(aniz.htm)

Aniz's story began the moment she was able to blink her eyes and look about. That is to say, when she was born. Though there was no meaning to the splashes of color presented to her eyes, or to the voluminous noises her tiny brown ears heard, Aniz incredible brain digested and remembered it all.

Even now, thirteen turns later. Sometimes when the nights are softly lit and there is little to be done before turning in to sleep, Aniz casts her memories back. Her first turning day celebration - when the cook made a special carrot cake that she had always adored. To her fifth, when she recieved her lovely flitter Sage.

But who could forget a day like that, eh? Especially since the damnable thing was still hooked into her hair half the time? A perfect, flawless memory, is what Aniz was gifted with at birth.

Sometimes a horrifying defect as well. The day she fell from the weyr's ledge and broke her ankle. The pain - permanently embedded within her mind. When her father Z'mor was never brought back from Threadfall, and her uncle L'zar came only to her to cry his grief at losing his brother and comfort her her own loss. She knew that her cousin Zazil, L'zar's son, was jealous of that just a bit, but he never mentioned it. But like Zazil, she was born and raised in a Weyr, a place that couldn't afford to grieve too long, lest it lose even more riders.

Because she was so adept at memory tricks, Aniz had long been relied upon by the Headwomen or even the Weyrleaders to recall dates, times and appointments. But also to be a storage house for the history and the events of their Weyr itself. She was given a better intellectual education than many at a Weyr - because the scribe knew a good thing when he saw it.

For not only was this girl gifted with a powerfully clear memory, she - like her cousin Zazil - was keenly intelligent and sharp of wit.

By the time she was merely eight, the Weyr scribe had officially taken her on as an Apprentice, with the approval of his Crafting masters. She recalled (with a smile each time) when he told her, "now, you know that most girls don't even learn to read in Holds nor Weyrs, so don't disappoint!"

And she never did. While her shorthand notes were atrocious at best, she of course could then later on decode her quick jotted writing and transcribe long speeches without missing a beat.

It was almost scary for the Scribe to learn that she didn't really need to use her shorthand either - she did it to please him. But even then, at age ten, he told her, "do not try and please anyone but yourself now, girl, because even though you're trying to fit in and be normal, you're always going to be far and away better than the rest of your peers."

So since then, she did. She excelled in every endeavor she tried - mental and philosophically speaking. Physically? She's still a klutz apt to break a dish let alone another bone... Her fingers are far more used to putting pen to paper and enscribing a permanent record of the Weyr, than to go out and till the soil - or heavens forbid, to rough-house and play dragonrider games!

Not that she's "above" that... She knows her limits though, and remembers even though she wishes she could forget, how much the pain of true injury hurts...

***

"So while Zazi goes around impressing everyone with his talky-face," one of the girls said in passing, "Aniz is over there scribbling away recording it. You'd think she'd have a little more drive to become something."

"Wasn't her father a rider too?" Asked another weyrbrat, as they passed in a corridor near the scribe's hall. She heard their voices fade. Obviously they were far more impressed by her cousin's annoying stewardly duties, than they would ever be with the history and lineage of the Weyr itself. They could just as well be in any Weyr, Aniz decided, because their thoughts were probably echoed in every single habitation that had a scribe and a handsome steward.

She did care, but not enough to go rushing outside and yelling at the girls. They were both older and bigger than she anyway, so if she confronted them it would have to be with the Weyr Scribe at her back.

He'd been getting on in years, when he picked her up as an Apprentice. Now that she was a senior Appy - at a younger age than most children were even found by the Craft - Aniz knew that he'd have to be replaced some day. She dreaded that day, here at the Weyr, because she knew that his words were true. If another Scribe didn't think much of a girl learning the craft, she'd be out - no questions asked.

That galled her fiercely. Even here in Dragonhope, where things were a bit different, she knew that the craft halls could decide who learned and who was removed from the rosters.

Perhaps....

Aniz put her pen down. The tactics class that she'd been asked to sit in on would wait in her mind until another time. She knew she'd never forget the last fifteen minutes of her cousin's speech - he was actually quite brilliant at such things, and gave him the credit he deserved. But for the moment, perhaps she'd visit the aging Scribe in his quarters, to ask him a very important question about her own future.

She was careful with her supplies, and put them away before exiting the large now-dark room. The lighting, provided by some arcane technology, could be dimmed and brightened here in paricular, where bright light was best for writing and reading. Her feet walked a well-practiced few yards away, into the smaller corridor leading to the resident Crafters housing.

They all lived near one another, though their workshops were disparate and often rather farther away than the Scribners'. They seemed to enjoy being here, though, all packed away into a hall with brighter atmosphere and strange rank markings on everyone's doors. She marched herself off to the door marked with a quill pen and a scroll painted upon it's placard. Clapping at the door, she waited for WeyrScribe Tulanek to answer.

She heard him reply, his voice was weaker today than it had been just a fortnight ago. That made her stomach sink even farther. Aniz entered and saw that the place was quite dim and somewhat somber.

"Master Tulanek," she chided him in a guarded manner, "you ought to put the lights on, it's so dark in here you could hardly read your daily scrolls."

"I'm not really reading those right now," Tulanek said, waving a liver-spotted hand toward the pile of obviously unread scrolls in a basket by the door. Every few days either Aniz or one of the other resident scribes would write out an informative scroll of what had happened that week or day, and what might be coming up on the Weyr. It was quite hard work getting all the copies of it made in time to deliver! If only there were better ways of printing many copies of something fast...

Aniz breathed in deeply and thought she smelled something a bit rotten. Was it food? Or, her throat tightened, was it the man himself, who was clearly in a final stage of life? He had been able to walk and bathe himself even just a few weeks ago, but ... perhaps he'd been sitting here longer than just this morning. That thought disturbed Aniz greatly.

"Sir, you should stand and stretch a bit, if you can. It's very stuffy in here, I'll open the grate for some fresh air. It's not cold right now, so there should be no chill." She turned to see him watching her, "if that's all right?"

She waited for a moment, and saw the faint glimmer of pride in his eyes come back. His yellowed teeth bore open in a smile. "Aniz, I told you years ago, you do not need to impress me with any formalities. If you think I need the air, why, I probably do."

Aniz heard him chuckle to himself while she opened the forced-air ventilation in the room. Again, some arcane and highly technical device did this service to the Weyr, keeping its inner rooms airy and fresh. Finally done, and with a bit of light into the room as well, Aniz then appraised her Master.

He was ... quite old. Friendly looking still, but now his hair had all but gone, and his skin was spotted with age marks. His mind was still sharp, but his body failed him more and more often. Because he would chide her again if she did otherwise, Aniz stood before him and asked a bold question.

"Sir, if I may have your recommendation, I would like to walk the tables and become a Journeyman Scribner. I'm worried that if ..." here she choked briefly, but recovered because she had practiced this speech in the past many times already. "If you are replaced by a less fair Weyrscribe, I may never be given the chance to do so. I know that I could easily pass this Journeman's exam, I've practiced it. My script is sure, and my memory of course, is... well, my memory."

Tulanek seemed to ponder for a moment, pulling his bony fingers up to his jaw and stroking it in thought. "Yes, I think ... that would be a good move, just about now. You are wise beyond your years, young Aniz. If we wait much longer I fear I would not be able to watch you do it. And I do so wish to pin your Journeyman's badge upon your collar myself..."

Swelling with pride and eager to move on, Aniz smiled and straightened herself. "Well, I could send word to the Masters at the craft hall that you're not well and should not go there to any ceremony. Would it be appropriate for a selection of Masters to... come here?"

