"Search has the priority," said Tashvi. "You know that, Boris."

"We had it all arranged," the father spoke up, now his pain had been alleviated by the numb weed Maranis had slathered on his wounds.

"We had it arranged!" And the look he gave his daughter was trenchant with angry, bitter reproach.

"You had it all arranged," Debera said, equally bitter, between yourselves, but not with me, even before the Search.

A wistful moan from Morath interrupted her angry reb.u.t.tal.

"She's hungry. I have to feed her. Come along now," she added in a far more loving tone. Without a backward glance, she led her green dragonet out of the Hatching Ground.

"I'd say that the matter was certainly not well arranged, then," Tashvi said.

"But it was," said Lavel, jabbing one fist at the dragon riders until they came round, "putting ideas in her head when she was a good, hard-working girl who always did as she was told.

"Then you riders tell her she's fit for dragons. Fit! I know what you riders get up to, and Debera's a good girl. She's not like you lot."

"That's quite enough of such talk," said Zulaya, drawing herself up, insulted.

"Indeed it is," Tashvi agreed, scowling angrily. "The Weyrwoman will realize that you're not yourself, wounded as you are."

"Wounds got nothing to do with my righteous anger, Lord Holder. I know what I know, and I know we had it all arranged, and you should stick up for your holders, not these weyrfolk and all their queer customs and doings, and I dunno what'll happen to my daughter." At that point, he began to weep, more in frustrated anger than from the pain of the now well-anaesthetized injuries. "She was a good girl until they come. A good biddable girl!"

Tashvi gestured peremptorily to the two litter-men to take the man out. Then he turned back to the Weyrleaders.

"I did approve the new mine, and Boris and Ganmar as owners, but I'd no idea that Lavel was in any way involved."

"He's a troublemaker from way back," Tashvi said, absently shifting his feet on the hot sands.

Zulaya gestured for them all to leave the Hatching Ground.

Despite the extra lining she'd put in her boots this morning, she was uncomfortable standing there, and Tashvi was wearing light pull-ons.

"And it's not that he doesn't have other daughters," said Salda, taking her husband's arm to speed up his progress.

"He's got upwards of a dozen children and had two wives already. At the rate he's been making these arrangements of his, he'll have himself sufficient land among his relatives to start his own Hold. Not that anyone in their right mind would want him as a Lord Holder."

They paused outside the Ground now. Adroitly, Zulaya and K'vin chose a position so that they could also keep a weather eye on the newly-hatched, who, with the help of their riders, were rapidly devouring the piles of cut meat prepared for their initial feeding.

Debera's situation was unusual. Most families were glad enough to have a child chosen on Search, because of the advantages of having a dragon rider in the family: the combination of the prestige accrued to the Bloodline as well as the availability of transport.

Listening to the vitriol in Lavel's criticism of Weyr life upset both Weyrleaders and Lord Holders. It was true that certain customs and habits had been developed in the Weyrs to suit dragon needs, but promiscuity was certainly not encouraged.

In fact, there was a very strictly observed code of conduct within the Weyr. There might not be formal union contracts but no rider reneged on his word to a woman, nor failed to make provision for any children of the pairing. And few Weyrbred children, reaching p.u.b.erty, left the Weyr for the grand parental holds even if they failed to Impress.

Right now, the festivities had already started in the Main Cavern, with the instrumentalists playing a happy tune, one that reflected the triumph of a successful Hatching. Although the new riders were still feeding their dragons or settling them into the weyrling barracks, once the sated dragonets fell asleep the new dragon men and women would join their relatives.

Zulaya wondered if she should remind Lavel that the female riders were housed separately from the males. He obviously had no idea at all how much care a new dragonet required from its human. Most days the weyrlings fell into bed too exhausted to do anything BUT sleep. And had to be rousted out of their bunks by the Weyrlingmaster when they failed to respond to their hungry dragons' summons.

