The Rider's Pride - 3. Chapter 3

“What?” Jashon asked as Berrel’s eyes widened.

“Do you hear that?” Berrel asked with alarm.

“You mean that humming?” Jashon asked. They were in Berrel’s room on the lower level of the Weyr bowl. It was early morning, and if they had been outside and above the Weyr they might have been able to see the tip of Pern’s yellow sun just touching the eastern horizon.

“Yes!” Berrel hissed excitedly. Jashon had been in the Weyr for five days now, and if he had to be honest, he’d have had to admit that he liked it here. He felt guilty every time that thought came up, and he would resolutely push it down with the reminder that his father needed him at home and he’d be returning there as soon as the eggs on the Hatching ground hatched.

He’d gotten to know the other Candidates, or at least a few of them, but most of his time had been spent with either Crivan or Berrel. Part of him wanted to dislike the crusty old Master Harper who had been his father’s father, but instead he was enjoying their time spent together. Crivan had many stories of his father when his father was just a boy, but more importantly, he could teach music in a way that left Jashon wanting more.

For the first time since he’d made the decision, Jashon was almost willing to think he might have been happier at Harper Hall.

“I hear the humming, what’s it mean?” Jashon asked as he pulled on a tunic. He’d bathed last night in the communal pool just off the main eating room, and was still fresh. Most of the other Candidates were put to work doing dirty jobs, like cleaning out old weyrs that hadn’t been used in over two hundred turns, or any of the hundreds of other tasks that needed doing. Jashon, on the other hand, spent his time with Crivan helping to teach the younger children. Crivan had tested him on math and scribing and announced that Jashon would actually be teaching the littlest children their basic figures. In the afternoons, he would sit with his grandfather and learn music he’d never heard before, or practice different pieces he knew but was not perfect in performing. At night, while other Candidates were dragged into the kitchen to clean the platters that had recently been stacked with food and to scrub pots, Jashon built calluses on his fingers playing late into the night, long past when the other Candidates had finished their tasks.

Maybe that was why none of the other Candidates had given him a hard time about not having to do any of the drudge work. He spent more time than they did playing and teaching, and they knew that. The humming grew louder, and the sounds of people scurrying from their sleeping chambers echoed throughout the chamber.

“It means the eggs will be hatching soon!” Berrel shouted, not bothering to put his boots on and running out of their sleeping room barefoot. Jashon shook his head and bent down to put his own boots on. If the eggs were hatching, he decided to put on his best boots and took them out of his bag, which he’d still not completely unpacked.

Supposedly, he was here to stand with the other Candidates on the Hatching Ground when the dragons hatched, but not once had anyone told him what to expect, or what he was to do. Since he had no intention of Impressing a dragon, he’d not bothered asking. On the tour Berrel had given him, the weyr boy had mentioned that when the time came, all the candidates would gather in the Lower Caverns, and so that was where he went. Sure enough, all the fifty-eight candidates were there, and to his shock, most were throwing off whatever clothes they had on and putting on white robes. Berrel was already in his white robe, and ran over to Jashon with one in his hand.

“Here, put it on!” Bessel shouted excitedly.

“Calm down there, Berrel.” S’lag said from further back in the cavern. “It’ll be a while yet before you have to get in the Hatching Grounds and your feet will appreciate the wait!”

“What’s he mean?” Jashon asked while figuring out how to don the white robe without showing his butt to the weyr. He took off his shirt first and slipped the robe on, and then began to undo his boots. That was when he noticed that all the other candidates, who were milling around excitedly, had bare feet as well.

“The Hatching Ground is hot, you know.” Berrel exclaimed with excitement still dripping from every word even though he was no longer hopping around. “Since Candidates go into the Grounds barefoot, they get kind of hot.”

“Why do we go barefoot?” Jashon asked with horror.

“It’s tradition.” Crivan’s voice came from behind him, and Jashon nearly crashed to the ground in the midst of removing his pants.

“Oh.” Jashon replied with a shrug, and then he smiled. His grandfather had apparently figured him out fairly well to know how he’d react to it being tradition.

