and Gold Jyotirth's weyr
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I am going to be the biggest and strongest Queen ever!
"I am sure you are! But you've got to learn to listen to me when I tell you where to head, when we go between!"
The dragon sulked. Her head low, she gruffed a breath of air at her rider.
I know. But I like to fly, just with my wings. Betweening is... cold. And it is dangerous! Remember what the weyrling master has said about getting lost?
"I remember, but also you need to think... My mother's a gold rider, too. And her dragon obeys her easily."
But your father is a blue rider, and Sixth can't tell what time of day it is sometimes!
"Don't you dare insult him!" Aynatchavay cried. "He's a wonderful little blue! He's a little addled!" She chuckled, "like father is sometimes..."
The man nodded, and looked at Anyatchavay. He glanced at the patch which was embroidered on her riding leathers, which indicated her rank as a Gold rider.
"Not flown yet, has she?" Grunted the man, whose own rank appeared to be of a brown rider somewhere within the Protectorate's wings.
The harper-rider shook her head, "no, not yet. But she will. And I would put marks on it being sooner than I'd like."
"Ah, but you're old enough to take the flight in stride, I think." He nodded, and walked into the milling crowd. Aynatchavay gave a little shrug, and smirked.
"You better not be agreeing so easily," she said to Jyotirth.
I am going to fly, and you will love it as much as I will! The older queens have told me so. They love to find the best mates. I do not think that any of THESE males here will suit me at all.
The dragon seemed to be scanning over their heads, her shining yellow-gold hide glimmering in the torches. She seemed to glow with her own light.
Which got Aynatchavay thinking. She was indeed going to rise. It might not be this evening, but it could very well be by morning at this rate. The harperess felt stifled by the presence of so many people, so she wandered through to another area, where there were people conversing more quietly about politics and such. She sat in, curious.
One of the other riders, a green rider with her own set of Harper badges and knots, beckoned.
"A gold rider joins us," Rue said, smiling. "Welcome. And your name is?"
"Aynatchavay of golden Jyotirth." She tried peering over the woman's page and stylus, but couldn't make out exactly what Rue was writing down. "And you?"
"Rue, of green Beirissath. You should probably just sit and listen. Once the guys get going, it's hard to break in. I just like to jot down their thoughts, because Faranth forbid they ever remember anything come morning..."
Aynatchavay laughed, drawing a little attention to herself, but the men folk seemed intense.
Until one of them looked at her oddly. He was a striking blond-haired slender bodied man, with a sharply cut jaw and pale browns on his clothing. His blue eyes looked right through Aynatchavay, and she shuddered.
"E'tan!" Rue said, "don't be rude! The poor thing doesn't know what you're doing!"
"Oh, I know... what he's doing." Aynatchavay said, waving her hand before her face to blow some air over it. "But you don't understand. I inherited some of my father's weaknesses... Did you mean to actually communicate something with that blast through my brain, or were you just doing what she said, and being rude?"
E'tan jolted back a bit, and then his dour face broke a smile. "I apologize. You did look familiar. Your father is here somewhere, hiding I think."
"From the noise, yes," Aynatchavay confirmed. "He would be." Then she looked up, oddly turning her head. It wasn't that Jyotirth was communicating something, it was that she was FEELING something.
"Oh my..." Aynatchavay whispered. "... Oh my, she's going to, isn't she? With all these people here?"
"To rise?" Rue said, looking up and seeing the large bright golden form opening her wide wings and trumpeting beyond the ridge. "Apparently so! Congratulations, you're going to have the best selection of mates ever assembled upon the Isle!"