The young lad, Ganmar, sulked, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his present situation. Zulaya doubted that his heart was the least bit broken by this turn of events. Of course, if he had to work with that father of his building a new hold, maybe a pretty girl to bed at night would have been a major compensation.

"What I should like to know," Salda was saying, "is why Debera arrived here so late, on her own and with you evidently in hot pursuit."

"You realize, of course," and the stern expression in Salda's eyes was one Zulaya knew well, "that we - Lord Tashvi and I - would not be at all pleased to find that Debera has been denied her holder rights."

"Holder?" Lavel snorted and then moaned as the injudicious movement caused him pain. "She'll not be a holder now, will she? She'll be lost to us for ever, she will."

"And any chance of bagging her legal land allotment," Salda said with mock remorse. Lavel growled and tried to turn away from the Lady Holder.

"You've claimed more than most as it is. I trust Gisa is in good health? Or have you got yet another child on her? You'll wear her out the same as you did Milla, you know. But I suppose there are women stupid enough to fall for your ever-increasing land ma.s.ses. Ssshish," and Salda turned from him in disgust. "Get him out of my sight. He offends me. And sullies the spirit of this occasion."

"He's not so wounded he can't travel," the medic said helpfully.

"Travel?" Boris exclaimed, pretending dismay as he had glanced in the direction of the Lower Cavern where the roasts were being served.

"I could find him a place overnight," Maranis began hesitantly.

Just then four young weyrfolk led up the visitors' horses which they had recaptured.

"Ah, here are your mounts, Boris," Zulaya said. Let us not keep you from a safe journey home. You should easily make it back before dark. Maranis, give Lavel enough fell juice to see him to his hold.

"Lads, help him mount. Come, K'vin, we're overlong congratulating the happy parents."

She linked her right arm in K'vin's and her left with Lady Salda and hauled them along across the Bowl.

"A very good Hatching, I'd say," she began, without a backward look at the three dismissed holders. Nineteen greens, fifteen blues, ten browns and seven bronzes. Good distribution, too. Good size to the bronzes as well. I do believe every clutch produces dragons just slightly larger than the last."

"Dragons haven't yet reached their design size," K'vin said, answering her lead. "I doubt we'll see that in our lifetime."

"Surely they're big enough already?" asked Salda, her eyes wide.

Zulaya laughed. "Larger by several hands than the first ones who fought Thread, which will make it all that much easier for us this time round."

"You know what to expect, too," Tashvi said, nodding approval.

Zulaya and K'vin exchanged brief glances. Hopefully, what they could expect did not include unwelcome surprises.

"Indeed we have the advantage of our ancestors in that," K'vin said stoutly.

Zulaya gave his arm a little squeeze before she released him and strode to the first table where the families of two new brown riders were sitting. K'vin continued in with Salda and saw her and Tashvi settled at the head table, where he and Zulaya would join them after they'd done their obligatory rounds of the tables. Then, making a private bet with himself, he started at the opposite end of the wide Cavern.

By the fourth stop, he had won his bet: news of the unusual Impression of the last green dragon was already circulating.

"Is it true," the holder mother of a bronze rider asked, "that that girl had to run away from her hold?" She, and the others at this table, were clearly appalled at such a circ.u.mstance.

"She got here in time, that's what's important," K'vin said, glossing over that query.

"What if she hadn't come?" asked one of the adolescents, her expression avid. "Would the dragon have..."

She stopped abruptly - as if she'd been kicked under the table, K'vin thought, suppressing a grin.

"Ah," he said, bridging the brief pause, "but I'm sure you saw that other lads crowded round, ready and willing. The dragonet would have chosen one of them."

That was not exactly true. Which was why every Weyr had more than sufficient candidates on the Ground during a Hatching. Early on, the records mentioned five occasions when a dragonet had not found a compatible personality. Its subsequent death had upset the Weyr to the point where every effort was then made to eliminate a second occurrence, including accepting the dragonet's choice from among spectators.

