Menolly and T’gellan brought the thirty-one eggs of the clutch safely to Benden Weyr without so much as cracking a shell in the double, furred sack that had been provided for the journey between. Their return caused a flurry of excitement, the weyrfolk crowding around to examine the eggs. Duly informed, Lessa arrived, imperiously ordering a basket of warm sand from the Hatching Ground; directing it to be placed by the small sauce hearth and scrupulously turned at intervals to distribute the heat evenly. She judged that the eggs were a good sevenday from hatching hardness.

“As well,” she said in her dry fashion. “One hatching at a time is enough. Better still, we can present the worthies with their eggs at the Impression.” She seemed inordinately pleased with that solution and smiled on Menolly. “Manora says that your feet aren’t healed yet, so you’re in charge of the clutch. And, Felena, get this child out of those ridiculous boots and into some decent clothes. Surely we have something in stores that’ll make her look less disreputable.”

Lessa departed, leaving Menolly the object of intense scrutiny. Felena, a tall, willowy woman with very beautiful, curved black eyebrows and green eyes, gave her a long appraisal, sent one helper off for clothing from a special press, another to get the tanner to take Menolly’s measure for footwear, a child for her shears because Menolly’s hair must be trimmed. Who had hacked it off? They must have used a knife. And such pretty hair, too. Was Menolly hungry? T’gellan had snatched her out of the cavern without a nay-yea or maybe. Bring that chair here and push that small table over! Don’t stand there gawking, get the girl something to eat

“How many Turns do you have?” Felena asked on the end of that long series of orders.

“I’ve fifteen, please,” answered Menolly, dazed and trying very hard not to cry. Her throat ached and her chest was tight and she couldn’t believe what was happening to her: people fussing over how she looked and what she wore. Above all, Lessa had smiled at her because she was so pleased about the clutch. And it seemed as if she didn’t have to worry about being sent back to Half-Circle. Not if the weyrfolk were ordering her shoes and giving her clothes ...

“Fifteen? Well, you wouldn’t need much more fostering, would you?” Felena sounded disappointed. “Well see what Manora has in mind for you. I’d like you as mine.”

Menolly burst into tears. That provoked more confusion because her fire lizards began swooping dangerously close to people’s faces. Beauty pecked at Felena, who was only trying to offer comfort