AZHET (Azh't) and Irveth
"Ahem," you clear your throat, and a blond curly haired young man lifts his head from his work.
"Ah, hello! Come on in. Help yourself to some klah, I think there is a pot brewing somewhere in here..." He waves his pale hand, and you locate it by the smell.
"Are you too busy? I can come back later," you say.
"Oh, no, actually I should take a break. I keep forgetting, that I am supposed to be organizing and THEN reading... But every time I take one of these scrolls up, it's as if I have to read it before putting it down!"
He smiles, his long face is attractive and friendly looking, though he seems like he could be quite the serious fellow on occasion.
"Well, about you?" You urge, and he leans back, finds a small finger-piano (a little wooden box, with a number of thin metal strips in different lengths, and a sounding hole cut into the box) and plinks at it, going into a short song.
"Born to Harpers oh was I,
And taught their ways 'a babe,
Toward the weyr they sent away
And here I wait this day..."
He looks at you, and shrugs. "I'm more for history and teaching than talking of myself. It's a horrid little song, I hope that you don't think too highly of it..." He chuckles.
"I've got 17 turns, eighteen in the spring. My parents were master harper Ruzel and journeywoman harper Adrienne. I was searched this year, and didn't get here in time for the last clutch. So I wait, and since this weyr has such a terrific store house of old scrolls and such, I took it upon myself to organize them. I'm a journeyman harper already, but with the search I might remain there forever. I don't mind it. With a dragon below me, I can fly to weyrs and holds alike, whenever there is need. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
You agree that it would be, in fact you were brought to this weyr for the purpse by a dragon!
You and he share the klah and look over scrolls, until the light begins to fade outside.
A Candidate at Gallimim Weyr
17 turns old
Stands 6' tall, and is very slender and wiry, though his hands are well formed and used to writing
His skin is fair, though it looks like he burns quickly in the sun; his hair is long, and curly blond, his eyes are palest blue
He wears casual but good looking clothing of dark leggings and a frilly armed tunic
He looked at some of the others, and realized... This wasn't the right hatching bowl. He glanced at the eggs. They were bigger than he remembered them being. And there were more of them.
He excused himself and went around the corner, down a long corridor.
There, only a few people waited. These eggs too were trembling, but there were few people in the stands at this little white's clutch. Only a handful of dragons hummed for these.
"How sad," Azhet said to another candidate. "That these eggs are not as celebrated as the golden queen's. I would think that a white's clutch is far more unusual an event to attend!"
The girl nodded, somewhat taken aback at the same fact. "I had to come away from the other eggs. It was too ... stressful. This clutch is ours, ours alone, isn't it?"
Azhet nodded at her, smiling widely. Perhaps his stay in the records room ought to be interrupted more often!
Then, interrupting his thoughts -- came a crack! Several eggs burst open, but only one of them meant anything to the harper.
For in it, a small sized brown came walking out of his dark-cream shell, right toward Azhet!
You and I are meant to wander the skies together, Azh't, the dragon announced in a clear, if high mental voice. I will take you anywhere you like!
"But what is your name?" Azh't asked, "How can I properly announce you?"
My name is Irveth. You may announce me now!
"Arrogant little wonder aren't you?" Azh't grinned, and turned to the rest, "this brown is mine, and his name is Irveth!"
I am beautiful, he bespoke whenever Azh't would think on him.
"Yes you are," he would respond.
It was time for them to join a wing. They had learned long before how to work with firestone, how to swoop and ride the air around Thread -- both in practice and in real situations. As weyrlings, they were made to work with the queen's wing, backing up the beautiful golds who could not breathe their own flames, yet needed riders with flame throwers to help them. But that was not the least of their training. Azh't and Irveth learned how to go between, and it was only a matter of time before Azh't's mind turned to revenge.
His old Lord Holder just deserved it. Azh't was bitter, but not a fool.
When Shard came with his offer to join a wing in the Protectorate, Azh't took him up on it. The so-called Spy Wing, the Long Wing of the Law as they liked to be referred, were ideal for his ... talents. Azh't and Irveth have been sneaking around Pern even since.
