Crankiness Will Get You Everything
It was hot at Igen. Everyone agreed about that, if nothing else. The sun was hotter there than anywhere else on the Northern Continent, the sands were blinding white in unsuspecting visitors' eyes and the mumbling heard everywhere was in accord. It was very hot in Igen.
Why, then, don't I feel the heat? Gwyn the Weyr Harper thought to herself as she fingered her gitar in a pattern of chords that sounded good. She had set aside the hottest part of every afternoon, when the rest of the Weyr was asleep or away to cooler realms, to compose and practice her music. Her rooms, actually a small ground level weyr, caught the breezes from the lake and remained reasonably cool even at high noon. So, Gwyn practiced and composed while the rest of the Weyr slept.
The piece she was practicing this day was one that had been written by the Masterharper and was a splendid piece for single gitar and voice. It was a ballad about Impression, quite the best that Gwyn had seen and she was eager to perform it at the next Hatching which was due in only two or three days. It was not complicated, but did require some concentration, but a melody that had been rattling around inside the Harper's head simply wouldn't go away. Gwyn sighed as yet again the chords of the ballad were replaced with ones that fit her melody and put her gitar down briefly. It was obvious she would have no peace until she wrote it down.
At the sandtable, Gwyn smoothed the sands then started imprinting her melody. As she worked, the chords fit around the tune and when she picked up her gitar again to play it, it needed only minor changes to be rather good. Gwyn played it through again, liking the stirring chords and fanfare like melody. A good piece for gitar with brass accents, she thought, noting that on her sandtable. Sliding the protective glass over it, Gwyn determinedly picked up her gitar and settled down to the ballad. This time, she was able to practice and soon had the ballad tucked into her mind's repertoire.
That evening at dinner, Gwyn sat with several of the bronze riders at their request. The young men enjoyed the black haired, grey eyed Harper's company and often sought her out. Gwyn was flattered at the attention, and was grateful never to have to worry about whom she would dance with at Gathers, but the attention got wearing after awhile. Still, she usually sat with them at dinner and that evening was no exception.
"Going to do the same thing at this Hatching, Gwyn?" a tall, blond bronze rider leaned forward and inquired.
Gwyn smiled at him.
"Probably," she replied. "The Candidates all said they enjoyed it and that it calmed them a little. And the Weyrleaders don't mind."
One of the younger bronze riders, only a year older than Gwyn, leaned back in his chair beside her and nudged the Harper.
"You're going to Impress one of these times, if you stay on the sands like that, Gwyn," he said mockingly. Gwyn turned to him, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, you'd better watch out then, T'vor," she smiled sweetly. "You'll never be able to find me so often if I Impress."
T'vor, really a handsome young man, grinned back at her. Of all the bronze riders, Gwyn favoured his company, only because he was as quick of tongue as she was. He sought her out the most often to accompany him swimming, or ask if she needed to go anywhere. Gwyn hadn't been to his weyr, it wasn't something she cared to do casually, but he was pleasant to be with and an excellent dancer.
"So who do you think will Impress the gold?" Gwyn asked the rest of the people at her table and the conversation shifted to their favourite topic of who would Impress what colour.
Two days later, the Weyr was in a frenzy as the Hatching, according to the dragons, was due that day. Gwyn went through her music and selected the songs she wanted to sing during the Hatching, running through each one to make sure of the fingering. It was going to be fun and Gwyn was ready when the humming started at last.
The young Harper entered the Hatching Grounds with the rest of the guests but instead of heading for the tiers, she walked to the far side and settled herself down in the sands, her back against the wall. The sands were warm still on the edge, but not as burning hot as they were near the centre. The eggs glistened and rocked, seemingly in tune to the humming dragons perched around the edge. Gwyn tuned her gitar and strummed the first chords.
Not long after, the Candidates arrived, clad in their white robes, their bare feet shifting on the hot sands. They formed a semi circle around the eggs and Gwyn, who had chosen her position well, could just see past the end boy. The girls were brought in on bronze dragons and deposited near the gleaming golden egg which was rocking vigorously along with the others. Gwyn finished her first song and started a second.
The first egg cracked, spilling a blue onto the sands. The little dragon scooted towards a small boy who knelt in wonder and the first Impression was made. Gwyn strummed a triumphant chord for the new pair and continued playing.
Ten more eggs cracked and twenty more lives were changed as Gwyn went through her songs. She had just finished a song when the humming of the dragons rose a notch in excitement. The Queen Egg was splitting and the golden dragon emerging. Gwyn started her newly composed song.
The Queen bugled and Gwyn looked up, surprised. Yes, she thought, that was exactly where the brass would play. Her eyes down to her strings again, she continued to play. And play. Until suddenly her gitar was wrenched from her hands with a splintering crunch.
"Hey!" Gwyn protested angrily, "That was my best gitar!" She looked up and found she was face to face with the little, glowing Queen.
Pay attention to me, a voice sounded petulantly in her head. I'm more important than that thing.
Gwyn stared down at the gold dragon, her temper rising. She had worked hard on that gitar!
"That was my best gitar," she repeated. "And you wrecked it."
So? the dragon replied with the mental equivalent of a disdainful sniff. It wrecked easily.
Gwyn locked eyes with the gold dragon and felt her temper starting to go as her mind and soul were unquestionably, irrevocably linked with the dragon's.
"I suppose I could make another one," she said softly, reaching out to touch the little gold.
Later, the queen replied crankily, although Gwyn knew she was enjoying the caress. I'm hungry now. Feed me!
"I told you you'd Impress if you weren't careful, Gwyn," T'vor's voice said from beside her, a smile evident in it. "What's her name?"
I'm Cailleath, the gold replied crossly, looking up at T'vor with the dragon equivalent of a glare. Tell him to go get me some food. Fast!
"Don't be so impatient, Cailleath," Gwyn said sternly, hauling herself to her feet, barely noticing a rider picking up her music and other instruments. "We'll go get you some food."
Now? the gold dragon's voice was still petulant, but held a note of hope in it as well. I love you, Gwyn!
Gwyn smiled down at the hatchling she was helping out of the Hatching Grounds.
"I love you too, cranky one."