"Hrm," Tulanek nodded again. "Well they do need to pick among themselves for a suitable replacement for me, if one hasn't been chosen already." He winked. "And if I do not have a say in that, well, then I'll have to dwell on a bit longer with you until I do." He beckoned with his wavering hand, to sit near him. Aniz did, and realized how frail he really was when he put his arm around her shoulder. "Aniz, you've been a light in a dark tunnel for me. I wasn't sure that I could find anyone to really press our field forward - but then you come along and prove me wrong. Those singers and ballad writers are all very fine and well, but they always change the history they sing. We endeavor to recall everything the way it really happened, eh?"

She nodded. "I do, sir, and I know you do. Your scrolls are even more accurate than mine sometimes." He was going to say something, but she shook her head. "No, sir, because I have a perfect memory I can recall things verbatim, but... You have a gift with the descriptions and the language that I don't think I could ever have. I could imitate you, but... You've always told me to be myself!"

They laughed, and Aniz helped him get into a more comfortable position by his reading lights. While he helped himself to the various scrolls by his table, Aniz went off to pen the letter she hoped would change her life forever.

***

"Well we've seen some interesting things in our travels," said one Master Harper, "but this beats them all." He was late middle-aged, with sharp eyes and a balladeer's voice. And he was the friendliest of the bunch.

"When I asked Aniz to write to the Hall for her judging," Tulanek said with a faint sigh, his voice and demeanor growing weaker by the day, "I was not expecting a harper to be here with the scribners she - and I - requested."

"Well with all due respect, master Tulanek," that harper replied with a stiff grin, "the Scribners hall is merely an extention of the Harpers', kindly do inform your ... pet project here, of that."

The foursome of Masters were about to turn and leave. Aniz had tears in her eyes. She'd written directly to the scribner master at their Hall, but apparently something happened. There was but one Master Scribe among this contingent, the others all Harpers who expected songs and flute playing. Perhaps it was just bad luck, or perhaps something else was changing among the crafthalls.

But they were not going to replace the weyrscribe - they were going to simply remove the post and put in a 'proper Harper' for the weyr instead.

Effectively cancelling Aniz's entire career. She was distraught, and full of anger and more emotions than she'd felt in ages. Her work with writing and recalling kept her calm, relaxed, focused. But this ... This was a disaster that she could not take. And poor Tulanek there was actually growing too weak to even raise his voice to chastise the much younger Harper. Though Aniz knew Tulanek would want to be there to comfort her, she instead simply bolted away through the halls of the weyr, oblivious to where she was headed. Sage flapped hopelessly behind her, not understanding why her human would be so up in arms when there was food to be had or a patch of sunlight to lay in. The tears in her eyes clouded her direction sense, but her feet knew full well where they were running.

Somehow she'd wound up running directly into the Weyrleader's offices. How in the world would she explain herself now? In tears, she pulled up short when she saw the tall and very dark man glance away from the other riders in the room, and focus on her.

She could hardly see, and didn't see his expression. S'xon pushed his eyebrows together, and the frown pulling on his lips was there for a reason. She didn't know that he had been 'informed' of the Harper Hall decision already.

"Aniz," he said simply, "come on in, please sit down. Opal, would you?" The one woman, his daughter Opal, helped Aniz to a seat and tried to wipe away some of her tears. Opal was barely older than Aniz, perhaps by three turns at most, and she recalled clearly this stage in her life.

Not as clearly as Aniz would, when she was older... This trauma would be with her forever. Now that she had a moment to think on it too, Sage was being affected strongly. The green hissed at Opal and batted her wings at the white rider, but Opal insisted on helping the girl anyway.

"I'm not certain that our conversation can be continued properly, at this point," S'xon said to the other riders, "but I will continue anyway. Especially," he looked back to Aniz with a strange nod, "since she is concerned."

"You - you were talking about me?" Aniz asked, voice wavering. She'd never have made a good harper - not with that tremble of emotion in her voice. That's what the Harpers told her not twenty minutes ago, anyway.

"Of course," S'xon said. "This issue about our weyr Scribe is ... not pleasing."

Aniz straightened up. She looked so mature for a girl her age, suddenly. S'xon could see the spark of life in her yet, and pressed on.

"I don't want a harper here, at least," he added with a smile flashing his brilliant teeth behind his dark lips, "not one in charge of any kind of historical account of my weyr."

"Our weyr," Kira the tiny blond-black haired Weyrwoman announced from the other door, having arrived on notice between dragon minds. "And I agree. While I enjoy having a good song or dance party... they're just not practical for our purposes. Aniz, you're our scribe whether they want you to be or not."

S'xon actually looked deflated a bit - obviously he wanted to be the one to tell her that.

"Should I chase the harpers away, then?" S'xon asked of Kira - Aniz had seen them behave silly like this before, but she really thought they ought to be a bit more serious at this moment.

Well that was a stunningly egocentric thought for a girl who'd rarely concentrated on herself for more than a decade. She cleared her throat. Then realized that she had no idea what she was going to say to them.

"... Thank you," she said, "if... If you're going to send the harpers away will they ... stop me from becoming a Journeyman forever? I ... I want to--"

"I know you want that badge," S'xon said, "and you deserve it too. I've sent for Tulanek and the others, they're on their way here now. We're going to have to just sort this out. I can't have this sort of distress in the weyr. It's very ..."

"Distressing?" Aniz said with half a grin. Her eyes were still filling with tears moment by moment, but now at least she had gained a grip on her emotions. The other riders chuckled and nodded - Kira stood beside her husband-weyrleader, and they waited. Opal tended to Aniz's tear stained face, and then they heard the approach of the group of Master crafters.

Aniz stiffened up, but Opal held her hand tightly. "It'll be all right. Father and mother are... really hard to argue with. Especially when they agree on something."

"Thanks," Aniz whispered, and turned to the doorway. The group of them - Tulanek being escorted carefully by two healers (as he had for the last few days) and the others walking annoyed behind them. They were so ... arrogant. Aniz had rarely seen such arrogance even on bronze riders in the weyr! They thought themselves better simply because they were good at their craft. Placing such emphasis on one over another was hardly the way of a Weyr.

Aniz bit her lip. The glare coming from the one Harper was so hard and cold that she thought she'd been between. The others were more passive, but seemed so anxious to just leave that she wondered how they could ever possibly decide among themselves, who would become a weyrharper let alone know how to choose such a thing.

"It has come to my attention," S'xon said, "that the Harper Hall has declined the request we sent to have a proper scribe placed here to replace Master Tulanek when he is unable to perform his duties."

"Yes of course," the harper said, "that is true. You've also clearly been informed of the new process we would like to impliment here."

"Well," Kira said, looking at her hard, well-kept nails, "we disagree with your decision, and would have you reconsider." She looked up at them with hard eyes, "and if not, we will simply no longer require the presence of a Harper in our weyr."

Before the other harpers got a chance to say even their first word of comment, S'xon continued where his wife left off. "It is the position of this weyr, that is to say myself and my wife as weyrleaders, to have a proper scribe to record in permanent fashion the events that transpire here."

"That's preposterous," said the elder of the three Harpers, one whose crooked nose and sagging eyebrows almost had made Aniz laugh when she first saw him. "A Harper does that perfectly well."

"A Harper does not record anything, they merely repeat on request," Kira said.

That did it - Aniz was about ready to bolt out any available opening from the room. Opal held her firmly, though, and she had to sit and watch. The single Scribe master who'd come along - apparently as a token to judge the apprentice - hesitated a bit before straightening himself up a little notch. The Harpers on the other hand were livid.

