Istabitha's Weyr
Ezhar danced through the hall of Caledrus Hold, with a long, silken veil draped over her. Practically her only garment, the veil snapped in the breeze she caused by rushing through the rooms and corridors. Behind her stood several wide-eyed men, and women, watching the exotically beautiful young woman as she swayed past them.
"This was... unexpected," someone muttered. "Does she do this often?"
"Only when her lover Tainor over at Dawnlight sends her something nice, like that veil she's got," said a woman. "Wish I could have danced like that when I was young..."
Other eyes followed Ezhar as well. Dangerous, narrow dark eyes. The eyes of a predator.
When Ezhar reached her own smallish weyr, it was open and airy. She loved her window and the balcony it afforded, and she was of a wealthy enough Holder family that she did not have to worry about the dirty Hold below... Only the beautiful sky and how her lover thought to give her such beautiful things!
She pulled the shimmering material close to her face, smelling it deeply. It was scented with oranges and musk, and colored brilliantly safron orange with tints of violet waves running through it. At the edges, there were small golden leaves, intricately carved out with veins and flower patterns on them, attached by golden thread. It jingled when she put it over her head in a more traditional veil like way, and her thick black rings of hair contrasted with it beautifully.
Putting the veil on a small peg beside her window, Ezhar hummed to herself and began combing out her hair. It was early spring, well, late winter, and the seasons had turned quickly. It was her seventeenth turn, the summer would see her eighteenth turn day. The beauty of the girl was well known, though it did not quite rival some of the other Ladies in the Hold. She had a more casual approach to her beauty: if she felt happy, she was pretty. If she felt sad, it could only mean she was plain. Her emotions showed so easily on her wide, smooth features, that people often could tell her how she was feeling just by looking. Her grey eyes were a source of admiration among some of the drudges, how exotic with her red-dark skin and her rich black hair.
Her shape was as sensual as they came, as well. With rounded hips and a narrow belly, and full womanly breasts already, she made most men hunger for her. Her dancing habit made more of them fight for her, yet she loved only one man. Tainor was the peak of manhood, a trader who frequented weavers and oil merchants alike, a man who had seen much of the world already.
That world entranced Ezhar. She would listen to his tales of it for hours on end. How he traveled with his runners and the small caravan of merchants... So beautiful the things he brought her.
From Ezhar's window came a breeze, and on it, a bugling of a dragon. The dragontithe flats were a popular place about now... Ezhar's heart fluttered when she thought about dragons, almost as much as it did when Tainor came to visit. How elegant they were, how lovely! And how brave, and strong their riders were!
Ezhar laughed musically and sped down the hall again, after putting on a more subdued dress of lilac and lavender. She carried the veil and then wrapped it about her head and shoulders when the winds picked up again.
The dragon resting on the Flats was a small white, not one of the Protectorate's dragons. Ezhar did not know this breed, it was from a weyr that she knew but could not name right off. The rider of the very rare white dragon was talking with one of the Lower Caverns staff, but there were no supplies being taken from the dragon, so Ezhar knew it was not a transport or tithe dragon.
So what could they be doing here? Today? There was no Thread due for several sevendays, and the Hold was usually protected anyway. Ezhar went nearer the dragon and rider, who were pacing together, and the dragon seemed to be sniffing at the air. Then, he looked directly at Ezhar, though she was hiding behind a tree.
"You!" Called the rider, waving his arm, "you could come here, where we can see you!"
Ezhar looked around and decided they were in fact talking to her. She straightened her dress and her veil and strode out. She wasn't sure what they wanted, but she would try to impress them with her knowledge of the Hold or ... whatever.
"Picketh here says you'd make a good candidate for some very special eggs we have at Istabitha's, girl. What's your name?"
Ezhar's musical voice suddenly failed her. Her eyes widened, and her face transformed from curiosity to utter shock and bewilderment. "M... me? Sir, you can't be serious?" The man nodded. "My name is Ezhar, daughter of Emzhet and Lord Haranab, eldest sister of three..."
"Well, Ezhar, Picketh isn't often wrong. Would you care to introduce me to Lord Haranab and Lady Emzhet, so I might make arrangements?"
Ezhar's confidence came wafting back to her, when she felt the warm dragon's breath, for some reason it comforted her in a way that nothing but Tainor's embrace could...
