Ever the Twain

Nian's alcove included a bed, a chest, and several pegs on the wall. The white candidate's robe hung on one of the pegs. She held it up against her. The straight lines would fit anyone, covering all but the tallest to the knees, and the sleeves were not too long. The fabric was very soft from much use and careful laundering, and Nian wondered how many successful candidates had worn this particular robe over the Turns. Would their luck rub off on her and Neru, too?

Just then Neru entered her sleeping alcove. "You can't have unpacked already," she accused him.

"No, I put my carryall smack in the middle of the bed so anyone would see that the room is occupied. But I'm hungry and could sure use some sweet buns to tide me over until supper." He picked her carryall up where she had dropped it to the floor and plopped it on her bed. "I'm going to look silly wearing something like that. It's nearly a dress."

"It's a candidate's robe, and who would ever have expected this morning that we'd be chosen to wear one?"

"Not me," her twin said staunchly.

"And the same back at you, Ru."

"They were smart to pick Chaum and Orla, too," her brother said, pleased.

She heard his stomach growling and grinned at him. She carefully hung the robe back on its peg. "Let's go eat."

No one was late for the snack, Kilpie remarked when the lot of them arrived back to the kitchen cavern and took seats at the table she designated. The juice was cool and tart, while the sweet breads were dotted with nuts and dried berries and were so tender that Nian and Neru hoped there'd be more than one apiece. They were joined by a white-haired older man who introduced himself as H'ran, Weyrlingmaster, rider of bronze Prinith. He looked them over one by one and smiled.

"Now, I've a few words of advice for you candidates. First, the new hatchling is invariably starving. There will be bowls of meat for you to feed him or her to the stuffing point. Hatchlings can be a little unnerving as they stagger around looking for their riders, so don't be surprised or fearful of such antics and be quick on your feet to get out of their way. If you're the one they want to Impress, you'll know it."

"How?" asked a very pretty girl who was dressed in the finest blue robe Nian had ever seen.

"That dress of hers was expensive," Orla murmured in Nian's ear. "That blue dye is hard to get." Orla knew about such things.

"How?" H'ran grinned. It was an unexpectedly soft and loving expression, which Nian thought remarkable in an older man. "It's unmistakable. You'll immediately know their name. Added to that, they act as if they owned you, keeping any other hatchling from getting near you. They may be wet-winged and newly hatched, but they can move fairly fast once they've discovered their rider. Watch out for their claws. They're sharp and dangerous, even if they don't mean to hurt anyone. They're as anxious to Impress as you are to be Impressed. But don't worry. The Weyrleaders and I will be on the Hatching Ground with you to organize the stampede. And there'll be plenty of food to stuff their guts. Bring any questions you have about your hatchling to me. That's what me and Prinith are here for."

If anyone had questions, they weren't bold enough to voice them and so, when all the sweet breads were eaten, H'ran suggested that they follow him to the weyrling barracks so they'd know which direction to take with their dragons when Impression had been made. The barracks were exactly that — not nearly as homey or comfortable as the alcoves. There was a broad wooden bed for the hatchling, well marked by generations of dragon claws, and above it, a narrow shelf with bedding on it for the rider.

"Once you get your dragon settled here, you can return to the main living quarters if you wish. It's up to yourselves." The way he said it gave Nian the feeling that all new riders chose to stay with their dragons. Well, if Ru were here, she'd want to be, too. That is, if they both Impressed. "You'll always know if your dragon needs you, I promise you that much," H'ran added, and brushed his thick hair back in a nervous gesture.

"Now, if you'll follow me across the Bowl, I'll show you the eggs."

Dutifully, but with murmurs of excitement, they followed him through the arches onto the Hatching Ground. In groups of two or three, the eggs reposed on the warm sands. Nian was glad she had on heavy boots, because those with lighter footwear were obviously feeling the heat, imitating the stalk of river birds searching shallow waters for tiny edibles.

"It's called the Hatching dance," H ran said, trying to keep his face solemn as he also stepped quickly and carefully. "Move among the eggs, if you wish. They're not quite hard enough, but will be very soon. Getting used to them in advance seems to help when the moment comes."

"Can we touch them?" Chaum asked.

"Never known it to do any harm," H'ran said indulgently. Chaum instantly stretched his hand out and touched the egg he was standing by. And yanked his fingers away.