"Well that certainly shows what little even a weyrwoman knows about our craft," muttered the one Harper.

Opal hissed very quietly, "oh no you did not just insult my mother," and held on to Aniz's hands as much as Aniz did hers.

Aniz was so proud to be a resident of a weyr which would go so far to protect the non riders. Kira let off a stream of insults so colorful and even demeaning that Aniz wasn't sure even she'd be able to remember them without blushing. She asserted in a series of clipped angry statements, that scribners came to this weyr with a position of great respect - that harpers had never once proven their worth to the weyr in its whole history, and there had been quite a few harpers through here. Their recordskeeper - the green rider Ilina - was a scribe and a Journeyman at that. Harpers, in the weyr's opinion, were for entertainment. Scribes and recordskeepers on the other hand, were faithful and more over, useful to the weyr.

"And if you can prove to me how a harper who requires warmup time, sixteen different kinds of instruments, paperwork to record their schedules, talent for singing," Kira completed with what appeared to be a disgusted snort, "which you have to recall not everyone has, is somehow better than someone who can be trained at an early age and practically in one session to: listen, observe and record without bias, read and write, add and keep track of things just by looking at a paper, then... By all means, do try."

Their last ditch effort? "Paper? Paper's hardly a quantity we have anywhere near in good supply! The world simply doesn't have enough-"

"It does here," S'xon said, leafing through a stack of it brought from the rich forests that his wing often protected from Threadfall. "And it could, if you'd simply allow us to do the job that we are required to do. We do that," he looked toward Aniz and then to the ailing Master Tulanek, "by keeping records that we can refer to quickly and completely - not by consulting a long convoluted story from a harper's mouth."

"Without a proper Scribe," Tulanek put in, "this weyr is shackled to a way of doing things that have doomed others. Surely you know that, Master Hilpom? Oh - wait. You wouldn't. Because the harper didn't survive to get out and tell anyone. And, left no records permanently..."

The rolling of his eyes toward the ceiling made half the others in the room chuckle, he still had it.

"Harper hall will have nothing more to do with this weyr then," Hilpom began.

"Then we will request that the one qualified Scribner master you brought with you, judge our new scribe on the merits of her abilities in her field." S'xon gently indicated Aniz. "Since you Harpers are on your way out. Scribner Wholfax will be our guest if he wishes to remain."

Aniz noticed the bulging of Wholfax's eyes, as the weyrleader asserted this. She knew, even now, that if he made the wrong move, he'd certainly never be able to hold a proper position in his own craft - even though he was a Master himself.

So she stood up, and cleared her throat.

"Weyrleader, Masters," she said, losing the shake to her hands as well as her voice, as she did so. "I don't think it's really fair of any of us to place this kind of ... decision, on Master Wholfax - we all know what the consequences toward him might be if he were to say or do the 'wrong' thing." She emphasised that by holding her fingers in little quote-mark signs - oh wait, Harpers wouldn't know that. She didn't care. "Please just consider that this weyr does perfectly fine without a Harper, and with a scribe. It's a very honorable position - and when I was taken on as an apprentice, the Scribners Hall agreed to it fully." She pulled in a breath, "I would imagine that the same Masters who agreed to that only just under six years ago, are not the same who are in charge today. That is a bit of a shame... I ..."

She pulled on her fingers, looking at them and then back up at the surprised looks on the Harpers faces. "I would just like to walk the tables in scribe craft, and become a journeyman. If I am made such, I could be placed here as the resident Scribe. It's all I've ever wanted in my life. I can't think of anything I would ever want to do more than help this weyr do its job. That's what we are here for anyway, aren't we? Pern needs the weyrs - but weyrs need a staff that get along with one another, and work in ways that help everyone else. We can't do that if you don't allow a proper scribe to work here."

"You have my attention," Wholfax announced, with a bit of relief. He wanted the spotlight off himself, that was certain. "I've read your work, seen your completed writings. Is it true that you've got an eiditic memory?"

"Is that the word for it? Yes," she said. "We weren't sure... Dictionaries are hard to come by."

Wholfax gave off a chuckle. He turned to Tulanek, whose breathing had become a bit labored from this all. "Master Tulanek, I know you've wanted this too. I can't see any reason to stop you from announcing your new Journeywoman." He bowed deeply and turned away from the harpers, to watch.

With a shaking hand, Tulanek did indeed get to pin the journeyman badge upon his single prize student. Within two more days, he had passed away. Within two more days, the Harper hall released a notice that relieved close contact between scribner hall and itself - it was all fairly local though. The halls were feuding, and would always be, but it wouldn't affect who got put in weyrs.

Tensions were of course strained with the Harper hall for quite some time to come. But Aniz did her best to keep up with the work that was involved with managing the weyr's paperwork. Essential to her duties, something she deeply enjoyed after her first time, was making time with the riders to get their versions of any given flight. Whether it was a simple tour over the weyr's protection zone, or a trip to a Hold, or even full Threadfall. Aniz took time with the riders to make sure that they were getting their proper pay, their right duties performed, and the appreciation that they should have.

Her cousin, after having gone off to Falas and impressing his brown dragon, was one source of great information. They thought alike, but displayed their abilities differently. Z'zi was a talker, Aniz was a writer. Z'zi did most of his best work right on his feet, Aniz was more a post-action thinker. But they were well equipped to corner others and coax information out of them. Doing it together was actually far more fun than either wanted to admit.

When Z'zi was ninteen and Aniz sixteen, things began to change. The Weyr had new folks arriving, riders from the local area after being searched. They wished to return to the lands familiar to them, and Dragonhope did the job. Mostly young, Aniz found herself more relaxed around them than anyone else before.

She could commit to memory anything - and now did it with such ease that every night just before heading off to bed was when a huge volume of the days' events would come tumbling back out of her hands, onto parchment. The weyr leaders made sure that they were well stocked on it.

But the other part of Aniz's job was becoming a more interesting challenge. That of filling the posts of apprentices in the weyr, who could help her. Many of the arrivals who came with dragons were all but illiterate when they arrived, and could not spare the time to really devote to writing out even their own adventures. So Aniz had to turn elsewhere. The problem wasn't that the scribe hall had no one to send, on the contrary they had quite a few aspiring senior apprentices.

The problem, as Master Wholfax explained in a sweetly worded note, that she was so much younger than most of them, and far better at her job than they'd ever become... He didn't want to send apprentices who would turn around and come back in shame or disgust with themselves. A sixteen year old apprentice is nothing - most in a craft were that stage in their teens. Some into their twenties.

But a sixteen year old journeyman, a weyr-scribe fully ranked. And a woman to boot? (He'd written, 'an attractive woman like herself', actually.) He could think of a number of full Masters who'd be cowed by her abilities. Aniz could think of a few she'd like to try.

She wrote back, to the order of asking suggestions as to where then to find new apprentices who would be able to work well under a sixteen year old journeywoman weyr-scribe.

***

When Master Wholfax got to the weyr, it was as a surprise to Aniz, who had been quite busy that week making the charts for riders and their dragon healer staff to keep records on. A much easier system than what was suggested by other weyrs, who appeared to keep their healing records in the same place as the rest. Here, that wouldn't do - because the dragon healer was almost across the whole weyr from those.

Wholfax bowed to the young scribe, and smiled widely. "Well I did figure out a way to work this, if you're willing to listen. I've brought a few others to aid me. If that's all right?"

