Threadfall - 22. Hatchings and Transfers

D’gar knew the moment Loranth had been caught. The tension over the Weyr lifted and dragonlust dissipated as if it had never been. Not that it stopped him and S’brin from finishing what they’d already started. In some ways, that made it better. Initially, it had been all about raw, physical need; scratching the itch that Loranth’s desire had awakened. Once the mating flight ended, their coupling became more of an expression of the love D’gar had hoped still existed between them.

‘I wonder who won?’ S’brin asked, a lazy grin of contentment on his face as he sprawled among the sleeping furs, sated at last.

‘Hopefully Fidranth. I guess we’ll know soon enough.’ D’gar began to wonder if he’d done the right thing. Coming back to S’brin’s weyr had seemed like a good idea - the only possible option - at the time, but now, doubts came back. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at S’brin. ‘You do know that was purely about sex, don’t you?’

‘It was pretty good sex.’

That was the thing about him and S’brin. They’d been together long enough to know exactly what turned each other on. ‘It was,’ he agreed. ‘But we still need to talk about everything else.’

‘I know.’ S’brin’s face turned serious. ‘I wanted to before, but it never felt like the right time.’

‘It looked like you were avoiding me.’

‘Well, yes. Kind of. I was scared of what you were going to say. I talked to Zalna…’

‘So did I.’

‘She said you were still angry.’

‘Only because I didn’t see a way out of it.’ D’gar searched for a way to explain how he’d felt. 'Look, I’m never going to know exactly what it’s like to have a green dragon and to be affected by her moods. But if you’re feeling uptight because of it, just tell me. I can get out of your way until you’re less, well, proddy.’

‘Yeah. I was a bit of an idiot, wasn’t I?’

‘You could say that.’ At least he’d acknowledged it. That was progress, of a sort.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot.’

‘Did it hurt?’ D’gar couldn’t resist that.

S’brin gave a little smile. ‘Yeah. I don’t think about things enough. Not like you. But being alone in this weyr gave me lots of time. Zalna helped me to see it more clearly, too.’

That was good. ‘And?’

‘I miss you,’ S’brin said. ‘Not just sex. But being with you. Talking, joking. Those looks you give me sometimes. The way I always know when you’re deep in thought.’ He took a deep breath. ‘When I saw you and J’rud together in the dining hall, it nearly killed me. Not because of the mating flight, but because I really thought I was losing you for good.’

It was the most serious D’gar had seen him for a while. ‘It’d take more than that.’

‘J’rud’s a lot like you, the way he thinks about stuff. You and me, we’re so different.’

‘Nothing wrong with that. It’s worked all these Turns.’

‘I thought you were outgrowing me. People said first love never lasts.’

‘People…?’ D’gar knew who that must have been. ‘Some of them don’t like to see others happy.’

S’brin was quiet for a while. ‘It’s fun being with that crowd. All the drinking, the laughs. It’s kind of like being a weyrling again. Most of them don’t want anything long term. It’s just how they are.’

‘So they try to break up other people’s relationships…’

‘No,’ S’brin protested. ‘It’s not like that.’

D’gar thought it probably was and S’brin didn’t want to admit it, but he said nothing.

‘It’s tough being a green rider,’ S’brin went on. ‘No one takes us seriously. We’ll never be given any responsibility. So we might as well live up to the expectations.’

‘I can - sort of - see that.’ The colour of the dragon you Impressed mapped out the course of your life, much more so than your own intelligence or abilities.

‘Some of them don’t like you lot very much.’

‘You mean anyone who doesn’t have a green?’

S’brin nodded. ‘That day at the lake, I just wanted to be a part of the group. We all drank too much. The longer I was with them, the more what they said made sense… It’s not an excuse, I know. It was stupid. Then, afterwards, they were all saying I’d done the right thing. It was only after Zemianth rose I started to really think about it. What I’d done. I thought you’d never want to speak to me again.’

‘I thought the same.’ Those days had been awful.

‘Can you forgive me? Or at least give me another chance?’ Tears made S’brin’s eyes glisten.