There were also cases where an egg did not hatch. In the early days, when the technology had still been available, necropsies had been performed to establish cause. In most of the recorded instances, there had been obvious yolk problems, or the creature had been misformed and would not have survived Hatching. Three times, however, the cause of death could not be established as the foetus had been perfect, with no apparent deficiency or disability. The message was handed down to dispose of such unhatched eggs between immediately: a duty performed on such rare occasions by the Weyrleader and his bronze.

"I saw her ride up," said the girl, delighted to recount this fact. "And then the men who tried to stop her."

"You must have had the best seat in the house," K'vin told her, grinning.

The girl shot a vindictive glance around the table. "Yes, I did, didn't I? I saw it all! Even when the dragonet tried to eat someone."

"Was that her father?"

"Suze, now, that's enough of that," said her own father, and the older boy beside her must have pinched her for she shot straight up on the bench and glared at him.

"Yes, it was her father," K'vin said.

"Didn't he know any better than to strike a dragon's rider?" asked Suze's father, shocked by such behaviour.

"I think he has perceived his error," K'vin said dryly and caught Suze's startled reaction. "What has your son (and Charanth, as he always did, supplied the boy's name from his dragon's mind so quickly that the pause was almost unnoticeable), Thomas, decided on for a rider name?"

"Well, I don't think Thomas dared to hope," his mother replied, but her expression expressed both her pride in his modesty and her delight in his success.

"He never liked being a Thomas," Suze said, irrepressible.

"He'll pick a new name," and she gave a snide sideways glance at her parent.

"And here he is, if I don't miss my guess," K'vin said, gesturing towards the lad making his way across the Cavern floor. K'vin had lectured the candidates on their responsibilities to their dragonets so he was familiar with many of them. This Thomas, or whatever, bore a strong enough resemblance to both sister and brother to make him easily identifiable. He hoped that a facial resemblance was all Thomas shared with his sister. She was a spiteful one.

"Well done, young man," K'vin said, holding out his hand.

"And how shall we style you now?"

"S'mon, Weyrleader," the new bronze rider said, still flushed with elation. He had a good firm handshake. "I considered T'om, but I never liked the nickname."

"You said you'd..." Suze got yet another kick under the table, for she yipped this time and tears started in her eyes.

"It's easier to say," S'mon said. "Tiabeth likes it." Now he showed the delightful confusion of pride and proprietariness so many brand-new weyrlings exhibited while accustoming themselves to their new condition and duties. As K'vin remembered so vividly, that took time.

And there was a T'mas in the first group at Benden.

"He's long dead," his father said, not altogether pleased with his son's choice. "Thomas is a family name," he admitted to K'vin. "I'm Thomas, ninth of my line."

The boy looked at his father with that curious aloofness of independence that came with being a newly paired dragon rider sort of "you can't tell me what to do any more" and "this is my business, Dad, you wouldn't understand."

"Tiabeth and S'mon," K'vin said, lifting the gla.s.s he'd been carrying from table to table and drinking a toast to the partners. The others made haste to repeat it.

"Eat, S'mon.

"You'll need every meal you get a chance to eat," he added and left the boy to follow that very good advice.

At each subsequent table, he heard more speculation about the late arrival of Debera. There had been embellishments: one had her father bleeding to death. Another variation suggested that Debera had been the reluctant one and her family had insisted that she try to Impress, having been Searched. Young Suze had had the best seat in the Hatching Ground after all, despite being so far from the center that she hadn't had a good view of Impression, but a perfect one for what was happening outside. So he edited the facts to keep the incident from getting out of hand. Fortunately, the music the band was playing, and the lyrics, provided a happy distraction. Most of the music was new. Clisser's musicians had done their job very well indeed.

K'vin avoided having his gla.s.s filled too often and used slices of the roast wherry and beef to sop up what was required by the obligatory toasting of the new riders.