They'd arrived on blue dragons mostly, transported abruptly from their own weyrs and holds. Aniz was in such a busy state of mind that it completely slipped by her what might be going on. Arranged in advance, they went down to the more private dining hall and assembled a decent hot meal with wine before getting down to their real work. Aniz could appreciate the down time, too, the last few days... They'd just been so busy! Aniz noticed that Ilina their dragon-hatching recordskeeper was with them now, chatting it up with one of the younger men.

At last after a full course of fire roasted fish and thick bread with cheese sauces, wine to wash it down, and water to refresh their mouths, the group of Master scribes all sort of looked toward Aniz. Aniz glanced at Ilina, who shrugged. A bit bewildered, Aniz cleared her throat and stood.

"Well, thank you for coming, it was... well I guess it wasn't even my idea!" They laughed, and shared some private looks. Among their number, while most were middle aged men, were two women: one quite old, and the other possibly in her thirties. "My problem you all know, that I'm having difficulty filling the ranks of literate record keepers here in Dragonhope. It's not that there aren't many people here, there are. But most of them are already devoted to other tasks. Most of the weyrbrats are kept busy for their parents weyr cleaning and tending duties, in the kitchens and such. The others who come here are largely here for the dragons, standing at the sands when there are eggs - and so riders eventually."

"I was told by Master Wholfax," Aniz continued, "that he'd reached some kind of conclusion about it, and I'd honestly love to hear it. It's been such a busy week for me with the last threadfall and injury listings..." She sighed, and didn't know whether she should continue standing, or sit down. As it turned out, standing up was about all she could do.

"Well, we've reached a decision, yes," said the elder of the women. She was from oddly enough a Hold that had once been known as quite unfriendly toward women in general, her badges said that she'd attained quite a rank. "I believe you'll come to like it."

"Yes," Wholfax agreed, nodding. "We thought about it, writing endless letters and such - your flitter is so very handy with her deliveries I must add," he said aside and the green Sage puffed herself up. She always seemed to come home with the smell of a candied treat on her flittery breath when on a journey to Wholfax...

"Oh get on with it, Wholfie," said the next eldest, a man who might even have been related to the Master. More likely by their behavior toward one another, they were lovers.

"Oh you're so impatient," he replied. But the sparkle in his eye finally caught Aniz's attention. "We decided to cut through the embarrassment of having such a young journeywoman. Now for the record there have been quite some many journeymen at your age. But... Well, that's beside the point. We thought we'd turn the whole thing on its side. Who wants to be a ninteen year old apprentice to a sixteen year old girl journeywoman!" He laughed. "When they could be an apprentice to one of the youngest masters awarded their knots?"

The rest of the men and women nodded, grinning some or chuckling. Ilina actually gave a little cheery clapping, giggling furiously. It finally sank in to Aniz: they ... weren't. Could they be?

The younger of the women presented a box to Wholfax which contained a set of braids indicating the rank of Master in Scribe Craft. "I will award you this knowing that you've deserved it for a while my dear," he said. "Anyone capable of running the records of even a small weyr is worthy of this rank of Master. Ilina here pointed it out to us, several times. Her duties have been made far easier by your efforts. Your weyrleaders have been duly impressed by your work, as well. They've been quite taken with you for years."

"I... I..." Aniz said, obviously words were failing her. She accepted the knots, placing them on her shoulder where Sage could perch proudly. The green picked at them and put them where she'd like, displaying the shiny bits in the front better.

"Congratulations," said Wholfax. "You're going to be considered the novelty of the season, just so you know that. There will be resistance still, but... I believe you'll find more willing apprentices, now."

"Just... because I'm young? And a woman?"

"Because you're a young, woman, master," added Ilina beside her. "It will bring people to you. It's up to you to figure out whether they're right for your posts or not, and it's also up to you to keep up your good work."

"... Thank you?" Aniz said, amazed and still a bit in shock. "I can't even begin to say how exciting this is!"

At least this memory, intense as it was, would also be recalled for the rest of her life, perhaps blotting out the blunders of the past.

***

Then next big shock to Aniz came three years later. The weyr was running as smoothly as it could, with six new apprentices - most of whom were barely as old as Aniz herself - each assigned to a different 'beat' of reporting. It gave Aniz time not only to devote to her tasks, but some time off. She spent quite a lot more time with the riders, including Opal, age-mates now that could appreciate the down time just as much as she.

"He's handsome all right," Opal said of one newer rider they'd gotten through there, "but he's a sloppy wing man. And his blue knows it, too."

"Don't you think he'd be better off with another wing then?" Aniz asked, "or maybe even put him with the weyrling master? How could he screw up there? Maybe he'd learn something..."

The group snickered, ate and drank, gossiped, and finally late at night split up to their weyrs. It had been another long day, but the next was a rest day and no thread was due. They would party late until they could hardly stay awake, then sleep until noon...

It was earlier than noon by a long shot when Aniz heard a clap at her door. Groggily, she dragged herself from bed, and even Sage chirped angrily at the intrusion. It was a rider, but not from Dragonhope, standing at her door.

"I was told to come see you," he said. His riding gear and badges said he was a wing second at Tripaldi - that stirred an immediate response in Aniz's mind.

"Sage came from Tripaldi," she blurted out. Obviously, the rider wasn't quite prepared for that kind of response - after all he'd not even introduced himself or his weyr of origin!

".... Sage?" He said, and then with her name being said the flitter landed on Aniz's shoulder. "Um, yes, yes she is from Tripaldi, in fact. Good... um, eyes."

"Memory," Aniz said, tapping her forehead. "Now.... what exactly is it you want, before I fall asleep again?"

He rolled his eyes, and smiled. "Well it's that one of your riders contacted my weyr, about you. It seems that they think you ought to stand for a dragon. You've been around them all your life, haven't you?"

At that, Aniz stood dead still. "Me, a dragon rider? That's... that's silly! I'm a scribe!"

"A masterscribe," he added. He presented his hand in a greeting, "I'm search rider K'ral with blue Binerth, of Tripaldi weyr. You were searched some time ago from what the letter said, they wanted to have you picked up while you could be spared. Apparently, that wasn't until recently."

Numbly, Aniz nodded. "Yes, we've... had some new talent come through... But... How could I possibly be spared right now!? It's still the middle of threadfall and we're swamped!"

Even as she was saying that, her old beloved master Tulanek's words came to her from the back of her memories. She'd just been given her apprenticeship and everything was new to her, but he said, 'a Master's job is often to delegate duties to those fit for them, and not overdo themselves. They're needed in other ways.'

She chewed on her lip, then pushed her beaded hair back over her shoulder. It'd gotten quite long in the last few months, what with so little time to devote to herself.

"If I might ask, K'ral, who is it that searched me? And when? I wasn't told."

"That would have been Opal and her white, masterscribe," K'ral said, "at least two years ago. She kept sending us updates, and finally asked us to go ahead with this."

"That little minx," Aniz muttered, glaring at the direction she knew the white rider was housed. And was probably sound asleep snoring too. "Well when am I to... go?"

"As soon as you're packed, I know it's short notice but the rest of the weyr appears to have conspired with her on this. It's almost as though they wanted to give it to you as a gift." He turned to head back to the landing area, where he'd be waiting. "It's a hell of a gift," he added over his shoulder, "I believe they're right - it will be worth it."

Aniz had of course been on dragon back many times. Opal and her small white had been able to barely squeeze her on, while other times she rode upon S'xon's huge bronze with the Weyrleader to official gatherings. Those rides were wonderful - not just because the Weyrleader was handsome and tall, but because he had such long hair that he knew it would obscure the view, so he always put her in front of him in the riding saddle. From there she was always given such a great look at the world around her.