What was the point in carrying on with it? If he did, it would be just for the sake of a principle. That wasn’t how he was made. ‘Of course I do. You might not be perfect but neither am I. Shells, S’brin. I love you, in case you hadn’t realised.’

S’brin reached out for him and pulled him into a hug. ‘I love you, too. And you’re my best friend as well. Between you and Zemianth, you make me a better man.’

They stayed in S’brin’s weyr until hunger drove them down to the dining hall. By then, Loranth had returned, flying triumphantly wing to wing with Fidranth, while Z’los had slunk off. M’rell had seen him taking a skin of wine up to his weyr. ‘Getting over his disappointment,’ he said.

When he saw them together, J’rud seemed reluctant to come too close. D’gar understood his concern and thought he’d better make sure S’brin did too. ‘You’ve not got any issues with J’rud because of the flight?’

S’brin shrugged. ‘Herebeth was obviously going to chase Zurinth. It’s not his fault.’

‘Good. He’s been sitting up this end of the table lately, but I think he’s a bit worried about how you’ll feel.’

S’brin glanced to where J’rud was filling his plate. ‘Does he really think I’d hurt him?’

‘M’rell was taking bets on it the other day.’

‘Eh, what?’ Hearing his name, M’rell looked up from his dinner.

‘Before Zurinth rose you were wondering how far S’brin might be able to throw J’rud, remember?’

‘Oh, that. I was only joking.’ Still, he looked at S’brin speculatively. ‘Mind you, I know what he’s like. Remember when he threw a table at that rider.’

‘That was different,’ S’brin said. ‘He deserved it.’

J’rud was making his way back to the Wing table by now, still obviously unsure of his reception.

‘Hey, J’rud. Come on over here,’ S’brin called.

He caught D’gar’s eye and D’gar gave a little nod and a smile to reassure him.

‘So…?’ J’rud kept a safe distance, D’gar noticed.

‘Come and sit down with us.’ S’brin patted the bench next to him.

J’rud still seemed hesitant. ‘Look S’brin, I don’t want any problems.’

‘Did I say there was?’

‘No, but I’ve heard comments.’

D’gar admired J’rud’s directness. ‘Those crazy greens getting at you?’

‘Crazy greens?’ S’brin asked.

‘My name for some of our wingmates.’

‘A bit. But I ignore them.’ J’rud turned to S’brin. ‘I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel upset about me and D’gar…’

‘Don’t be daft,’ S’brin said. ‘It was just a flight. I never really thought anything else was going on. I was proddy. You know how it is.’

‘That’s good then,’ J’rud seemed to relax and put his plate down, sliding onto the bench.

As soon as he was seated, S’brin gave him a hug. ‘We’re clutchmates. Friends. Besides, I want to earn some more marks next time you get a moving job.’

‘Yeah. And I need a great big brute like you to lift the heavy stuff…’ He paused. Everyone did, as Mardra and T’ron entered the dining hall, arm in arm. They’d taken time to dress up in their Gather finery and looked entirely secure in their roles. Mardra appeared serene and haughty, which wasn’t much different than usual. T’ron had a smug smile on his face, as if he’d never doubted his leadership was in question. A few of his most vociferous supporters immediately began to clap and cheer. Those who hadn’t been much concerned which way it turned out gradually joined in. Only a few of Z’los’s more fervent adherents declined.

D’gar was glad there hadn’t been a change. He’d never known any other Weyrleader and while he realised T’ron wasn’t perfect, Z’los might possibly have been worse. It was a good result for continuity of leadership at the Weyr.

He spent that night in S’brin’s weyr. The following night, they went to his. For the next couple of days, they swapped between the two until Naraina mentioned to S’brin she had another couple interested in a double weyr. It was only then that D’gar finally moved his things back. It felt like coming home. Even Moreta’s woven face seemed to curve into a slight smile.

Zalna was happy to see them together again. ‘I knew you’d work it out,’ she said.

‘Might not have done so quickly, without your help,’ S’brin acknowledged. ‘Thanks for listening to me all those times when I came in here whinging.’

‘There’s not much else I can be doing right now. I just want this to be over with, so I can get on with my life.’

‘We’ll miss you,’ D’gar said.

‘Yeah. If we row again, I’ll be over to see you at Benden,’ S’brin added.

