The young boy glanced furtively around him, but seeing – and hearing –no disturbances other then the tithe-train trudging into the Weyr Bowl he snuck through, for all the world appearing to all those around him as if he belonged with the train. Once past the lone rider stationed outside the only ground level entrance he drifted away from the train, blending into the shadows.
“Who is this?” a gentle voice woke him from his rest. He heard the stirrings of perhaps three others into the general area where he had laid down sometime after getting lost in the Lower Caverns. He tensed up immediately, still not opening his eyes.
“It’s a child,” the voice crooned, sympathy evident to his ears. He remained as still as he could, ignoring the hunger pains he felt. He knew the source of those pains, and sent a silent plea to them. He had trained his precious fire-lizards well, but there was always the chance that they would take the initiative.
“Hush, he’s still asleep. Perhaps someone should watch for him, for when he wakes. See if he’s anyone’s.” The voice seemed familiar, but not enough that he could identify it. It was as if he had only heard the voice a few times....
“No, he’s a stranger. I’d know if he was one of ours, and none of the guests have said anything about a missing child. And someone would most definitely miss this one. Oh, the poor thing. Look how thin he is.” The first voice continued to speak, but now the others with her were moving off, carrying her voice away. He sighed, and sat up. He’d get no more rest now, knowing he had been found out. He was not sure, but he suspected the kind voice he had heard speaking to the familiar one to be the headwoman, whom he had met, briefly, some turns ago. He glanced around, finally opening his eyes, and seeing no one around he took in a better look of the rest of his surroundings.
He was in the Hatching Grounds, as there could be no other cavern such as this one was. He was high above the closer tiers, near one of the obscure and long forgotten entrances. He assumed that the weyr woman and headwoman had seen him after the crowds of guests that had left after the Hatching, which he gathered had happen while he was sleeping. Although, once he thought about it, his dreams, or what he remembered, were full of new mind voices, and happiness all around. And eggs, and a great, proud golden queen.
Suddenly, he felt his lizards come in to land nearby. They had stayed away until they felt him wake, and he was glad for the rudimentary lessons he had taught them, since he had Impressed them on his way to the Weyr.
Without warning, fire-lizards erupted into the air around him. His questing eyes immediately recognized his own six, but also noted a much larger fair that congregated with them. Suddenly, one voice rose above the general humming he heard in his mind.
Path, what is wrong with Leppa and Rok? An irritable voice chimed. He recognized it as human, and female, with the dragon, whose voice was so similar he concluded must be hers, replied.
They found something, or someone. The gentle curiosity of the dragon touched him, although he had heard it from many others like her. Dragons seemed to take to him, he had often said to his twin.
Oh, that must be the foundling Manora was talking about. No wonder Menolly’s been asking. She said her lizards were reacting to a stranger. Although what sort of stranger she didn’t say. The pensiveness of the voice clashed with the earlier sentiment he had felt, but he was glad of it. His young mind was sensitive to emotions, as he had tuned in to the nuances of dragon-speech since he was a child.
His startled eyes noted the figure climbing the tiers to him, and he figured that she must be the owner of the voice. Even so, the gentle reassurances of Path, her dragon, startled him, before he smiled and accepted them. Once again, his dragons were taking care of him.
“Oh, hello. You are awake. It’s nice see that. Ever since Manora discovered you after the hatching there are those who have been wondering what to do with you, but I think, first and foremost, we should feed you. The feast is still going one, so there is plenty of food.” She rambled on, coaxing him to his feet, stopping only once her dragon informed her that he was no longer moving. “What’s wrong, sweetling?” she asked, genuinely concerned. Now looking up at her, the boy saw the lines of deep anxiety on her face. Seeing that, he decided to accept her entreaty, if only to lift some of her grief. He smiled tentatively, and grasped her outstretched hand firmly.
He was rewarded with her smile.
“I’m fine,” he said softly, so she almost did not hear her. And was countered by his rumbling stomach.
“But food sure would be nice, huh?” she said kindly, some of the worry easing from her face at her positive reaction.
Giving his shy affirmative, he descended with her to the sands on the ground. Or almost. When they were nearly there, he asked, bursting with curiosity and worry, “What has made you so sad and worried?” he asked, his tone so piteous that the older girl stopped. She glanced at him, searching, but answered anyway. “Well, part of my time when I am here is always spent with the weyrlings, setting them up, helping where I can, and it’s always been a pleasure. Me and T’gellan were here for the Hatching, and Path wanted to see her home for a while. You must have slept through most of it, but the Hatching was only a few hours ago. And all but one of the Hatchlings Impressed. And I’m so worried for him!” her almost non-sensical reply fit the pieces the muted conversations of the older dragons n his mind presented, and he nodded, understanding the worry. He saw the pitiful creature, as she saw it, creeling imperiously but unsatisfied with the boys presented him. He was still creeling, but now being taken care of by other weyrmen. Cases such as this unpartnered bronze were rare, and heartbreaking to all near by. “I’m so worried for him!” she repeated, and the boy picked up the distressing certainty that the hatchling would soon die, as did all precedents to his situation.
He reached up and wiped the tears that had begun to fall down her face gently, giving her all the innocent support he, at eight Turns, could. She broke down under his comforting presence, and knelt by him, weeping. He sensed in this girl, Mirrim as he picked up from Path, her dragon, that she cared deeply for all dragons, and anything and anyone that was part of the large Weyr family. And seeing the poor babe broke her heart. He glanced up from patting her head comfortingly at a new presence, one that made him tense all over again. But he picked up reassurances from this man’s dragon as well, and his name too.
He is T’gellan, boy. The soft mind voice of a dragon told him. Recognizing the name from Mirrim’s talk, the boy, Kurissan, released the weeping woman into the other’s loving hold. T’gellan’s eyes questioned him, but Kurissan turned away, pointedly showing in his silence that the other was to take care of Mirrim.
He wandered off, knowing that the fact he was awake would soon reach the well-meaning head woman. He wandered aimlessly, eventually reaching the lake where even then baby dragonets were being washed and fed. His fair of fire-lizards wheeled about his head in a dazzling dance of color. He picked up similar thoughts of worry from them, as they broadcast to him the general feeling of those about him, not just dragons that he heard and felt.
‘They are worried about the bronze who did not Impress.’ He was certain of it. But suddenly he didn’t care about what those around him were feeling.
His thoughts had stopped, focusing on one thing:
A new mind voice, stronger then any other he had ever heard.
Greetings, K’ris. I am Loderranth. I Choose you!