over everyone…’

‘You don’t have to worry about that. You’ll be at Benden.’

‘I’ll still be thinking of you all. I’ll still visit.’

There was that, of course. But D’gar feared that once Zalna settled in at her new Weyr she’d be less likely to keep up old friendships. Mind you, it was her life and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave. If he had to put up with Mardra, he’d probably do the same.

J’rud was watching Gemalth with some interest. ‘Zurinth thinks about eggs, sometimes. Every time she mates, she wonders when she’ll lay eggs, even though I tell her she won’t. Then she forgets about it, until next time. Would Gemalth mind if I had a closer look?’

‘I’ll ask her.’ Zalna’s eyes unfocussed and the queen turned to peer at them all. ‘She says she doesn’t mind you getting nearer, but not to touch.’

‘Thanks.’ He stepped onto the Sands carefully as Gemalth continued to look at him.

‘He seems a decent sort,’ Zalna said, once J’rud was out of earshot. ‘Do you like him?’

‘Well… he’s always been a friend. It was only recently I found out he’d like it to be more. That’s one of the reasons S’brin and I fell out. Not that anything had happened, before today.’

’S'brin came to see me, you know. He’s really upset about all of it.’

D’gar was surprised. ‘He’s not acted that way to me. Seems he just wants to carry on where we left off.’

‘He’s scared of losing you. You moving out shocked him.’

‘Did he ask you to talk to me?’

Zalna shook her head. ‘No. He’s too proud for that. But I thought I should. You two have something special. I wouldn’t want to see it end over a misunderstanding.’

D’gar watched as J’rud skirted around the eggs. Gemalth seemed curious, yet placid. Loranth would never have let anyone get so close. ‘I’ve tried to talk to him alone, but he keeps avoiding me. Or so it seems. I guess he’ll be even less likely to after this morning.’ Zalna, being outside of the situation, might be able to make sense of it all.

‘It was just a mating flight. Wasn’t it?’

‘Well, yes. But I don’t know if he’ll see it like that. It’s like there’s one rule for him and a different one for me. I know green riders can get proddy when their dragons are close. I’ve tried to be tolerant. I put up with all those times Zemianth rose when Herebeth was too young to chase her. Then when he even shows a slight interest in another dragon, S’brin thinks I must be after her rider. It’s not fair.’ All of D’gar’s frustration boiled to the surface. ‘And he hangs around with those bitchy greens, letting them fill his head with stupid ideas. I don’t know what I can do.’

Zalna put a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, D’gar. I know you love him and believe me, he loves you, too.’

‘You really think so?’

‘He told me so.’

J’rud jumped back up from the Sands. ‘It’s roasting out there. Can’t believe we stood in bare feet for the Hatching.’

‘Would you like some juice?’ Zalna reached for her pitcher.

‘Thanks. And thank Gemalth for me, too. When you’re a candidate, you don’t really look much at the eggs. Too much else to think about.’

‘I know. I was terrified.’ Zalna poured one for herself, too. ‘D’gar?’

‘Please.’

‘Don’t worry too much,’ she said, handing him his drink. ‘It will work out, I’m sure.’

‘I hope so.’

They stayed in the Hatching Ground to sip the juice and chat a while longer with Zalna.

‘I must admit, I’m quite glad Zurinth won’t be laying any eggs,’ J’rud said. ‘Think I’d rather be fighting Thread than sitting in here all day.’

Zalna just smiled. ‘At least it’ll only be every couple of Turns. That’s not so bad, really.’

When they left, the Bowl seemed cool by comparison, especially in the shade. Clouds had built up over the afternoon and were towering high over the Weyr. Their dragons had returned.

‘Well, I’ll see you at dinner, then.’ D’gar called Herebeth to give him a lift back to his weyr. ‘I’d invite you up, but even if we were just chatting, S’brin might get the wrong idea.’ Someone would be bound to spot the dragons and tell him.

‘I understand,’ J’rud said. ‘Pity. Anyway, it’s been a good day. See you later.’

They went their separate ways. After dropping him off, Herebeth went to join Zurinth on the heights. It was a shame, D’gar reflected, that it was so easy for dragons and so complicated for their riders.

There was a storm later that night. Rain hammered down, the wind blowing it in to the weyr ledge. Herebeth didn’t care about the water. He was excited by the lightning, as dragons often were and even if D’gar hadn’t woken up from the noise of the thunder, he’d have been unable to sleep due to his dragon’s state of mind. He went out to stand next to Herebeth. After the heat and closeness of the past sevendays, it was almost pleasant to be pelted by rain.

Why did Zurinth’s rider not stay? There is room in this weyr for two people and two dragons.

I thought you didn’t like sharing a couch?

I wouldn’t mind sharing with Zurinth. She is smaller than Toth and more cuddly.