‘I hope you’ll be over more often than that. I really don’t want to lose contact with any of my friends. I’ll visit here, too, so long as Mardra doesn’t make it too awkward.’

‘You think she might?’ D’gar asked.

Zalna shrugged slightly. ‘I know she doesn’t like me much, so it wouldn’t surprise me. I just hope she’ll get on better with Margatta.’

‘Still, won’t seem the same without you.’ S’brin looked out towards Gemalth, curled contentedly around her eggs. ‘Any feelings about how many bronzes there’ll be?’

‘Not really,’ Zalna said. ‘Gemalth doesn’t know, or if she does, she’s not telling me. There are four eggs that are bigger than the rest. I suppose they might contain larger dragons, but’s that not always the case. I quite like the surprise element of it all.’

‘We’ll just have to wait and see, like everyone else.’ D’gar had already put a bet on, but it was all guesswork in the end. There were a few weyrfolk who seemed to be able to successfully predict the number of hatchlings of a particular colour more often than not. He supposed they were just lucky.

During the next few days, he went out of his way to visit Zalna several more times, sometimes with S’brin, sometimes alone. As the eggs hardened, Gemalth began to feel less concerned and Zalna was able to spend time away from the Hatching Ground. The weather was still fine, so they had a couple of afternoons picnicking by the Weyr lake. It was almost like stepping back in time to the carefree days when they had all been weyrlings. D’gar couldn’t help noticing that her eyes often strayed toward K’torl’s old weyr. Staying at Fort would always bring reminders of that loss, he supposed and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to make a new start elsewhere.

It was after a light and uneventful Fall over Ruatha that H’fra and B’thun strolled across to where D’gar and S’brin were sitting. B’thun put a hand on S’brin’s shoulder. ‘Not seen much of you lately.’

Sbrin smiled. ‘You got to see all of me earlier, in the baths.’

‘Ha, ha! Always the joker, S’brin. Anyway, we’re having a little party later.’

‘Up in my weyr,’ H’fra put in. He looked pointedly at D’gar. ‘Greens only. Plenty of alcohol and gossip. Guess we’ll be seeing you there.’

S’brin shook his head. ‘Sorry, no. I’ve already made plans. Another time, maybe.’

‘Well, if you change your mind, just come on up.’ B’thun walked away, arm in arm with H’fra.

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ D’gar said.

‘I’ve had too much to drink lately. I’ll be getting fat.’ He patted his lean belly. ‘Anyway, I heard there’s going to be some proper Harpers playing down by the lake this evening. Thought we could go along. M’rell and Rina will be there. A few others from the Wing, too.’

‘That’d be good.’ D’gar was relieved he’d turned down the invitation, even more so when he saw the state some of the greens were in the following day. Apparently Is’ish and A’kindry had fallen out over a blue rider they both fancied and decided to have a drinking contest to settle the matter. By contrast, the evening by the lake was civilised and pleasant. The weather had cooled sufficiently to make a bonfire tolerable. Torala and A’ren danced to all the slow tunes and seemed to be as content in each other’s company as D’gar felt lying stretched out on a blanket with S’brin. He watched Belior riding high in the skies over the Weyr, picked out the well-known constellations and mused that life didn’t get much better than this.

The Hatching started just after lunch a sevenday later. It felt almost as special as the one when D’gar had Impressed Herebeth, probably because it was Zalna’s first and also because their Wingleader’s dragon was the sire. All of the Wing stood together and watched in anticipation. There were a fair few marks riding on the results.

As always, watching the eggs crack and the young dragons emerge served as a reminder of that wonderful moment when Herebeth had chosen him.

Was I really that small? Herebeth asked, as he did at every Hatching.

Yes. And you took your time getting out of your egg.

I was looking for you.

Beside him, S’brin held his hand. ‘Remember that day?’

‘Always.’ It was only three and a half Turns ago, but it felt like a lifetime. ‘I was so frightened I’d blown my chance at that other Hatching, when you were ill.’

‘Second time lucky, though.’

‘Lucky for both of us.’

