"The whisperers are coming closer." The blind priest's voice was barely a whisper itself, the merest thread of sound. Trrhrn's breath sounded unnaturally loud in the thick silence of the Listening Room. Before him, Rrknz was shadow-quiet, his attention fixed on the High Priest.
Jzrrl fixed his lamp-white eyes on the senior priest. "Our order must act." The High Priest's voice was a thin, whining drone, and it sent up echoes throughout the Listening Room that made Trrhrn shudder.
"Closer, my lord?" Rrknz said softly, eagerly. "How may I serve the Order?"
Trrhrn shivered silently, dreading the direction that this conversation followed.
Jzrrl's head oriented on Trrhrn. "The servants defile the red heavens, our trackless heavens, that have protected us so long. They seek to plumb its depth." He came a little closer, hissing, "If they find what they seek, they will break into the Rkavrrns. There are many stiff-natured people among the servants and the whisperers, and we will be driven away, thought a danger to their children. This I have seen."
Tensely, Rrknz leaned forward. "Instruct me, Elder, that I may prevent this terrible thing."
A crackling snort murmured off the walls, and Jzrrl stood, pacing stiffly toward his junior. "You think that you can prevent it? Priest Rrknz, you have too many years to believe in such tomfoolery. I send you to catch their attention, to distract them. If they will not be deterred, they will, at least, know that we exist, and mean them no harm."
"As you say, sir," Rrknz said, smiling a little. "Any further orders?"
"Act harmless. Learn the language. Try to bond-Impress-a whisperer." Jzrrl grinned humorlessly as Rrknz dropped his jaw in delight. "It may not be possible, but I know that you, at least, would be glad to serve your order this way."
He turned his attention on Trrhrn, skeptically, as if those empty eyes could yet see. "You will need a secretary, someone to record your experiences. As I've heard about your handwriting, Rrknz, I suggest you take a pen-trained youngster like your protégé here. Be of good heart, boy," he addressed Trrhrn, whose gut was tying itself into knots. "You'll keep our Rrknz in line."
The good red sand fell away as quiet Trrhrn scrambled after his still-agile master. Panting, he spat the sand out of his mouth, and blinked to rid his second-lids of the sharp grains. Only then did he pause to look around.
The enormous cavern they emerged into would have held three of the Rkavrrns with ease. It sucked sound up and away, and Trrhrn made himself a little smaller in response to that great emptiness.
"Sir?" he said hesitantly. "Aren't these supposed to be the skylands? I thought the sky was supposed to be blue and infinite…"
Rrknz smiled broadly. "Oh, these are the skylands. We're just in one of the whisperer-dens. They need shelter from rain and wind and suchlike. Weather."
They picked their way across the surface of the red heavens--I am walking on heaven, Trrhrn thought, and wondered if this was heresy--avoiding the sharp-edged shards of the whisperers' eggs.
The heat of the Hatching Sands radiated into one's very bones, Kenira reflected, stretching lazily on the lowest tier of the Stands. With chilly spring rains still deluging Ryslen, this was the only dry, hot place she could find.
"I hate this damp," she told her tiny brown firelizard, Cormorant. Merlin, a grumpy older blue, hissed his displeasure at being awakened, while Wren, the brown's even-tinier green clutchsib, snuggled sweetly around the back of Kenira's neck, trying to hide her face in the girl's short-cropped hair.
Cormorant blinked and crooned softly to her, minute claws catching at her wrist as she brought it into range. "You're entirely too alluring, pet," she told him, waggling her fingers at his face. He bit at them, very gently.
Kenira flicked his nose. "You quit that."
The little firelizard arched his forepaws invitingly, and first-lidded his eyes in seeming complacency. "Crack that thought."
He gave her a coy-eyed glance, and she relented. Gleefully, Cormorant mock-disembowelled the limb from wrist to elbow, mouth open in a show of fierceness.
"You're as bad as Uncle J'lenn," she sighed, shaking her arm gently to dislodge him. "But then, you don't do it for plain surliness. I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He was cordial for nearly a week." Cormorant twined around her forearm like a cobra, miniscule toes clasped firmly. "But now, look at him! Worse than ever. Ouch," she added, as the brown slipped too far and applied claw to her skin. "Let go, Cor."
Once she had gotten all three settled, she finger-combed her hair-Kejai would fume later, but she didn't want to walk across the wet Bowl-and stood awkwardly. Kenira hated to admit it, but she was really too long-boned for the narrow space between the tier and the low stone wall. Lying down, it was comfortable enough, but her coltish frame nearly stuck when she got to her feet.
She examined her reflection in an abandoned bowl, left beneath the dripping gutters, and wrinkled her nose. Enormous gray eyes in a thin, boyish face made her look like a waif, and her skin was porcelain-white after her snow-imposed self-confinement. As if I didn't scorch in the spring anyway... But her straight, ash-brown hair was all right, and she didn't look as though she'd been beaten.