Zemianth’s rider wouldn’t like it.

Herebeth radiated puzzlement. But Zemianth did not want me to chase her. And Zurinth did. You like Zurinth’s rider, don’t you?

Yes. He did, that was true. J’rud was very easy to get along with. So reasonable, a part of his mind insisted. Lightning flashed, illuminating the weyr mouths, many with dragons gazing out. The thunder followed so soon afterwards that the storm must be almost right over them. D’gar hoped that it would have cleared by the morning. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than riding Fall in a thunderstorm, although with rain as torrential as this, Thread would definitely drown. The trouble with storms, though, was that the rain wasn’t constant. Even now, it eased off for a while, before the wind blew another bank of cloud across and it began to pour down again.

I think it would be exciting, Herebeth said. The air feels tickly.

D’gar recalled the carcass of a lightning-struck herdbeast he’d once seen after a storm, all singed and bloated.

Tickly air can be dangerous. It can kill you.

Herebeth gave the draconic equivalent of a shrug. So can Thread. But I dodge that.

They watched the lightning flash from cloud to cloud and the puddles growing down in the Bowl. Eventually, the storm moved away, still grumbling in the distance and he finally got to bed, glad to fall asleep.

The air felt fresher the next morning. Dust on the Bowl floor had turned to mud as they assembled for Fall. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t keep your boots clean, meaning the dragons were smeared with mud before Fall even began. The firestone sacks were heavy and mucky too. D’gar only just stopped one sliding from his grasp and he was certain that more riders - and weyrlings - missed catches than were usual. Fortunately, it was a shorter Fall, just three hours, and the weather over Peyton was more settled than at the Weyr. Not having any fatalities put everyone in a good mood. Everyone, that is, except for S’brin. He’d kept away from the post-mating flight celebration, which was understandable, but he was equally as subdued during the meal following Fall and left early. D’gar noticed that he didn’t sit with the usual group and didn’t talk much to anyone. He vowed to seek S’brin out tomorrow and speak to him.

There was an odd atmosphere at breakfast the following morning; almost like the brewing tension before the thunderstorm. Everyone seemed to be getting on each other’s nerves. Two of the support workers almost came to blows over a pot of spilled klah. The reason became clear when a few riders from Z’los’s Wing rushed in and went to speak in hushed tones to their Wingleader. He got up from the table, his breakfast half-eaten and left abruptly. It wasn’t long afterwards the news spread around. Loranth was fast asleep on her ledge, but her colour had noticeably changed.

R’feem’s face went blank as he spoke with Piroth. ‘Not interested,’ he says. ‘At least I get to finish my breakfast.’

Several riders went out to see for themselves and soon came back to confirm that, yes, Loranth was definitely much brighter than she’d been the previous day.

‘Think Z’los is still in with a chance?’ D’gar asked T’garrin.

‘A couple of sevendays ago I’d have said a definite “no”. But there’s been a shift towards him lately. If he can get enough support, if Loranth decides she fancies change, then…’ he shrugged. ‘All we can do is wait and see.’

There was a stirring further down their table. ‘Looks like a couple of the greens are getting proddy,’ M’ta commented. ‘Poor bastards.’

They’d probably have risen within the next sevenday anyway, but the slumbering queen’s stirring emotions were starting to trigger them early. They wouldn’t be able to rise themselves until after the queen had mated, but both dragons and riders would spend all day tense and frustrated. For the riders, there would be an element of fear, too. Mass mating flights weren’t something anyone wanted to be a part of. D’gar felt relieved that Herebeth, Zurinth and Zemianth would be well out of it, having mated recently.

R’feem tapped the table. ‘Anyone with a male dragon who wants to take them away had better do so as soon as possible.’

‘Think I will,’ M’ta said. ‘Zath’s not chased for a while and he can be unpredictable. Wouldn’t want him to get hurt in one of those free-for-alls.’

I’grast got up, too. ‘Reckon I’ll do the same.’

R’feem nodded. ‘I’ll get Piroth to send a message once it’s over.’

The green riders whose dragons were too far from the peak of their cycle to be affected huddled around to comfort and reassure their fellows. D’gar wasn’t fond of B’thun or V’chal, but he still felt sorry for them.

‘Suderoth’s leaving now,’ someone announced. Gemalth was still guarding her eggs, so would be unaffected by Loranth’s desires, but Suderoth needed to get well away. ‘V’dul’s going with Tirelle.’

That was interesting. V’dul’s Sarnath was one of those who had been close to catching Loranth before, but if he was going to put himself out of the picture, then clearly he must be leaving the field clear for either T’ron or Z’los.

‘Well, that changes things,’ T’garrin said. ‘A few marks have been put down on Sarnath already. If he’s out of the running then it’s got to be between Fidranth and Rolth.’ Even as he finished speaking, a couple of riders came over to change their bets.