Agarra started leaping around in joy when one of her fosterlings, Barraden, Impressed a blue. People were patting R’feem on the back as if he was the proud father rather than his dragon. All around the stands, ii was clear that riders were recalling their own Impressions, however long ago they’d been. The dragons hummed a welcome.

‘Another bronze just hatched.’ S’brin pointed to the left-hand side. ‘That’s two so far. I bet on three.’

‘So did I.’

Gemalth watched approvingly as her hatchlings found their riders. Zalna looked happier than D’gar had seen her since K’torl’s death. Loranth’s mating flight had put everyone in a good mood - well, everyone except Z’los - and the Hatching coming so close behind it made the festive air almost like Turn’s End, but with better weather. After the thunderstorm, summer had returned, but without the oppressive heat.

Workers had set up the tables outdoors for the Hatching Feast. There were quite a few Harpers in attendance today; one of their apprentices had been Searched and had Impressed a brown dragon. MasterHarper Creline stood next to T’ron and Mardra on the terraces. Secure again as Weyrleader for at least another two Turns (or however long it might be until Loranth rose again), T’ron seemed relaxed. Even Mardra smiled and clapped politely as the new dragons and their riders passed by on their way out to the feeding stations.

All of the eggs had hatched. The final totals were two bronzes, five browns, seven blues and eleven greens. As D’gar and S’brin left the Hatching Grounds, the last of the weyrlings were just making their way over to the barracks. The dragons were stuffed with food and almost asleep on their feet; the riders overwhelmed by the host of new sensations they would be feeling.

‘Poor little sods,’ S’brin said. ‘They’ve got M’nan for Weyrlingmaster.’

They made their way to the feast. Rather than the usual Wing affiliations, everyone sat wherever they could find a space. The only reserved seats were for the gold riders and the Weyrleader. Zalna, ever thoughtful, had kept a space next to her for R’feem. They’d barely known each other before Piroth flew Gemalth, but that considerate touch was just like her.

‘Room for another?’ There was a space next to S’brin and J’rud was looking for somewhere to sit.

‘Go on, then.’ S’brin seemed in a good mood. He’d predicted the right number of greens and had at least won back what he’d wagered.

J’rud settled down. ‘I won a few marks on that one.’

‘I didn’t,’ D’gar admitted. ‘Still, it’s just a bit of fun.’

J’rud nodded. ‘Have you heard. A’ren’s off to Benden.’

‘Is he?’ D’gar hadn’t known about that.

‘Yeah. It’s on the transfer lists. Well, not transfers, really, apart from Zalna. The rest are on secondment for six months. A’ren and H’kail are going from our Wing.’

‘Lucky them, spending a winter at Benden.’ S’brin pretended to shiver. ‘They’ll freeze their balls off.’

‘That’s not all. We’ll be getting a couple of Benden riders as replacements.’

D’gar could see A’ren, sitting next to Torala, close to his mother. He wondered how it would affect their budding relationship. Still, A’ren had his career to think about. It reminded him of what R’feem had said at his appraisal. Sometimes, you had to make hard choices if you wanted to get on. ‘R’feem asked me to go,’ he said, remembering he’d not been speaking to S’brin at the time.

‘Really? Why didn’t you?’ S’brin asked.

‘Not the right time. He said I’d be up for the next lot, though.’

‘Hopefully it’ll be somewhere warmer,’ J’rud said. ‘He put me on the list for the next ones as well.’

S’brin looked surprised. ‘Hey, how come you two get sent to other Weyrs and I don’t.’

‘You’ll probably be on the one after,’ D’gar said. ‘They can’t swap too many pairs at once. Knowing my luck I’ll end up at High Reaches and you’ll get Ista.’

‘High Reaches.’ J’rud looked glum. ‘That’s even colder than Benden.’

Anything else he was about to say was interrupted by T’ron banging a small gong and making his usual post-Hatching speech. The new riders, cleaned up after feeding their dragons, had just arrived. Some of them could barely suppress a yawn as they took their seats to applause and cheers.

‘That one’s going to end up with his face in his dinner.’ S’brin pointed to a tall lad with dark hair who was swaying in his seat. The weyrling next to him was helping to keep him upright.