Dragons hardly ever touched her mind, but Bhav occasionally did, he claimed that the Weyrleader fancied her, and that would lead nowhere good unless she was...

That memory of the rich tones of the bronze's voice in her mind snapped her out of a daze. K'ral and she had arrived over Tripaldi, early in the day, and were lazily soaring over the weyr. She clutched the leather strap that belted her down to the saddle, instead of gripping K'ral's shoulder - that would probably have told him something like 'I'm scared' or 'I have something to say' and she certainly didn't want to say that!

That ... what, she might be a Weyrwoman some day, because a bronze insisted on it?

No no no, she had to even just stand first, and that might not mean anything. Aniz was more nervous now than she'd ever been in her life. She appreciated the scenery on their way down, tried to distract herself from it, but the churning knot of worry in her gut wouldn't leave. She was faintly light-headed by the time they were brought before Xalia and her current batch of important Weyr people.

"If you don't mind, I'd love it if you would teach my scribes to do what you've done, at least give them some pointers?" The Weyrwoman said, and the two young Apprentices that stood nervously nearby looked even more embarrassed than they would have if merely brought before the Weyrleaders.

"I -- I'll try, Weyrwoman, I ... this is so overwhelming," Aniz said. "I would really like to have some water and maybe sit down... It's been a long few days."

Aniz was led to the barracks, which already had half a dozen girls chatting with each other and room for many more. She moved listlessly toward one cot, dropped into it, and fell to sleep. She didn't realize that the other girls all looked at her and decided she was sick, so by the time she roused from her nap, she was surrounded by worried looking faces.

"What! What's wrong!?" Aniz popped up and almost hit a local healer in the head with her own. As it was, she snapped her head around so rapidly that he did get a facefull of her hair-beads!

"We - thought you were ill! You came in here so down, and then collapsed..." Said one girl, while another nodded.

"I ... well," Aniz wasn't sure whether she was sick. Maybe if that would... no, of course not. How silly. "I'm actually fine, just very, very tired from the last few days." The others nodded, the healer still hovered around to take her temperature and make sure she was drinking enough, and finally wandered away too.

"What was so busy?" She gasped and looked down, "You have Master's knots!" Said the girl with short straight hair and dark eyes, "you're a Master? You're not even as old as me!"

"....." Was all Aniz could get out, before the other girls started chattering about this. "I -" They continued, and Aniz just lay back in the cot, smiling to herself.

***

Because she had been around them all her life, Aniz was able to easily clear with the Weyrling master what she did and did not need to go over in the classes at Tripaldi. Sure, she would need to get a deeper understanding about the dragons anatomy, riding straps and then finally get a feel for actually commanding a dragon in flight. But those things would come easier when she'd Impressed, if she did so.

She kept saying that to herself. If she Impressed. Because something in the back of her mind kept worrying. If she did impress, what about the Weyr? Maybe she'd pray for a green, or even a blue to come to her! Hah, that'd show that big bronze!

Aniz helped out a bit straightening the records up and making sure that the weyr had copies of important scrolls. They worked mostly on wherhide parchment, here, but it was of little consequence to Aniz what materials they used, as long as the records were correct!

After a few days she and the other candidates were led into the sands, to look at and possibly touch some of the eggs. There were two females' clutches on the sands, one was that of a green while the other was the Weyrwoman's golden Frinaith's. The green, Sereath, had all but bailed out of the place once she'd laid her eggs, and Frinaith was very protective of both clutches. The eggs were shifted around but one had to guess that the smallest of the eggs belonged to the green's clutch. Aniz carefully walked near the eggs, and didn't want to get too close to that large one. No.

It had a faintly golden tint to it. No.

But she was drawn to it anyway. NO. She touched it once, NO! It sang to herNONONO!

She bolted out of the chambers, others looking up at her with some surprise. She handled herself so carefully, calmly every other time in her life! But this? When she was standing on Tripaldi's sands and being considered by the queen? Almost any other girl in the whole place would have given anything to be in her position.

Aniz shook, and Sage twittered softly trying to calm her down. She played with the beads in the girl's hair, trying to distract, but it wasn't working. Eventually Aniz calmed down when Xalia came into the barracks.

"Frinaith tells me you ran out for a reason," the Weyrwoman said. "Mind talking about it?"

"Frinaith obviously knows what I think," Aniz said, her face puffy and reddened, "I ... I'm scared. Before I left Dragonhope, bronze Bhavyatath told me his rider f-fancies me, and he's the Weyrleader S'xon and if I'm a rider, if I'm a gold rider..."

"Oh that right old bastard thinks that, does he?" Xalia said with a laugh, "well S'xon fancies almost everyone. He just doesn't normally act upon anything thank goodness and thank his wife Kira. And he's far too old for you. His youngest is your age, isn't she?"

"Opal, yes, we're about the same age." Aniz admitted. With the way Xalia was acting, it was clear that Aniz's worries were largely unfounded. "But what if..."

"You can worry about what-if's in the future, dear," Xalia said, "for now, clean yourself up and get to the dining hall, there's a big plate of tubermash waiting."

***

The time had finally come. The eggs were as hard and as rocking as they got, they must have been laid at around the same time. The second time Aniz went back to the sands to touch and walk among the eggs, she deliberately took a tour of all the eggs just to make sure. That one big egg over by the middle of where Frinaith sat though... kept calling her. If it did, so be it. There were several girls here - some having come from Dragonhope's search riders and the weyr's attendant Holds - that would be good gold-riding material.

One odd thing was, though, that when the hatching was being announced loudly by the humming of the dragons around it, Aniz swore she saw an extra egg or two. Each time she'd been there, it looked as though there were different numbers of eggs. Frinaith, Xalia explained when it was brought up loudly by someone in the stands, was notorious for hiding and shifting her eggs around. Apparently the dragon liked the thought of surprising people. Xalia detected a bit of mirth that told her more was in store.

It was quite difficult for Aniz not to perform her ingrained duties of records-keeping at a time like this. She put herself into a kind of trance, tried to focus on only what was before her. Wearing her white robe and paraded past the stands with the rest of the candidates, she focused on the eggs once more.

Most of the eggs had long cracks, some were bulging. True to form, the smaller (but not every small one) eggs had been the green's clutch, it was obvious now because Frinaith had separated them at last from her own precious orbs. Frinaith had stood up with a flare of her great wings, and while the gold was still overprotective like most queens she had a few clutches behind her, and obeyed when Xalia insisted she back off. This was her childrens day, not hers.

There were more candidates than eggs. But when that wasn't true, it was a tragedy. The candidates all were brought in and stood in the discomfort of white woolen robes, on sands that were baking hot. Some of the young people were right at home here, others were wishing they had an icy drink. Maybe it was the heat of the sands making them uncomfortable.

Or perhaps it was the eyes of all those people, in the stands. Or the dozens of rainbow-glimmering eyes from the dragons who stood on their balconies above. All of them were crooning their song of hatching. It slightly differed from the songs they sang when a flight was going on, and certainly different than when a dragon had died.

There would be no deaths here today. No dragon could possibly go unImpressed with this crowd present! Two eggs from Frinaith's clutch and one from the green's opened within moments of one another. A dark green, a medium-colored blue and a bright green were the first to hatch from these nests. Shaking their limbs free of the eggshell, covered in goo that had all but dried up while they grew within, they became rapidly the focus of all attention.

She would Impress. Suddenly it came to her, a wave of fear, panic, bliss and wonder. She was standing on the hot sands, sandals under her feet soaking up the worst of the baking grains, but she wasn't used to the heat. Because Dragonhope was so far north and so chilly most of the time she hadn't realized how warm it really was here. Or maybe it was the woolen candidate robe?

