Ta da! New chapter! Updates should be a little more frequent from now, because exams are over (well, from tomorrow). So I can spend the winter huddled up in a blanket in front of the computer typing. Yay!

Now, on with the show. Alas that the stage is not mine...

Suddenly, there came a booming laugh from above. "Mor, you silly old thing! Does your Mastery mean more to you than the chance to ride a dragon?" B'kennor cried, sliding down his dragon's shoulder. He landed next to Mor, and flung an arm around his shoulders. "M'nom, Master Mordekai will be returning to the Weyr with us."

"But he said that he was seventeen. Just because you are the Weyrleaders' nephew and the Wingleader's brother, it doesn't mean that you get your own way…" M'nom began.

B'kennor laughed again. "My family has nothing to do with this. What does is young Mor's lies."

"Lies?" asked Diara. "What lies?"

"Master Mordekai here isn't seventeen at all. He lied about his age to get into the Harper Hall. He's only fifteen."

"Fifteen?" M'nom and Diara said together, incredulously. "Fifteen?"

Mor reddened. "I did not lie about my age," he mumbled sullenly. "Drianne did. It was her idea."

"What was Drianne's idea?" asked a pleasant voice. Sebell had come up behind them and had heard the last sentence. "Wingleader N'mek was wondering what was causing the delay."

M'nom gestured to Mor. "We're trying to decide if he is acceptable to Search, Master Sebell."

Sebell frowned, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "Acceptable to Search? You wish to take my newest Master away?" Then a look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Isn't Benden's eldest acceptable age fifteen?"

"Yes, sir. That's what the problem is. He says he's seventeen, but B'kennor here claims that he's only fifteen," M'nom explained.

"Hmm. Drianne, you have known Mor longer than the rest of us here. How old is he?"

Drianne sighed. Now the decision was hers to make. "He is fifteen, Father," she said, looking Sebell in the eye and ignoring Mor's pleading expression. I had to, Mor, she thought desperately. Though I know I'll lose you and be punished, I can't let you miss this chance. "When I asked you to sponsor him, I only told you that he couldn't come to the Hall. I neglected to mention that the reason was that he was too young. He was ten at the time."

"Ten? Why, Drianne? Why did you ask me to sponsor him when you knew he was too young?" Sebell asked.

"Because he was heartbroken when his brother and I applied to be apprentices and he knew that he couldn't. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I will accept the consequences of my actions," she sighed, resigning herself to her punishment.

To her surprise, Sebell smiled. "Drianne, you will face no punishment for this. By your actions, you have proved the point that I have been trying to get across to the masters for quite some time; that we should accept younger apprentices. The younger a child is when learning, the better they learn. Mor has proved this by keeping up with and surpassing his classmates despite being two Turns younger than them. I should be thanking you, not punishing you!"

As Sebell laughed, Mor felt his heart leap. He no longer had to lie about his age, and feel guilty every time he repeated the lie. He was finally free of the heavy burden his secret had become without having to worry about being caught. But best of all, he wouldn't be stripped of the mastery he had worked so hard to attain.

"So, Master Mordekai, it is your choice. Will you accept the honour of being Searched?" Sebell asked, a smile on his face.

Mor made a face. "Of course I will, sir! Who wouldn't?" he cried. Everyone burst into laughter as Mor scrambled over to N'mek to tell him that there would be one more candidate returning to the Weyr with the wing.

x

Drianne sighed as she watched the dragons take off. She may have done the right thing, but she was still losing her best friend. It was just as hard letting B'kennor go, for while Mor was her best friend, B'kennor was her first love. She had secretly hoped that she would be Searched so she could go with B'kennor, but it hadn't happened, so now she would lose both.

"You'll see them again," a voice whispered in her ear.

"I hope so, Father," she replied, turning around. He held out his arms, and Drianne buried her face in his chest and wept for the friends she had lost.

x

"It's brilliant!" Mor cried as they circled over Benden Weyr's bowl.

B'kennor chuckled. "Wait until you see a bit more of it!" he called back over the rush of the wind. "Let's head for our weyr, Dioanth!"

The bronze bugled, and swerved towards the northern wall of the bowl. Mor was certain they were going to slam into it, and was about to scream when Dioanth backwinged and landed on a clawed ledge leading into a cave about a third of the way up the wall.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Mor," B'kennor said, gesturing towards the dragon couch and living quarters carved out of the cliff. "You can stay here with me until Hatching. I'll ask Manora if I can borrow a pallet for you to sleep on."

The boys spent the rest of the day catching up on each other's news, until the bell was rung for the evening meal. B'kennor rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"Food!" he crowed. "Old Silvina may cook well, but not as well as Manora! You haven't tasted anything until you've eaten her cooking! Come on!"

He raced to the back of the weyr, and began descending a flight of stairs almost hidden in shadows. "There's no point bothering Dioanth for such a short trip," he called back to Mor.

Mor grinned, and followed him down. Only B'kennor, who loved to run, would consider a trip like that short.

Dinner was everything B'kennor said it would be, so it was quite a while before Mor noticed that B'kennor paid more attention to the redheaded girl down the other end of the table than to his meal.

"What's her name?" Mor asked, helping himself to more of the roasted runner beast.

B'kennor shook himself. "Hmm?"

"Her name," Mor repeated patiently.

"Whose name?" he demanded.

Mor sighed. "That redheaded girl down the end of the table that you've been staring at all night, dimglow."

B'kennor mouth dropped open. Then he smiled. "No fooling you, is there?" he remarked. Then he sighed. "That's Riasa. She's a green rider in B'thor's wing. I love her, but…"

"But you're too scared to tell her so," Mor finished.

B'kennor gaped. "How… how did you know?" he gasped.

Mor waved his fork at him. "I went through the same thing with Diara," he explained, hurriedly trying to swallow his mouthful. It went down the wrong way, and he began to choke. B'kennor thumped him on the back until he stopped, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Thanks," he croaked. "Anyway, the only reason I told Diara I loved her was that Drianne told her that I had something to tell her. I never would have told her otherwise."

"Well, if you try that trick here, I'll break your nose," B'kennor threatened, an amused twinkle in his eye betraying him. Mor immediately decided to do just that. It'll be good for him, he thought.

"So, how long have you been with Diara?" B'kennor asked, interrupting Mor's plans. That led to a conversation that distracted both of them until the end of the meal. That night, Mor was so tired from his eventful day and the previous night that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

See you soon!