‘I almost did on our hatching day,’ J’rud said. ‘Zurinth was so tired. They should just let the lads curl up next to their dragons and give them a meat roll or something if they’re hungry.’

‘That would be going against thousands of Turns of tradition.’ S’brin pretended to be shocked. ‘Anyway, it’s their moment of glory. They’ve Impressed a dragon.’

‘Tomorrow the hard work begins,’ J’rud added. ‘All that bathing and oiling.’

‘And feeding.’

‘Talking of which, food’s arriving.’ D’gar nudged him as he spotted the trolleys being wheeled over. ‘Let’s tuck in.’

‘Yeah. Maybe they’ll even serve up some decent wine this time.’

The feast went on well into the evening, with Harpers providing music later on. Creline himself sung a ballad in honour of the new dragonriders. After everyone had rested a while and let their food digest, dancing commenced. S’brin always liked the more energetic dances and twirled D’gar around until he felt dizzy. Or it might have been the wine. By the time they flew back to their weyr, they were both exhausted and a little bit merry.

The next day it was back to work again. Quite a few riders were nursing hangovers as they assembled for Fall, D’gar included. He didn’t feel any more sick than usual, but he could have done without the pounding head. Even an infusion of willowsalic had only dulled it rather than stopping it entirely. S’brin was almost as bad.

‘Bet you’re glad you only have to ride half of this Fall,’ D’gar said to him as they fed firestone to their dragons.

‘I’m never drinking again,’ M’rell called across.

‘Until next time,’ S’brin quipped back.

It wasn’t so bad once they were in the air. The cold of between was exactly what D’gar needed to shock him back to a semblance of normality and once leading edge was on them, he was concentrating so hard on his job that everything else receded to the background. Conditions weren’t particularly difficult; partial cloud and light winds, but before the first hour had gone by there’d been two fatalities and several injuries. D’gar saw Belloth catch a tail tip and return to the Weyr only a short while after they’d started fighting. He and Herebeth had to double their efforts until M’ta and Zath came in as a replacement.

Before the end of Fall, another pair died, this time from their Wing. Zerlath is gone, Herebeth announced with a hint of sadness, before he dived to flame a large and writhing clump of Thread.

They arrived back at the Weyr in sombre mood. It had been a while since anyone in ‘C’ Wing had been lost; just before D’gar had joined, in fact.

In the baths, he heard what had happened. M’rell had seen the incident, being next in line to H’fra.

‘He was hit in the face by this tiny little piece of Thread. Zerlath went between almost right away. They came back, but I don’t think he could see properly. Next thing, they tried one of their usual manoeuvres, got it all wrong, then flew straight into another clump.’ He winced at the memory. ‘Zerlath got most of it in the wing. She went between again and didn’t come back.’

S’brin was particularly shaken. ‘I can’t believe it.’

D’gar hadn’t liked H’fra much, especially during the last few sevendays; he’d been one of the ‘crazy greens’ who had turned S’brin against him, after all. But he’d been a solid part of the Wing; part of their familiar team. It was hard to comprehend H’fra would never again perform one of his famous impressions of the Weyrwoman.

‘He was a real character,’ M’rell said. ‘He’ll be missed.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ S’brin said again. ‘He’d been fighting Thread a lot longer than any of us. Around nine Turns, I think.’

‘Even older riders get it wrong sometimes. Or it’s just plain bad luck.’ D’gar realised he’d become a little bit complacent; just because no one he knew had died or been injured for a couple of months, it had felt as if that was normal, rather than the exception.

In the dining hall, the mood was subdued. I’grast and N’rir handed out the customary small cups of alcohol and everyone drank to their dead wingmate. The spirit burned all the way down to D’gar’s stomach. Then the usual drinking and stories commenced. H’fra had been the sort of man you’d describe as the life and soul of any party and his wild exploits had left many memorable anecdotes to be re-told.

B’thun sat down next to S’brin. ‘He had a feeling this was going to happen, you know,’ he slurred, having sunk several cups of wine in a short time. ‘Felt like his luck was running out. You know what he said to me once?’

S’brin shook his head.

‘Better to go out quick, while you’re young than live a long life and die slow at the end of it.’ He raised his cup again, his lips stained red from the Tillek. ‘Here’s to you, H’fra.’