Aniz held her breath when the first eggs broke, and at last a green paired up with a black haired boy. Names fluttered through her mind, she'd met everyone already and had clear pictures of them all in her head whenever they spoke. And now, they would all have a dragon to go along with it! A darker green impressed after a little blue.

A big bronze looked so elegant until he planted his nose in the sand, and the handsome young Zanaeger from Dragonhope Impressed him, Aniz was pleased - right before she left she knew that his sweetheart had impressed a copper-gold at another weyr. This could only mean more beautiful eggs than ever at Dragonhope's sands in the future!

That brought a pang of fear back into Aniz's heart. While a boy with a cat on his head paired up with a cute green, Aniz's stomach did flipflops. What if she really was going to ...

A blue and a green paired up quickly with a boy and girl nearby, and Aniz tried to take solace in the girl's expression of joy. A pair of eggs smashed against one another, causing Frinaith to bugle in worry - but the brown around the other side paired up first with a strong young man. The green chose the silent Geni, while the bronze found his own pair. The girl near Aniz clapped hardest for her friend with the bronze - now they were quite an interesting couple!

The eggs had slowed down, the hatchlings inside them tired out. Drinks went out to the stands, but the candidates didn't really notice they might have asked for some water too. Frinaith started to rearrange the eggs yet again, throwing her tail around and causing everyone to duck, and all the flitters including Sage angrily chirped when she dislodged them from their roosts. "Frinaith, careful! The candidates!" Xalia warned her gold.

Another few eggs broke apart, a brown from Sereanth's clutch, then a pale blue. When a brown and green came to blows standing near the candidates, the brown finally swept past and found his friend, while the green stomped around menacingly. A blue came around to hide behind a boy, and impressed.

Finally the irate green impressed her one, another girl from Dragonhope's searched.

Then, more eggs hatched. Including... the big golden egg. Everyone was silent, stunned, she was beautiful. Aniz and the other female candidates approached on instinct. One however remained behind while a cute blue Impressed another Dragonhope boy.

The light colored green nearby skirted the other girls, in favor of the one who lurked behind. They were a good pair, Aniz thought, distractedly. Maybe it'll bring her out of her shell too...

The gold was just... Sitting there. She preened, got all the egg goo off herself, even behind her headknobs. And frankly for a hatchling dragon, that's a feat. She simply ignored the foursome of girls waiting eagerly for her attention.

In that time, a bronze found his friend, while another blue stalked his own. It was patently clear that a few people here wouldn't be impressing, among the girls at least, when a big brown hatched and Impressed the last of the male candidates.

People in the audience, flitters on the beams above, and even the other dragons attending started to get a bit nervous. The dark colored gold had not bothered to glance around at the girls since she dried her wing sails. Instead, she stood up and turned toward her dam.

Who promptly stood up herself. Revealing one... last... egg.

"That's - that's so ... Frinaith!" Xalia exclaimed, having been on her toes (along with most of the rest of the audience) she sat heavily down with an embarrassed, angry glower on her face.

The egg was slightly ... not white. More tinged with gold, in fact than the first had been. It was entirely possible she'd been switching these two gold eggs carefully enough that no one could have noticed when one was hidden and the other on display. So now there were four girls, and two ... - yes, the egg hatched shortly to reveal a lighter colored gold - golden dragonets.

"We aren't gonna have to wait for this one to dry itself off, too, are we?" Some bright glow in the audience yelled, producing a tirade of laughter and mocking back at him. Of course, lots of the people there were in agreement by now, as it was well into evening and the sun had gone down an hour before. It was going to get chilly down here and few people had thought to bring their sleeved shirts.

The dry sister dragonet nudged her sibling up, and as a pair they began looking over the four left over humans. Cethian bit her lip - she simply backed up and bowed out. There was no way either of these dragonets would go to her, once she saw their eyes, she knew. The dragons would have to make their decision without her.

Shortly though, she was joined by her friend Mruna, who had tears in her eyes. They were not of joy. Neither of them were walking away Riders this day.

But the other two... Maia had been chosen silently and swiftly by the brighter yellow-gold, Dayinth. Her family could never possibly claim her now! I am your family now, am I not?

"You are, Dayinth, you certainly are!" She cried into the soft, still-wet neck of her dragon.

Aniz held on to her own fingers tightly, even as she knew she'd be the one that this darker gold chose. You do not have to think about that big bronze you know. By the time I am old enough to fly he'll be too stiff with age to catch me!

Aniz let off a nervous chuckle at that, "But Sayaith, ..." she couldn't even finish her own sentence, instead she just committed this too to her memory and enjoyed every moment.

Sayaith was growing quickly, and Aniz wasn't entirely sure what to do next. She'd been hearing that Dragonhope was getting plenty of new people coming to it, and might have a few eggs on the sands now and then. She felt... like she was missing out.

You want to go home, but I cannot go between yet. I am sorry.

"Oh, no, no, Sayaith, I... Sage keeps me updated with everything I need there, right now our job is to learn how to get into formations and stay at the right altitude." Aniz said, still somewhat distracted. It was true to an extent, she did want to return home, the only home she'd ever known all her life! But this place was still thrilling to her, the people were entertaining and friendly.

"I'll keep writing, Saya, and pretty soon you'll be able to make that trip. The other weyrlings are going to want to follow you, when we head home." Aniz was pretty sure that would make her gold happy.

What about that handsome bronze who will be coming with us? Won't they want him to lead? I am not a leader, you know that!

"You're a little gold, but even bronzes bow to golds," Aniz chuckled. And Z'an would likely wind up taking the lead anyway. He was going to be so thrilled when he got back to Dragonhope to find... "he's not going to be for you, my love."

What? What if I want him to be?

"Well, Z'an and his girlfriend have been together a long time, and I've heard that she's Impressed a queen too - they deserve each other. We'll find someone, just wait and see."

Sayaith grew to a good size, while remaining at Tripaldi, equalled by her clutch mate the handsome bronze that had paired up with Z'an. Now there would be a spectacular flight, once they got home - and even Sayaith understood at that point that she wasn't on that bronze's mind at all. Even if she wanted him to compete for her, she was out of luck. So devoted to Milonna was Z'an that when they did fly between and got back to their home Weyr, the bronze practically shoved Sayaith out of his way in his haste to meet the girl of his rider's dreams.

Though Sayaith was a bit peeved at that move, she swung around in the air with a graceful curve and looked down at the weyr. Aniz knew because she'd been on dragon back several times above Dragonhope, what the place really looked like. The cliffs and the sea below, the villages dotting the snowy landscape beyond to the west...

It certainly is the most beautiful place... I like it. I am glad this is home. Sayaith bespoke. There is his queen, oh - she is ... different! Milonna's coppery-gold was indeed a different breed, but close enough that it hardly mattered.

Aniz laughed, "well, I wonder if they're going to wait for formalities or just pair up right now!" She sent Sayaith to descend but only to the fire heights. From there, with the watch dragons approaching and trumpeting the welcome of five new and fantastic dragons, they would have a good view should they really choose to pursue a flight.

***

Fortunately the pair wasn't quite ready for that, however everyone was gathered to welcome the riders home. Aniz deposited scroll after scroll of wherhide notes in her new weyr. She'd been given as large a weyr as they could find that was still close to her office in the crafting wing. Over the next few days she got back into the routine. She discovered that several of those she'd chosen to attend duties had not only excelled in them, but managed to innovate a system between departments in the Weyr, without using the noisy drumming that other places did, to communicate across the place quickly. Other than using a flitter, the light-flashes worked well.