“I’ve said it before, Jashon, but you remind me much of your father.” Crivan said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Master Harper.” Jashon said defensively. He liked the old man, but there was still tension between them, especially when the subject of Kapian came up. Around them the Lower Caverns hummed without the assistance of dragons as the weyr’s folks rushed preparations. First they had to break the fast of the riders and other residents. Instead of the normal varieties of meals for the morning, bowls of porridge were being all but flung on the various tables, with trenchers of morning bread and pitchers of klah. Jashon knew enough to understand they were worrying more about the dignitaries and other guests that were soon to be flooding the weyr, and who would expect food and drink after, no matter that it wouldn’t be later than mid-day.

“Okay, boys, and girls, let’s get some food into you.” S’lag roared once he’d verified all the Candidates were dressed in white and barefoot. Jashon recognized fair-haired Ramina, Berrel’s older sister amongst the four female candidates. The queen egg on the sands would produce the Weyr’s fourth queen dragon, and traditionally the female candidates were usually older than their male counterparts. Ramina was sixteen turns old, and the youngest of the four candidates. Lady Loraina, from Telgar Hold was the oldest at twenty. Rumor had it she was to be married off to the oldest son of Bitra’s Lord Holder if she didn’t Impress today.

“I don’t think I can eat a bite.” Berrel groaned when they sat down at the table near the back of the cavern. Riders hurried in, grabbed a bowl of porridge, all but slurped it down and ran back out again. Jashon recognized green Tabath’s rider and averted his eyes before the rider saw him. Tabath’s rider was D’kov’s weyrmate, and while he liked D’kov a lot, the thought of the mating flight on the day he arrived left him blushing every time he was around Tabath’s rider.

“Jashon?” A voice asked as Jashon was using the trencher to clean the bowl of the last of the porridge. It was good stuff, spiced in a way he’d never tasted before. He looked up to see Tabath’s rider standing near him.

“Yes?” Jashon said cautiously, not wanting the rider to see his discomfort.

“D’kov wanted me to reassure you that we’ll be bringing in your family to watch the hatching.” S’flin, that was his name, said with a fond smile. Why was he smiling like that at Jashon? “We’re both rooting for you today.”

“Thank you, green rider.” Jashon said with what he hoped passed for a friendly smile. It wasn’t even half-faked. That was one of the reasons why he liked the Weyr so much. Sure, people didn’t always like each other, but they were almost always courteous and friendly when they first met you.

“Good luck.” The rider said before leaving with the two tankards of klah he was carrying balanced with a bowl of porridge.

“Most of the riders are fanning out all over the planet right now.” Berrel said as the humming from the dragons became less loud. Most of the bronzes were already on the ledge of the Hatching Grounds. It was a wide bowl of sand that was heated by something below the grounds that was built by the Ancients. Ledges around the rim provided perches for most of the weyr’s dragons to watch the eggs hatch. Tiers carved into the stone provided a gallery for guests to observe the event. At a hatching like this, with a golden queen egg on the sands, it was a certainty that all the Lord Holders that looked to Igen for protection would attend. Berrel had said with a queen egg on the sands, nearly every bronze rider and gold rider from every other weyr would be here, although the queens would stay out of the Hatching Grounds as not to provoke the jealousy of Zoeth.

Very few situations ever provoked jealousy in a dragon. Queens would be jealous during mating flights, according to Berrel, and they zealously guarded their eggs from clutching until hatching, rarely if ever leaving the Hatching Grounds. The ballad of Moreta’s Last Ride spoke of how after her rider had died, the queen Orlith had stayed until the morning her eggs were ready to hatch, and she’d then gone between forever. Eggs on a hatching ground were the only things in the history of Pern that had ever stopped a dragon from suiciding after their rider had died.

“How can you be so calm right now?” Berrel demanded as Jashon finished off the bread and let out a sigh of contentment.

“You’ll probably get a bronze like your brothers.” Jashon said to change the topic. He really liked Berrel, and maybe one day after his dragon had grown enough to fly and Berrel had passed his weyrling status, his new friend would come to the hold and visit. That would be nice, and his father shouldn’t mind too much, especially if it was a bronze rider.

