Ballad’ to this audience – in his mind, Sheledon heard’ what a ffill
chorus would sound like – but the excellent accoustics in the Cavern
were a big help. And the music captivated. Sydra managed to sound very
young and awed..
Gollagee came in with his fine tenor as the dragon rider Sheledon was
right on cue with his baritone part and then, with Bethany singing alto
and the Weyr’s own musicians adding their voices, they wound it all up.
There was just one split second’s total silence – the sort that makes
performers rejoice – and then everyone was standing, wildly cheering,
clapping, stamping their approval.
Even the dragons joined in from outside, caught up in their riders’
enthusiasms. Sydra kept bowing and urging the rest of the musicians to
stand and accept the accolades. Even Bethany stood, a few tears
trickling down her cheeks at such a unanimous reception.
They gave five encores of the Ballad’ – with people adding their voices
to the chorus as they quickly picked up on the words. When Sheledon
ruefully waved off a sixth repeat, there were calls for the Dragonlove’
song which was so appropriate for this evening.
All in all, Sheledon decided as he caught Sydra’s smiling face, a very
successful debut! Jemmy had outdone himself and Clisser would be
delighted. Perhaps there was something to Clisser’s notion of
redesigning the educational system so less time would be wasted on
unessentials and the Real Meaning of Life’ could be addressed sooner.
Life in the Weyrling Barracks and at the College It was the Weyrwoman,
Zulaya, who noticed Debera’s increasing nervousness.
Go on back to Morath, m’dear. You’re exhausted and you’ll need your
sleep.” Thank you. .. ah We make no use of titles in the Weyr,’
Zulaya added. Just go. I’ve given you permission, if that’s what you
were so politely waiting for.
Debera murmured her thanks and rose, wanting to slip out as
inconspicuously as possible. She’d felt so awkward and unsocial, even
when everyone, even the Lord and Lady Holder – she couldn’t reconcile
their behaviour with her father’s stories about them, but she intended
to forget everything he’d ever told her – had been so incredibly kind
and easy. She thought they would expect her to give an explanation of
her unusual behaviour, but they’d supported her instantly. Really, it
was as if her real life had started the moment she and Morath had locked
eyes.
It had, she decided as she made her way along the side of the Cavern
wall, head down so she needn’t make eye contact with anyone.
She saw only smiles from folks as she passed them, smiles and courtesy.
And certainly none of the lascivious behaviour that her father had often
said was prevalent in the Weyr.
Of course he’d told her a lot of things. And not told her others.
Like the fact that an official announcement of Search, with her name on
it, had been delivered to the hold so that she’d know when to come, to
be available for the Hatching.
No, she’d had to find that, stuffed in the cupboard where bits and
pieces that could be re-used were kept. No-one at Balan Hold,
especially her father and stepmother, Gisa, would have thrown out a
whole sheet of paper that had a clean side that could be recycled. How
she hated that word! Cycle, re-cycle.
Use, re-use. The concept dominated every aspect of Balan Hold.
And they were not poor’ in material possessions: not the way some
holders were. But poor’ Balan Hold had been in spirit ever since her
mother had died.
She’d been looking for something else entirely when she found the sheet.
Not that she knew the day’s date, but it was obvious that the
announcement must have come some time before, the paper being soiled and
the creases well set. Maybe even weeks. She had been ready to accept
Ganmar as an alternative to continued living in her father’s house.
She’d known that she’d have to work as hard, if not harder, setting up a
new hold, chiselling it out of rock above the mine, but it would have
been hers – and Ganmar’s – and something she could design to her own