The Second Weyr

The meal was good: one of Yashma’s special casseroles, more of the beef, plus legumes and tubers, served with fresh hot bread and slabs of butter. Torene grinned as she slathered her bread with it before passing it on to the impatient rider next to her. Butter in this quantity obviously had come in from Ierne Island. Would they be able to have dairy products when Longwood settled on the east coast? She’d miss them. In the Hold, milk products had been reserved for babies and growing kids. What was being tired to the many advantages of being a rider. . . not the least of which was having Alaranth?

You like me better than butter?

Of course I do, but there’s absolutely no doubt that you couldn’t be spread on hot bread!

Bread is all right. Alaranth was unenthusiastic. From time to time, because Alaranth was curious, Torene had given her queen samples of what she ate.

But not for a carnivore like you, darling. You aren’t hungry again, are you?

No, but you were!

Alaranth also found it hard to understand why her rider had to eat several times a day, when once or twice a week sufficed the much bigger dragon.

Before the casseroles were passed around the tables for the second time, the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders took their places. Torene thought they all looked relaxed as they conversed pleasantly with each other. That did not jibe with her notions of the Weyr getting a lecture on recklessness and inefficiency.

A spicy nut-filled bar provided a sweet, and then ale was served, along with refills for anyone wanting just klah.

“He must really be going to take slices from our hides,” N’klas muttered in her ear.

“Then why is F’mar grinning from ear to ear?” Toren asked. The young Wingleader was looking excessively smug. Of course, she realized, mentally reviewing the day’s injuries, his wing had come through unscathed, so he could afford to be at his ease. But she wondered why F’mar kept trying to catch her eye.

Torene listened for Tallith, but the bronze was asleep. Alaranth, did I miss something?

What?

I don’t know, and F’mar’s grinning like a fool at me.

He does that all the time.

Torene caught an almost impatient and irritable note to her queen’s remark.

Don’t you like F’mar? she asked. Or is it Tallith you don’t fancy?

Torene often asked her queen which bronze she preferred. As she had no particular favorite among the riders, maybe her queen had one among the bronzes. Torene did have to think in terms of her queen’s mating flight, an event that could happen soon now. Sorka had no difficulty in telling her queen riders exactly what to expect-and Torene hoped it would be as thrilling for her as reputed. Sorka never exaggerated.

Bronze dragons are much the same in a mating flight. But I will be hard to catch!

Torene burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” N’klas asked her.

“Alaranth,” Torene said and shrugged, indicating a private joke.

She nodded at him to pour some ale into her glass after he’d filled his own. She was getting to like the stuff; certainly she preferred it to the jarring taste of quikal. And tonight, she had the feeling that she’d need the loosening beer provided.

Suddenly noise in the dining area subsided and Torene saw that Sean had risen.

“Uh-oh,” N’klas said, scrunching himself small beside her.

“Oh, don’t be an idiot,” she said rather sharply. She was well acquainted with N’klas’s tendency to dramatize.

This time he was right. Unexpectedly, Sean was holding his glass in one hand.

“You all know that the wings did not perform very well today, but I take the nature of today’s Fall into consideration. We all know that clumps and tangles are the worst types to combat, and that the very nature of such a Fall can cause injuries to even the most alert rider and clever dragon. I don’t excuse you, and I shall have words with some of you who were caught unawares, and those of you who managed to escape when you bloody well deserved to be scored.” Sean’s expression was harsh as he looked over the crowded tables. “Injuries could have been worse.”

When he paused again and let his gaze sweep the riders, Torene had the feeling that something momentous was going to happen. She was positive she knew what that had to be and inhaled, sitting straighter. She felt N’klas shift beside her as if he, too, felt impending news.

“The holders all agree that new Weyrs-” He stopped as dramatically as N’klas might, to let the plurality be absorbed. “-must be formed.”

He would have gone on, but wild cheering and stamping ensued and made him smile as he held up his arms for silence.

“Some of you”-and Torene caught him looking at her-“may think that the double-cratered site on the east coast is an ideal site for one. And you’d be right.” More cheering punctuated that statement. Torene felt N’klas’s elbow in her ribs, and she saw that F’mar was also watching her, a broad, happy, and very smug grin on his face.

Well, she thought, he had the makings of a good Weyr-leader, and his Wingseconds swore by his competence.