“He’s sounding much happier,” he said quietly.

“He deserves it,” Fiona replied.

Kindan nodded in agreement. Lord Holder Bemin had kept his Hold together twelve Turns before

when the Plague had struck and killed nearly one in four of his Holders, including his wife and all his

children, save for the youngest, Fiona.

Kindan, sent from the Harper Hall to Fort Hold in disgrace after the fire, had helped Fort’s old Healer,

Kilti, to do everything possible for the sick and dying. In the end, Kilti had succumbed to the Plague

himself, leaving Kindan, at fourteen, in charge.

Fiona cocked her head at a change in the sound and then leapt up the steps, dragging Kindan along.

“Come on, they’re hatching!”

Indeed they were. Kindan, Fiona, and Bemin found seats saved for them next to Lord Itaral and his

family.

“Just some greens,” Ilyssa assured Fiona as she patted the empty seat she’d saved for her friend.

Fiona relinquished her grip on Kindan with an apologetic look and happily took her place beside Ilyssa.

The two leaned toward each other and began to speak in low voices.

The hot sands rapidly filled with white-robed candidates, flown in by Fort Weyr’s bronze dragons.

The rest of Fort’s dragons, perched high above, hummed in welcome, the sound growing louder as the

eggs began to rock and crack.

Suddenly there was a hush as the first egg cracked open. A brown dragonet flopped out, awkward

and creeling. A group of candidates darted anxiously around it—some moving toward it, some away.

And then—one candidate reached out to the baby dragon and Impressed. The dragons hummed

approvingly.

Another dragonet burst forth from its egg, and another, and another. From the stands, it seemed as

though of tide of white-robed candidates flowed and ebbed around the blue, green, brown, and bronze

dragonets until, finally, one white-robed figure stood protectively beside each dragonet as the miracle of

Impression was repeated.

“Look there!” Fiona called, pointing toward one of the larger eggs. “Is that a queen?”

“It could be,” Kindan said. A great rent appeared in the shell, followed moments later by a golden

head. “It is!”

The little queen made quick work of extricating herself from her egg while all around the bronzes

crooned excitedly. Freed at last, the little gold queen walked around, looking from one candidate to

another.

“What would happen if there wasn’t a suitable candidate?” Fiona muttered to Kindan, who shrugged

in response. The girls were trying; one bold girl just barely dodged the dragonet’s awkward movements,

pulled aside at the last moment by a shorter, younger, dark-haired girl.

Kentai had overheard the exchange. “There are Records,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

“Well, she’s coming this way,” Ilyssa noted with excitement.

“We’re near the exit to the Bowl,” Kentai remarked. “Maybe she’s looking for someone out there.”