The only good thing about a hatching ceremony in a strange place, Lytah decided, was that people were too busy to take any notice of another young body. She would then not have to listen to another well-meaning stranger wonder as to why such a pretty girl would want to wear boy's clothing. She had long given up trying to convince anyone that she preferred people to think that way. With a tall figure that, thankfully to her, was not overly generous in curves, dressed in less feminine styles, rarely did anyone question her presence in places where girls were not expected to be. Exploring caves that inevitably could be found around any of the weyrs or finding her way around labyrinths of lower caverns were two things that came to mind.

Not for the first time did Lytah wonder what the future held for her as she made her way unobtrusively into the kitchens. She had seen a lot of women today and there had been only one whose job she would even like to contemplate. But all those here were involved in the frantic activity of preparing for the crowd of extra visitors that added to the hundreds of residents of this weyr who would all want to be fed after the hatching. So no one noticed her quickly procure a handful of meat rolls and several pieces of fruit to be slipped into her small satchel as she left. Even if they did, they would likely just blame one of the weyrlings, one of the older boys who had impressed a dragon within the last few turns.

She should have been born a boy, she thought for the umpteenth time as her wanders brought her out onto the tiers above the hatching grounds. Already there were a few people finding a good seat, but she didn't stay. Her parents were likely to be here today, both Fort's weyrleader and weyrwoman were friends of theirs. Definitely her father and his position in Pernese society was high enough to be guaranteed a prime position. And with a large network of uncles and even one aunt likely to be here today, she would have no problem of finding a seat.

As a boy there might have been the chance of her becoming a dragon rider. That was the only thing that she would really want to do. But there were few queen eggs laid these days. Fewer eggs in total from the golden dragon that ruled in each of the six weyrs. So her father had said on one of the few occasions they had seen each other recently. It was because of the fact that within the next ten turns or so, this Pass would be over and dragons would no longer be needed to sear the deadly thread from the sky before it landed to devour anything organic.

There was no queen egg on the sands of Fort's hatching grounds, and only about a dozen eggs in Morath's latest clutch. Lytah could see the huge bulk of the largest of the dragon kind curled in protective watch of her brood. With her smaller bronze mate Sothath by her side, there didn't seem to be a lot of room left for the group of boys who would be shepherded in soon for the hatching dragons to choose from for their life mate.

No queen egg meant that there would be no group of girls. For even though greens were female as well as the gold, greens were fighting dragons that flew in the wings with the bronze, brown and blue dragons and so their riders were boys. Why that was so was a constant source of frustration to Lytah, she felt she could fight thread as well as any boy. It was not fair that they had all the opportunities whereas girls had only the one. None, if there was no queen.

She made her way along the edge to the steps leading onto the sands. There were a couple of boys in new white shirts in a group there to one side. They would be the boys who lived at Fort she surmised. Through the entrance to another area to one side she could glimpse a larger group being dismissed. That would be the group brought in from search going through some form of orientation.

The cavern was huge; it took a while to make her way to the outside. Though she did pause to bow low to Morath on her way out. That was one thing no one could fault Lytah on, she had a great respect for dragon kind, knew the name and rider of every senior queen dragon at the weyrs and the current weyrleaders. She could even at a stretch, come up with the names of the junior queens and most of the bronzes and riders on Pern, but she might be pushing it for locations.

Once in the sunlight, she headed away from the direction of the main weyr entrance, as that and the hatching ground were the directions for people still arriving. There were some large outcrops of rocks not too far away and it was here that she found a quiet place to sit. Not hidden, but you would have to come close to see her, and where she could watch the dragons land and take off again to fly the short distance to sun themselves along the ridge that ringed the bowl. From geography lessons she knew that Fort, like most weyrs, was formed from an old volcano. Still quietly active, as testified by the heat in the sands of the hatching grounds, but not dangerous.

She had eaten a meat roll and was just starting to peel one of the pieces of fruit, when aware that she was no longer alone. She leaned forward to peer around the edge of the outcrop of rock to watch the slight figure for a good few minutes. The boy had not noticed her, as he looked too preoccupied with his own thoughts, so she deliberately stretched out her legs to dislodge some rubble noisily. Hopefully that shouldn't scare him too much. For she had felt a sudden degree of sympathy towards him, as he reminded her of one of her quieter younger cousins. He even had the same habit of flicking back a stray lock of brown hair that fell across his eyes. She had the feeling that he was going to be another one to break a few hearts if he kept the looks and gained some height with turn.

He looked only momentarily startled before he crossed towards her.

"You're headed in the wrong direction," she said, a little more curtly than she intended. For it had just registered that he was dressed as appropriate for the new candidates. By evening his future as a dragon rider might be set. A future unlikely to ever be hers.

"If I'm having second thoughts about this whole business, maybe I'm not." He came around and sat on a low flat rock next to her.

