[Disclaimer. I own only the characters. Pern and all associated names and places are the property of Anne McCaffrey]
Where did one start looking for a stray dragonet in Ista Weyr?
Danil admitted to himself that the logical point to have asked that question would have been before he set foot outside the candidates' accommodations in search of said dragon. Not whilst being chased from a weyr by its angry green rider occupant and his brown dragonrider companion. He bolted back down the service shaft, hoping he hadn't been identified as a candidate.
Privacy, not modesty appeared to be the dragonriders' primary motive for their pursuit however. They stopped short of following him any further than the main tunnel which Danil guessed serviced most of the lower weyrs. He heard them return to the activity he had interrupted, apparently regarding their intruder as being out of sight, out of mind.
Not that tunnel then.
Danil retraced his steps. He wouldn't be able to do anything other than that now; he'd lost his glow basket in his hasty retreat. He would have to make his way across the Bowl in the dark. He kicked himself, quite literally, on his left ankle. It was a ridiculous exercise him being out here at all.
It wasn't his dragon. He knew that. After the second queen's crowd-pleasing Impression and the controversy between her rider and one of the other candidates, he had a feeling he knew whose dragon it was. Still he had watched the little green being carried from the sands on a wher-hide stretcher, still quite inert and sickly looking. The other candidates had thought it best to steer clear of her altogether, leaving it up to the people whose job it was to care. It was a sad case, which it would be best to try and forget about.
However, he cared. Ever since the Weyrling Master had gathered the remaining candidates together and urged them to return to their quarters, his thoughts had lingered on the little green. Just as he still wondered who it might have been who Impressed the hatchling from his special egg earlier, he felt a sense of obligation to the dragon who had birthed herself over his very feet.
Even as the most resolute among the remainder of today's candidates submitted to the notion of a decent night's sleep before tomorrow's second chance, he had remained awake. He wanted desperately to find out what had happened to her.
You're as determined as any of them. You just want to see if there's the slightest chance you might Impress today, rather than fail tomorrow.
The supposition was his own; he couldn't really argue with it, deep down. But still, he did care. There was a connection, surely. Even if there was no Impression between he and that dragonet, he had an attachment to her.
As that thought occurred to him, he halted in the middle of the bowl. Perhaps, if he were unsuccessful tomorrow, there may yet be a role for him here at the Weyr. He could take care of dragons. He could help with their care. The Interval was nearly upon Pern. Dragonriders were more prone to take up other trades in this time, which might mean less time to take care of their dragons. Maybe a dragonrider would appreciate someone to help to take care of their friends.
Danil looked excitedly around the Weyr. There was opportunity here. Perhaps he could become a dragon healer. That green would certainly need extra care. He would ask about her in the morning, or after the Hatching. He could volunteer.
He almost couldn't wait to get started; it seemed almost as attractive a prospect as Impressing. He could look past tomorrow now.
A rustle and a contraction of the air above Danil made him look up. A shadowy outline of a mature dragon was beating its way slowly up to the watch heights. Dragons were changing watch duties. Danil froze, hoping they hadn't noticed him. Non-weyrfolk, candidate or no, would probably not be easily forgiven for wandering unsupervised and unauthorised around the bowl at night. Anyone could just wander into the Hatching Ground or the lower cavers or even the weyrs.
He stayed as still as he could, for there was nowhere to hide himself. This was the vast open space in the Weyr where wings of dragons assembled to fight Thread. He watched as the dragon overhead exchanged places with the smaller one on the ledge, who then glided low over the bowl. Danil ducked, but neither the dragon nor his rider appeared to notice the stray candidate.
Danil thought it safe to continue. He felt however, as he skipped the last half dragon length towards the guest quarters, that his resolve and optimism of mere moments before had diminished a little. He'd almost been able to reach out to touch the soft underbelly of the dragon as it had dipped low, before swooping elegantly upward in a steep curve.
*
The humming had begun, the candidates assembled, and those guests who had decided to stay for the second half of the spectacle of Hatching were now crowded in the lower tiers of the stands around the Hatching Ground. Danil was among the white-robed boys clustered around the six remaining eggs. They were thirteen in number now, just over two boys to every egg. From the size of the eggs, Danil estimated that there were probably at least two large males housed within their shells, possibly three, although that might be wishful thinking. Although Danil could say more honestly than most that he would be happy with a green, he had to admit that he did not fit the profile of most green riders. It was generally acknowledged which type of young male the green and blue dragonets were attracted to, although the Weyrfolk would stop short of picking candidates exclusively on those criteria. Greens and blues made up close to half of the numbers of a Weyr's fighting complement, and that proportion was simply not reflected in the numbers of searched candidates. However, an inclination in that direction would probably be more attractive to a female dragonet.
Danil found himself calculating the odds in his head yet again. This time, he really couldn't help it. He positioned himself at what he estimated was a near equidistance from each egg. He tried to keep as many in his sights as he could at any one time, with four being the maximum if he flickered his eyes from left to right. If an egg cracked, he would be first to know. It would be soon too. The Weyrling Master had hurried them onto the sands without ceremony and the dragons' humming was already at its apex. They'd been caught off guard in the early hours of the morning.