Everyone in the immediate vicinity joined in, D’gar included. It was the second night running he’d had too much to drink, but when a wingmate died, it was expected. Not to do so would seem disrespectful. Besides, tomorrow was a rest day.

It was also the day Zalna was moving out. Now that Gemalth’s eggs had hatched, there was no reason for her to stay any longer. D’gar had offered to help pack, although she didn’t have much to take, apart from clothes and a few bits and pieces she’d brought from her family Hold.

He rolled up a couple of rugs, securing ornaments inside them and tied the ends. ‘There you are. They shouldn’t fall out.’

S’brin unhooked one of the bigger tapestries from the wall. Although not that heavy, it was too large for him to grip on both sides and the top of it flopped over his head. ‘Give us a hand,’ he called, somewhat muffled. D’gar went to assist and together they managed to subdue it.

They helped Zalna secure her possessions to Gemalth’s fighting straps. She took a final look around the bare walls and floor of her weyr. D’gar remembered the last time a weyrwoman had left this place; that morning when Valli and Kadoth had departed forever. It lent a certain poignancy to the departure.

‘Well, this is it.’ Before mounting up she gave them both a hug. ‘Look after yourselves. Be kind to Margatta.’

‘If she even looks at us.’ Most weyrwomen didn’t bother themselves with anyone other than bronze riders.

‘She’s a nice person.’ Gemalth lowered herself to let Zalna climb up. ‘I expect the Benden contingent will be here later, once we’ve got settled in over there.’

It would be late afternoon in Benden, due to the time difference. Half a world away, even though you could get there in the blink of an eye on a dragon.

Zalna gave them a final wave, then Gemalth stepped off the ledge, gliding away to form up with the rest of the riders who were being seconded; twenty-six in all. She took the lead position, as if it were the Queens’ Wing going off to battle Thread, although instead of flamethrowers and firestone sacks, the dragons were laden with an assortment of personal possessions in soft bags.

A’ren leaned down from Brandith’s neck ridge to touch fingers with Torala. She looked to be wiping her eyes. ‘I’d better go down to console my foster sister,’ D’gar said. ‘She’s really taking this badly.’

‘It’s only six months.’

‘That can seem like a long time. Mum said she was worried he’ll find another girl at Benden.’

‘He’d have to talk with one first.’

S’brin followed him down the steps as Torala reluctantly stepped away and the dragons took off. D’gar reached her as she stared up into the sky, watching them grow smaller until they blinked between and were gone. He hugged her as she gave way to sobs.

‘He’ll forget me. I know he will.’

Behind her, S’brin rolled his eyes.

It was a few hours before the Benden pairs arrived. Many of the Fort riders had stayed around to get their first view of these newcomers. D’gar and S’brin were lounging on the benches outside the kitchen, sipping klah, when the watch dragon bugled and they descended into the Bowl in a tight V formation.

Luduth, Margatta’s queen, was a similar reddish gold to Suderoth, although she was more slender in the body. Her wingspan was greater than any of the Fort queens. She also carried a lot more items than Zalna had taken, including a few pieces of furniture in her talons, which she set down gently as they landed.

‘Shards,’ S’brin said. ‘She’s brought half of her weyr with her.’

‘Looks like Luduth might be as handy as Zurinth at carrying stuff.’

‘Yeah, maybe she’ll set up as a rival to J’rud.’

Margatta herself looked of a similar age to Zalna, possibly a couple of Turns older. She slid down from her dragon as T’ron and Mardra walked across to meet her.

‘Oh look, Mardra’s trying her best to smile,’ S’brin said. ‘That must have taken some effort.’

Mardra had dressed up to greet the new arrivals. By contrast, Margatta was in leathers, her dark curls flattened from being tucked under her riding cap. She gave a genuine smile as she met the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. She must also have noticed the group of bronze riders clustered around the dining hall door, all eager to get a good look at her. Their dragons were checking out Luduth in similar fashion, some from their ledges, others perched on the heights.

The rest of the contingent dismounted as Naraina arrived to allocate weyrs. As expected, the majority of the dragons were green and blue, but there were also four browns and two bronzes.