The jangling of her jewelry half-distracted her, then she found herself alone. The search rider had gone somewhere, and Ezhar wasn't at all sure if she would be able to find her way back to the rest of the Weyr without getting quite lost.
But there was an egg. A strange shaped egg, almost like a heart. And it was a pale pink color, like coral. When she reached out to touch it, a very odd little flitter came swooping down, hissing at her briefly and then settling on the egg itself.
"Well, this is fine!" Ezhar exclaimed. "How am I supposed to find out if this egg is for me, when I can't even touch it?"
The darkish violet flit creeled, and then flew to her shoulder. He dug into her skin but she did not wince.
"You're a bold one," she commented. Something deep in her mind drew her back to the egg on the sand. Finally unhindered by the flit's angry hissing, and almost encouraged by him now, Ezhar knelt down and put her hands on the warm egg. It moved a bit, then it shattered!
From inside it, came a deeply red colored snout! Paler pink wings unfolded and this small but very beautiful dragonet stepped from the bits of the egg!
I am Tinoth, she announced. And that is Valenin.
"You ... know this flit, do you?" Ezhar chuckled as she embraced her new hatchling. It was the finest gift in the world... Now if only she could give it to Tainor...
. . . 
The tall, handsome man that loved Ezhar looked at her large beautiful eyes. His eyes were hurt, reddened, slightly angry.
"You could have sent a message--"
"I did not know where you would be," she defended.
"You could have sent word to the places I go. You know I visit hold and hall, regularly."
"But not weyrs..." Ezhar said, quietly. "But now, you ... will have reason to visit Istabitha's Weyr. Won't you?" She looked at her love, tears brimming, "Won't you?"
After a long, long silence, Tainor turned to Ezhar. "Of course I will. I must. But... I know stories of how weyr-born folk act. You and I... We..."
"We are meant to be together, Tainor... Believe me that I love you! You ... cannot understand -- yet -- how I feel when Tinoth touched my heart. But she is my life blood. And I am hers. We, we are drawn together in love of the heart, love of the soul."
I like him. He smells good! Tinoth bespoke. Ezhar had to resist laughing. Tainor looked at her, because her face had screwed into a silly mask.
"What is it? Why do you mock me?" He demanded, but then Ezhar shook her head, her volumes of black hair tumbling about.
"It is Tinoth. She just said that you smell good. She likes you."
Tainor's grey-green eyes turned to the weyrling dragon, her oddly red and white hide glimmering in the twilight. "She does? I do?" He searched himself for something, and suddenly smiled. "Ah! Ah, Ezhar, with all this -- excitement -- I had almost forgotten why I wanted to see you soon. Because I found this. This must be what she smells..." Tainor removed a vial of liquid, and opened the glass-topped cork. A scent wafted through the room, sweet but not sickly sweet. Tinoth perked up, her eyes rolling through greens and blues.
That is is! Oh, I like him a lot! Keep him, Ezhar!
"I should hope so, Tinoth!" She turned to Tainor before he could ask what had been said, and laughed, "She wants me to keep you. I think I shall!"
Tainor watched Ezhar and her beautiful red-and-white dragoness as they practiced. The dragon was small by most standards, and he wondered how in the world it could be female? Weren't some browns close to red in their color? Well, he shrugged, and continued to watch.
They had dived off the ledge earlier, down to the fields where Istabitha's weyrlings marched and sometimes scuffled. The whole bunch of young dragons would take to the sky, then return to the ground, over and over. Then they had begun to swoop in circled. Then, farther stunts and aerial loops, things which they needed to do when ... He gulped, when flying against Thread.
How could he live with that?
You will live with me, won't you? Tinoth bespoke him directly. It still unnerved him a bit, and he smiled.
"I want to... I'm afraid for you and Ezhar."
I will not be flying against Thread very much. I am not very durable. Even the greens can outlast me when I fly against it.
The dragon seemed almost disappointed, but Ezhar jumped from her neck and laughed. "So I see you two are bonding," she said. "And I get the idea that you're worried about us. Don't be, love," Ezhar kissed him on the cheek. "I've been asked to join a wing in the Protectorate."
"A wing!?" Oh no, he thought... "But--"
"It's the queen's wing, Tainoth, and queens don't often have to actually go up into Thread, but they do often have to visit other weyrs and attend meetings, and you know, represent weyrs!"
"That's quite an honor, then," Tainor said, almost sadly.
His story continues... Where Ezhar's leaves off!