Most of the candidates were poised similarly, although one boy hovered around the smallest egg with fierce determination in his brows. Staking his living for a Turn on a single catch, Danil thought, remembering the phrase his father used to chastise he and his brothers when they were overly optimistic about the annual fortunes. The candidate – Danil knew none of their names now – looked like a person who'd bet his last mark. He was not much older than Danil.
Danil suddenly heard an outraged cry of protest from behind him. Automatically he looked, and saw the Weyrling Master leading five girls behind him, white-robed and heading toward the smaller eggs. A protest leapt to Danil's own lips. H'nas was putting girls to the greens. Probably ruining the boys' chances with those two. There was no reason the girls should not Impress and probably far more reason for greens to make bonds more specifically suited to their own sex. There was certainly precedent, and as he'd told himself the previous day, dragons were often intuitive about the needs of the Weyr. Greens were no longer needed for heavy fighting duty. Girls might produce stronger bonds and might appeal to dragons more free to make up their own minds about their choice of partner.
He bit back his protest however. The Weyrling Master had silenced the outspoken candidate immediately and there was nothing at this late stage that they could hope to do. H'nas had timed things well, avoiding a mutiny among his candidates.
He began to whisper again. "Please have me, please have me, please have me." He would not be left behind again. He would not settle for second best, taking care of sickly dragons. He'd thought about it some more; how ill could dragons really be expected to get once their only natural predator would disappear for two-hundred Turns or so? What dragon rider wouldn't want to spend more time with their dragon, flying about, rather than keeping their dragons rested in preparation for Fall?
He looked again at the boy who was now practically embracing the egg in his efforts to defend it against the competition. Perhaps he had already a candidate before and knew, like Danil, that his opportunities for future Impression were now limited.
"Just hatch," he muttered. Get it over with. Why prolong the suspense any further?
A shell abruptly broke not five feet away from Danil. A blue, who creeled piteously before the shell-hugging boy broke away from his chosen egg and took the dragonet's head in his arms, his knees trembling.
"Penrith!" His tone was astounded.
His other, forgotton egg broke open unnoticed by its guardian. A green, as expected. And it was one of the girls who Impressed her. Chaleth was her name and the boys groaned in disappointment as she led their prize away. The other five girls were encouraged by their compatriot and closed in around the other small egg, which was rocking frantically.
The shell poised briefly along its vertical access before crashing horizontally and smashing open. Unsurprisingly, another green and another girl as well. Her dragon's name was inaudible above the noisy mutterings of the spectators and one or two angry protests from the boys. Danil saw weyrfolk approaching, looking as if they meant business, should they have to intervene at all.
Hatchings were sacred however, and even the anger of those overlooked male candidates was curbed in respect for the bond that had taken shape. The girls looked hopefully at the eggs, but Danil was fairly certain that there were no more greens among them. They lingered on the sands anyway, defiant of the boys who now squared themselves up in a defensive pattern around the rest of the clutch.
Danil was sweating heavily. He had seen the crack appear on the shell of the smallest remaining egg. I'm yours if you want me, I'm yours, yours, yours.
He longed for an answering thought. Listening desperately, he watched the egg come apart in several large pieces which the dragonet within shook off like a canine shedding water from its coat. A brown.
Almost immediately another brown burst from its shell and the boys hesitated, unsure where to turn. That brown aimed directly for a boy of about thirteen Turns, who collapsed alongside his dragon, in tears of relief and joy, embracing his dragon around his neck. The other brown paused for a moment, making no decisions.
The candidate nearest to him boldly walked towards the brown and the dragon seemed to make up his mind.
"My dragon's name is Rampoth!" he announced, delighted, and immediately led his dragon towards the exit.
Danil stared in disbelief. That brown looked as if it might have taken anyone, and just happened to Impress the candidate brave enough to step out.
One egg left. Ten viable candidates. It would be every boy for himself after that surprising Impression. Danil was almost in tears. The odds of Impression were midden, he realised. You either took a dragon or a dragon took you. There was no probability factor. It was completely finite, and in some part predetermined. Odds were just numbers made up to comfort candidates who tried to banish or minimise the possibility of failure from their minds, before that possibility ever loomed larger than anyone could bear.
The shell split as the bronze dragonet inside tore out of his oval prison. He roared, the immature sound no less imposing than if the sound had emitted from the throat of a full-bodied dragon. He was the last dragonet, and he looked like he knew it.
The other candidates faded away for Danil in that moment. The very essence of the Hatching seemed to crystallise in his mind. Impression was between the candidate and the dragon alone. Just as the bronze was the only dragon, what if he was the only candidate? What if he spoke as a dragon did?
I am Danil. I want you.
The bronze turned to face Danil.
I love you so much. You amaze and astound me. You're perfect, the perfect companion. Who could I ever want but you? You're the last one here. I only want you. I wouldn't settle for anyone else now. I can see you, and I can see how exquisite you are. Ours would be the most consummate union. We fit. Your name is Firenth.