Well well well. Bethtavios and Rhain are Candidates... That leaves me. Lonely ol' Beaoschkhava. If you can pronounce my name, you're one up on everyone else I've met. Just use "Beao" if you aren't comfortable with the longer version. Now, about this candidacy thing. Well, the thing of it is, is that I have a craft. But mother and father (well, darn near anyone else too) don't really put up with it. I call it "number craft". I suppose that calling it gambling is just as well. Not that I would ever gamble. I crunch numbers. I work with luck and with tactics and I often win with a combination of both. My mother calls me "one canny little boychild" and I like that. Any compliment coming from mother is saying a lot. I don't think she ever dreamed that so many of her Fosterlings or her born-children would become Candidates. Some of the older kids have Crafts to rely on, as well as their candidacy potential. Myself... I don't know, Threadfall is a BIG gamble, don't you think? Weaving about in it like it's rain -- flaming it into ash and tossing fire stone between each dragon... A smile comes to my face about these things. I have watched drills but I've never thought of how strong one must be to do them. I admire the men and women on dragon back, perhaps someday I will be among them. Want to bet on it?

The hatching grounds of Gallmim Weyr boomed with noise from both the chatting crowd and from the humming dragons. Beaoschkhava stood with other candidates around a clutch of hardened eggs. He shifted his feet, for the heat of the sands were pentrating through his thick-soled shoes. Suddenly, the lead search rider shouted,'by the moons!' and she hummed something else, but the words were lost to Beaoschkhava, as he peered at the rocking eggs. Some of the other candidates crowded in front of him, obscuring his veiw of the eggs. He heard a cheer from the crowd as an impression was made. Suddenly the candidates were milling about as hatchlings emerged from their shells. A boy in front of Beaoschkhava quickly stepped aside, as a green dragon came charging for him. He stared at the dragonet, but felt nothing in his mind. Too late he stepped out of her way, but not before the creature's teeth snagged his foot, and he fell to the ground. Someone behind him gasped and the green squealed triumphantly as an impression as made. Beao was bleeding profusely, and the healers awaiting for such an event rushed to his side. He looked toward the ceiling and the healers bent over him holding bandage. They looked up with some fear and then moved away from him. The pain was tremendous, but he tried to lift himself up. He began to feel hungry, too. Beao closed his eyes in pain, sat up, and opened them again, finding a pair of large rubys loking back.You are hurting! the voice of the Brown dragonet standing before him exclaimed in his head. The healers edged back toward him. 'What's its name?' one asked. Beao' looked into the beautiful eyes again, now a shade of blue. My name is Myuxeth! He hugged his new life friend, and the pain seemed to diminish. 'You and I will be happy forever together!'

Visit my family at Mama Tani's fosterlings

Beao' smiled wildly, but then noticed that his foot was still bleeding. The healers finally attended him, while he was given instructions as to how not to overfeed the young dragon. The Brown Myuxeth gobbled up his portion and looked around, seeing the others still taking their meat one careful bite at a time. I do not think I can eat that way, Beao'... I am still hungry. The young rider rolled his eyes and huddled over the Brown. "You'll regret it, if you do get more, I bet you." Then, Beao' stood, looking around for faces he knew were there at the hatching. Finally spying one, he strode to his half-brother, Vanaard, now V'naard of Green Zadmith. They eyed each other, looked over their dragons (and Myuxeth was in fact at another bowl of meat again...) and Beao' suddenly said, "pay up!"

Beao' and his half brother V'naard became weyrmates, as their dragons grew! They competed against one another more fiercely than anyone would expect, but they never -- ever-- came to blows, and they always seemed to make up before retiring for the day. "When will this end?" Beao' groaned as they finally left the parade grounds below the bowl. An endless day of studies, leatherworking, and finally tromping around on the grounds in formation exhausted both the young men. "When we fly thread," V'naard remined his brother. "Then you'll see how this pays off." When we fly, I shall show you how talented I have become! I have been learning from the older dragons how to glide and swoop! Myuxeth bespoke his rider. "I just hope that you don't show off like those stupid blue riders," Beao' said, of a pair who had accidentally run into one another while training. "I hope I don't get put into their wing!" They retired into their weyr, both of them thankful there were always candidates and other weyrlings willing to help oil and scratch the growing dragons. Brown Myuxeth was nearly twice the size of Green Zadmith by now, and showed no sign of slowing.

Read more about the weyrlings on V'naard's Weyr!

At long last, more than a year after the hatching, Myuxeth and Zadmith have become adults. V'naard moved into the weyr beside his brother's for there was no longer any room for two! "You know I hear they have races in the off-thread season," Beao commented as he stretched over a harness. "I think that would be a fine place to start --" "Betting again?" V'naard interrupted. "That's all you think about, Beao'!" He licked his lips and smiled. "Of course it is. And when I win those races, you'll see..." "You? On that shabby out of shape Brown? Are you serious?" V'naard jibed, as he tucked in a flap of a satchel. "I'll have you know that one of the junior queens told him he was fine Flight material!" Beao' snorted defensively. "You lie." V'naard countered. "I can tell, your lips move." He tied down the satchel, ready to carry wares back to their mother's Fosterling center. "He'd never fly a queen. He's big but he isn't even as big as some of the other Browns in the clutch! And not even close to the bronzes!" Beao' gave off a tight grin. "Well, I won't see your Green Zadmith up for too many flights, will I?" "Oooh," V'naard hissed, "good one. But perhaps she will." He slung the satchel over his shoulder, a shoulder made strong and firm by a turn and a half of heavy work and riding. He smiled at his brother. Finally, Beao' looked up from his own leather work. "What, haven't you been--" A wide-eyed glance at the weyr terrace out the window at the small, fast green made him think again. He opened his mouth to say something, but.., "Shut up, brother dearest," V'naard said, of the fact that his dragon had not been really consuming any of the fire stone they'd been packing down for the last year. "Perhaps she will rise. I don't expect your Myuxeth could catch her!" V'naard tossed his head, moved his hair away from his face and donned his flight goggles. Beao' thought he looked ridiculous. But he had a point. Myuxeth? He bespoke. Yes, my friend? Remember when that little gold talked to you about her flight? I cannot forget! The dragon swelled with pride. Zadmith left her ledge, green wings dancing with the light of early day. She might have competition!

Beao' and his relatives are all riding for the Kshau Protectorate! Visit the site and see what Wing he is in!