“I saw her ride up,” said the girl, delighted to recount this fact. “And then the men who tried to stop her.”
“You must have had the best seat in the house,” K’vin told her, grinning.
The girl shot a vindictive glance around the table. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? I saw it all! Even when the dragonet tried to eat someone.”
“Was that her father?”
“Suze, now, that’s enough of that,” said her own father, and the older boy beside her must have pinched her for she shot straight up on the bench and glared at him.
“Yes, it was her father,” K’vin said.
“Didn’t he know any better than to strike a dragon’s rider?” asked Suze’s father, shocked by such behaviour.
“I think he has perceived his error,” K’vin said dryly and caught Suze’s startled reaction. “What has your son (and Charanth, as he always did, supplied the boy’s name from his dragon’s mind so quickly that the pause was almost unnoticeable), Thomas, decided on for a rider name?”
“Well, I don’t think Thomas dared to hope,” his mother replied, but her expression expressed both her pride in his modesty and her delight in his success.
“He never liked being a Thomas,” Suze said, irrepressible.
“He’ll pick a new name,” and she gave a snide sideways glance at her parent.
“And here he is, if I don’t miss my guess,” K’vin said, gesturing towards the lad making his way across the Cavern floor. K’vin had lectured the candidates on their responsibilities to their dragonets so he was familiar with many of them. This Thomas, or whatever, bore a strong enough resemblance to both sister and brother to make him easily identifiable. He hoped that a facial resemblance was all Thomas shared with his sister. She was a spiteful one.
“Well done, young man,” K’vin said, holding out his hand.
“And how shall we style you now?”
“S’mon, Weyrleader,” the new bronze rider said, still flushed with elation. He had a good firm handshake. “I considered T’om, but I never liked the nickname.”
“You said you’d…” Suze got yet another kick under the table, for she yipped this time and tears started in her eyes.
“It’s easier to say,” S’mon said. “Tiabeth likes it.” Now he showed the delightful confusion of pride and proprietariness so many brand-new weyrlings exhibited while accustoming themselves to their new condition and duties. As K’vin remembered so vividly, that took time.
And there was a T’mas in the first group at Benden.
“He’s long dead,” his father said, not altogether pleased with his son’s choice. “Thomas is a family name,” he admitted to K’vin. “I’m Thomas, ninth of my line.”
The boy looked at his father with that curious aloofness of independence that came with being a newly paired dragon rider sort of “you can’t tell me what to do any more” and “this is my business, Dad, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Tiabeth and S’mon,” K’vin said, lifting the glass he’d been carrying from table to table and drinking a toast to the partners. The others made haste to repeat it.
“Eat, S’mon.
“You’ll need every meal you get a chance to eat,” he added and left the boy to follow that very good advice.
At each subsequent table, he heard more speculation about the late arrival of Debera. There had been embellishments: one had her father bleeding to death. Another variation suggested that Debera had been the reluctant one and her family had insisted that she try to Impress, having been Searched. Young Suze had had the best seat in the Hatching Ground after all, despite being so far from the center that she hadn’t had a good view of Impression, but a perfect one for what was happening outside. So he edited the facts to keep the incident from getting out of hand. Fortunately, the music the band was playing, and the lyrics, provided a happy distraction. Most of the music was new. Clisser’s musicians had done their job very well indeed.
K’vin avoided having his glass filled too often and used slices of the roast wherry and beef to sop up what was required by the obligatory toasting of the new riders.
He had almost completed his circuit when he saw the Telgar Holders and T’dam leading Debera in, all moving towards the head table. Salda and Tashvi rose and went to meet her half-way. She still had a dazed look on her face and glanced, almost wildly, around the crowded Cavern.
Someone had given her a green gown which showed off a most womanly body, and the style of it as well as the color suited Debera.
The deep, clear green set off her fine complexion and a head of curling bronze-coloured hair which was now attractively dressed, not straggling unkempt around a sweaty distraught face. No doubt Tisha, the head woman had had a hand in the transformation. Zulaya had once said Tisha treated all the weyrgirls like live dolls, dressing them up and fussing with their hair. Nor was Tisha herself childless, but her excess of maternal instinct was an asset in the Weyr.
Salda put an arm about Debera, her head inclined to the shorter girl as she chatted; evidently determined to make up for the lack of family members on what was generally a very happy occasion for holder or crafter. Had Debera seen the last of her relatives? No matter, she was in the larger, extended family of the Weyr and could find more amiable and sympathetic replacements.
Zulaya was introducing Debera to Sarra, the sun-bleached blonde from Ista who was chatting away with such animation that Debera smiled - tentatively, K’vin thought, but with growing self-confidence.
“You got Morath to sleep all right?” he asked, joining the women.
I thought she’d never stop eating,” Debera said, a slightly anxious frown on her face. Her green eyes, K’vin saw, were also emphasized by the color of the gown. Tisha had done her proud.
“They’re voracious,” said Zulaya, with a kind laugh. “And so am I. Come, let’s all be seated before there’s nothing left for us.” Salda gave a good-natured snort, grinning down at Debera.
“Not likely. We’ve been sending you the fatted calves for the past week in anticipation.” She turned to the girl as she passed her over to K’vin. “One thing sure, girl, you’ll eat higher on the hog here in Telgar than you ever did at home. And not have to cook it!” Debera was so clearly startled by such jocularity that K’vin took her hand, guiding her to the steps up to the platform on which the head table was placed.
“I think you’ll be very happy here, Debera,” he said gently, “with Morath as your friend.”
Immediately the girl’s face softened with joy and her eyes watered. Her look of vulnerable wonder struck such a responsive chord in him that he stumbled in following her.
“Oh, and she is more than a friend,” she said, more like a prayer than a statement of fact.
“Come, sit beside me,” said Zulaya, pulling out the chair, and signaling K’vin to take the one beyond. They were not in their usual center table position, but quick eye contact with Salda and Tashvi had the Holders pulling out those chairs as if such placement was normal.
“Listen to that melody. How lovely” she added, tilting her head as the music, not quite martial but firm, was stopping conversation throughout the Cavern.
“So are the words,” Salda said, eyes widening in surprise, as well as delight, at what she heard. When her husband started to say something, she hushed him.
K’vin was happy to listen, too.
Sheledon, who had insisted on using the Telgar Impression as the debut of some new music, was very pleased that conversation had trailed off and everyone was hearing what was being sung. Now was the time to spring the big one on them. As soon as the coda on what Jemmy called ‘Dragonlove’ had finished, he held up the music to the ‘Duty Ballad’ and then pointed it at Sydra who would sing the boy soprano part.