Tandri, son of Etan and Triia, originally written around 2001

"He's a beautiful boy," Bayat announced, with her grin almost as wide as the man's beside her. Not the father, she reminded herself, he's not the father. But Triia was doing well enough that Shard's presence instead of ... whoever the daddy of this big boy was, was all she needed. The weyrhealer Bayat handed the boy over to Triia, whose thin arms reached up trembling.

It had been a very hard birth. Triia was not really healthy enough to be birthing children, yet this one was her very first. And it was probably going to be her last, if what Bayat knew was true. Triia was a gold rider, and though she was a proud Protectorate woman, she'd never been in a flight for even a junior weyr.

"He'll be a strong rider," Shard said, whispering over the baby's loud gurgling protests. "Like you, and like his father."

"Oh, don't bring him up," Triia spat, annoyed but not serious. "He's never around anyway."

They both admired the lungs on the child, as he wailed again.

"I'm... I'm going to need a wet nurse, Bayat," Triia admitted. "He's all mine, but... I've nothing to give him." The reed-slender woman held tears in her brown eyes, but Shard wiped them away when they fell.

"He'll be fine, we'll find a nurse easily," he reminded her. "This is Blackstone anyway, if we don't find a woman within half a minute, there'll be another at Dawnlight for you."

So big and strong, you're growing up fine, bespoke the disembodied voice into Tandri's mind.

It was not a dragon speaking, and Tandri knew it. It was a sand-tinted voice, it always had that way of feeling like he was out in the scrub desert when ever he spoke. Tandri spoke back.

Thank you father, but I must do my work...

A distant chuckle filled Tandri's mind then, and the sand and wind faded away. Triia looked at her six turn old son, with wonder. She hadn't been contacted by E'tan, but she knew that he'd been near. Why he would leave her cold like that... She shook her head and busied herself in the weyr.

"Mother, when will I be allowed to see him?" Tandri asked, his pale blue eyes looking through her as if she were a window. The strawberry blond hair that had grown wildly over the last two turns was ready to be cut again, and Triia thought to pat it down before answering her son.

"It will be whenever he decides to show himself, Tandri, I cannot make him come. He's very busy."

"But he's not out fighting Thread, like Shard! Or even like you!" Tandri looked about ready to weep, but he did not. He was old enough to know that crying for his father wouldn't make him come any sooner. "He promises, and then doesn't come."

"He has," Triia said, "he's been here and you should remember that he'll come a long way to see you. Some riders never see their children again," she added.

"I'll never do that to any son of mine," Tandri muttered, pouting. Triia hugged him fiercely and close.

***

Tandri worked on his studies later, poring over texts and scrolls and maps. He was certainly the only six turn old who could read with such proficiency, and absolutely the only one that Triia had met. Her son eternally surprised her. He was bad at math, and she had this feeling that he'd never be able to gamble like the others in the Weyr, but... Wasn't that a very small price to pay for a child who could blurt out answers to adults questions about history before the Master Harper could?

Yet he was still just a child. Still loved to run, jump and get into things like all the other weyrbrats. His favorite game was hide and seek, and of course he'd usually win... That ability that his father had to sense people was carried strongly in their son, after all. It was only a matter of time before the other children caught on to him, and stopped him from playing with them.

Tandri could wait for that day, and enjoy what he had, when he had it, though.

The sands at Blackstone were busy, and Tandri watched with intensity. His mother stood near the current weyrwoman, who hemmed and hawed and wrung her hands together. So worried... But for no reason. Tandri walked to the pair of women and tugged on the other gold rider's sleeve.

"Ma'm, you don't need to worry. All the dragons are fine. There are enough candidates. They'll make their choices." Tandri said, just before the hatching got underway. It was true: the dragons inside their many eggs were healthy. The brown-sired clutch had neither a bronze nor a queen egg in it, but many sturdy blues and greens, with one huge brown.

Triia had hoped that her young son might impress. But he was still a bit too young, wasn't he? Only nine turns soon, and yet he was tall, slender like... Like his father.

Where was E'tan? He said he'd be here, before Tandri's turn-day, and it was only a sevenday away. Her distress was lightened when she caught Shard's eye from up in the gallery. After the hatching, and the candidates who had not impressed were being consoled by the sire's rider and the queen's mistress, Triia and Shard watched Tandri go from young boy to teenaged girl. When he arrived near them, they stopped their sad spouting of tears or cursing, and accepted their fate. Tandri had a touch to him, something so unlike his father -- something subtle and kind, where E'tan's was a touch to remove the hurt but also to remove the memory, never able to find it again and share the joy OR the pain.

"He's gifted with healing," Shard said, "the mind kind. Emotionally."

"He's beyond that," Triia said, softly. "He can heal with a word, he doesn't even need to think about it. Or use any strange powers..."

Her tall companion looked up briefly, and narrowed his brilliant blue eyes. "He's on his way, finally. Don't let him go without seeing me first."

"He's not even going to come to me before seeing you, Shard, he's always gone to you first." Triia sighed, she'd always love both men, but why couldn't she ever have either of them? When she really needed them?

"Not for everything," Shard smirked and laughed, walking away. He found Tandri and together the Protectorate leader and young brilliant boy greeted the newest weyrlings.

The hatching of the Lost clutch had just ended, or so everyone thought, when Tandri and his beautiful blue Khaavreth heard a mental bellow announcing that there was indeed another egg hidden below the sands.

Grinning to himself, Tandri smoothed oil on Khaavreth's skin, and watched as the dragon chewed his meat carefully. No other hatchling seemed to do that, just his.

Well, perhaps Tesene's green Tariath did, because she was actually much older than the others. In spirit if not flesh.

"So you've impressed, I said you would do well," E'tan said, leaning against the lower cavern wall, where the hatchlings were being served and the party preparations were done. The tall pale-skinned man looked his son over, with new respect in his azure eyes. "But I cheated, you know."

"I am certain you did, father," Tandri said, not wanting to sully his glee at having impressed at all. He was still just a thirteen turn old boy -- JUST thirteen, at that. He aimed a mental you looked into your history books, didn't you? And you found the records of the hatching.

"I did just that." E'tan let a rare smile break across his thin lips. "Rue's recordkeeping leaves nothing at all to be desired, she covered everything very well."

"She and Shard will be happy together," Tandri said, as Khaavreth lowered his head onto the boy's lap. You arranged that, didn't you?

I did, I will admit it. Normally I do not admit those things, but to you...

"You'd better." Tandri said, serious. "Because I don't expect to be left out or lied to any longer."

The way he said it perked ears up, but they remained in silent, mental communication afterwards. Not even their dragons knew what they said then.

They grow so fast... Yet, Tandri never changed his name, never took a "dragonrider's" name. He knew it wasn't necessary. Not for what he would be doing.

In less than two turns, Khaavreth and Tandri had learned everything the Weyrling master at Buenos Weyr could teach, and had long moved past Alabaster and even Blackstone's training. There was very little that the two of them didn't already know about.

So when Tandri made ready to bid his mother a temporary good-bye, she nearly didn't let him go when she hugged him.

She will need to see us again, and soon, bespoke Khaavreth.

I know. And I will need her, too. Well... We must go...

"We have to go, mother. I will be back. Unlike some people..."

Triia rolled her eyes and dabbed at the tears in them. "I know. I trust your word over his any day."

"He still loves you," Tandri reminded his mother.

"Then tell him to prove it to me some day..."