“Brown’s fine by me.” Berrel said and Tarket, a large guy from Igen Hold snorted. He was probably the most cruel of the Candidates, but didn’t dare get up to his old tricks in the weyr. Holken, another guy from Igen had warned Berrel that Tarket was known to beat up other kids in the hold. His father was the chief steward to Lord Poldice, the Igen Lord Holder, and so Tarket was rarely punished for his actions.

“You would be satisfied with a lesser color!” Tarket sneered. “It’s nothing but a bronze for me.”

“Enough of that.” S’lag ordered. The brown rider, the first dragonrider Jashon had ever seen, was the Weyr’s new Weyrlingmaster. He would be responsible for training all those who Impressed today until they were ready to join the fighting wings. Right now, there were slightly more than a hundred weyrlings, and today’s clutch would put their number almost at a hundred and fifty. The riders expected Thread to start falling by this time next turn, and if it did, the Weyr would have almost its full compliment of three hundred and fifty fighting dragons with another hundred and fifty being trained to replace those who died against Thread, grew too old, or were too injured to fight.

If Thread fell.

“All dragons are needed with Thread coming.” Berrel said authoritatively, and Jashon placed a private bet with himself that his friend would be a bronze rider by the end of the day.

“Well said, Berrel.” S’lag approved of the comment. “Now, everyone remember what you’ve learned in the last few days. If you Impress, take your new partner to the entrance of the grounds. I’ll be waiting there with my assistants. The cook is fixing bowls of food for the hatchlings. You’ll need to feed them slowly and carefully. This is the only feeding where you won’t worry about overfeeding them. Just make sure they chew slowly or they could choke. You won’t want that to happen. After they feed, we’ll take you to your new barracks where they can go to sleep. They’re going to be very tired almost right away. If you’re still awake at that point, you can return to the Caverns and join in the party that will be going on.”

“What if we don’t Impress?” Jashon asked and ignored the groans that came his way.

“You’ll enjoy the party in the caverns and the next day someone will meet with you to discuss what you want to happen next.” S’lag replied and he had a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked that question before.”

“That’s because no one’s probably made it this far and not really wanted to Impress.” Anatoly, a Candidate from Keroon said with a frown. He was a small guy, shorter even than Jashon, and everyone was convinced that if he even impressed it would most definitely be a green.

“Like anyone wouldn’t want to Impress, hah!” Berrel snorted, making fun of the shorter Candidate. Jashon shushed him with an arm on his shoulder, not really wanting to have to admit that somehow Anatoly had figured him out.

“Finish your food, you’re about to have a long day.” S’lag said as dragons bugled overhead. Riders who had gone out were now returning. That was the magic of dragon travel, it often took dragons longer to take off and land than to cross the entire Northern Continent. By going between they left where they were and appeared where they wanted to go in the time it took to slowly count to three.

Sounds of hundreds of people moving from the bowl into the Hatching Grounds filtered through the Cavern’s entrance. Jashon wondered if he’d meet his parents before they were ushered onto the sands, and he frowned as he realized his father didn’t know Crivan was here. Would they speak to each other? What would his father say when he learned Jashon spent most of his time with Crivan here at the Weyr?

“Let’s get a move on!” S’lag called out as he rushed back over to the tables. “It won’t be long now.”

Jashon fell in with the other Candidates who moved in a cluster out of the cavern. Some late-comers were still sliding off of dragons, who leapt from the ground as soon as their passengers were gone and glided towards the Hatching Ground. Riders were directing the visitors into the stands above the Grounds, although several of them stopped to gawk at the group of candidates. The four girls were put in the front of the group as S’lag and two riders Jashon hadn’t met yet began herding them towards the sands.

The rough volcanic rock scraped his feet so that Jashon tried to step as lightly as possible, and he actually sighed with relief for a moment when they reached the sands. That quickly turned to discomfort though as the heat began to scald the bottom of his feet.

“Ouch!” One of the girls whimpered, and Jashon began to hop lightly while they were guided into the middle of the grounds and turned to face the tight circle of dragon eggs. Golden Zoeth was laying back on her haunches, and was leaning over the eggs, with wings spread and a reddish tinge to her rapidly whirling eyes. From the lowest level of the stands, Berrel’s mother was calling down to her queen.

