Chapter 2 - Impression
Sixth month, 34th Turn of the Present Pass
Billee hadn't given much thought to what he'd be doing in the days before the Hatching, but he found that the Fort Weyr people had worked out a routine for them already.
Firstly, they were measured for the white gowns they would wear for the Hatching, which were simply two lengths of material joined at the shoulder and sides (when he tried it on, the following day, Billee thought he looked ridiculous in it, but then so did everyone else). They were also measured for and given crude but sturdy sandals, with double-thickness leather soles, as all the Candidates would be standing on the hot sand for several hours.
After lunch, they were taken on an official tour of the Weyr, ending up near the Hatching Ground. They could see Orlith protecting her eggs, and Billee wondered if she remembered seeing him with Domin the day before. Clioth, her current mate, was with her this morning, and had brought her a fat herdbeast to eat, judging from the bloody remains on the sands. The heat from the grounds was barely felt from where they stood, but the Weyrlingmaster, brown rider F'neldril, assured them that the sand would be hot when they eventually stood there.
No one knew exactly when the Hatching would occur, but it was expected any day now. It was both exciting, since few of them had attended a Hatching before, and tedious, because they couldn't go anywhere in case they missed it. They spent their time in the Weyrling Barracks or in the dining hall, or in exploring.
Billee and Domin became firm friends almost immediately, in spite of the difference in age. They had the same sense of humour, and found themselves giggling at the same moment on several occasions. Domin was convinced that Billee was going to impress, and insisted on giving him a much more in-depth tour than he had done on the first day, even braving Holth's weyr to show Billee the council room, with its spectacular half-oval table, inlaid with precious stones and surrounded by ornate chairs.
They visited all the Weyr's crafthalls and accessible storerooms. In the weaving room, Domin introduced him to a pleasant, fair-haired woman called Tamina, who turned out to be his mother. She was weaving a tapestry for the Weyrleader's chamber, showing the young Leri on Holth during the first Threadfall of the Pass, thirty-four years ago. Leri was now grey-haired and afflicted with joint-ail, but Billee could see that she had been beautiful in her youth. The work was slow and laborious, involving much fine detail and switching of colours, but it was going to be magnificent when it was finished. He said so, and received a warm smile from both of them in return.
The next day, Domin and Seegan took Billee through some of the back corridors that weren't used anymore. It was quite eerie, following dusty trails for what seemed like forever. At least the other two appeared to know where they were going, and pointed out old chambers with odd remains of boxes and unusual wall decorations. It was interesting, but Billee was thankful when they emerged back into one of the main corridors.
He met a few of the Weyrfolk as well. Domin introduced him to several of the younger riders and they welcomed him warmly. Some of them seemed a little more affectionate than he was used to, but Billee put that down to the close friendships that would naturally develop in a fighting wing. They were interested to hear that he was a harper, though he was careful to stress that he was still an apprentice. Inevitably, he was forced to play a couple of ballads for them, and they complimented him on his voice and gitar-playing.
* * *
Two mornings later, the Candidates woke up to a strange sound in the air - a faint, vibrant humming noise. He wondered what it was, and didn't have to wait long to find out. As soon as Domin woke up and heard the noise, he jumped out of bed.
"The Hatching!" he cried.
"What?"
"The dragons are humming. The Hatching will start soon." He opened his chest and pulled out the white Candidate robe. "We'll have to be quick about bathing. F'neldril will be coming along soon to make sure we're ready."
"What about breakfast?"
"Oh!" Domin stilled. "Perhaps we'd better get breakfast first. I'm sure they won't mind us going in early for once." He grabbed his everyday tunic and breeches, then hunted under the bunk for his boots.
Billee got up and pulled his clothes quickly but with little wasted energy. He spotted Domin's boots by the wall and pointed them out, earning himself a brilliant smile.
"Thanks! I couldn't remember where I'd thrown them."
Shards! but the boy was attractive when he smiled like that. Billee imagined that he must have all the girls after him wherever he went, and couldn't help but feel a little envious.
They were the first out of the barracks, and ran across the bowl to the dining hall. Domin grabbed Billee's hand and led him to one of the tables closest to the kitchens. The drudges were already laying out cauldrons of porridge and slices of meat, and the boys helped themselves to generous portions. The rest of the candidates followed, in twos and threes, all of them trying to scoff down as much food as they could.
