Энн Маккефри: Ever the Twain

If anyone had questions, they weren't bold enough to voice them and so, when all the sweet breads were eaten, H'ran suggested that they follow him to the weyrling barracks so they'd know which direction to take with their dragons when Impression had been made. The barracks were exactly that — not nearly as homey or comfortable as the alcoves. There was a broad wooden bed for the hatchling, well marked by generations of dragon claws, and above it, a narrow shelf with bedding on it for the rider.

"Once you get your dragon settled here, you can return to the main living quarters if you wish. It's up to yourselves." The way he said it gave Nian the feeling that all new riders chose to stay with their dragons. Well, if Ru were here, she'd want to be, too. That is, if they both Impressed. "You'll always know if your dragon needs you, I promise you that much," H'ran added, and brushed his thick hair back in a nervous gesture.

"Now, if you'll follow me across the Bowl, I'll show you the eggs."

Dutifully, but with murmurs of excitement, they followed him through the arches onto the Hatching Ground. In groups of two or three, the eggs reposed on the warm sands. Nian was glad she had on heavy boots, because those with lighter footwear were obviously feeling the heat, imitating the stalk of river birds searching shallow waters for tiny edibles.

"It's called the Hatching dance," H ran said, trying to keep his face solemn as he also stepped quickly and carefully. "Move among the eggs, if you wish. They're not quite hard enough, but will be very soon. Getting used to them in advance seems to help when the moment comes."

"Can we touch them?" Chaum asked.

"Never known it to do any harm," H'ran said indulgently. Chaum instantly stretched his hand out and touched the egg he was standing by. And yanked his fingers away.

"It should feel warm," H'ran said, shifting his sandaled feet more quickly now. "Go on. I'll be right outside," he added, and made his way back to the main arch.

Tugging Nian by the hand, Neru trotted over to the nearest eggs with his sister in tow. One, the biggest one Nian was sure, lay just beyond on a slight rise. It had light tan mottles on its golden shell and Nian thought it was the prettiest of the eggs. Neru hauled her to the one he fancied, with mottles of a slightly darker tan. Boldly he ran both hands over the top of the shell. "It is warm, Nian, just feel it."

"I like that one," she said, pointing, and broke his grasp to go examine her pretty egg more closely. "It's the biggest one, too. Could it be the queen?"

"Hmmm, possibly, Ni," he allowed, but he was more interested in his egg than hers.

"D'you think they can tell which color the dragon will be from its shell?" Nian asked pensively, running her hand along the widest part of the egg. Nearby, Orla was investigating another egg, while Chaum still stood apart, surveying the entire clutch. The very pretty girl in blue sauntered over toward Nian, a stern expression on her face, as if warning Nian away from her chosen egg. Nian gave her a quick glance and moved away to join Orla.

"She's the Masterfarmer's daughter, and her name is Robina," Orla said softly to Nian. "She told us —" Orla paused to wink at Nian. " — that she's been promised the queen egg."

"You heard what the Searchers said. No one can guarantee Impression. It's up to the hatchlings."

"Well, you'd make a much better queen rider than that snotty stuck-up old wherry."

"It's not me that must Impress. It's Neru," Nian said firmly.

"It's still up to the hatchlings," Orla repeated.

The two girls wandered over to Neru, who was reciting to some others what he knew about dragons. Nian realized her twin was not happy that he had been a final addition to those Searched. Knowing that he tended to keep his feelings to himself, Nian peered at him intently and reached for the connection she always felt with him. He most certainly was putting up a brave front, and she wondered how long he would be able to maintain it. Nian knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her twin would be gutted if she Impressed a dragon and he did not. She wished she could find the words to reassure him.

"There're some who think they can predict colors, but from what I've heard, no one ever gets all the colors right in a Hatching from just looking at the shell," Neru said. His glance followed the pretty girl who was now circling Nian's egg. "Except maybe the queen," he added.

' Well, this shell is sort of bronzy. Maybe you'd better make up to it, too," Nian said with a little laugh. "You have to be a bronze rider."

He gave a shrug and looked around him. "I think you're right about yours being bigger than any of the others," he told her. "But if it's the queen, it won't help me." And he continued to stroke his chosen egg.

From the entrance, H'ran gestured with his arm to gather them all together. "All right now, candidates, we have some evening chores we could use some help with."

The word "chores" evoked a groan from some candidates, but everyone followed H'ran as he led them into another cavern where five dragons lay, their wings or other parts of their bodies covered with towels of some sort. There was a flooring of fine, warm sand — not as hot as the Hatching Ground, but comfortable for the dragons as a bed.

"Not the nicest of jobs, but you will have to learn how to tend your own dragons, so you might as well start today. These were casualties in the last Threadfall, two days ago." Neru thought of his mornings daydream and then paid close attention to what H'ran was saying. "We soothed their wounds with numbweed, and right now the compresses have to be changed. Ah, here come their riders.

"You can assist them in the task and gain some experience in the bargain. Being a dragonrider is not just about being able to fly anywhere you want to.” H'ran gestured to several of the candidates to go to certain dragons, and although Neru and Nian would have been separated, she tagged after her brother as he was signaled to the bronze whose neck was festooned with towels.

"I'm C'tic," the bronze rider said amiably," and poor old Brith here got badly tangled up in a clump of Thread." He began carefully peeling off the first towel.

"What's your name?" he asked, glancing up at Neru, and the twins replied in unison as they usually did.

"Well, then, Neru, get a towel, dunk it in the numbweed keg over there, wring it out, but not too thoroughly, and bring it over here."

While Brith had lowered his head and neck to permit the dressing, Nian saw the skin quivering as C'tic carefully inserted a fingernail under the towel and began to roll it back, revealing such raw-looking flesh that Nian shivered at the sight of it.

"Poor brave Brith," she said in the croon she used when one of her siblings suffered injuries.

"He's sure he's hurting much more than he really is," C'tic said amiably, beginning to loosen another towel. Neru carefully held a damp towel out by its corners, trying to hold his breath from the acrid smell of the numbweed-soaked fabric.

C'tic chuckled. "You get used to the smell of numbweed quickly," he said, taking the corners of the towel from Neru. Keeping it carefully stretched, he placed it flat on the raw-looking flesh. Brith gave a moan that was more relief at the coolness of the potion than pain.

"How long does it take him to heal?" Nian asked.

"Actually, they heal very quickly," C'tic replied. "You can see here on the shallower parts of the burn when the new skin is already forming after just a few days. Are you really interested?"

"Oh yes," Nian said.

"My sister is good at nursing," Neru said, staunchly.

"Well, if you aren't upset by such things, you can peel off that next towel while your brother gets a replacement. Easy now."

He watched her as she carefully slid her long index finger nail under the edge of the towel and began rolling it back as she had seen him do. He nodded approval. Brith's neck flesh quivered briefly, and then Ru was holding out a replacement dressing. Nian managed to get it neatly into place.