Just a Green Rider
Chapter One
Candidate class. Again. Seriam stifled a sigh, and glanced around the filled classroom. With a scant sevenday left before the earliest bets for the Hatching date, candidates were still being dropped off. Seriam did sigh aloud this time, thinking about the great golden egg that was hardening, constantly tended and watched over by a jealous Perinath.
Who in their right mind would want to be a queen rider, anyways? She thought, but even she had to admit that there was a faint trace of bitterness coloring her tone. The endless parade of useless Holder girls traipsing about Ista Weyr these days was about all she could handle.
Then again, who was she to sniff at these girls, when she had stood on the sands three times before with no success? She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the swarthy, solid young man beside her. Caesey had stood with her, and had almost reneged on his promise to continue to stand with her until they both either Impressed, or were too old to be considered. They both had sat through the, "So sorry you didn't Impress, there's no shame in it," speeches, had both snuck off with the shame they weren't supposed to be feeling burning their faces and making them flee the sands. They had both sought comfort in a stolen wineskin and the shadows of the rocks at the Weyr rim, watching the twin moons Belior and Timor set, slowing and silently getting drunk.
"Seriam!" The usually kind voice of the Weyrlingmaster L'ary cracked across the room. His bright blue eyes were hard as stones, and his bristly white hair seemed to be standing up even more than usual in his fury. "No doubt you think that you can get away with dozing in class because you've been here a few times before, but you must pay attention!" A few candidates from the back of the class tittered softly, giggling behind their hands. "Firestone duty for you today, and I want you to come up to the board and list all of the names of the Weyrs, in order from oldest to newest."
"Seriam the Thrice-Failed." came an ugly hiss from the back of the room as Seriam walked up to the board, picking up the piece of chalk and starting to write down the Weyrs, starting with Fort. The hiss came from a group of Holder-bred lads, their leader being a charismatic youth with sandy brown hair and hazel-green eyes. His lackeys all snickered.
"Oh, so you think it's funny that she's no newcomer here, do you Jordann? And you, Jerome? Look around you, lads. There are twenty-five eggs ready to break shell on those hatching grounds, and even though the date for the festivities draws ever nearer candidates are still being flown in. There are currently forty-one of you in this room. And don't think you're safe being men, either. Although the majority of late candidates will be girls, there will be a few boys straggling in, for a search dragon will search out all available people, whatever the gender. So, almost half of you will be coming back to us, and…" L'ary cut off, interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at the entrance to the classroom.
"New candidate for you, sir." The girl following the young weyrling in was tall, gangly with her height, and had red hair flowing down to her shoulders. She looked at the floor, and in so doing bumped a shoulder into the wall on her way in. Seriam winced as the girl absentmindedly massaged the offending shoulder, and paused in her writing. "Name's Rheannon, from Keroon Hold, searched by green Traranth and rider S'ri."
"Oh, and S'ri didn't see fit to deliver her candidate on her own? No matter, take a seat Rheannon and we'll find you a bunk in the dorms after class."
"Yes, sir." Rheannon breathed, the sound barely carrying to Seriam's ears, although she stood barely more than a pace away. Rheannon moved to the nearest desk, barely managing to avoid banging her hip into the table-top as she slid into her seat.
"Seriam, those names, if you please. I didn't forget about you standing up there."
Seriam sighed, and continued writing, struggling with the names of the newest Weyrs in the Southern and Western continents.