“Zoeth, it’s time, let them approach!” The Weyrwoman called out in a firm voice and the queen settled back on her haunches more and half-folded her wings. The four girls had been separated from the boys, who were being ushered into a loose half-circle in front of the eggs.

“Don’t show fear, boys.” S’lag said as he stood in front of the group of boy Candidates who were now all hopping from one foot to the other, minimizing the time their feet touched the burning hot sands. The Grounds rang with the buzz of hundreds of people murmuring. To his surprise, Jashon found it difficult to turn his eyes away from the eggs, most of them almost as tall as he was, and glance towards the crowd in the stands. There, near the middle was his father and mother. He lifted his hand to wave, noticing that Komer and two of his other brothers had made it, as had his sister Larana. To his surprise, Crivan was sitting next to his father, and both of them actually looked comfortable next to each other.

He never finished the wave, though, because two of the eggs began to wobble. The Weyrlingmaster and other riders disappeared from the sands at that point, and Jashon was pushed back by Tarket who was on his right while Berrel actually took a step forward. Jashon flinched at the warning rumble from the queen, but Berrel actually bowed to her. Seeing how it calmed the huge golden dragon, Jashon swallowed thickly before matching Berrel’s action. Several other Candidates, including little Anatoly matched the gesture, and the queen’s eyes changed to a less threatening red, although they whirled faster. She actually settled down, looking at the eggs, and the Candidates as if silently directing the soon-to-hatch dragons which boys were acceptable. That thought made Jashon want to step back and convince her she didn’t want to approve of him as a rider.

“It’s cracking!” Someone from the stands yelled out as the queen egg wobbled before cracking. A gold head popped out from the crack at the top, just as the egg wobbled again, and then split into four pieces to reveal a miniature version of the gold queen. The new queen crooned up at the mature dragon before turning to scrabble over towards the four waiting girls. There was no hesitation, she walked right up to Ramina who called out in a glad voice that the new queen’s name was Pinath.

The crowd roared its approval. It was said that a bronze hatching first was good luck. How much more good luck was it for a queen to hatch first? Weren’t they usually last? Jashon’s thoughts were interrupted as he was pushed to the ground by Tarket.

“Look out!” Tarket shouted as a bronze stumbled into them. Tarket tried to hold up the dragonet that was as tall as him, but they both fell backwards, the dragon sinking its claws accidentally into Tarket’s arm. The boy cried out in pain before the bronze shook his head and moved off. For a scary moment, Jashon thought it was heading for him, but it wasn’t. The bronze moved past him and started butting its head against Anatoly’s back. The small boy fell to the sands, but scrambled up and turned to face the bronze before breaking out into a smile and shouting.

“He says his name’s Nikkoth and he wants me!” The new dragonrider cried out and Jashon started laughing while Berrell held out a hand to help him up. For a moment, Jashon leaned against Berrel and they both shook with laughter before a brown head bumped into Berrel’s side, and Jashon thought he heard an imperious voice saying If you two are done laughing, do you think you could find the time to feed me? I’m hungry.

“I think he’s hungry.” Jashon said with a warm smile and a happy feeling in his chest as Berrel stared at the brown dragonet for a long moment. They broke their embrace and there was a loud cheer from the stands. While Berrel, no, Jashon corrected himself, it was now B’rrel, led the brown towards the entrance of the Caverns where there was food waiting, the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman shouted their approval of their son’s Impression.

Jashon turned back to the eggs, stifling the little bit of him that felt sad that he would never know what Berrel had felt in that moment that the dragon had Impressed with him. When he saw that most of the eggs were now hatched, he breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with regret. Four more eggs were still wobbling, and just over twenty boys were left on the sands. Once they were done, Jashon could find his parents and beg a ride home with D’kov. There was no sense waiting for tomorrow, he knew his future.

Two of the eggs hatched at the same time, and a green dragon came tumbling out along with a brown, side by side. The brown took the lead in heading towards the boys, most of whom began to try to surround it, eager to be the one it chose. They stepped aside, though, as it didn’t slow down, and fear began to grow in Jashon. It was heading right for him.