‘It’s going to be an interesting day,’ R’feem said.

D’gar refilled his klah. Herebeth, he knew, was up on the heights in his favourite spot. He always ended up slightly ashy after spending time up where fires burned whenever Thread fell directly over the Weyr. Anything happening? he asked.

Dragons are restless. So are herdbeasts. We watch and wait.

D’gar wondered if A’ren and Torala might get to know each other better during the flight. They’d been down at the lake a few times and had apparently kissed and held hands, but nothing more as yet. Neither of them were around now and A’ren had left as soon as he’d finished eating, so maybe. Good for them.

He stole a glance down the table. S’brin sat on his own, not with the other greens. He looked lonely. He sipped his klah, then looked S’brin’s way again, at precisely the same moment S’brin looked at him. For a moment, it seemed he might say something or make a move, but he dipped his head again to stare at the table.

D’gar wished he’d had a chance to speak with S’brin before this. Well, no time like the present, he supposed. He was about to get up and go over when a ripple of anticipation went through the dining hall. A couple of kitchen staff appeared in the doorway, holding knives.

‘Blooding must have started,’ R’feem commented.

There would be a need for some swift butchery if the herdbeast carcasses weren’t to spoil in the summer heat. A few more of the bronze riders got to their feet and hurried out, both to be close to their dragons as the pre-flight killing began and also to keep an eye on Loranth. She would be stirring soon. The dining hall gradually emptied as people paired up and took themselves off to private spaces.

D’gar knew S’brin didn’t think about things the way he did; he’d probably not spent all those hours wondering what to say or how to say it, but that didn’t mean he was happy with the way things were. He certainly didn’t look happy and might be willing to listen.

Finally, he made a decision. He was going to go and talk to S’brin now. At the same moment he stood, S’brin abruptly rose and left, not looking D’gar’s way at all.

R’feem obviously noticed. ‘Don’t be too upset. With all of this emotion flying around, it’s maybe not the best time to try and smooth things over.'

‘When will it be?’ He felt somehow… abandoned. He wondered if S’brin would find someone else to share the flight with. He didn’t want to sit here and think about that. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Take care,’ R’feem said.

Outside the doorway, he had to push his way through a crowd that had gathered. Some, shielding their eyes against the low morning sun, were watching the bronzes blooding, while the majority kept their eyes on the Senior Queen’s weyr. Loranth twitched in her slumber and shifted a wing. Her tail slapped the stone wall, once, twice. She woke quickly, rising to her feet in one swift move. Her head turned towards the feeding grounds with nostrils flared as she scented the air. As her eyes fixed on the distant bronzes the first shiver of dragonlust started to have the usual effect. A couple who had been standing with their arms loosely around each other, advanced into a kiss.

Someone’s hand strayed to D’gar’s ass. He looked round to see a woman older than his mother, smiling expectantly. ‘Er, sorry,’ he said, making a quick excuse. He should get out of this crowd.

A cheer arose as Mardra appeared next to Loranth. She looked very much in control, even though D’gar knew she must be feeling nervous. Everything hinged on this mating flight. Sure, she’d still be Weyrwoman at the end of it, but would it be T’ron standing at her side as he did now, or Z’los?

He hoped Fidranth would win. The Weyr needed stability and certainty. There were only a few Turns until the end of the Pass. How long might it be before Loranth rose again following this flight? Z’los was hot-tempered and impulsive. He might make a half-decent Weyrleader in time, but that time wasn’t now.

Loranth took an imperious look around her Weyr, then stepped off the ledge and with a few beats of her powerful wings, headed toward the feeding grounds. Z’los and H’xesh ran up the steps to the weyr, pausing as T’ron glared at them both. Mardra stayed where she was, eyes fixed on her dragon.

D’gar finally got free of the crush. He needed to get to his weyr. Somewhere private, anyway. Quite a few others had the same thought in mind. Dragons landed and took off again rapidly, some with solo riders, some ferrying couples back to weyrs. He called Herebeth down from the heights. If you could find a place to land, I’d be grateful.

I will try. It is busy. Loranth bloods her first kill.

As he waited amid the chaos, D’gar felt strong arms - familiar arms - wrap around him and hot breath on his neck as S’brin whispered in his ear. ‘Doing anything this flight?’

He half-turned to see S’brin give him one of those looks he always found hard to resist. ‘Didn’t have any plans. You?’

S’brin shrugged.

Dragonlust must have boosted his confidence sufficiently to approach D’gar, but now it was up to him. ‘Well, then. Your weyr or mine?’

‘I don’t care, so long as it’s with you.’

Herebeth landed just then. D’gar seized S’brin’s hand and led him towards his dragon. ‘Let’s get out of here.’