A thunder of wings alerted her to the movement of the great gold queen that currently graced the Sands, and she looked, startled. Arosambyth had vanished like a conjurer's coin, and was doubtless searching for dinner, not candidates.
The creamy ovoids shone against the Red Sands like pearls on velvet, and Kenira padded softly to them, no more able to resist their allure than the half-dozen other weyrbrats before her. Their shells were, as always, slightly rough, and pleasantly warm to the touch. She fancied that she felt movement knocking against her palm-more improbably still, that vivid personalities flashed out at her like lightning, enticing or warding away as they saw fit.
A scrunching of sand made her duck guiltily, crouching amidst the eggs. Arosambyth was scarcely fierce, but Jhetarya was, and the sire and sire's rider of this clutch looked decidedly bloodthirsty. She hunkered down, and hoped that any nearby dragons wouldn't tattle…
As the sound continued, her dark brows came swiftly together. Who was on the Sands? The weyrbrat risked a peek over the eggs.
Kenira was hard-pressed to keep from gasping. Wide-eyed, she examined the pair of…creatures that minced across the Sands.
They were short, muscular quadrupeds, powerful-looking, with forelimbs that rippled as they moved. Their heads were foreshortened, but looked oddly dragonish, right down to the headknobs… Well, she amended, at least /most/ Ryslen dragons had headknobs.
Their skin was smooth and hairless, and mostly streaked brown. One was a golden-brown; the other an ashy color only a few tones away from her own tresses. They walked carefully on hind limbs much shorter then their for'ard counterparts, their long necks balanced by short, thick tails.
Trying to breath quietly, Kenira was suddenly struck by the awful possibility of one of the dragons coming back. If they saw these tunnelsnakish creatures near their eggs….
Shakily, she levered herself to her feet. "Ah, excuse me…"
Two heads snapped toward her. Four luminous eyes shone, startled.
"Um, I…couldn't help but notice that you were on the Sands," she said diffidently, watching sharp-toothed jaws work and long digging claws shift as she spoke. "It might not be such a good idea."
They stared at her. To make matters worse, Cormorant and Merlin rose up on her shoulders and screeched threats at the invaders, eyes whirling yellow and red. Even shy Wren kicked up a fuss, squealing shrilly in her owner's ear.
"Stop!" she commanded, and they hunched on her shoulders, bewildered, still hissing balefully at the creatures.
"I'm sorry," she started, blushing. Why, oh why hadn't she bothered to get to know any of the nonhuman Candidates?
The smaller one whispered something to the other, and it nodded. "We…no…mean…harm." The bigger, golden-brown creature said carefully. "Where…leader? Talk…we need."
Kenira gulped. Take this pair from beneath Ryslen's Sands to Tiyanni and J'kosh?
"Talk, we need," the golden-brown creature repeated firmly.
Shoulders hunched with dread, the weyrbrat nodded, beckoning as she walked toward the arched exit. She did not need to look to know that the creatures were stalking after her.
Trrhrn cocked his head, lambent dark eyes wide open. "If bond they do not, die they will?" he asked in their clumsy tongue. Who would have known that Rrknz would be so poor at languages, and his protégé so talented? Certainly not Trrhrn.
The elder servant-the High Servant, the 'Ware-w'man, he reminded himself-nodded, her silvering hair sliding across her cheek. "Most of the time. But there are some who have lost their bonds who still live."
Rrknz perked up. "Older dragons?" He'd been dismayed to know that he was too old to Stand, and delighted to know that his protégé was still eligible.
As Rrknz conversed with the 'Ware-w'man, Tiy..Tya…Tyani, Trrhrn soberly considered his status. What was he doing as a Candidate here? He was no high-ranker, just a good scribe. He hadn't even been properly Searched-just put on the Sands at Ambassador Rrknz's command. Nobody knew if he was even attractive to dragonkind.
The girl, Kenira, who'd led them here grinned wryly at him from across the room. He hadn't a clue whether the words she and the Weyrwoman had exchanged were praise or scolding, and he felt rather guilty that he should trap her into playing 'official Dgeth escort'. Winking, she stood.
"Weyrwoman, if you will pardon me, but I think Tr-r-hern and I have no part in further discussion here. I'd like to go set him up in the Barracks and all," she murmured.
Tyani gave her a nod and a quick smile. Relieved, Trrhrn followed the long-legged hmn girl out the door.
"I hope you didn't mind that," Kenira said cheerfully, shortening her stride a little so that Trrhrn's much shorter legs could keep up. "But you've got to be tired of all the rules and regs by now, and that master of yours looks as though he could talk for hours."