At least it’s a brown so Da won’t be too disappointed. Jashon thought as the dragon stopped in front of him and studied his face.

No, not you.

That was very clear in his head, and he breathed with relief as the brown dragonet moved off. He wouldn’t have to be a rider after all! He almost started laughing, and he did close his eyes in relief, but something bumped into his chest and he opened his eyes again. The green that had hatched at the same time as the brown was now in front of him, her eyes whirling red with anger. She was a dark green, like the trees of a forest seen from afar, and she was most definitely looking at him intently.

I am Liliath and I’m hungry.

“Liliath.” Jashon uttered as a wave of love swept over him like he’d never felt before. In that moment, he didn’t care what his father would think about him having Impressed a green. There in front of him was all the love he’d ever need to feel, ever desire, and she was butting his chest again with her head.

I really am hungry you know. She said acerbically. He laughed at that, and relished how different her ‘voice’ was from the male dragons. It was almost a perfect tenor, and filled his head with light and love.

“C’mon, Liliath, there’s food out here.” He said as he moved to help her. Newly hatched dragons were clumsy creatures, he knew, and they made their way off the sands as quickly as they could. Even his burning feet didn’t bother him quite as much as the hunger pains he was feeling in his stomach. Part of him guessed instinctively that these were her hunger pains.

Food now, think later.

“Yes Liliath, food now.” Jashon agreed with her, trying not to laugh aloud. Finally they reached the area where the other new riders were feeding their dragons, and he took the bowl of raw meat from S’lag, who smiled proudly at him.

“I knew you’d Impress, J’shon.” S’lag said with pride, automatically adding the honorific contraction of his name. All male dragonriders shortened their name traditionally, and J’shon realized that he really was beginning a new life.

Food in my mouth, not your hands. Liliath demanded and this time J’shon did laugh aloud, taking the first small morsel and feeding it to her.

“Chew it, don’t just swallow.” J’shon ordered and she tilted her head while J’shon got the impression of a question forming in his mind. He took the next bit of meat and mimed chewing on it with his teeth. “Like that.”

Why bother? She asked as she lunged for and got the piece of meat, swallowing it whole. It goes to the same place if I chew or not.

“Because I said you will.” J’shon said sharply, holding the bowl back.

If you insist. She said while actually shrugging her shoulders. J’shon let out a laugh again as he fed her the next piece, and this time she chewed it twice before swallowing.

“Chew it five times now.” J’shon told her and she actually snorted before taking the piece and chewing it five times exactly.

“That’s right, lad, you’re her rider.” S’lag said from nearby in obvious approval. “It’s good for her to listen to you.”

She ate each and every piece of raw meat in the bowl he held. When the bowl was empty, he almost went to get another until he realized how full his stomach felt. He saw B’rrel moving off down the weyr, and figured he could just follow his friend to their barracks. At his call, B’rrel paused, holding his brown dragon in place while J’shon tried to get Liliath to hurry.

“I just knew you’d Impress.” B’rrel said happily and moved to hug J’shon. He’d never been a touchy-feely person before, but twice today he’d hugged the weyr-bred boy and not been ashamed or uncomfortable.

“What’s his name?” J’shon asked while they broke their hug and urged their dragons to follow them.

“Ojeth” B’rrel said proudly. Newly hatched, all dragons were about the same size, but this close it was obvious that Ojeth was already slightly larger than Liliath. He was also a lighter shade of brown than Moeth, the dragon that carried S’lag.

“She’s Liliath.” J’shon said, surprised at the pride in his voice.

“She’s going to be a fine green.” B’rrel said with confidence in his voice.

Of course I am. Liliath said into J’shon’s mind. I’m tired.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.” J’shon said, surprised at the happy feelings coursing through him. They reached the weyrling barracks where a blue rider helped them find two bunks that were actually next to each other. Each bunk had a huge stone ledge for the dragons, and as Liliath curled up on hers, J’shon realized just how much growing she’d be doing. With a contented sigh, she closed all three sets of eyelids and was asleep within seconds of reaching her perch.

“How are you feeling?” S’lag asked as J’shon let out a big yawn. It wasn’t even mid-day yet, but he was tired.

