The dark-haired man looked with half an eye at the tiny daughter of his, and blinked slowly. "What is that thing you're wearing, then?"
Miranda gave an exaggerated gasp and looked at the satiny glory of her *last* dress, and huffed. "Fa-ther, this is a meeting gown, it's not a GATHER dress. Surely you can see the difference. Mother certainly can."
"Then go speak with her about making you a new one." The merchant-holder buried himself back into the scroll of his accounting.
With fire in her eyes, the dark-skinned and raven haired young woman stood seething, for only a moment more. Then, she turned on her heel (nicely clad in a grey-green leather boot) and strode out of her father's office.
She muttered to herself the whole way to her mother's rooms, where the short woman was speaking quietly with another of the holder Ladies of Jacinth Hold. Upon her arrival, the two drudges in the room bowed and took their immediate leave. Remaining with her in this mood would be a bad thing...
"Sweet," her mother, Milla, said, "I am not going to cooperate either. You've a room press full of dresses, and most of them have never been out but once or twice before. Don't you need to study for that harper's exam you have?"
"Don't change the subject!" Miranda snapped. "I suppose that I will simply die alone and unmarried, then. Not a lord or even a crafter will want me this way." Again, she spun and left the room in a huff.
Alone and unmarried. The young lady growled to herself and sat angrily on the low cot. What a life she had to look forward to. Her reddish-brown eyes wandered around the stone walls and the painted leather-flap door. She should be looking forward to a life of ease. Yet...
There was still something missing from Miranda's life, and she had yet to put her strong, dark fingers on it. It wasn't a man. Though she said she would simply die if she didn't marry well, as her cousin and aunt and half-sister had... She looked over most suitors because they just didn't fit her ideal of perfection. High standards? Of course! The eldest daughter of a wealthy merchant lord and his highly placed wife ought to have high standards!
Yet every time there was a gather, Miranda would dance and sing and chatter and flirt. And every time... None of those sorry excuses for lordlings could pass her test of mettle. If they tried to dominate her, she would simply snarl at them and turn away to the next lad. If they couldn't meet her fiery gaze, she knew they could never be enough of a man for her needs. If they only spoke of themself, of their exploits, of 'their' anything... No. If they only tried complimenting her, or kept looking at others...
Ahh, she flopped down on the cot and stared at the stony ceiling again. She should be reading her lessons. Anything to take her mind off all this mess. She was nearly twenty turns, how could she not be married off yet? Then she shuddered. Perhaps... Because she wasn't really meant to be just a wife of a lord. She would always be a Lady.
But could she be something more? And never have known it? That was a possibilty... As far as a craft, she'd been long associated with the canny harpers that Alabaster Weyrhold had hired or sent out, she knew there were secrets to keep and some to sell. She knew there were people who could flirt and kill with the same glance.
But she also knew so much about the craft of selling and marketing... And even that of herbalistic mixing. A bit of healing and tinctures because her uncle was a well-placed Healer of the hold. Perhaps she could go to the Healer's hall?
"No... no... I don't really want to be around so much sickness..." Miranda shuddered and stuck her tongue out. The thought of having to poke around diseased drudges and bloody runner-trainers... No no no!
She looked over her studies, memorized a pair of ballads. They would have to do. She knew the facts about most of her studies, yet she had little love of singing those nasty ballads back with all the other students. Her voice, at least Miranda thought, was a croaking mess of a thing, and she hated it. If anything would keep her from being a good perfect Lady in all ways... Maybe that was it. Her voice, hoarse and deep.
But she was a striking girl, still, and she had a sense of beauty and style. Mixing her perfumes and dyes helped her take her mind off the desire to have a new dress for the next sevenday's gather. She would dye her hair... Or better yet, dye this old dress into a new color... Yes! That was it!
She could become a dye maker, her skill was that good. Thrilled with yet another inspiration, Miranda went to bed thinking perhaps that she could simply go off with the next trade caravan and head toward the weavers hall...
"Well, they're certainly interesting. I've never seen such elegant colors. But we don't need more apprentices right now..."
With a breath deeper and more sudden than she expected, Miranda gasped, "no!"
The elder man shook his head. "I'm sorry, child, but... There are already quite a few apprentices, and most of them younger than yourself. They will be preferred before you for any advancement, and ... it just wouldn't be fair to you."
Miranda leaned deeply back in the seat, across from the Master crafter. His eyes grew kinder when someone entered the room behind Miranda's back. "But you might have another option, Miranda. This is a search rider, he's been... Sneaking around the Crafthall for a day or so. Skulking like a thread-eating fish."
"Sh'cril," he announced, and Miranda looked up at him. He had the knots of a blue rider, and head search rider.
"Search rider..." She said. Her eyes glanced away. What if... what if...
"Would you like to come outside? Azuth has been poking at me to find someone here. And ... we've been through lots of other potential candidates, and I've found none so far. All these dye makers are pretty much set in their ways. But you..." The young man helped the young Lady out of the chair and outside.
The beautiful blue dragon looked over the raven-haired sharp featured Miranda, and snorted warm breath on her gently.
"He says you pass... Would you like to join me going to Tarizal weyr? There is a clutch on the sands, including a golden egg... We can always use a good weaver or chemist, as well..."
Until the day, finally, that the hatching began, Miranda found herself pleased to be part of a larger group. Something that had been missing from her life before. She had been so priveleged, yet, she wanted more and more to be depended upon for items or advice...
She shook herself out of her daze, in the heat of the hatching sands. There was a beautiful bronze on the sands, first, and she smiled to herself. She'd actually wagered on a brown, and laughed at herself for her loss. It was Pern's gain! And, it was a handsome young healer who Impressed!
Then, a green, and two blues came out of their shells. Another pair of greens and a blue came next, and Miranda watched with her heart fluttering. When would she have her chance? If only there was a dragon for her... Miranda felt empty all of a sudden. How many colors of dye could she have made, how many more dresses would she make or even buy, before that emptiness was filled?
Another brown hatched, a beautiful dark one. Then, a green came out, impressing as she fell upon her wings. A huge brown hatched, then impressed. And then... A light-blue dragon came out from his shell, and cried loudly at the candidates. He went past the boys, to Miranda!
Is there something wrong? I am here, Miranda. What's missing?
"Oh, Scoeith! Nothing's missing anymore! You're perfect!"
They left the sands and Miranda knew that her life had begun anew, with no spots left to fill, this time!
