This next weyr is dark. Dark as night, as death, as the endless deepth of sea. But a tiny light flickers, at the end of this monsterous cavern, a tiny light that dances and sings a silent song. "Hello and welcome, I am Srebbshin, or Sreeb, as my friends few call me." A voice echoes the cavern. You turn to see a teenage boy of about seventeen. He is tall and not very well built, with messy hair and sharp cutting eyes. He looks sure of himself, and like he rates you. "I'm a candidate at Jerdan Weyr, which is a frightening experience, and I feel honoured and special, even though the status of candidate is lowest of the low," he says. His words are like they are rehearsed, hollow. The guys probably bored and spends all his time rehearsing what he'd say if someone visited. The weyr you are in is half-filled by a dragon couch, and the weyr could hold two queens. "I don't want to Impress. I don't hope to Impress. I don't think I'll Impress. But I felt like I should allow myself to be Searched, for the rider was persistant. Why would one want something with such sharp teeth, so huge and frightening, I wonder. Why would anyone want to risk their lives with a silvery, burning death. I don't know." The boy disappears, leaving you once again alone.