‘Wonder which ones will be in our Wing?’ D’gar mused as a couple of the Wingleaders strolled across to join the Weyrleader, R’feem included.

‘I’grast said it’d be first come first served. That’s why R’feem’s got in there right away.’

Just like the pairs who had been sent to Benden, most of the replacements seemed fairly young. D’gar wondered how it must feel, landing at an unfamiliar Weyr and having all those people stare at you. Slightly intimidating, probably. He felt a bit sorry for them. How many, like A’ren, might have left behind loved ones or friends? He was also conscious that next time there were swaps, he’d be in the same position.

S’brin nudged him. ‘Look at V’chal and A’kindry.’

The pair of them were perched on one of the tables, clearly assessing the possibilities among the new riders. They weren’t the only ones. A few of the Weyr’s more notorious green riders were doing much the same.

‘Typical,’ D’gar said, although he couldn’t help but be amused. ‘V’chal will be kicking himself that Lilith’s only just risen.’

‘Won’t stop him making his own moves, though.’

Several of the bronze riders had gathered round, helping Margatta to unload her possessions. A couple of them picked up the table Luduth had brought. It was evidently fairly heavy, judging by their expressions.

‘Doesn’t look as if we’ll be needed to carry any furniture this time. They’re all over her.’ S’brin sipped his klah. ‘Wonder how long it’ll be before we have another gold flight?’

‘Not soon enough for some.’ D’gar watched the Wingleaders wrangling over which riders they wanted as Naraina pointed out the weyrs she’d allocated to the newcomers. They were almost inevitably the less popular ones; those that either got the full heat of the midday sun or at the draughty end of the Bowl. His sympathy for the newcomers increased. Gradually, dragons dispersed as they went to unload their things.

The formal introductions took place at dinner that evening. Margatta had taken the opportunity to tidy herself up and appeared wearing an intricately embroidered dress with tasteful, but expensive looking gold jewellery and matching combs in her hair.

‘Whoa! Look at her.’ M’rell’s expression was echoed in quite a few faces around their table.

‘Better not let Rina catch you gawping like that,’ N’rir said. ‘Not that you’d have a chance with the weyrwoman anyway.’

‘Don’t depress the poor lad,’ I’grast put in. ‘Mind you, there’s a few of those green riders that have caught my eye. At least Tiriorth and I might get a look in there.’

The Benden riders stood in a huddle, waiting to find out which Wings they’d be joining for the duration of their secondment. T’ron introduced Margatta first, before reading out the names of the pairs and inviting the Wingleaders to take them to their tables.

R’feem returned with three of them. Two greens, from their shoulder knots and a bronze.

‘I’d like to welcome our new colleagues,’ R’feem announced, putting a hand on the shoulder of the bronze rider first. He was almost as tall as R’feem himself, with a long face that reminded D’gar of a runnerbeast.

‘Firstly, this is G’dol of bronze Dorniath. He’s been doing Wingsecond training same as our own A’ren, so I think he’ll fit in nicely with us.’

G’dol smiled, showing slightly protruding front teeth which added to the runnerbeast impression.

‘Next we have A’xal of green Walolth.’

He had a confident manner and had dressed in a tight shirt and breeches to show off his assets. D’gar reckoned he must be similar in age to himself and S’brin. ‘Looks like V’chal might be getting a run for his marks,’ he whispered as the greens all pounded the table in greeting.

‘Last but not least, this is Sh’frun of green Falelth.’

He looked almost as shy as A’ren, tall and lanky with a mop of curly brown hair. D’gar didn’t see him fitting in with the crazy greens at all.

People shifted up to accommodate the newcomers. Unsurprisingly, G’dol chose to sit next to I’grast, as a fellow bronze rider, while A’xal set straight off for the green end of the table. Sh’frun hesitated, until T’garrin made a space on the bench and beckoned him over.

‘I hope you’ll help them to settle in and show them where everything is around the Weyr,’ R’feem continued. 'We’ll be having a short meeting tomorrow afternoon followed by some flying exercises. Gr’thol and D’gar, if you could join us for that.’

