Энн Маккефри: Ever the Twain

Once, Nian had asked her mother why she had chosen her father, if she didn't like the smell of fish.

"Well, I married him for several reasons. The first is because I love him and he asked me. The second is that he had inherited his father's holding and I didn't know that the place reeked of fish oil and that it's hard to wash scales off a plank floor. But he's a good man, your father, and we've never gone hungry even if it was only fish for supper." Then her mother added plaintively, "I do fancy a taste of beef now and then, and he's willing to spend good credits to see I have some."

Someone rattling the bath door startled Nian out of her memories.

"You were the first in," she heard Robina's sour voice accusing her. "When are you going to finish?"

"When I'm clean enough," Nian replied firmly.

"Oh, the twinling from the fish hold. I suppose it's as well if we let you get really clean."

Robina's nasty comment irritated Nian no end. She was really tired of being teased. "I'll hurry, since I know you'd like to get all the sand out of your hair," she said in her sweetest tone of voice, recalling the sight of the unconscious Robina on the sandy floor of the infirmary.

"I'll thank you not to refer to that," Robina said angrily.

"Oh, dear me, I didn't meant to upset you," Nian said without a trace of apology.

"Just give others a turn at a bath!"

"Oh, stop nagging, Master's daughter," someone else called, and Nian could hear Robina stamping away from her door.

"Who said that?" she demanded.

"Another fisherman's daughter," and Nian smiled because she recognized the voice as Orla's.

However, she was clean enough, her hair sufficiently rinsed, so she pulled the plug. As the water audibly swirled out of her tub, she dried herself slowly, then used the towel to wrap her hair up on her head. It would take time to dry, but it really wasn't fair for her to monopolize a bathing cubicle. As she exited, she saw there were six or seven girls waiting. Robina was pacing down at the far end of the facility, so Nian gestured for the nearest girl to quickly claim the bathing cubicle.

"What the— I was next!" she heard Robina yell as she left the necessary.

"You were down at the other end of the room," one of the girls replied ingenuously.

"I should have been next," Nian heard Robina complain, and then Nian was too far away to hear what answer the farmer's daughter got to that protest.

She was still toweling her hair when she heard her name called outside the curtain of her alcove.

"May I come in, Nian?" asked Orla.

"Yes, certainly," she said and her friend slipped in. Orla's curls were still damp from her bath and her face was shiny from washing. "That Robina's something, isn't she?"

"Did someone finally give her a chance to bathe?"

Orla rolled her brown eyes. "Finally. I think her remark about fish smells made her enormously unpopular. How did she get to be so arrogant? I've never met another Master's daughter like her."

"She's very pretty," Nian said wistfully.

"And she thinks that she's going to Impress a queen dragon. Huh!" Orla commented.

"I doubt that," Nian said bluntly. "You heard what R'dik said about not guaranteeing anything. And being squeamish enough to faint while dressing those wounds surely must act against her."

"It was Robina who fainted? I couldn't quite see from where I was in the infirmary. But I'll say frankly enough that the wounds I saw were stomach-churning."

"Brith's, too." Nian shuddered.

"But you didn't faint, did you? Nor did I," Orla said. "It'll be interesting to see whom the queen does choose. Can I help you dry your hair, Nian? I'd give anything for straight hair."

"If you had it, you wouldn't want it. But yes, I'd appreciate the help immensely," Nian replied and, finding the second towel in her sack, handed it to her friend. She was tired and her arms ached from rubbing her thick, heavy hair.

The next morning Nian heard a pleasant gong being struck enthusiastically and had a time trying to remember where she was. Lado Hold had a siren that went off each morning, or in stormy times, to assemble people to help in emergencies. She hoped that her chore that morning would involve helping Brith and C'tic. She wanted to ask if it was possible for a candidate to be preselected. She didn't care which kind of dragon she Impressed, or even if she Impressed at all, just as long as Neru succeeded. She'd be grateful no matter what color dragon fancied her brother as his rider. But she saw him as a bronze rider, leading his own wing at Threadfall as he had always daydreamed.

When the candidates were seated and bowls of porridge were being passed to them, H'ran came around with a list, checking names off as he told each person what chore they would have that morning. Nian had a chance to look around the half-filled dining area, wondering where the others were, for last night the cavern had been full.

"Nian?" H'ran had reached her and she smiled up at him. "C'tic asked for you and your brother to assist him with Brith. You have such deft hands."

"Thank you, H'ran," she said, turning with a happy grin to her brother.

Neru went back to spooning porridge into his mouth, seemingly not upset that his sister was the object of special attention. "Good porridge."

"Yes, it is." Nian looked fondly at the brother who hadn't an ounce of jealousy in him.

The candidates were all offered second helpings of the porridge and then served toasted bread with redberry jam.

"So we're both on infirmary duty," Neru said. "We do work well as a team, Ni." Then he cocked his head to one side as if he were trying to hear something barely audible. Nian gave him a querying look, which he simply shrugged off.

Then Nian caught what must have alerted him — a definite humming noise, soft but growing louder. She shifted on her chair, planting her feet firmly on the ground, and felt the sound reverberate through the soles of her feet to the top of her head. It was a lovely sound, reassuring, loving, full of eager anticipation: an anticipation that began to vibrate in her body in time with its immediacy. She cocked her head at her brother and he grinned. As one they rose to their feet just as H'ran approached their table.

I can see that some of you have already heard the dragons humming. It is time!" he exclaimed. "Their timing is good," he added, a broad smile on his face as he turned toward the candidates' table. "We've all been able to finish our breakfast. All right, candidates please go to your alcoves and change into your white robes. Then come to the Hatching Ground as quickly as possible. You may move among the eggs, if you wish, or just stand still, waiting to see which egg holds the hatchling that wants you as its rider. This is a big moment in the Weyr's life and a bigger one in yours. Go, change. Now!" And with a loud clap of his hands, he dismissed them from the dining hall.

Nian had to wait for Ru to change. He must still be wondering if he should proceed with the deception. He also spent time fussing with his robe, using his own old leather to belt it. Nian did not tell him that that made the robe look even more like a dress.

She'd rushed off to the necessary as anxiety made her feel the need. The trip gave her time to wash her face and hands, too, slightly sticky from the redberry jam. Her stomach was roiling with apprehension, too full of all the food she had consumed to be comfortable. Robina was also in the washroom, vigorously brushing her blond hair with her fingers.

"I don't think the dragons will notice your hair, Robina," Nian said encouragingly, but the girl glared at her.

"That's all you know, twinling," she snapped back, a petulant expression on her face. Her brushing increased in vigor, and she swore when she saw that sand still fell from her locks. "Let me alone," she added nastily.