She gave Robinton a glance both piteous and triumphant.
Three other eggs cracked and bronze dragons emerged.
Robinton wondered just how good an omen for the Weyr that was.
Then he paid more attention to the pairing of the lads. In their white, it was difficult to know if all the candidates were weyrbred or not. Then loud cheers and shrieks of delight from one group informed him that at least one new rider was hold-bred. And so were the newly Impressed blue and the three greens. A brown dragon broke his shell, and suddenly he was the only dragonling left.
He cried out, craning his neck as high as he could to see around the others. Then, with a sort of hiccuping yip, he veered and stumbled towards the youngest boy on the sands: Famanoran, F’lon’s second son. Famanoran had been just standing there quietly, watching, his expression blank, but once he realized that the little brown dragon was heading towards him, and him alone, he raced across the sands to meet him.
“F’lon!” Robinton shouted over the din made by new dragons and riders, and pointed towards this final pairing.
F’lon swivelled about, his mouth dropping open, and caught the moment of Impression.
“His name is Canth!” Famanoran cried, tears of joy marking his face as he patted and stroked his new friend.
“I told you so,” Robinton remarked frequently to the exultant Weyrleader father that evening at the feasting. He also had a chance to speak to F’lar and F’nor, for that was how they decided to shorten their names in the dragonrider tradition.
“I don’t think F’lon would have forgiven us if we hadn’t Impressed,” F’lar admitted to the Harper with a rueful grin.
“You had to, F’lar …” F’nor began, and then added loudly, “It didn’t matter that much about me …”
“Of course it did,” Robinton contradicted him immediately.
“Canth is rather large for a brown, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is,” F’nor said with soft pride, grinning foolishly.
Robinton located Manora, already busy making sure that food was reaching the various tables and that everyone had a seat. He congratulated her and she smiled almost absently, her eyes darting from one corner of the Lower Cavern to the other, checking on servers and the served.
“Such a good day,” she said with quiet satisfaction.
“You must be proud of them.”
“I am,” she said. With her usual understated dignity she moved off to take a seat by Jora, who had been left more or less to herself at the high table. The Weyrwoman was paying absolutely no attention to anything but clearing the food from the overflowing plate in front of her. Manora ate slowly and with relish, as dignified as she had been as a young girl.
Robinton took advantage of the fine Benden white which was being served. Lord Raid was present, as he should be for a Benden Hatching, and he was quite relaxed and pleasant to Robinton when they exchanged greetings and remarked on F’lon’s double joy.
When he got back to the Hall, Nip had been there and left him a message.
“And what do you bet me that Nabol will fall to him next?”
That was one bet that Robinton would never have taken. Even a Bitran would have passed it up.
Perhaps that acquisition was another reason why Tarathel scheduled an ambitious Gather, inviting everyone, including Fax.
Vendross, Tarathel’s invaluable guard captain, had flushed out a large group of Fax’s men in the foothills of Telgar where such a party should not have been. Since he was commanding a much larger patrol, he had the advantage. Their excuse that they had had to detour from winter-damaged tracks to get back to the High Reaches was not well received by Vendross who escorted them as fast as possible back to the main Crom road. Tarathel was determined to have a few private words with this self-styled Lord of Five Holds to ensure Fax did not try to encroach on Telgar lands.
Nip was as surprised as Robinton that Fax accepted.
“As you can see, I maintain several fully trained companies of guards, Master Robinton,” Tarathel told Robinton and F’lon who had arrived early in the Gather morning. Indeed, the Hold and its grounds seemed to be swarming with men in Telgar liveries.