He had almost completed his circuit when he saw the Telgar Holders and T'dam leading Debera in, all moving towards the head table. Salda and Tashvi rose and went to meet her half-way. She still had a dazed look on her face and glanced, almost wildly, around the crowded Cavern.

Someone had given her a green gown which showed off a most womanly body, and the style of it as well as the color suited Debera.

The deep, clear green set off her fine complexion and a head of curling bronze-coloured hair which was now attractively dressed, not straggling unkempt around a sweaty distraught face. No doubt Tisha, the head woman had had a hand in the transformation. Zulaya had once said Tisha treated all the weyrgirls like live dolls, dressing them up and fussing with their hair. Nor was Tisha herself childless, but her excess of maternal instinct was an a.s.set in the Weyr.

Salda put an arm about Debera, her head inclined to the shorter girl as she chatted; evidently determined to make up for the lack of family members on what was generally a very happy occasion for holder or crafter. Had Debera seen the last of her relatives? No matter, she was in the larger, extended family of the Weyr and could find more amiable and sympathetic replacements.

Zulaya was introducing Debera to Sarra, the sun-bleached blonde from Ista who was chatting away with such animation that Debera smiled - tentatively, K'vin thought, but with growing self-confidence.

"You got Morath to sleep all right?" he asked, joining the women.

I thought she'd never stop eating," Debera said, a slightly anxious frown on her face. Her green eyes, K'vin saw, were also emphasized by the color of the gown. Tisha had done her proud.

"They're voracious," said Zulaya, with a kind laugh. "And so am I. Come, let's all be seated before there's nothing left for us." Salda gave a good-natured snort, grinning down at Debera.

"Not likely. We've been sending you the fatted calves for the past week in antic.i.p.ation." She turned to the girl as she pa.s.sed her over to K'vin. "One thing sure, girl, you'll eat higher on the hog here in Telgar than you ever did at home. And not have to cook it!" Debera was so clearly startled by such jocularity that K'vin took her hand, guiding her to the steps up to the platform on which the head table was placed.

"I think you'll be very happy here, Debera," he said gently, "with Morath as your friend."

Immediately the girl's face softened with joy and her eyes watered. Her look of vulnerable wonder struck such a responsive chord in him that he stumbled in following her.

"Oh, and she is more than a friend," she said, more like a prayer than a statement of fact.

"Come, sit beside me," said Zulaya, pulling out the chair, and signaling K'vin to take the one beyond. They were not in their usual center table position, but quick eye contact with Salda and Tashvi had the Holders pulling out those chairs as if such placement was normal.

"Listen to that melody. How lovely" she added, tilting her head as the music, not quite martial but firm, was stopping conversation throughout the Cavern.

"So are the words," Salda said, eyes widening in surprise, as well as delight, at what she heard. When her husband started to say something, she hushed him.

K'vin was happy to listen, too.

Sheledon, who had insisted on using the Telgar Impression as the debut of some new music, was very pleased that conversation had trailed off and everyone was hearing what was being sung. Now was the time to spring the big one on them. As soon as the coda on what Jemmy called 'Dragonlove' had finished, he held up the music to the 'Duty Ballad' and then pointed it at Sydra who would sing the boy soprano part.

They hadn't found a lad with a suitable voice yet, but she could whiten her voice to approximate the tone. At Sheledon's signal, Bethany piped the haunting notes of the intro and Sydra rose to sing the opening verse.

All right, they didn't have enough trained voices to really sock the Ballad to this audience - in his mind, Sheledon heard what a full chorus would sound like - but the excellent acoustics in the Cavern were a big help. And the music captivated. Sydra managed to sound very young and awed..

Gollagee came in with his fine tenor as the dragon rider. Sheledon was right on cue with his baritone part and then, with Bethany singing alto and the Weyr's own musicians adding their voices, they wound it all up.

There was just one split second's total silence - the sort that makes performers rejoice - and then everyone was standing, wildly cheering, clapping, stamping their approval.