"Eat up," cautioned Domin. "It's going to be a long day, and you won't eat again until Impression's over."
Billee obeyed, and felt uncomfortably full as he followed Domin back to the weyrlings' bathing pool.
As predicted, F'neldril was waiting for them when they got back. He ordered the rest of them to bathe and change, and once they were all arrayed in front of him, cleaned and robed, he addressed them seriously, explaining the procedure that would be followed at the Hatching.
"Now, remember, there are many more of you than there are eggs. If you're not chosen this time, you'll get another chance. At least, most of you will." And did his eyes glance over at Billee? Or was it Domin? Billee couldn't tell for sure. Domin simply stood with his head bowed. Well, if he'd been a Candidate before, no doubt this was all old news to him.
"If you are approached by a dragonet, stay quite still until you are sure it's going to pass you, then step out of its way. Don't panic and don't run - I've seen Candidates get badly injured when they panic. The dragons will be clumsy and uncoordinated, and all they care about is getting to the one they want. It's up to you to remember that and to behave accordingly."
They all nodded, solemnly.
"Once you have impressed, you'll know the dragonet's name, and you'll feel his or her hunger. Believe me, the dragonets will be extremely hungry. You must escort your dragonets back here to the barracks, where we'll record their names and fresh meat will be waiting. They'll feed, and then will most likely fall asleep until the next morning."
"How will we know their names?" asked one candidate.
"They'll tell you," said F'neldril. "Every dragon is born knowing its own name."
They was a little buzz of comment at that. Billee couldn't understand how a newborn could know its own name - let alone be able to communicate it - but if F'neldril said it, then it had to be true.
The weyrlingmaster cleared his throat to get their attention again, and continued. "The day after Hatching the regular training will start. You'll be allocated a permanent space here in the barracks, where you and your dragon will sleep. Each day will begin with a meal for the dragonets, followed by grooming and oiling. If you're lucky, you'll finish by noon. Afternoons will be spent in lessons. The hours between dinner and glow-dim will be your own, for the time being. Any questions?"
"Don’t we get a weyr?" asked Billee.
"Not until your dragon can fly up to it! That'll be about a year. But don't fret," he added, looking at the disappointment on Billee's face, "the barracks will have plenty of space. And it's better for the young dragonets to be a little way away from the main Weyr until everyone learns to behave themselves."
Domin snorted, and F'neldril glared at him. "Yes, that applies to you too, Domin." The rest of the group laughed, and Domin blushed bright red. Billee thought he looked quite cute.
"What happens if we don't impress?" asked another boy, looking very anxious.
"You'll return here to collect your things, and report to the Assistant Headwoman, Marta, in the lower caverns. For those who wish to return home, transport will be provided. For those who wish to stay, suitable places will be arranged."
"Will you be taking all our lessons?"
"No. Assistant Weyrlingmaster R'lan here will be in charge of you as a class and will conduct the majority of your lessons during the first year. You will also have lessons from various craftmasters in aspects of their crafts that relate directly to dragons and to fighting Thread. Of course, I will be taking some sessions myself and getting a feel for how each of you is developing, but I spend most of my time with the advanced class."
He paused, and Billee glanced at the Assistant Weyrlingmaster, who was about fifteen years younger but otherwise a carbon copy of the steely-eyed F'neldril. The Weyr obviously took its responsibilities seriously when it came to the instruction of weyrlings, and no laxity would be permitted.
"Are there any more questions? Right then, to breakfast, all of you, and then straight over to the Hatching Ground."
"How much time do we have?" asked Barret.
F'neldril cocked his head to listen to the humming. "A few hours, I think, but eggs have been known to hatch early, so it's best to be over there as soon as possible."
They were led in a group to the Hatching Ground. This time they were allowed onto the sands, and Billee felt the heat radiating up from the ground. It wasn't too bad this far out, Domin told him that later on, when they had to stand near the eggs, it would make their feet burn.
"How do the dragons cope?"
Domin shrugged. "They don't seem to feel heat or cold as much as we do. They can still burn though. Even Orlith will turn over every now and then - you'll see."
They passed the time in swapping stories of Hatchings past, when the unlikeliest of candidates succeeded, or when a favourite Candidate had somehow failed to impress. Billee noted that Domin appeared to be getting more and more nervous, and asked him if he was all right.
"I'm fine."