"Well, Mistress Queen Rider Aniz," said a voice from nearby as she was writing down a daily diary, "how are things back at Tripaldi?"

"Well Tripaldi is having another clutch or two, eggs were on the sands when we left, so there will always be more need for good candidates. And," she winked at the steward who leaned against her doorway, "I'm not a queen rider just yet. Sayaith hasn't flown a mating flight yet, and hopefully she'll wait a little while longer. I'm not ready for that."

Name: Sayaith (SIGH yah eeth)
Species: Pernese
Gender: Female, queen
Color: Gold; mellow burnished buttery yellow, strongly metallic yellow goldenrod body with more burnished wings
Size: large, 18' s / 100' l / 120' ws
Abilities: Winged Flight, positively stunning when she really wants to impress humans or dragons. Measures her energy carefully, and then throws everything she's got into aggressive and pointed flight. While she's not as sleek and sinuous or agile in the skies as smaller queens or greens, Sayaith is truly a sight to behold when she decides to mate
Teleportation, local quite good, long-distance with ease, and Nexus when needed though unpracticed
Telepathy, clear and bright mind, which she uses to observe other dragons' minds and their riders, exceptionally good at bringing a team together
Telekinesis, though unpracticed she clearly has this ability in her genetics
Assisted Firebreath to inherit from her, she obviously cannot chew firestone to any effect and is not relied upon for fighting thread in any capacity, even if she wanted to join they won't let her
Personality: Strong willed but knows her place among the dragons of this or any other weyr
Sociability: Confident and on top of things like a queen should be
Intelligence: Very bright, utilizes her rider's memory to her advantage
Mating: Strong, and willing to be patient (see below), to get the best of the best only
Threadfighting: not applicable
Other: Like some queens she will go out of her way to sniff at people to determine whether they're good for a dragon, but she is not directly a search dragon
Bond: Tripaldi Weyr

Lineage

Mates and Descendants

(from Double Trouble flight page I'll just put it here too)

The Weyrwoman Second, Milonna, had gotten used to her duties as well as improving her handwriting. She had been a gold-rider for six years now, and though their Weyrwoman's queen showed no signs of really tiring (and Kira and her husband didn't either, everyone swore they might have another child on the way, and they must have been in their 60s by now!) it was clearly time that Reginath claimed her right to breed.

The copper-tinted color of her sparkling hide showed everyone that she was ready. The paler sunlight golden shade of yellow on her wings and forelimbs glowed like the stars themselves. Milonna had waited patiently for days, now, wondering when the time would spring upon them. Would she be ready? Well, she knew one thing: Z'an would be her partner no matter which bronze won the flight.

It will be Torsyth, Milonna thought, it will be him because they are so right for one another. Milonna's head swam a bit, her vision blurred and then became very clear suddenly.

She didn't dare stand up, for fear of toppling over. "Oh ... well. This is it," she said to no one in particular, though there were several others in the office - Kira and Aniz and several apprentices. They watched her as she wobbled out of the room, into the hall, and over to the nearest ledge.

Kira and Aniz exchanged a glance, Aniz's a little worried.

"You don't think she's going now?" Aniz whispered, and Kira nodded slowly. Aniz bit her thick lip, "that isn't good, at all."

One of the younger apprentices whispered to her companion, who whispered back: Sayaith, Aniz's gold, was also glowing and proddy. How they'd tolerated each other - the two golds - for so long in that condition, that was the mystery.

Aniz followed on after Milonna, heard the others in the room shuffling papers and preparing to send dragons away.

Reginath stood down by the lower launch flats, sunning herself in the noonday light. She looked spectacular, really, like molten metal.

Up on the fire-heights, Aniz's mind and eyes were drawn. There, her own shining bright gold, a good bit larger than the older dragoness, stood gazing down over the cliffside Weyr.

To be fair, Sayaith had flown once before, producing a small clutch with one of the bigger, experienced browns from the Weyrleader's fighting wing. She knew the routine, where Reginath had grown more slowly and was still only sure of her own desires. Aniz could feel the heat of her dragon's needs as well, now, and suddenly - anger.

"Milonna, she's got to--" Aniz started to say, but the dragons had already started screaming at each other both in mind and voice.

Milonna clutched her head, "I -- how could I let this happen, Reginath, please you have to go!"

I will not 'go' anywhere, this is my flight! I am ready!

"But so is Sayaith! And she's bigger and stronger than you are!" Milonna pleaded.

Aniz worried, quite hard, that with her memory, this might well turn out to be the worst day in her whole life. She knew so many things could go wrong. Queens had battled almost to the death, losing their chances at flight even while they were desperate to fly.

And yet... After the initial assessment of anger, of territory, and stirring of pretty much every green and younger gold in the Weyr to flight, Sayaith sat on her haunches and glared down from the fireheights.

Milonna glanced around, hazel eyes wide, sure that Sayaith would come diving down toward her precious Reginath for a battle of claws and fangs. But that moment did not come, and instead she realized with a start that the bigger gold was waiting for Reginath to finish.

More subdued, Milonna hissed in her mind at Reginath, blood your kills, my one. Blood them, drink your fill but don't weigh yourself down. Look at your suitors! They are beautiful!

...She wasn't at all sure that she'd thought that last part herself, or more probably Reginath did. She didn't notice when the menfolk began arriving: Z'an was given a wide berth by the other riders, not only because they knew he and Milonna were partners, but because he was quite a lot taller than most of them, and would easily be able to smack many of them silly.

The handsome now-bearded rider came up to his lover, and quietly urged her to head to their shared weyr. Their dragons had a pair of caverns and the humans shared a room that joined them. No one would bother them there, but Kira sent along a servant to provide them with foods and wine, and make sure that no one tried bothering them.

There were some very handsome men left over, Aniz grinned to herself. She realized that her dragon was almost tapping into her own mind and imagination. If the dragons down there followed Reginath and didn't win, they would be all worn out by her anyway.

And that would leave the very finest for her, Sayaith gave a little trumpet from above. After all if they would be able to match her strength after their first try? Oh yes. Oh. Yes.

Sayaith shifted her weight and watched, keeping her desire in check, while Aniz scoped out the bronzes who came to the edges of their weyrs. There was Torsyth, brother of Sayaith - and their sibling as well, paler bronze Akitoth. Akitoth had put in a good showing when Sayaith flew before, but they were both young - both outwitted and outflown by that brown Jelajhath.

Somewhere down below, Aniz heard the Weyrleader S'xon yelling at Bhavyatath - no he was not going to try for two golds this day, not even one. The massive bronze took to the sky, startling most of the others, and vanished between in favor of the sunny beach he liked to travel to.

"Feh, least he could have done is take me with him," S'xon said, and Kira's bright laughter could be heard - quite shortly she urged queen Nozomith to fly them both to where Bhav went. They'd hear about the flight later. Plus they knew that Aniz would still be able to recall all of this - though a little biased - enough to write everything down later.

Yes, thanks, Aniz chuckled to herself. Still, the bronzes collected down on their ledges. Some flights, the queen would head over land, making it all but impossible to view the flight itself without climbing to the fire heights and turning your back on the sea. This time, obviously, it was to the sea where Reginath would be headed.

Oh how that would give the townsfolk below in the Hold a thrill! The only dragon that Aniz didn't see outright was Shyveth, but that was because he and his rider were on the night-watch. If they ever got out of bed this early it was a special day indeed.