“I can’t believe I’m tired.” J’shon replied.

“It’s the Impression.” S’lag told him kindly. “Even B’rrel is asleep.”

“He is?” J’shon said tiredly and turned to see the brown rider was asleep on his cot.

“Take a nap.” S’lag told him.

“My father…” J’shon let out a groan, and thought that maybe taking a nap would be better than seeing his father’s disappointment. A look at Liliath calmed the hurt he was feeling. No, she was worth disappointing his father.

“Get some rest, the families will be enjoying food and drink for hours yet.” S’lag said comfortingly. “Relax, and enjoy your new friend. The two of you will be together for the rest of your lives.”

“Thank you.” J’shon said, meaning more than the kind words. It had been S’lag that had first come to his hold, and set into motion the things that led to this moment.

“Rest, lad, you have a busy life ahead of you.” S’lag said as J’shon all but collapsed on the cot. He was asleep within minutes.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept deeply, but eventually he began to wake. At first he was in a dreamy state, not really awake, but not really asleep. He could hear the sounds of snoring around him, and the breathing of newly-hatched dragons as they rested from their first feeding.

The sounds of boots drifted through his hearing as he turned onto his side and mentally debated waking up or going back to sleep. The barracks that was now his home was warm, not too hot, and not too cold, just that perfect warm temperature that made waking up seem like a crime. When the boots stopped near his bed, he let himself drift more towards sleep.

“There’s nothing like seeing newly Impressed riders and dragons asleep after their first feeding.” The familiar voice of S’lag was whispering just loud enough for J’shon to hear. “This was a good hatching. Fifteen greens, fourteen blues, two browns and two bronzes as well as a gold.”

“Could have used more browns and bronzes, but the last clutch had eight of them total, so we’re still okay.” That was H’mal, the Weyrleader’s voice. “You were right about that boy, he did Impress. His father’s already upset and wants to have words with me.”

“Well better have them before the boys wake up.” S’lag advised. “They won’t nap long what with the early hour of the hatching. They’d just barely risen from bed before it began.”

“Yes, and you’ve got quite a job ahead of you, my friend.” H’mal’s voice sounded friendly. “B’rrel may be the youngest, but you’ll remember the hell the others raised as weyrlings.”

“Yes, and I’ll not have a repeat of what happened with P’nar.” S’lag’s voice was serious now.

“I hope not, my friend.” H’mal said just as seriously. “It’s bad enough that we usually lose at least one weyrling during training. I don’t want to lose another Weyrlingmaster so soon.”

“I’ll do my best.” S’lag said softly.

“I know you will.” H’mal’s voice was the last J’shon heard as he drifted back into slumber. Sometime later, he heard the sound of voices pulling him out of sleep again. One was A’toly telling another weyrling to quiet down before he woke the dragons. Another was B’ler, laughing softly at something before A’toly shushed him. B’ler had impressed a blue dragon, J’shon thought he remembered from when he was feeding Liliath.

Eventually there was the shuffling of feet as other boys got up, dressed in clothing besides their white Candidate robes, and headed out of the barracks. Once again, J’shon drifted off to sleep, realizing deep in his bones he half-hoped to sleep so long that his father would be long gone. The thought of dealing with the aftermath of his father’s explosion at the Weyrleader wasn’t a good one.

Why oh why did he have to Impress? He wouldn’t give back Liliath for the entire world, he knew that already, but part of him was weeping over what he’d probably done to his father. How disappointed the man must be that J’shon would never be going to the Hold, except maybe as a visitor. Would his father even let a green rider into his hall, even if the rider was his son?

“Shhh, he’s still asleep.” That was B’rrel’s voice from the cot next to his. There was the sound of shuffling feet from the foot of J’shon’s bed.

“I was hoping he was awake.” That was a voice he recognized, and J’shon almost leaped off the bed, but instead he lay still. He wasn’t quite ready yet to face his father, and if Komer was here, in the barracks, that meant their father couldn’t be far behind. Had they already had words with the Weyrleader?