"So what upsets you?"
Domin bit his lip. "It's my final chance at Impression. My father told me that if I don't impress this time I have to go back to the Weaverhall in Southern Boll and stay there until I get my journeyman's knots. I'll be too old after that."
Billee gave Domin a reassuring thump on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it's no bad life, being a craftsman. And if I'm not too old, then surely you'll have other chances. Just relax. If you worry too much the dragons won't come anywhere near you."
"Easy for you to say. You're Hold-bred. I've been expected to impress since I was twelve years old."
"You can't force Impression, Domin - that's what everyone's been telling us every day since I got here."
"I know. But ..."
"But nothing. There are 31 eggs and 53 candidates. Those are pretty good odds."
Domin sighed. "I know. I just want to be a dragonrider."
"We all do. I know you'll make it."
"Thanks, Billee. I know you will, too."
They shook hands, and Domin followed that up with a hug, resting his head on Billee's shoulder for a few minutes. Billee patted his shoulder comfortingly, and hoped that his new friend would impress.
The humming around them grew louder and more like a weird chorus, the dragon voices blending and harmonising in strange ways that ought to have been discordant, but weren't. Orlith was up on her haunches now, looking down at the eggs on the sand.
Over on the other side of the Grounds there were a few hundred people scrambling to get onto the benches that took up the southern side. The light in the cavern dimmed at irregular intervals as dragons deposited various senior people from outside Fort Weyr - other weyrleaders, weyrwomen and even several Lords Holder. Everyone loved a Hatching, it seemed.
Billee stood with Domin and the other candidates, suddenly wishing he could be anywhere else but here. All the confidence he'd had when he'd spoken to Domin just a little while ago seemed to have evaporated, leaving nothing in its wake but anxiety. He was only going to make a fool of himself, after all. What use was a Hold-bred harper's apprentice when there were so many dragonriders' sons here? He should just walk off now and get the humiliation over and done with.
Then he shook himself. What sort of defeatist attitude was that? Salteth had selected him from all the boys and men in the Harperhall, and the dragon was well-known for the success of his Candidates. He should have more faith in that, and in himself.
The humming sound was all around him, getting deep into his bones until he wanted to scream. A small commotion arose towards the far end of the Ground.
"One of the eggs is rocking!" whispered Domin, excitedly. "It'll crack any minute now."
At that moment there was a sharp crack! and the rocking egg split apart, revealing a dragonet of delicate green, who scrambled to get clear of the fragments and almost tripped over her own wings. One of the boys nearby knelt down to help her right herself, and their eyes met. Suddenly the boy's face was illuminated by utter joy, and the dragonet butted her head against the boy's shoulder. Applause sounded from the far side, and Billee realised that the first Impression had occurred.
It was about ten minutes before the next egg cracked open, but after that there were several that hatched at once, and Billee watched as four of his new friends became dragonriders. He tried to watch all the rocking eggs, trying to figure out if it would be better to stay in one spot or to move around the Ground to catch each dragon as it appeared. While he was thinking about it, three more Impressions occurred.
Time passed, eggs cracked, and Impressions were made ... until there were only a couple of eggs left to hatch. Billee was starting to get nervous - there were still twenty or so candidates on the grounds, and they were all approaching the two remaining eggs. Some of them looked very confident, and his hopes fell again. How could he possibly have hoped to compete with the Weyr-bred boys? They were younger, but they had been around dragons all their lives. Of course one of them would impress, not him, not the poor harper apprentice from the north.
The nearer egg rocked and cracked, and a small blue dragonet practically leapt from the shell, tumbling over himself and landing a few feet away. He mewled with such a piteous tone that Billee moved to help him immediately, setting him back on his feet and untangling the wings. Then he looked into the whirling red eyes and was lost in a maelstrom of love and tenderness and hunger such as he'd never experienced before.
My name is Margroth, said the dragon, but without speaking.
"I'm Billee," he whispered. You're so beautiful. I love you, he thought.
And I love you, replied the dragon, but I'm hungry!
And Billee realised that he had impressed, that he was Margroth's rider now, and that they were both of them very hungry. He looked up and saw that F'neldril was beckoning to him from the side of the Hatching Ground. The last dragonet - a brown - had also impressed, and was making his way there already. The remaining candidates were standing disconsolately around, not sure what to do. Billee felt sorry for them, but there was nothing he could do or say that would alleviate the crushing disappointment of failing to impress - he could only hope that they would have another chance one day. In the meantime, he had a hungry dragonet to look after.