"By the first egg." His statement had stunned her. "Why would you be thinking that? I'd give almost anything for the chance."

"Then take my place."

He didn't really mean that, she could tell. But there was something that seriously worried him. "Girls are only searched for when there is a queen egg."

"Oh sorry, I hadn't realized." At which she gave a shrug with his openly curious look.

"You weren't meant to. Here, have some fruit and tell me why you don't want to be a rider."

He took her offering obediently. Yes, he was so like Jarrid, though probably a little younger, about thirteen turns she would guess.

"I really do want to be a rider, have done so for as long as I can remember. Every tapestry I ever made showed dragons."

"You're from South Boll then?" That's where Weaver Hall was and it sounded as if he was probably an apprentice to that craft hall.

"My father is a Journeyman to the Masterweaver and I've been told that I was born with needle and thread in hand, but I never imagined that I'd end up doing that for a living. Yet I think I'd rather have that as a future than no future at all."

"What makes you say that?" She'd quietly passed across a piece of meat roll, which was eaten as absently as the fruit had been. She'd always had a talent with handling males, particularly younger ones, much to her mother's despair.

"What if I don't get chosen? Roth was just telling me what happens to unsuccessful candidates who are not of the weyr."

"And what did this Roth tell you?"

"That if you are not the right one then the dragonet would rake you to the bone with its talons. And if that doesn't happen then the queen will tear you apart and feed you to the hatchlings."

Lytah couldn't help but burst out laughing, he looked so serious. But she sobered quickly and reached for his arm when he stood angrily. "I'm sorry," she said. "You obviously have not had a lot to do with dragons."

"And you have?" He was still angry, but curiosity won through.

"I've been fostering with my uncle for the past four turns and he's a wing leader at Telgar, so yes, I have had a bit to do with dragons. First, a baby will not deliberately attack you, it would just be trying to get you out of the way so it could reach the one it wants. Then be assured, Morath would only have a piece of you if you meant harm to her rider Nalaya or any of the clutch. Roth wouldn't be a candidate himself by any chance?"

"Yes, why?"

"Sounds like he's trying to reduce the competition. Known him long?"

"Most of my life. There aren't too many kids my age at the weaver hall so I was fostered as a companion to the Lord Holder's youngest son. At sixteen, he's two turns older and he wouldn't lie to me."

"And I'm seventeen and telling you the he has done just that." She started getting to her own feet. "Come along and meet Nalaya and find out for yourself."

"Meet the weyrwoman? I can't do that."

"Of course you can. And I can also bet that she won't be too impressed with your Roth. Enough stupid things are said of dragons without such nonsense."

"No. I won't get him into trouble."

Well, he was a loyal one, that much was sure, even if that loyalty seemed misplaced. She wasn't going to do anyone any good by pushing that line then. "All right, I will not say anything. But come and meet Morath at least."

"She really won't eat me?"

"As long as you behave, I can guarantee that. I'm Lytah, by the way."

"Oh, sorry. I'm Dalkor."

This one was far too apologetic she decided as he walked with her back to the hatching ground. As they neared the queen she gave a slight smile. Her impression of this Lord Holder's son was not improving with Dalkor's conversation. She really hoped that this one would end up impressing a dragon, though not likely a bronze. He really needed to get out from under the dominance of this Roth.

She stopped at a respectful distance from Morath, bowed low under the beautiful facets of the dragon eye. The colours whirled as an indication of interest but by no means alarm. "Greetings to you Morath," she said out aloud. "I am Lytah, daughter of Masterharper Jackly and Journeywoman healer Sygull, and convey my pleasure at being allowed to attend such a prestigious occasion."

Greetings to you Lytah. She knew that she would be the only one to hear the words. Dragons communicated telepathically and rarely with anyone who was not a rider, their own rider more specifically. She also knew that this was a rare gift of hers, of being able to hear dragons if they so wished. You are certainly your father's child.

Lytah took this as a compliment. Her father was one of the most respected and well-liked men on Pern. It was not his fault that his responsibilities meant he had little time for his only child. The same also applied to her mother, which meant that the whole of Healer and Harper Halls were effectively her family, an upbringing she was only recently starting to appreciate. "I thank you for your acknowledgement. I just wished to present Dalkor to you. He has heard some tales and is a little apprehensive about the approaching hatching."

Lytah was a little surprised, but pleased, when the boy then bowed as she had done, echoed her greeting. No one was going to fault his manners. She felt the dragon's gaze shift to the other for a moment, before returning to her.

Tell the boy that he has nothing to fear here today. For starters, there is too little meat on his bones. Though it is a shame that there is no golden egg, as you would have made a good queen rider Lytah.

The words gave her little comfort, only increased the deep ache. "Thank you Morath."

