Dragons did not weep as humans did, but Capiam thought he might prefer tears to the gray tinge that came to their eyes and hides. Rogeth bore the color of mourning. They mounted and K'lon conveyed them to Fort Weyr. Old tears froze briefly on Capiam's cheeks, to be renewed as he saw the dragon-crowned Rim of Fort Weyr. He'd no time to count but surely even Telgar's disaffected Weyr must be represented to produce such an assembly. K'lon angled Rogeth to land as close to the Hatching Ground as possible, seemingly a dangerous task for dragons were leaping and landing all over the Bowl.
Everyone will have to make an effort today, Capiam thought and tears streamed down his face again. Desdra was stroking his hands and he knew she was aware of his intense feelings. He knew she wasn't untouched by the tragedies; but grief can be exhibited in many ways, and her quiet summary to K'lon had given Capiam some comfort, too.
They dismounted quickly from Rogeth, smiling up at K'lon, who had mastered his tears if not his mournful expression. Then the blue dragon leaped skyward again.
Capiam noticed that the usual tables and benches had been set outside the Lower Cavern for the Impression feasting. He hoped to get drunk enough at it not to hear Master Tirone's ballad. Capiam could smell the roast meats but they did not rouse his appetite as they usually did. It was a lovely day. It would have been a magnificent dawn, he thought, and rubbed his face harshly, to stop the ready tears. If the Masterhealer of Pern could not maintain his composure, what a poor example he would set. The day was a beginning not an ending!
As Desdra pulled him toward the Hatching Ground, he inadvertently looked to his right, to where Moreta had lived the last days of her life. He blew his nose fiercely and looked directly ahead of him, now pulling Desdra to a place as far from that tier as was possible within the confines of the Ground.
The eggs took his attention. They lay, neatly spaced, the queen egg separate on a neat mound of sand, lovingly piled to cushion and display it. He blew his nose again and stumbled on the first step of the tier.
There seemed to be a good deal of nose blowing, and kerchiefs of all colors were being flourished. There was no end to the sounds people made in clearing their nasal passages. Obscurely Capiam felt cheered that so many people were affected by the aura.
Could the dragons massed on the Rim have prevented Orlith and Leri going? Capiam chided himself for such wistful futile thoughts. No, the halves that were missing could never be replaced. Orlith yearned for Moreta, and Leri for Holth. As K'lon had done, Capiam must accept the inevitable.
Then he felt the vibration through his boot soles and looked down. It took him only a moment to realize that Hatching was imminent. The dragons had begun their hum. Not just the dragons taking their place at the top of the Ground, but those outside, until the solid rock of Fort Weyr was resonating. The note managed, in some inexplicable manner, to be melancholy as well as expectant. It was low, the crescendo to Hatching, but it produced an impetus. The audience rushed in.
Capiam looked around him again, to identify faces no longer obscured by kerchiefs. On the upper tier, to his left, he saw Lord Shadder and his lady, Levalla, K'dren and M'gent beyond, sitting next to Master Balfor, who had declined the honor of becoming Masterherdsman. Some said he felt keenly responsible that Moreta had died helping his Hold.
Desdra's hand tugged at his and he followed her gaze to see Alessan entering the Hatching Ground with Lady Nerilka. They were a striking pair, Alessan a half head taller than his consort, but, even at this distance, Capiam could see that Alessan was pale. He walked steadily, if slowly, his arm linked through Nerilka's. Tuero was on his right side, Dag and little Fergal a respectful pace, for once, behind their Lords Holder. Capiam had been surprised by Alessan's choice of wife, but Desdra said that Rill would support Alessan and he needed that.
Master Tirone arrived, with Lord Tolocamp and his ridiculous little wife. Capiam wasn't certain if the emergence of Lord Tolocamp from his self-imposed isolation was a tribute to the occasion or would be a trial, but he had made the effort today. As Nerilka had noted to Capiam, the man had never known he had a daughter missing. When told that Nerilka had become Alessan's wife, Tolocamp had remarked about Ruatha swallowing up his women, and that if Nerilka preferred Ruathan hospitality to his, that was the end of her in his eyes.
Lord Ratoshigan arrived, alone as always, mincing across the hot sands to the fast-filling tiers. The dragon hum was swelling now, more confident, less mournful. Other Lords Holder and Mastercraftsmen scurried to the tiers. S'ligar supported Falga, who still walked lame though she rode every Fall; B'lerion walked by himself, quickly, and took a place without glancing about. Amid the journeymen, small holders, apprentices, folk from all the Weyrs, Capiam saw few wearing a Telgar badge-but many displaying Keroon.
The hum became excited as the dragons, gripped by a sense of occasion, sang their welcome. One of the eggs began to rock, and a hush of expectancy fell over the visitors while the dragon's song became ecstatic.
Sh'gall escorted the candidates in their white robes, the four girls leading. Sh'gall fussily motioned for the boys to walk on while he deferentially led the girls to the queen egg. Capiam rapidly counted the boys: thirty-two. Not as much choice as usual but then . . .
Capiam thought Oklina looked stunning. He remembered her as so shy and diffident in the bustling, lusty family that had once cramped Ruatha Hold as to be unremarkable. She had certainly bloomed. Then he noticed B'lerion watching her intently. He, too, had changed dramatically since Moreta died. There, the phrase had come out, hurtful though it was. Tears stung his eyes again. Desdra's hand renewed its clasp on his. Did she always know when sorrow overcame him?
People stirred and pointed as the first egg continued to rock and cracks became visible. The humming reached a new pitch of excitement, and Capiam felt his breath quickening. Another egg became agitated . . . and a third. One didn't know where to look first. The hum became more than vibration: It became a sound enveloping everyone in the Hatching Ground, almost visible about the eggs. They responded by frantic rolling and pitching.
The first one broke, and a moist dragon head appeared, crooning piteously as the dragonet shook itself free of the shell. It was a bronze! A sigh of relief rose from every throat. For a bronze to hatch first was a good sign! Pern needed every one it could discover. The little beast staggered directly toward a tallish boy with a shock of light-brown hair. That was also a good sign, that the dragonet knew whom he wanted. The boy didn't quite believe his good fortune and looked in appeal to his immediate neighbors. One of them pushed him toward the dragonet. The boy no longer resisted and ran, to kneel in the sand beside the little bronze and stroke his head.
Capiam had tears in eyes again, but they were joyful ones. The miracle of Impression had occurred and spread its anodyne, dispersing sorrow. While he was blotting his face, a second dragonet, a blue, found his rider. The hum of the mature dragons was joined by the crooning trill of hatchings and the excited exclamations from the newly chosen riders.
Suddenly a fresh flurry signaled activity about the queen egg, which rocked, Capiam thought, more imperatively than the others. In fact, three good wobbles and the egg cracked neatly in half, the fragments falling away from the little queen who seemed to spring from the shards. Another excellent omen! Two of the girls wavered in their stance but in Capiam's mind there was never any question of which girl the little queen chose.
Capiam turned to embrace Desdra in celebration. Clinging together, they watched Oklina lift shining eyes, her gaze instinctively finding B'lerion in the mass of faces confronting her.
"Her name is Hannath!"