Come on, he said to Margroth. We need to go over there to get food.
Margroth waddled across the sands as fast as he was able, and they joined the small group of dragonets still feeding.
"There you are, lad," said the weyrlingmaster approvingly, as a drudge handed Billee a hefty chunk of meat. "Get that into your dragon and he'll soon start to feel better."
"Thank you," breathed Billee as he narrowly avoided having his fingers swallowed along with the meat.
"What's his name?"
"Margroth," he replied, still astonished that the dragonet had known his own name and had been able to tell him. "His name is Margroth."
F'neldril made a note on the slate he held. "Well, B'lee and Margroth, as soon as you've satisfied the initial hunger, you can make your way back to the Weyrling Barracks to rest."
B'lee nodded, still shoving meat into his dragonet's maw as fast as he could, and scarcely noticing the honorific contraction that was due to him as a dragonrider. F'neldril turned away as the final dragonet and his rider approached, and B'lee could see, from the corner of his eye, that the spectators were rising from their seats and moving out, no doubt to sit and gossip over who had and who hadn't impressed.
At least Domin had impressed, too. He'd seen the boy embrace a green earlier on - not the bronze he'd boasted about, nor even a brown, but at least a green was still a dragon, and he didn't have to walk off the sand on his own, as the disappointed candidates were doing now. And it wasn't Domin anymore, he reminded himself. Domin was now D'min, and he was B'lee.
He remained at the feeding table for a few minutes more, stuffing Margroth's mouth every few seconds until the whirling red eyes had changed to a more contented green and each morsel had ceased to be followed by a cry for more. The dragonet bumped his head against Billee's midsection. Tired, he announced.
Come on then. We need to go over there to rest. B'lee guided the dragonet across the bowl to the Weyrling Barracks. As F'neldril had said, all the other dragonets were in the cavern, scattered around central area, most of them sleeping or crooning softly against their rider's flanks. There was a space near D'min and his green, and B'lee gently prodded Margroth until they could squeeze in next to them.
D'min looked up and smiled, and B'lee felt something peculiar in his middle. No one could ever call the boy handsome - his features were too irregular for that - but with the glow of Impression on his face he seemed like the most beautiful thing B'lee had ever seen in his life. He tried to ignore the thought that he must have the same goofy, adoring expression on his face, and sat down on the sand.
"Hi," said D'min, softly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping dragonet whose head was resting over his legs. "You made it."
"So did you."
"Yeah. This is Aurieth," he said, stroking the dragonet's head.
"And this is Margroth. Margroth, this is Domin - I mean D'min. He's a friend."
Margroth turned slightly to see D'min, but his eyes were rolling green and all he said to B'lee was, Sleepy.
"So sleep, then, little one. I'll still be here when you wake up."
More food then?
B'lee laughed. "Yes, there'll be more food."
Good. Margroth lay down on the sand, winding his tail around B'lee's body as if to ensure he wouldn't run away.
"I can't believe I actually impressed." D'min was still incredulous.
"I knew you would," said B'lee consolingly.
"I was so afraid I wouldn't. I feel sorry for the ones who were left. I know how it feels to walk off the sands on your own."
"They'll have other chances."
D'min nodded. "I hope so." He sat forward and hugged his knees, leaning slightly to one side so that he remained in contact with Aurieth. "It's such an unbelievable feeling. It doesn't matter how many times you see it, going through it yourself is so much more than you imagine."
"It's certainly more than I ever imagined." They shared a smile at the wonder of Impression and the knowledge that each of them was now bound for life to a creature that would love them unconditionally and completely, to the point of death.
There was a buzz of voices at the cavern entrance, and B'lee saw that family and friends were trickling in, having made the long trek around from the spectator stands tiered above the Hatching Ground. A short, stocky rider with a wingsecond's knot on his shoulder came up to them, and D'min scrambled to his feet. "Father!"
"D'min," said the rider, with a smile. "So you impressed at last."
"Yes, father."
"You can call me D'ran now. We're all riders now."
"Yes ... D'ran," said D'min, hesitantly.