“He was up late last night playing for the weyr.” B’rrel said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“He’s really good with the gitar, and once his voice settled father said it was a pity he’d refused to go to Harper Hall.” Komer said, and J’shon decided to play asleep for another reason. His father had really said that? J’shon almost couldn’t believe it, but unlike their older brothers, Komer never made up a story about something like that.

“You’re B’rrel, right?” His brother said softly and he could hear B’rrel mutter something but couldn’t quite make it out. Then there was the sound of B’rrel getting up from his cot and changing into some clothes.

“You’re the brother he’s talked about the most since he’s been here.” B’rrel said although his voice was muffled by what was likely a shirt he was putting on.

“We shared a room at home.” Komer said softly. “It was lonely there when he left for the Weyr. Da kept on saying he’d be back, but I knew in my heart he wouldn’t be coming home, at least not to stay.”

“He’s a good guy.” B’rrel said with an affectionate tone. “I know your father won’t like hearing it, but I’m not the only one in the Weyr who is glad he’ll be staying. Harper Crivan is good, but he’s getting really old. J’shon will be busy like all of us riders of course, but he’ll liven up many a night with his playing.”

“I’m sure he will.” Komer said softly. “Don’t tell him this or he’ll get a swelled head, but all of us knew he was father’s favorite.”

J’shon couldn’t help but snort at that. Their father was always the most critical of him, not their brothers! J’shon had to work extra hard to get the same praise the others got for just doing their duties!

“J’shon, you awake?” Komer’s voice called out a little louder.

“Yeah, I’m awake.” He said as he sat up and stretched. His brother was still dressed in his Gather clothes that he’d probably come to the Weyr wearing, although they were a little wrinkled. J’shon noticed his own pack had already been moved to the barracks and was now resting between his cot and Liliath’s stone ledge. The thought of her made him look over to see her still curled up on the large couch, breathing easily in sleep.

“She’s a fine dragon.” His brother said with pride in his voice.

“It’s good to see you.” J’shon said as he turned back to smile at his brother. “I didn’t think they’d let you in here.”

“Why not?” B’rrel laughed and J’shon looked confused.

“What do you mean?” J’shon asked defensively. “Father’s got to be upset that I Impressed, and I bet he’s even more upset I Impressed a green. Not that I’d trade her in for any other dragon. She’s fine by me!”

“I’m sure she is.” B’rrel said with a smile of his own as he looked back over at his brown Ojeth who was also asleep.

“I heard the Weyrleader and Weyrlingmaster in here earlier.” J’shon admitted.

“I’m going to have to remember you like listening to people while faking being asleep.” B’rrel teased him.

“I was asleep; it’s just that the voices woke me up.” J’shon shot back. “Anyway, they said father was mad that I’d Impressed and wanted words with the Weyrleader. I do hope he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“He wasn’t mad that you Impressed you dolt.” Komer laughed heartily. As he spoke again, he pointed with a thumb over his shoulder to a brown dragon sleeping on a couch across from them. “He’s mad because Sharth over there decided that one rider from our family wasn’t enough. After he looked you over he made his way over to the stands and wouldn’t stop yelping until I came down and he claimed me. Father’s upset that the Weyr got two of his sons, not just one as they agreed to in their deal!

“What?” J’shon exclaimed as he looked at his brother with wide eyes. No wonder their father was upset!

“That wasn’t the deal the way I heard D’kov tell it.” B’rrel shot back with a laugh as J’shon blinked and shook his head. “K’mer, I heard direct from H’mal that they promised to only Search one of you. Well, K’mer, you weren’t Searched. No one could help it if a dragon decides he wants someone from the stands. It hasn’t happened in nearly sixty turns, but it does happen.”

“Yes it does, and now I’m a brown rider.” K’mer said as he straightened his shoulders with pride. “Now, why don’t we head out to where the food is? I smelled some roasts cooking and now I’m hungry.”

“Let me get dressed.” J’shon said as he smiled at his brother. For some reason, his brother’s presence made the prospect of facing their father a little less daunting. Besides, the man wasn’t upset with J’shon. It had been K’mer who’d Impressed when he wasn’t supposed to!

Most importantly, his stomach was growling for food, and the roasts had smelled exceptionally good.