"-sss…Yes," he agreed, still trying to follow the convolutions of the servant's tongue. "Thank you."
Kenira grinned again, hand on a doorhandle. "Not a problem. So, what exactly is your relationship to him again?"
Trrhrn, looking around the huge Barracks with awe, blinked and shifted his gaze to the young woman. "Rrknz is…" he faltered, searching for a word in the strange language. "A Listener, you may call it. Mostly listen to whisperers-your dragons. I'm his writing-down person. An assistant. No rank."
She patted an empty cot, which, though rather large for him, might have been a bit cramped for someone of the hmn's height. "A scribe? That's a good profession. I bet you learn a lot that way." The girl tilted her head. "Here, mostly music-makers, the Harpers, learn that skill. Do you make music?"
Trrhrn shook his head emphatically. "No ear for it. Is also…special pro-fession. Not for everyone." He caught her hand. "And you?"
"Oh, this and that," Kenira said lightly. "I help around the Weyr. My dad's a rider--as is my aunt, my cousin, and my uncle--and I know quite a bit about dragons."
He tapped his claws gently on the soft skin of her palm. "Are you also C'd'dayt?"
She shook her head and smiled lopsidedly. "No. Nobody's Searched me. I'm just one among many weyrbrats, Tr-r-hern. There's lots of people who're better dragon-matches than me."
Trrhrn sighed. It would have been nice to have already known another Candidate. "What color, these relatives ride?"
"Da rides brown, Aunt Keni rides green, Cousin L'ken rides white--they don't have those around here, only half-whites, 'cept for the Flurry dragons--and Uncle J'lenn rides blue." She made a face. "He's going to be livid when he hears about sentient creatures under our Sands. I'd try and avoid him if you can."
"Oh."
She rested a hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything Tr-r-hern, please let me know. We don't know much about your kind at all, and I'm sure there will be very curious people. If they're rude, tell them off, if they're sincere, try not to snap at 'em. If you need language help, I'm always here." Kenira grinned that rueful grin again. "You're likely to be my job until you Impress, if you Impress."
He bared his teeth, hesitantly, in a facsimile of her expression. "Thn kyu."
"Thank you," she corrected, eyes sparkling.
"Thank you."
Kenira nodded. "You're welcome."
She didn't even grimace as she headed out into the cold damp of the Weyrbowl. The only way to arrange her seething mind to her satisfaction was to move, and Kenira was best at running.
Speeding smoothly through the scattered folk outside, she kept pace with her thoughts, running the curve of the Weyrbowl. The curving lip of stone went on, and so did she.
What did this all mean? Creatures beneath the Sands? Trrhrn was nice enough, but Kenira suspected that he was barely as old as she, as far as maturity went. Her legs scissored in a long, joyous stride.
Did the Dgeth even understand what a dragon was? According to Rrknz, their race was mildly telepathic, and heard the voices above as 'whispers'. But wouldn't that drive them mad, whispers in their head all the time?
Ash-brown Trrhrn was a scribe. How had he learned to write? How had the Dgeth even developed written language, in the darkness beneath the Red Sands? Those stubby-fingered hand-paws of theirs didn't even look like they could hold a pen properly.
And Trrhrn asking why she hadn't Stood yet…
Kenira shrugged to herself as she loped along, enjoying the stretch and play of muscles in shoulders, arms, and back, in hip and thigh and calf. She'd considered it, of course, but she hadn't held her breath waiting. The outWeyr candidates were usually more interesting--even if, she sighed, they scattered Ryslen's dragons across the faces of a thousand worlds--and had proved good-omened in the past. Bloodlines were seldom mixed. And her family had a grand number of riders--she, who could now ride more colors than they'd ever dreamed of, would be superfluous as a wingrider. She was mildly useful here, and reasonably content.
And Uncle J'lenn wouldn't do me any favors… Faranth help me if he's accused of nepotism.
She ran full-tilt into Kejai as she dodged around another pedestrian, and nearly strained a muscle staying upright. "Ouch," she panted. "Pardon me, human wall, but for a young man who has nineteen Turns and 6 feet 4 inches, but you're terribly hard to see."
Her brother scowled down at her. "Kira, where have you been? You didn't even eat dinner with us, and you weren't sleeping in your bed!"
"Nor in anyone else's," she said tartly. "Uncle J'lenn was sitting with you, and he gives me a sour stomach."
Kejai eyed the smudges on her tan leggings with disapproval. "Kenira, you could at least make an effort…"
Solemn and unsmiling, she tweaked his nose. "I try hard enough, big bro. I can take care of myself, but I'm not abandoning the familial bosom immediately. Just…relax."
He sighed, dark brows still pulled taut above his gray eyes. "I worry about you, Nira. Will you at least come and spend some time with your family now?"