She again bowed low, led Dalkor back towards the edge of the sands as she told him of the words for him, though she kept the rest to herself. Yet she put down her sudden ill temper to the fact that even the thick soles of her boots couldn't keep out the sand heat and she was a little annoyed that he took Morath's jest so seriously.

Lytah was a little abrupt in her leaving of Dalkor not far from the room where the others were gathered, and gave herself a mental telling off for her bad manners. She wondered what the matter with her was. Until she finally realised that the low, bone deep vibrations were not of her imagining, there was a sound penetrating from outside. The dragons were crooning. A welcome for the new hatchlings. One quick glance at the eggs and she noticed a couple starting to rock on the sands and the thirty or so candidates were ushered onto the hatching ground. She ran up the stairs to slide into the first tier seat beside the Benden lady holder and ignored the baleful glare at her clothes. Her aunt never understood her preference for trouser over skirt.

The boys were directed into a circle around the outside of the group of eggs, she quickly spotted Dalkor. The big dark-haired boy that was dwarfing him must be Roth and she felt her feeling of dislike of him intensify. He was crowding the slighter boy back, which made Lytah more annoyed, before she tempered her feelings. If Dalkor were that timid, then maybe he was not cut out to be a dragon rider.

Her attention snapped back to the eggs. There was a collective sigh from the crowd as the first baby dragon emerged. A brown! He gave a cry as he looked around, before making his way unerringly to a lad on the far side. There was an incredulous look from the boy to someone up in the tiers. "His name is Arneth," he told them and there was a cheer in acknowledgement.

Then all was confusion, as the rest of the eggs seemed to hatch at once.

There were at least another two browns, a few greens and blues. She was even sure there was at least one bronze, but in the milling of boys and dragons it was hard to tell.

Movement directly below her caught her attention. There was a bronze pushing past a couple of boys in front of him and he was obviously heading for the small group of which Dalkor was one. No, it couldn't be for him. But she felt her temper flare when she saw Roth push Dalkor back. Dalkor fell heavily and as he pushed himself upright she saw blood on his sleeve. Why, that big bully!

It was only when she felt a hand on her own arm that she realized that she was standing, her aunt's look disapproving. She pulled free, but instead of sitting down, she started to head for the sands. There was movement down there anyway as experienced riders led the new pairs out of the grounds. The dragonets would need feeding after their confinement. She couldn't sit still with the need to say a few words to this Roth, maybe offer Dalkor some comfort.

So Lytah was unprepared for the sight that met her when she had worked her way through. The big boy was getting up from the ground and the bronze was bent over Dalkor. For a ridiculously awful moment she thought the dragon was attacking him until she heard Dalkor's voice soft in awe. "He says his name is Zenth."

A cry of "No!" had her spin back to Roth. He was on his feet now and she had the disbelieving realization that he intended to interrupt this moment. She stepped in front of him, to push him forcibly back against the stone under the balcony. He may be more solid than her but she was of his height and fit with it.

"It's too late, impression has been made and there is nothing you can do about it."

But his look of anguish was not directed at her or even to the dragon and his new mate. Instead it was to someone in the audience. She followed his look to see a stern looking man on his feet, expression one of distain, and it didn't take much to notice the family resemblance. Her feelings of anger softened as Roth pulled away from her. The man had already started to turn away and she thought that it was little wonder the son was as he was if that was going to be the father's reaction.

"What are you doing down there girl?" M'con, a Telgar wingleader, was leaning over the rail near her.

She gave her uncle an embarrassed smile. "Coming back up."

His lop-sided smile was not what she expected. "I don't think so."

Following the point of his finger she turned to look back onto the sands.

It was over quickly, she thought. Well, almost. There was one green dragonet left, her cries pitiful. She was pushing past the few hopeful boys that were in front of Lytah. But there was only herself and Roth left back here. She stepped aside to where Dalkor had fallen, more than a little surprised when the green gave a frantic cry at her move away, to almost throw herself at Lytah.

It was almost reflex that had her step forward to catch the faltering dragonet.

Where have you been Lytah? The voice in her head was almost accusatory. I am Natoth.

She looked into the whirling eyes and suddenly realized that this was the most beautiful creature in the whole of Pern. It took her a long while before she was able to tear herself away as what had occurred started to impact.

She was not supposed to impress! For even as she put an arm maternally around the dragon and looked up to her uncle, it was suddenly dawning on her the full enormity of what had just happened. He was leaning on the rail still, his smile now broad.

"Well Lytah, I'm glad to see you prove me right. Always knew you had the makings of a rider." M'con's look sobered then. "Mind you though, it will make things interesting."

Her thoughts were despairing. "I didn't mean to!"

"Of course you didn't. And do not start worrying and upset your green. Remember girl, it is the dragon that choses the rider. And it was fairly obvious from the start that she was looking for someone not on the sands. It was a good thing you went down as Natoth running around in the stands would not have been pleasant."