D’gar was surprised to hear his name spoken. Normally, it would have been A’ren and he’d have expected R’feem to replace him with M’rell, who was next in seniority among the brown riders. He glanced across at M’rell to try and assess what he felt about it, but he didn’t seem bothered.

G’dol spent most of the meal talking with I’grast. Being on the other side of him D’gar couldn’t help but hear most of what he was talking about, especially as his voice tended to be quite loud. It seemed that despite his youth, G’dol knew quite a lot about fighting Thread and had quite a few suggestions as to how to improve the Wing’s capabilities.

M’ta nudged D’gar. ‘He’s a bit full of it, isn’t he?’ His expression showed what he felt about their bronze colleague.

D’gar had been thinking much the same and he nodded agreement. Eventually, I’grast escaped by getting up to fetch klah. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to come back, stopping to chat with one of the other Wingseconds. D’gar couldn’t blame him.

G’dol shovelled food into his mouth. He’d been talking so much, his plate was still fairly full.

D’gar took the opportunity to introduce himself. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m D’gar. We’ll be flying together tomorrow.’

‘You been in this Wing long?’

‘Just over a Turn.’

‘Well, now you’ll be able to learn from the best, pal.’

D’gar wasn’t entirely sure if G’dol was being serious, although judging by how he’d been boasting to I’grast, he reckoned he probably was. ‘Oh? That’s you, is it?’ He tried to sound naive.

G’dol just chewed his food and nodded. ‘Everyone knows me at Benden.’

‘I’m sure they do.’ D’gar caught N’rir’s eye across the table. The Wingsecond looked faintly amused. He carried on. ‘Are you sure they’ll be able to manage without you?’

Maybe that had been a step too far. G’dol gave him an odd look. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you and your dragon are obviously major assets to the Weyr.’ He kept his expression deadly serious.

G’dol seemed uncertain for the first time that evening. ‘Well, yes. I suppose so.’

‘I just hope we’ll be able to match your skills.’ This felt like the good old days of winding up M’nan. ‘It must be a great loss to your wingmates to be without your expertise for six whole months.’ Some of the other riders had caught on and began smiling and nodding. Even R’feem was watching now. ‘So, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Twenty-five Turns.’ He sounded a little bit defensive now.

‘Really? The way you’ve been talking this evening I was under the impression you must be at least forty, just looked a lot younger.’

G’dol looked slightly belligerent. ‘Are trying to say I was lying?’

‘No, of course not.’ D’gar kept his tone light. ‘Looks like we’re all going to learn something tomorrow. I’m so looking forward to flying with you.’

R’feem butted in then. ‘Let G’dol finish his meal, D’gar. We wouldn’t want him to waste away before he gets a chance to show us what he can do.’ He smiled cheerfully. ‘I shall be observing with interest.’

After he’d finished eating, D’gar took his empty plate back, then went to fetch klah.

R’feem joined him by the hearth. ‘You were cutting it fine back there. Thought I was going to have to stop a fight if that had carried on much longer.’

‘Sorry. I just couldn’t stand it any more. I’grast and N’rir have almost fifty Turns of experience between them and that jumped up wherry turd was talking as if he knew more than they did…’

‘He’ll soon get brought down to size when we find out he’s no better than anyone else.’ R’feem put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t go getting yourself into bother, lad.’

‘No. Sorry.’

‘I didn’t mind. It was quite amusing watching you fly rings around him. Let’s see if you can do the same in the air tomorrow.’

That reminded him of something. ‘Why did you ask me? M’rell’s the next in seniority.’

‘As I said at your appraisal, don’t underestimate yourself. You’re doing a good job and it’s been noticed.’ He refilled his cup. ‘Probably best to stay away from G’dol for the rest of the evening.’

‘Sure.’

R’feem went back to the table. D’gar stayed for a while, sipping his klah, until M’rell got up for a refill as well.

‘Nice one,’ he said. ‘Sharding bronze riders think they know it all.’

‘You aren’t bothered then?’

‘About what?’

‘That R’feem asked me to help out tomorrow.’

M’rell clapped him on the back, almost making him spill his klah. ‘Why should I? You get to do extra work while I get to spend more of my rest day with Rina. You’re welcome to it.’