Sorry for the craziness of the last disclaimer; I was tired, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Anyway, this chapter's. Pern's not mine.
"Wake up, Mor, wake up!" a voice called in his ear. Mor groaned, both sounds only aggravating the pounding drum that was his head. Domick had proposed toast after toast to him last night, and he had been too polite to refuse. As a result, he had drunk entirely too much wine last night, and he and his head were paying the price now.
"You must get up, Mor! Bronze rider B'kennor is waiting for you in the courtyard!" Diara called, gently shaking him by the shoulder.
"B'kennor!" said Mor, quickly sitting up. He immediately wished he hadn't, and dived for the chamber pot at the end of his bed as dinner came back to haunt him. He heaved for a while as she rubbed his back, then gradually sat up, his shoulders shaking.
"I'll tell him you'll come down once you've had a quick wash, shall I?" she asked, a small grin on her face. From the look of it, Mor had quite a bad hangover. "I brought you my special hangover cure, too. I thought you might need it."
"Thanks," Mor said hoarsely. He carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, then when he was sure they weren't going to drop off, he put his feet on the floor. Diara handed him a steaming cup, and he drank half of it in a gulp, realising from the smell that he probably didn't want to taste it. Almost immediately, he began to feel better, and downed the rest.
"Can you please pass me a clean blue shirt?" he asked Diara. "I want to be all in harper blue for my first day as a Master." Smiling, she put the neatly folded clothes on the end of his bed as he made his way to the washstand and splashed his face.
"I heard that you got your Mastery. Well done. I wish I'd been there. It would be so much nicer if the two Halls could eat together."
"Much nicer," Mor agreed. "How long has B'kennor been here? Does Drianne know?"
"Oh yes. She and B'kennor have been talking for half an hour, waiting for you to get up. I finally volunteered to come and get you. Of course, I didn't realise what a disgusting state you were in," she said with a smile.
"It wasn't exactly my fault," said Mor, his cheeks turning pink. "Master Domick kept proposing toasts, and I couldn't say no, could I? Anyway, I'll get dressed so we can go and see B'kennor."
Diara politely turned her back while Mor changed his pants, though she turned back to admire the rest of him. Their relationship hadn't progressed to the point where they were sleeping together, but looking was all right.
B'kennor was deep in conversation when he caught sight of a confident young man making his way down the stairs with the young woman he and Drianne had been talking to before on his arm. He frowned, then his mouth dropped open as he realised it was his old friend Mor.
Mor had grown in the three Turns since B'kennor had seen him last. He easily matched B'kennor's own height, and as he came to a stop in front of him, B'kennor realised with a shock that he actually surpassed it.
"Hello, bronze rider B'kennor. It's been a while," Mor said, mock serious.
B'kennor decided to act the same way. "Indeed it has been a long time, Journeyman…" He faltered. He had noticed the shoulder knots. "Master?" he asked incredulously. "You're already a Master?"
Mor nodded. "I walked the tables last night," he said proudly. "And as a result I woke up this morning feeling like my head was a drum!" he added with a groan.
B'kennor laughed, and leant forward to clasp forearms with him. "It's great to see you, Mor," he exclaimed.
"You too, Brek," Mor said warmly. "What brings you to the Hall this early in the morning?"
B'kennor gestured to the dragons on the fireheights and the blue in the courtyard. "My wingleader decided to come here." His face grew serious. "Ramoth has a clutch on the Ground."
Mor's breath caught. "You mean…" he began.
"Yes," said B'kennor with a faint smile on his face. "We ride in Search."
x
Just then, the main doors opened, and Master Sebell came out. "I have assembled all the apprentices and younger journeymen, Wingleader N'mek," he called. He turned back towards the hall and called, "Outside, please, everyone. Form a single line across the courtyard."
All the apprentices from the Harper and Healer Halls, and several of the younger journeymen quietly marched out of the building and made a line stretching unevenly across the square.
"OK, Quaranth, let's have a look," said the blue rider, looking up at him fondly. The blue snorted, and began to move along the line, occasionally pausing to converse with his rider.
"That's M'nom," B'kennor whispered in Mor's ear. "His Quaranth is one of the best Search dragons we have."
Mor nodded, not wanting to take his eyes of the scene in front of him. The blue had picked two boys and a girl from the crowd, and had nearly reached the end. Selecting one more boy from amongst the journeymen, he turned towards N'mek and dipped his wings in a salute while his rider bowed.
N'mek nodded, and raised his voice. "These four have been found worthy of Search. Will all accept?" The four nodded, not believing their luck. "Then come here, and we'll take you back to the Weyr. B'kennor! We're going!"
B'kennor shrugged. "Nice to meet you," he said to Diara, "and nice to see you guys again too," he added, shaking hands with Mor and giving Drianne a brief hug.
"We'll come over and see you off," Drianne said as they walked over with him.
"Thanks, guys," he said, as his bronze landed in the courtyard next to him. Everyone shielded their eyes from the dust he caused.
"Happy flying, B'kennor," Mor said quietly as B'kennor mounted. Suddenly, he found himself pushed up against the bronze's smooth hide as he was pushed from behind.
"Quaranth! Stop that immediately!" came a voice from somewhere behind him. The pressure was withdrawn, and Mor turned to find himself reflected in an eye bigger than he was.
"Are you all right, sir?" came the voice again. "Sir?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Mor murmured, hypnotised by the dragon's stare. He shook himself, breaking the spell, and turned to face the worried rider, ignoring another nudge from the blue.
"Quaranth! Leave him alone! I'm dreadfully sorry about all this, Master Harper, he doesn't usually act this way," M'nom apologised. "What?" His eyes became unfocused, and he appeared to be listening to something. "What do you mean? He's too old! Begging your pardon, Master Harper," he added.
"Too old for what?" Mor asked, bemused.
"Too old to be Searched, sir. Quaranth says that you're worthy of Search," M'nom explained.
Hope grew in Mor's chest, until he felt he was suffocating. "What is an acceptable age for Search, Rider M'nom?"
Sensing his excitement, Drianne shifted. Of all the people at the Harper Hall, only she (apart from Mor himself) knew that he was only fifteen, not seventeen as everyone believed. She also knew that he now faced a difficult choice. The oldest acceptable age for Search was fifteen, so Mor would either have to confess to lying about his age for five Turns, or let the chance of a lifetime slip through his fingers. Very few were offered the chance to become a dragonrider, and even fewer actually succeeded, though every Pernese child dreamed of being Searched.
To Drianne's eyes, Mor appeared to stand motionless upon hearing M'nom's reply, barely breathing. She knew, however, that his mind would be whirling. Finally, he sighed.
"If fifteen is the oldest acceptable age, Rider M'nom, then I am very sorry to tell you that I am unacceptable, having celebrated my seventeenth birthing day but a month ago."
"I am very sorry to hear that, Master Harper. It is a shame you were not found earlier," M'nom said gently.
Next chapter will be up soon!