Word of the attack had spread quick through the Weyr, so when Charel and Reelon emerged from the Headwoman's quarters all of the drovers were there, a show of solidarity for the young woman they had come to think of as one of their own. Nor was the gesture lost on her, as Charel felt new tears, grateful tears, prick at her eyes.
"Good." Tress breathed a sigh of relief, and B'ton glanced at her.
"Good?" He asked quietly.
"Good, they don't blame her." She murmured back. "Some folk would acutally blame her, suggesting that somehow she wanted it." She gave him a sympathetic look at his own horrified response.
"She's little more than a child. How could anyone-?" He started to protest.
"How could anyone see a child as a bedmate?" Tress countered, then turned as Urlyra strode in with two holders in tow. The young woman bore a strong resemblence to the goldrider, and she strode up to the crowd, then hovered uncertainly at the edge, as the drovers suddenly bunched up, protectively.
"Fulsa!" Charel cried, and worked her way free, "W-why are you here?" She asked as Fulsa enveloped her in a hug.
"Telly told us something had happened, pet. Are you okay?" Fulsa said soothingly.
Charel sniffed, trying very hard not to cry.
"I'm okay," she said with some difficulty, "I was saved by Mirrth. She's a green dragon. Please tell Telgarsk not to worry."
"Oh sweetling," Fulsa hugged her again and sent Telgarsk a mental 'she's alright'. Telgarsk replied with a faint burst of affection. Charel stiffened and looked up at the wherhandler with wondering eyes and a tear streaked face.
"W-was that Telgarsk, just now?" She asked, not entirely believing. Fulsa nodded, smiling reassuringly.
Freeth, would you ask Finth and Loucaith to give the drover girl a quick look over? Urlyra asked. In the pause while her gold bespoke the two blues she made eye contact with B'ton and tilted her head in the direction of the Bowl. He nodded slightly, recognizing her subtle request for a moment of his time.
They would be delighted to. They are very curious about a girl that Telgarsk finds so interesting. Freeth replied. Urlyra suppressed a smile as she walked with B'ton up the glow lined tunnel to the Bowl. Fulsa might decry her actions as poaching, but the drover girl was young enough to stand for a queen egg before her thirtieth Turn.
"You wished to speak to me?" B'ton asked curiously of his one time weyrmate. He still cared deeply for her, but in the days since he became Weyrleader he had come to appreciate her keen political intellect. And he was dead grateful for her support.
"How goes the manhunt?" She asked as they lingered in the entrance to the Bowl. B'ton grimanced, running a hand through his hair.
"Badly." He admitted. "Searchers followed him all the way down into one of those heavily forested box canyons on the east side, then he disappeared as thoroughly as if he went between. "
"Any chance that means he broke his neck in a fall?" Urlyra asked hopefully.
"We can only wish." B'ton flashed her an unpleasant smile. "If we don't find him by nightfall Valtree's going to have that artistic apprentice of hers do up a sketch of him and pass it around to all the Halls and Holds."
"Good. Perhaps that will keep him out of Tress's way as well." Urlyra nodded.
"Oh? Has he been bothering her?" B'ton queried, as this was news to him.
"He's been driving her crazy, always absconding with the tall stool to sit in the shadows and sketch Graesth. Tress had that stool commissioned for Nene, so she wouldn't stand over long on her bad knee." The queenrider explained airily.
"Wait, he's been sketching Graesth on the sly?" B'ton asked with a slow smile. "He doesn't have secret aspirations to Impress does he?"
"Have you ever known a harper that didn't?" Urlyra grinned. B'ton laughed, his low bubbling chuckle that built to a full blown laugh, that had first attracted her to him.
"Ah, I thank you, 'Lyra, I think we're just uncovered the source of Graesth's unusual broodiness," he explained as Graesth sat up on the Sands and began humming.
"Real- oh shards, I have to get Minket." Urlyra gave him a quick hug, her habitual apology whenever she had to cut a conversation short with him.
"Clear skies!" B'ton called after her as she hurried over to where Freeth landed to pick her up.
"This way, if you please," Fulsa lead the drovers and her mate up into the stands, their early arrival permitting them their choice seats in the middle of the first row. Charel, bracketed by her father and the wherhandler leaned forward, and was rewarded with the sight of thirty-six evenly spaced eggs in three rows. One egg rocked. People were streaming into the stands, dragons arriving within fingerlengths of each other, some hovering with fast wingstrokes, as other dragons, already landed, hurried to unload their passengers. A gold trumpeted, sounding almost cross, and the other colors moved to one side as she landed, a well dressed woman, three young men in their teens and a man old enough to be their grandfather dismounted.
"That's Lord Kestle." Reelon said softly to Charel, who nodded.
"And my Lady Minket. Heh, she neglected to bring the girls. I told Shebet she wouldn't risk them Impressing greens." Fulsa remarked.
"Green dragons will Impress women?" Charel asked, glancing at her.
Fulsa leaned back against the stone riser and grinned at Charel. "That's what the earliest Records say, the first greenriders were all women."
"And there's the Ballad of Xhinna," Namul added, sitting on the other side of Fulsa. A dragonrider sitting directly behind them snorted and muttered. "The Ballad of Xhinna is full of lies." Realizing he spoke aloud he leaned forward, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to listen in." He was an older rider, with grey hair and an old scar from Thread lining the side of his face. Fulsa glanced back at him, then did a double take.
"L'stur! Good to see you. How's Joith?" She asked the former Weyrleader, who looked at her with a slow smile.
