Eldest son of a fisherman and a dolphineer, Cortez was expected to become one or the other. He chose to leave the sea hold that he resided at with his two sisters, and head to a Weyr. Blackstone was nearest, so Cortez hooked up with the lower caverns staff there.

At the age of 13 turns, he was elevated to a strangely mythic status. He had learned how to make nets from his father, so he had a very strong background in them. His tactics allowed the lower cavern staff as well as the hunting staff to take on larger prey than they had before, without dragons to assist them.

Proud of this achievement, Cortez thought that he would be doing this work for a while. For three turns, he continued to make nets, and cast them from runner-back, with the other hunters. Then, he was injured by a wild wherry on a hunt, and had to spend almost half a turn recuperating. He wears a mustache today, because he has twin scars around his face, where the wherry bit him!

Shaken, but not down forever, Cortez determined himself to continue hunting. But by the time he had recovered, others had taken his place. His status as a net maker has never been in question, and he continued to do it for another two turns. Listlessly tying knots all day long.

Whispers of clutches hatching came down to the Lower Caverns constantly of course. But Cortez was not searched by any Blackstone dragons. That did not surprise him, of course. He has no dragon rider blood in him, does he?

Others claim that his strength of will, and the fact that he remained awake and aware -- angry and kicking -- when the wherry had him in its teeth, will prove that he is worthy of a dragon to ride. He is twenty turns old now, has just learned to read and write, and still makes the finest, most durable nets that the Weyr uses.

"They'd like all the folks your age out there too, Cortez," said one of the runners from the lower caverns. "Go on, there's a search dragon. A neat one, too." He winked and darted away, leaving Cortez in his small moderately dark weyr. Cortez knotted another twine end, and looked at his work.

It would do. He hadn't been concentrating anyway. There was something on his mind, but he couldn't place it. Maybe this was it?

A search. Hmn. Gruffly, he stood and put the net he'd been working on aside, slinging most of it upon a peg and tucking the loose twines into the webbing before leaving.

The large landing courtyard was packed with people, already. The evening was rapidly growing darker, so the search rider wanted to get in and out somehow, quickly.

It didn't take very long, however, to realize that Cortez had come at just the right time. The big deeply colored brown dragon strode by the groups of young people. There were two groups ahead of Cortez, but they were sniffed at and ignored. The brown's rider apologized but didn't really stop to worry about the sniffling or teary eyed children he'd turned down.

It was when Cortez' group was up that the netmaker realized that the dragon striding before them was very low to the ground, and wasn't all brown. There were swirls of black and deep red in his wings, he was remarkable indeed.

Do you like my colors? I do too. You are the one I will take then. Navi will be a fun place for you.

Cortez stood with his eyes wide and his mouth plastered shut. Then, finally, able to speak momentarily, he said, "really?"

"Really," said M*jora. "There's probably someone else here I'll wager, but you're the one Dhumdhuanath wants."

"... I'm sorry?" Cortez shook his head, "what?"

M*jora smirked and shrugged. "Never mind. But get yourself packed up. I'll want to leave by morning, that is if the kitchens will have some dinner made for me and someone might throw a weyr together for us..."

He drifted away, leaving Cortez stunned. The seaborn young man felt the congratulatory pats on his back, laughter and cheering behind him. Finally he snapped aware again, and spun on his friends. "Searched!"

Packing didn't take as long as Cortez expected it to. Yet as he did so, the excitement began to creep into him as sure as darkness crept over the Weyr. He couldn't sleep, of course, so he lay on his cot, sack of clothing and box of weaving and nets beside, wide awake.

"This is impossible," he breathed. "I have to get word to my folks... Caltene won't forgive me if I go off somewhere and don't tell her... I wonder where Navi Weyr is, anyway?"

For the rest of the night, Cortez lay half-awake and all nerves. He fiddled with the mustache on his lip, wondering absently if the girls in Navi Weyr would like it, or if he would be best shaving it off? Would they like the sight of those nasty scars? He'd have to explain them, and that was never really his favorite activity. So the mustache would remain, and he was happy about that.

Finally, when dawn began to move across the sky, and Cortez had barely gotten some sleep (at last) there was a clap at the small weyr. "It's time to go, Cortez, are you packed?" Called M*jora. "I can help you bring your things. Dhum's more than large enough to fly us both."

Groggily, he asked, "what about the other Candidate?"

"She's been flown on ahead, one of the locals has offered to take her. Don't worry." Had Cortez known that it was H'lis, the weyrleader, taking her, he might have balked!

"Good. Well, yeah, I'm packed. Let's go. Where are we headed? And will there be seas or lakes?"

M*jora laughed on their way out, explaining that Navi would be best seen to be described.

Cortez and the other candidates gathered around the eggs. It was a held-breath kind of day. Everyone knew the eggs would be giving up their precious contents today, they just weren't positive when, until the dam of the clutch, Green Kith, announced it to the world.

The first egg to hatch was... well, platinum! The boy who impressed him was very happy, and seemed to Cortez to be just right for the dragon.

Then, when the second egg cracked, everyone watched a small blue come from the shell. Cortez gasped as the dragon spoke to him!

Together we will fly by the sea and swim if you wish. You have no need for boats any more!

"No, not any more Amuth!" Cortez, now thinking of himself as ... T'ez or C'ez, or something similar, blurted out.

They went to the kitchens with the others, as they hatched beautiful shades of orange, green and blue.