Aniz then felt the presence of several riders behind her. She turned and with one raised eyebrow looked over all of them too.

Reginath watched as several herdbeasts were let out of their pens, they would provide a great feast later in the day of course - provided she did as instructed and only pulled the blood from their necks. She took one, snapped its neck with a flicker of her head, and drained it as though she'd been deprived for days. Milonna felt that hunger, deep inside her - but with Z'an by her side in their weyr, she was far more confident and sure. She sent again, blood only, and Reginath obeyed. The copper-gold took two more, and gazed up at the sky. No clouds, no haze, it was a good day to fly.

It was a good day to outpace every one of those burly bronzes. She wasn't as big as Sayaith, that was true. But she was fast. She was like a fish in a stream, or by the prow of a ship, darting in the air as they would in the depths.

She shook off her thirst, and erupted into the air.

Aniz noted well that the bronzes and couple of browns who shot after her immediately were the younger ones. Not one of the more experienced bronzes lifted a wing until they saw which direction Reginath was headed.

"Over the sea," one of the men cheered them on, "what a sight! Like two suns in the sky!"

And indeed they were. The flight soon blotted out the sun itself, the bronzes finally all taking wing and trumpeting their worth. Reginath would have nothing of it. She wanted only one of them, anyway, and he would win. Where was Torsyth anyway?

He was back behind Lorash and Vneth?! Now, it was one thing to be behind the healer's dragon, but that foreign-named one? (Not like Reginath wasn't odd herself, in color- Lorash took his ration of crap for having a 'strange' name.) In the time it took Reginath to spot him, she found herself surrounded by males!

Oh no- that wouldn't do at all. She screamed harshly, lashed her tail at them, and most cleared off. Vesulth, the search dragon, took the brunt of that swipe across his neck, twisted his wings into Uuvinth's, and they fell off the chase immediately.

This time, the brown Jelajhath kept pace with the queen only a short time before the bronzes nudged him out of the running. Another two browns, Pruppath and Kjilbith, lagged behind for a while, and then realized that they too were not quite worthy of this queen's flight.

While Reginath spun and soared, spotting weaknesses in the ranks behind her and shrilly calling them out for it, Milonna lounged in her lover's arms, secure. Happy - this was how it should be. And, with the example of Kira and S'xon to guide them, Milonna and Z'an knew they had a long and prosperous life ahead. Would they inherit this Weyr? Or would it go directly to one of the Weyrleaders children? Well, who knew. At the moment, they didn't care. Z'an knew that his bronze had strong wings, and a singleminded need to find his mate. He swerved around Bekth, and all but clawed his way over the sleek Gormalth. Gormalth shrieked and dove, but didn't stop in his pursuit.

Reginath shot up into the sun, cresting almost equal to where Sayaith sat on the heights. Far down below, the sea Hold that provided Dragonhope directly had hundreds of gawking viewers now.

Through her dragon's ears, Milonna could almost hear their calls, cheering and hooting, amazed gasps when the coppery-gold queen skimmed over their homes! Milonna laughed, gasped, and laughed again when Master Miner S'vax's Horuth almost caught her but then very nearly took out the mast of a sailing ship and dove straight into the water!

Some of the bronzes realized that they were fighting a losing battle: not with other bronzes, but with the gold's desires. The elder bronzes, though they were fully capable of catching Reginath, knew that she would fight them the whole way. There wasn't a day that went by without her proclaiming that her bronze mate was the finest in the Weyr, that her bronze was the best hunter or the best fighter. Thus: they'd almost become used to thinking of Reginath and Torsyth as one dragon.

Above, in the Weyr, the men were thinning out, one by one - knowing that some of them would try a little harder when Aniz's gold chose to fly. Perhaps they'd be back. When at last Torsyth matched pace with his one true love over the icy sea, they swept up into the air farther and farther, so by the time they were finished they would cruise to an easy landing on their own weyr ledges, where their riders awaited.

It didn't take long to realize that Sayaith was ready now. Aniz didn't stop the other handful of men from standing near her, in fact, she rather relished it. She knew she was a pretty woman, but she was a Master Scribe, the Weyrscribe, and was for some reason unapproachable for many of the riders. Even these bold bronze riders, some were too shy around her to ask for a dance or to share a cup of klah.

Aniz forced her mind toward her dragon, as Sayaith eyed the other herdbeasts that Reginath hadn't taken down. Blood them, blood them only!

I know, I know, I knooooowwwww Sayaith's creeling call shook the Weyr again, as she dove from her high perch down to the area where the Weyr's few live beasts were brought to slaughter. She did the job well, taking down three of them in one huge pounce, and tearing into their bellies to almost bathe in their blood.

The Hold would be sharing some of that meat, there was now far too much of it for just the weyr's kitchen to handle this day. But moving it would have to wait - there were no greens around (at least, none that could fly), and everyone else was too busy watching the second flight!

Sayaith had been correct in assuming that the 'best' of the bronzes would not be fully worn out from their flight with the smaller queen. Some of the other browns looked back into the sky, following the circling form of the brilliant, large queen. But not this time either, for them. She had bided her time well, standing on that ledge and almost fueling herself with the sun's light.

Aniz knew tricks from old record-books and stories told by Kira and some of the other Weyrwomen who visited their Weyr. Those tricks she relayed to her dragon, who tucked them away and would access them as needed. Oh - there was one, Akitoth's attempt was too early in the flight, so she decided to play with him. He would have been a good match - if he hadn't been Sayaith's brother - and Sayaith treated both Torsyth and Akitoth as pesky younger siblings, and not as potential mates.

So Sayaith slowed in her sinuous flight, long enough for him to almost nip her tail tip with his teeth. Then she dove abruptly, smacking the bottom of his jaw with her blunt tail, and spiraled under him toward the other bronzes. He couldn't follow without endangering his wings... or his pride.

The search-dragon Rath actually put in a good try when Sayaith flew by, clipping onto her shoulder and taking them both by surprise as his wings filled with a gust and stalled them in mid air. He was used to doing that move to fight Thread, not to catch a female, so it was as startling to him as it was to anyone else.

But she recovered quickly, that was something Aniz had to tuck away herself: that was one fast bronze! Sayaith took advantage of the stalled male to slow her fall, and then shook him off as she opened her huge wings once more. Aniz listened to the breathing of the men around her, closed her eyes, and let Sayaith have her way.

They smelled of riding leathers and klah, it was still reasonably early in the day after all and their shifts had brought some out of bed for this flight. In the end though, it was down to two sleek bronzes: Brith and Jiioth. They were both about the same size, though Jiioth's wings were wider, and Brith's length was more obvious. However, Jiioth was older and more experienced - and wilder by far than the mottled-hided Brith.

Their riders, Ei'osh and B'en, exchanged confident looks, their minds busy with whether they should dive or rise, turn or stall. By now, Sayaith was begining to tire of this all, and wanted to be satisfied by the best. She gave one last burst of energetic flapping, which brought her to an apex hundreds of spans above the Heights. It was Jiioth who caught her there, willing to go at breakneck-speeds and forego any thought of his own safety.

It was that factor that always made his rider Ei'osh dizzy with fear, why he was the best harness-maker in the Weyr. But thankfully, he could also feel far more than just his dragon's mind. He possibly had an advantage, and as B'en left the ledge to the winner, Ei'osh muttered how strange it was to feel the defeats of so many but the valuable victory of these two.

"You can hear dragons?" Aniz said, dreamily, "that's very rare in men, I think... very... rare..." They fell into each other's embrace as Sayaith and Jiioth completed their own tumble from the skies.