Lytah wondered how he knew her dragon's name before realising that his own bronze would have passed on the information.

"Don't worry Lytah, I think that you will find yourself suited for this life. Now, I think I will have a quiet word with my old friend S'bor. I will see you later at the banquet."

She watched him leave for a moment, until an insistent nudge gained her attention. The internal voice was demanding. I'm hungry.

Then first things first, she thought with a smile, consciously pushing down her apprehensions. Things would work out, of that she was sure. She noticed that Dalkor stood with Zenth and an older rider and they seemed to be waiting for her, so she took this as a cue to head for them.

The elder stepped forward in greeting. "Well Lytah. D'kor has been telling me how you are the reason he is here. I am glad my search was not in vain then, for which I give you thanks. I am K'tan, rider of bronze Branth."

"Greeting K'tan and D'kor exaggerates." That suited him she thought, the abbreviation to his rider's name seemed to add height to his stature. There was obviously more to this boy than first impressions had given. As Zenth had obviously seen.

D'kor's smile to her was warm. "I'm really glad that you got your dragon. So, do we call you L'tah?"

K'tan answered for her as he started to lead them out. "They don't shorten gold riders names so I guess the precedence applies. Not that I have heard of any girls riding greens, at least not during this Pass. But come along, we'll get these two babies fed and settled, then we'll get you both sorted out."

-----------------

It was many hours later that found her sitting at the table alone. Her mother and aunt had finally finished with her and had already left. But Lytah was still musing on Sophian's final words. After all the complaints she had given a farewell hug and a sad smile. "Well Lytah, I guess my brother is right, it is for the best. Despite my hopes to the contrary, I don't think that a normal life was ever going to be yours."

There her aunt was probably right, she'd left any hope of normal well and truly behind. For a moment she reflected on her past aspirations. There was once the thought that she would follow her father and become a harper, the more covert workings of his craft was something she knew she would have been good at. But though she had a quick mind and good memory, she had no sense of subtle rhythm and no aptitude for the necessary teaching aspects of being a harper. And beyond the ability to send drum messages she couldn't play an instrument to save herself.

Then there had been a fling with her mother's profession and though she had proven quite adept in learning the ways of the plants and making potions, she just did not like working with sick people. As for the last few years, though she had developed a love of Sophian's chief export, wine production was not going to be her life's work.

Living with her uncle had definitely decided her that weyr life was more suited to her than hold. Settling down with one man was not the expected life for a woman in a weyr, dragon riders rarely formed lasting partnerships, led as they were by the instincts of their dragon. That only happened if the dragons themselves formed as close to pairs as they did. For example, Lytah knew that Morath would only let Sothath fly her, so V'kai had been Fort's weyrleader for as long as she could remember, whereas the Telgar weyrleader changed almost every season as their queen chose a different bronze. Whether the partnership of weyrleader and weyrwoman lasted beyond the duration of the mating flight depended on the temperaments of both dragons and riders. And though only bronzes flew golds, greens could be flown by any blue or brown, or even bronze that could catch her.

The reality of that hit her then. She had been at Telgar when a green had taken off in flight, pursued by the males of the weyr. It had taken her a while, but she had finally managed to talk M'con into explaining, at least in part, the ecstasy experienced by a rider as his dragon's emotions overwhelmed him. And as both riders of green and male dragons were men, it was the women of the weyr that would help them in such times. As well as aid the tension of the unsuccessful.

But it was going to be different for her. When Natoth eventually rose for her mating flight during her second or so turn, it was she, Lytah, that was going to join with the rider of whichever dragon flew her. She stifled a giggle at the, unfortunately, not so ridiculous thought that it could be someone as old as K'tan, who seemed to be even older than her father. She had better keep that thought in mind as she settled into her new home.

And there was another new thought. After all the years of living in one place after another, travelling from craft hall to hold to weyr, Fort was now her home. And she hadn't got a thing of her own here, had only what she stood in. Or more precisely, sat in.

A hand light on her shoulder startled her aware. She looked up to see Fort's weyrwoman standing to one side. "Lytah, it seems that they have finally left you alone."

"So it seems. I'm sorry Nalaya, I didn't mean to cause you so much trouble."

"That is not what I have heard. According to your mother, she's not surprised at all as it seems you've always been contrary. Now, don't look so upset child, of course I know that you didn't do any of this deliberately. And it is not fair of me to tease you, when you must be exhausted. It is time for you to come with me, I've had a spare bed made up for you in my rooms."

Lytah found her protest at such privileged treatment cut short. "Nonsense. It will take the boys some time to work out what they will do with you, find you a place of your own that can give you some privacy, as you will get enough attention from them anyway.

Ah, I see you already realise that. But in the meantime you will stay with me, it has been too long since I could look forward to the companionship of another female rider. We should become good friends."