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It's almost time, Ramoth told her driver, swinging her head possessively over the queen egg.
Now don't scare the girls, dear.
Ramoth's eyes glittered in a rainbow gamut as she looked straight at her rider. If they scare, they're not worthy of my daughter.
You liked them well enough yesterday.
Today it is diferent.
Yes, Lessa agreed affably, versed in her dragon's whimsies. Today your daughter Impresses.
The humming had already begun as the massed dragons of Benden chanted their welcome. Feeling the sound vibrating through her bones, Lessa turned to smile softly at F'lar, who smiled back and took her right hand in his. This moving overture had become a special moment for them, an affirmation of their own love and a rededication to their own dragons.
An abrupt hush rippled down the tiers as the audience became aware of the distinctive sounds. Fire-lizards darted in to seek roosts on the topmost ridges, and though Ramoth followed their progress with her brilliant eyes, she no longer bellowed a warning if the creatures entered the Hatching Ground. After Lessa had heard Aivas's account of the fire-lizards' reception of their huge cousins at the first Hatching, she had told Ramoth, and both of them had felt more charitable since.
Some of the eggs in the main group were rocking slightly, and the fifty-seven boys closed in about them, hope and eagerness mirrored on their clean, shining faces. The five girls moved slowly but resolutely toward Ramoth, whose immense form covered the mottled queen egg.
Move back, dear, Lessa said gently.
Not quite growling, Ramoth took one backward step, flicking her tongue over her egg.
Ramoth!
"Up to her usual tricks?" F'lar asked.
"Hmmm." Two more steps, please, dear, and do keep your tongue in your head. Such an undignified posture. Lessa spoke firmly, and though Ramoth swung her head in a last show of reluctance, she did move back-five steps, deliberately more than requested-before she crouched down, glaring with orange-red flashing eyes.
Then Lessa cast an appraising glance over the five young women confronting the queen egg. Groghe's daughter, barely fifteen Turns old, was the smallest, a daintily made child. She had already Impressed two bronze fire-lizards, and Lessa hoped that they would contain themselves until after Impression was over. Ramoth might tolerate the creatures in the Hatching Ground, but not flying about her head. Still, Nataly had been sensibly raised, and her two fire-lizards had behaved themselves admirably since arriving at Benden.
Breda, the wraithlike blonde, came from Crom. Odd that Nessel did not object to Search, for all he opposed the Weyrs' energetic support of Aivas. She was very quiet, a journeyman weaver and, at twenty-two, the oldest candidate.
Cona was Neratian, and Manora had reported that in the sevenday that the girl had been at Benden Weyr, she had already been in the weyrs of three bronze riders. That was not a bad trait in a queen's rider; it was certainly preferable to a lack of sensuality.
Why the dragons had chosen Silga was a bit of a puzzle, for the girl had been terrified by her first flight between, and that was not a good omen.
The final girl, Tumara, was a cousin of Sharra's and so delighted to leave the isolated fisher's island off the Istan coast that Manora had commented the girl was wearing her out in her efforts to be useful.
Compliancy was a good trait, but too much became subservience, and that was not one of the more desirable qualities. A Weyrwoman had to be firm, fair, and sympathetic with her queen. Not that this pairing was certain to become senior in any Weyr.
Much had to be done, besides finding a suitable place for the new Weyr. Then, whichever junior queen-in whatever Weyrnext rose to mate would be flown by all unattached bronzes. The triumphant pair would be temporary Weyrleaders only until they had proved themselves. As fully three-quarters of the other queens on Pern were likely to come into season over the next few months, this was as fair a method as any to determine the leadership of the new Weyr.
The humming had increased to a frantic pitch. The first egg. Lessa breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a bronze head and wing emerge-had split cleanly, and the hatchling was up and out. A fine strong bronze, unsteady on its feet, of course, but able to extend its wet wings and swivel its head to and fro, trying to focus its bleary eyes on the figures before it.
With a shriek of triumph, it made a tremendous leap and landed in front of a stocky lad-from a Smithhall in Igen, if she recalled accurately. Sometimes the eager young faces seemed to blend into memories of all the candidates from the many Impressions held in this Hatching Ground over the past twenty three Turns she had been Weyrwoman. Holding her breath, she watched that magical moment when the boy realized that the dragon had chosen him: ecstasy wreathed his face as he knelt to caress the imperious creature butting at him. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks as he threw his arms about the damp bronze neck.
"Oh, Braneth, you are the most beautiful bronze in all the world! "
The audience let out a cheer and applauded while the dragons interrupted their hum to bugle a welcome.
After the initial Impression, other eggs cracked or split or crumbled to tip their inhabitants onto the warm sands, and brown, blue, and green dragonets were matched with compatible personalities.
"Good, twelve bronzes," F'lar said, keeping track of the pairings. "We could do with more browns-only four-but the distribution of blues and greens is exactly right."
Lessa had not been paying that much attention past the first three, for the queen egg was begi
"Oh, she's a darling, that one," F'lar murmured to Lessa. "Just look at her, queen of all she surveys."
With the unusual suppleness of a hatchling, the little queen tilted her head backward almost to her spine and gave Ramoth one long look before she swung her head forward again to regard the five girls facing her. Daintily, she stepped away from her shell. With a calm arrogance she swept her coruscating glance once more over those awaiting her decision. Lessa wondered if any of the girls were actually breathing at that crucial moment.
"I'll wager you a mark on Cona," F'lar said.
Lessa shook her head. "You'll lose. It's Nataly. The two are perfectly matched."
However, the little queen was quite an individual. She stalked to one end of the semicircle of girls, giving each a close scrutiny as she passed. She never even made it to Cona and Nataly-she paused at Breda, extending her neck and pushing her head very gently against the tall girl's body.
"That," F'lar said with a snap of his fingers, "for our choices."
Lessa chuckled. "The dragon always knows." Then she gave a little gasp. As Breda knelt to clasp the little queen's head to her breast, her rather plain face had taken on a beatific glow that transformed her into a radiant beauty.
Eyes luminous, Breda looked up at Lessa. "She says her name is Amaranth!"
"Well done, Breda. Felicitations!" Lessa called, having to shout above the applause that greeted the queen's Impression. Are you satisfied? she asked Ramoth, who was staring dourly at the pairing.
The girl wouldn't have been Searched if she wasn't suitable. We'll see how she copes with Amaranth. This one is a true daughter to me. From his high perch, Mnementh added a stu