Bowing her head in acquiescence, Kenira padded back to the Lower Caverns at her brother's side, leaving her thoughts in an untidy heap, soaking up rain.
Trrhrn watched with disbelief as the hatching went on around him. Utter chaos…
In that chaos, a shadowy blue came determinedly onward toward, of all people, Kenira. And she had said she was not a c'd'da--candidate! "Idaylath," she proclaimed, after a few token protests--protests that were quieted by the Searchrider that she had warned him about.
It seemed that the whisperers were a trifle more personable than the Listeners had thought….
So lost in introspection and theological implications was he that he nearly missed the hatching of a pair of night-browns, nearly the last eggs on the red heavens. But the larger hatchling certainly didn't miss him....
You are the first of the first, Trrhrn, a pure tenor, sand-dry, invaded his thoughts. Trrhrn had heard whisperers before--they were a constant background noise, never-ceasing, but this was clear as a bell, and a thousand sensations came with it.
A rather disoriented first, the dragon decided, a bubble of laughter in his voice. Pay no attention to the rumors. And don't worry, I can pronounce your name properly, just as you will pronounce mine properly.
And that is? the Dgeth thought back, stunned.
Chth, said the night-brown fondly. Chth. And he gave the crowd a death's-head grin as Trrhrn announced it to the world. And you can call yourself whatever you wish.
Later, much later, Kenira curled up next to Idaylath in the weyrling barracks. The curve of her lanky frame cradled the night blue's perfectly, and her hand lay quietly on his shoulder.
Kenira, Idaylath murmured possessively, brassy-trumpet tenor sighing in her mind. You are most accommodating.
She stroked his hide wonderingly, teeth shining in the darkness. "For you, Idaylath. Just for you. You never give up, do you?"
A promise is a promise, he sang back sweetly, first-lids flickering over his eyes. I was promised to you since the day of your birth. I could scarcely bear the waiting in the shell.
The weyrbrat laughed richly and pressed her cheek to his neck. "You're harper-tongued, Iday, and right, as always."
How could I be wrong? I don't need a Search dragon or a white robe to tell me my business!
Trrhrn had not considered, when he agreed to Stand, the ramifications of such an action. It had not even crossed his mind that he, as a dragonrider, would actually ride the dragon.
In the air.
Trrhrn had discovered within himself an absolute terror of heights. He grimly withstood Rrknz' amusement for a few weeks as the young rider rode about on a groundbound Chth.
But now it was time to fly, and Trrhrn was shaking so hard he could barely move. He had climbed aboard Chth--with some difficulty--and all that remained to be done was to take off. The night brown's muscles roiled beneath his legs.
Are you ready? We must fly
"I guess," Trrhrn said reluctantly. He wasn't, but he couldn't deny his dragon the skies.
Like an arrow, Chth shot upward, the muscles in his powerful hindquarter propelling him toward the sky. Trrhrn flinched and clung to the riding straps, feeling his head jerk backward with the force of his lifemate's takeoff. After a few minutes of bone-rattling wingstrokes, the night-brown's flight evened out. Trrhrn dared to open his eyes.
He whimpered a little as he saw how far he was from the ground. Vertigo made him squint and swallow hard. But Chth's joy buoyed him up.
Is this not magnificent?
"Yes. Yes, it is," Trrhrn said truthfully.
Idaylath had no problem with flying, and neither did Kenira. She loved it, in fact. It gave her a soul-deep thrill to be aboard her partner, to feel the wind in her face and the absolute freedom of the sky.
I think you like it more than I do, Idaylath said, amused.
"Maybe I do," Kenira said, smiling. She had been accepted by the weyrling group as if she were one of their own. It was a nice feeling to be part of a greater whole. Before she'd Impressed, she had always felt that she was superfluous, a grain of sand rattling around the insides of an oyster.
But now you are a pearl among dragonriders, Idaylath interrupted cheerfully. Why don't you go take a bath? You are tired, and very sweaty. There was just a hint of nose-wrinkle to that remark. Idaylath had never understood why his human became damp and smelly when she exerted herself, and his fastidious nature was rather offended by it.
"All right, Mr. Finicky, I'll go wash up." As if conjured on the spot, the air around her filled with three flitter bodies. "Miraculous," Kenira said dryly, wincing as tiny talons dug into her bare arms. "All right, you three, straighten up and fly right."
Aren't they adorable? Idaylath said with a snigger.
Kenira glowered daggers at him as Wren nosed under her hair, then jumped as a small, cold firelizard muzzle investigated the back of her neck. "Cormorant!"
Merlin scolded in his harsh voice, but all three flitters followed her as she strode toward the bathhouse. Come back with your towel or upon it, Idaylath bid, his voice full of suppressed laughter.