D'ran looked at the dragonet curled up on the sand. "Pity it's just a green. I was hoping you'd get a brown or even a bronze but," he cast a shrewd glance at the boy, "maybe that was never an option, hmm?"
D'min flushed, and B'lee wondered what had happened to make D'ran speak to his son in such a manner.
"Still, a dragon's a dragon, after all, and we need every one of them. I'm proud of you, son." He clapped a hand on D'min's shoulder, and gave a terse smile.
"Thanks father - D'ran."
"D'col would have been proud of you, too."
D'min nodded, and B'lee pretended he didn't see the tears that glittered briefly in the boy's eyes.
D'ran cleared his throat. "And make sure you see Tamina in the next day or two. Give her the opportunity to make a fuss of you."
"I'll do that."
D'ran moved on, greeting the new brown and bronze riders. D'min was muttering to himself angrily, petting Aurieth's neck. "Just a green? She not just a green. She's the most beautiful dragon in the world!"
"Apart from Margroth," B'lee said, with a twinkle in his eye. He hadn't been around the Weyr for two days before he had found out that every rider considered his dragon to be the most beautiful on Pern, and he wasn't going to break tradition or let Margroth be slighted.
D'min acknowledged his correction with a sly grin. "I'll allow Margroth to be the most beautiful blue if you'll allow Aurieth to be the most beautiful green."
"That sounds fair," said B'lee, and they shook hands on it. D'min hand was warm and dry, and B'lee felt a slight reluctance to let it go.
He sat and watched the greetings continuing around him. It would have been nice to have had his own family with him for this, but his father and brothers were all busy, and his mother was looking after the wife of one of his brothers, who had just lost a baby. B'lee would just have to write and tell them his news and no doubt they'd would write back with their congratulations. He wouldn't allow himself to feel sad just because they weren't here at the Weyr with him - after all, he was old enough to stand on his own two feet.
Still, he was very happy when he saw Masterharper Tirone, accompanied by a serious-looking man in his forties, striding towards him, and jumped up to greet them.
"Billee, my boy!" Tirone declaimed. "Or, B'lee, I should say. Congratulations. I knew you'd do well. And such a handsome blue! I should have known you'd pick harper colours!"
It was such a ridiculous thing to say that B'lee had to laugh. "I didn't do it on purpose."
"Never admit that. Say nothing and look down your nose - it will make people wonder if you did manage to do it deliberately." He clapped a hand to B'lee's shoulder. "I don't know if you've met the Fort Weyr harper, Willan." They shook hands and Tirone continued. "B'lee here was one of our most promising apprentices, and would have walked the tables at summer solstice had he stayed at the Hall. It cost us a pang to part with him - Master Tondil was particularly sad to see him go. But he has impressed, and will now be serving Pern in a different capacity."
"I hope to see more of you," said Willan, politely. "Once your training has finished, perhaps you may care to play in with us in the evenings occasionally."
"Thank you," said B'lee, rather stunned. "I'd like that."
Willan had spotted D'min, and nodded to him. "Greetings, D'min. I heard you'd been reprieved from Southern Boll. Congratulations. She's a fine-looking dragon."
"Thank you," murmured D'min, uncharacteristically quiet.
"No, no need to be bashful, lad. You're not under my jurisdiction any more, for which I am sure we're both grateful. I think you'll do well as a dragonrider - as long as you learn your lessons and remember them when they're needed."
"Yes, Harper Willan."
The Masterharper nodded to both boys and then continued around the cavern, greeting those he knew.
D'min looked at B'lee shrewdly. "You have friends in high places, I see."
"It's nothing like that," B'lee said hurriedly. "Master Tirone never spoke to me before I was Searched. But he was kind enough to say that I could go back to the Harperhall if I failed to impress."
"That was good of him."
Just then one of the older weyrlings came over with food, checking that everyone had had something to eat and whatever else they needed. B'lee took a drink - he was quite thirsty after all those hours on the hot sand - and a large meatroll. He leaned back against his dragon and ate his meal, watching D'min do the same, trying to come to terms with the momentous change that had just occurred in his life. No longer was he simply Billee, apprentice harper with a Hall and a Hold to go back to. Now he was B'lee, a dragonrider of Fort Weyr. He could go anywhere on Pern in the blink of an eye (well, he would be able to once he had learned how to go between), he could command the respect of holders and craftmasters alike, and he had just acquired a family of five hundred brothers. It was a lot to think about.