"He's well, thank you, wher mistress. How are Telgarsk and Namusk?" He asked easy in conversation while the drovers shifted a little uncomfortably in such august company. Fulsa let out a peal of laughter.
"Up to their old tricks, as usual. What's the betting for this hatching?"
"Ah," L'stur grinned at her, "the bookie's going with conservative odds. You care to make a wager?"
"Nooooo, bronzerider, wher eggs are my stock in trade, not dragon's. Your smooth shells are too hard to read," she bantered back, then they all fell silent as the candidates dressed in white filed out onto the Sands and formed a loose semi circle around the eggs.
"So many candidates..." Charel murmured, counting fifty young men, ranging from just out of adolescence to well in their twenties. The humming intensified and everyone in the stands leaned forward in anticipation.
First one, then three then most of the eggs where rocking, some harder than others, some merely wobbling. Charel held her breath as the largest egg rocked so hard it fell on its side before splitting right down the middle and two greens wobbled out, shaking their heads as they righted themselves, then looking around creeling piteously. Charel blinked as many in the stands gasped, then shrugged a little to herself. Twins were certainly common enough with her father's woolly ovines, and even humans birthed twins, as her own sisters were a testament to, so she supposed dragon twins could be hatched from the same egg. Although, weren't clutchmates technically twins of a sort? She wondered as the greens moved in the direction of the candidates. Two candidates, related if the strong resemblance to one another and clasped hands indicated anything, both knelt and smiled incredulously as they hugged the little dragonets to them. Around them a sigh went up from the dragonriders in the crowd, and Charel tore her eyes away from the violently rocking eggs long enough to look back at L'stur. His face was damp, his expression soft, she noticed, returning her attention to the eggs. Two more eggs hatched, also greens, then four eggs hatched at once, two blues, a green and a bronze. Charel's breath caught a little as the bronze turned to the smallest lad on the black Sands. Another candidate, a tall youth with a shock of messy black hair, clapped the lad on the shoulder, pushing him towards the little bronze with a laugh. Kneeling the boy's face lit up with such joy that Charel felt a twinge of jealousy. An arm settled over her shoulders and startled, Charel looked at her father, his eyes moist with barely suppressed tears.
"You can't possibly know, until you hold your own child for the first time, Charrie, but you were my joy the morning you were born." He said softly, barely heard over the cheering of a group of weavers as their favorite Impressed. Blushing profusely, Charel leaning into her father's embrace as another two greens and a brown found their life-partners. Directly below them another egg rocked, it's frenzied shaking pitching it precariously to the side of the slight mound it was sitting in, so that when the little dragonet finally broke its shell it somersaulted backwards with an indignant squawk, landing on its back staring up at them with an expression of utter surprise.
The drovers burst out laughing at the comedic sight, unable to help themselves.
All except Charel.
Reelon was only dimly aware of the slight intake of breathe before Charel was over the low partition, catching herself from a neck breaking plunge, dangling by her fingertips for one split second, then dropping to the sand below, and wordlessly helping the little blue to his feet.
"Charrie, what are you-" Fulsa cried as Charel looked into the blue's rainbow eyes, then looked back up at her father, a smile stretching across her face.
"His name is Vaeth!"
Fulsa sat back in the stands as a stunned Reelon was congratulated by the his fellow drovers, biting her lip to keep from crying. Namul, sensed her distress and looked away from the remaining hatchings to hug her and whisper consolingly in her ear. "You were right, you know. This is merely vindication in another form."
Fulsa nodded begrudgingly.
Across the Sands Jurille shared a disbelieving look with B'ton. "First twins, now a girl Impressing a blue?" She murmured at him. "Do you have any more surprises for me?" She asked, weakly joking with him.
"Only one. That's the girl that was attacked." B'ton replied, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming. Jurille stared at him for a moment.
They are well matched. Graesth informed her as the new dragonpair crossed the Sands together to join the other dragonpairs.
But- a girl on a fighting color? Jurille asked.
Do we not fight? Graesth replied with draconic logic. Go, reassure the pair, the girl is worried that she has done something wrong.
"Excuse me, I need to go and speak with our surprise." Jurille smiled apologetically at B'ton.
"That's alright," he replied, looking sheepish, "I've just been summoned to speak with our surprise's father." He said before moving in the opposite direction of the Weyrwoman.
Wubath, who is with the girl's father?
His men, the drovers, and the wherhandlers from Telgar, and L'stur. Wubath informed him.
"L'stur?" B'ton asked aloud, and made haste.
He is trying to calm the father's fears. Joith says the Journeyman is conflicted. B'ton let out a bark of laughter, startling a few remaining visitors in the stands, who nervously smiled at him until they saw his knotdevice. He nodded pleasantly at them as he passed. Please, Wubath, ask him to stay- no, tell him I need his support in this. Pride be seared, he decided, he needed L'stur's expertise tonight.
He says he is ever happy to assist you. Wubath's words were like a balm, and heartened, B'ton approached the group smiling.
"I hear congratulations are in order?"
Please if you see any grammar or spelling errors, let me know.
Glossary comment: I use 'Weyrling' for the human of a dragonpair that hasn't graduated to full fighting strength. I use 'weyrling' for any child living in the Weyr, as that was how I was introduced to it in Dragonquest. I do not like the term 'weyrbrat' mostly because I honestly don't recall seeing it in Anne's earliest works, which (mostly) my guide for language use on Pern.
Wendums: You are most likely correct about the origins of 'weyrbrat', although I might(? certainly I saw the word 'brat' in Dragon's Fire, although I don't think it was in reference to children of the Weyr) have seen it once in one of Todd's works (not that I particularly like his works.) Anne will always be my go to canon.