“Re-Impress Brekke?” Jaxom exclaimed, far louder than he meant to, glancing toward Lytol.

“Deafwit!” Felessan hissed at him, jerking him back in his seat. “You don’t know what’s been going on here. Let me tell you, it’s been something!” Felessan’s eyes were wide with suppressed knowledge.

“What? Tell me!”

Felessan glanced toward Lytol but the man seemed oblivious of them; his attention was on the young boys marching toward the rocking eggs, their faces white and purposeful, their bodies in the white tunics taut with excitement and anticipation.

“What do you mean about Brekke re-Impressing? Why? How?” Jaxom demanded, his mind assaulted by simultaneous conflicts: Lytol astride a dragon all his own, Brekke re-Impressing, Talina left out and crying because she was Ruathan-bred and should be dragonwoman.

“Just that. She Impressed a dragon once, she’s young. They said she was a far better Weyrwoman than that Kylara.” Felessan’s tone echoed the universally bad opinion of the Southern ex-Weyrwoman. “That way Brekke’d get well. You see,” and Felessan lowered his voice again, “F’nor loves her! And I heard—” he paused dramatically and looked around (as if anyone could overhear them), “I heard that F’nor was going to let Canth fly her queen.”

Jaxom stared at his friend, shocked. “You’re crazy! Brown dragons don’t fly queens.”

“Well, F’nor was going to try it.”

“But—but…”

“Yes, it is!” Felessan agreed sagely. “You should’ve heard F’lar and F’nor.” His eyes widened to double their normal size. “It was Lessa, my mother, who said what they ought to do. Make Brekke re-Impress. She was too good, Lessa said, to live half-dead.”

Both boys glanced guiltily toward Lytol.

“Do they—do they think she can re-Impress?” asked Jaxom, staring at the stern profile of his guardian and wondering.

Felessan shrugged. “We’ll know soon. Here they come.”

And sure enough, out of the black maw of the upper tunnel, flew bronze dragons in such rapid succession that they seemed nose to tail.

“There’s Talina!” Jaxom exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “There’s Talina, Lytol,” and he crossed to pull at his guardian’s arm. Lytol wouldn’t have noticed either Jaxom’s importunities or Talina’s entrance. The man had eyes only for the girl entering from the Ground level. Two figures, a man and a woman, stood by the wide opening, as if they could accompany her this far, no further.

“That’s Brekke all right,” Felessan said in a hushed tone as he slid beside Jaxom.

She stumbled slightly, halted, seeming impervious to the uncomfortably hot sands. She straightened her shoulders and slowly walked across to join the five girls who waited near the golden egg. She stopped by Talina, who turned and gestured for the newcomer to take a place in the loose semicircle about the queen egg.