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Salin certainly caught the jab, and his jawline tightened another fraction. Up close to the two he was sitting near, he practically vibrated like a plucked Gitar string, though he was working at least as hard not to give O'rer the satisfaction of loosing his temper.

He wracked his brain for the correct answer, but although he arrived at one thought, definitely, he wasn't exactly sure that there was an answer that he actually wanted to hear, and he was equally certain he wasn't going to give him the opportunity to insult him directly. Let someone else do it. He couldn't count on not saying something he'd regret.

----

Saekagi started to fidget with his hair again. He'd definitely never seen a double clutch,and he couldn't remember it ever coming up in lessons. Of course there could have been other reasons for that, though he'd rather not think about them right now. The dragons had always started humming when the eggs began to hatch, and that was when the process began, but he wasn't sure what happened when you had eggs from two clutches on the sands.

Wouldn't it depend on the eggs? Would they actually hatch all at once? Would that depend on when they'd been laid, or was the humming as much to do with the hatching as the hatching with the humming?

Maybe he was just over-thinking it, being a stupid Hold Born boy. He raised his chin from his knee, thinking about answering, or rather, questioning him, but then lowered it again with an grimace, wondering if anyone would have the nerve to answer the man after the last round.

Then Jalarant did (though he didn't know the boy by name) And Saekagi looked admittedly relieved. Nice to know he wasn't alone in his thinking at least.

Saykiro jumped at the poke and looked at the girl who did it. He looked back up at the Candidatemaster and his dragon, before he whispered, "He asked Can any of you remember the last time we have had two clutches on the Sands? The last time a Crimson was successful?" Even if he got caught, he would just get more chores or worse ones then for being late to lesson.

He heard the other Candidate's reply and nodded his head in agreement. It sounded right and logical.

Moira had been around the Weyr, so to speak. The upcoming hatching would be her third, and technically fourth, given the unique circumstances. It was a string of failures that she blamed largely on her own shortcomings. Shortcomings which she direly hoped lessons and chores and training and other such things would be enough to overcome, even if she couldn't define exactly what had made the dragons choose others. Still, the repeat offense of failing to impress meant that lessons like this were not unfamiliar to her. She knew O'rer and his temper as well as any Candidate, and it took a great deal of resilience to drag herself back to class after a failed Hatching and stand under that scrutinizing gaze. He was relatively new, but that hadn't stopped him from taking on the position with gusto. When the greenrider looked at them, it was with eyes that seemed to scour the surface for any outstanding flaws. Sure, it was because he cared about the Weyr and the Candidates and seeing Pern protected, but that had never stopped his students from scrawling “Candidatemaster O'rwherry butt!” on the bathing room walls.

Not that Moira would ever do such a thing.

Really.

Her attention had been only halfhearted through most of the lesson, twirling one of the glass beads of her bracelet between thumb and forefinger to pass the time as her mind drifted to thoughts of the Hatching itself. No matter if it was the first time or not, it was always exciting. Even when you came away empty-handed, there was a Weyr full of people ready to tell you all the things you needed to hear.

Maybe next time.

Your dragon just hasn't come yet.

There will be more Hatchings.

It was to those words that failed Candidates clung, waiting for the next Hatching. Some would go through half a dozen before they turned too old. Others would not have nearly so many chances. Still, there was the inevitable truth that there would someday be no next time. There would be no more telling themselves that they were only fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. No more smiling sadly and patting themselves on the back, saying, 'It's okay. Maybe in the Spring.'

Only when another candidate had been kicked out – serves her right, Moira thought – had she looked up, thick brows arched to watch the scene unfold. The warning that there would be some among them that would never have a lifemate, never impress, never fly... it made Moira's chest tighten. Her stomach crawled up into her throat and cut off any snappy comments or sarcastic snickers. She swallowed the fear down with one gulp and watched as the drama unfolded. For some it was interesting. For Moira, it was an annoying distraction from the point of the entire lesson.

Dragonfolk – Candidates included – were nothing if not a prideful and touchy breed.

One Candidate gone, another running off at the mouth, and a third making some snippy comment. Moira tried holding her breath to prevent her eyes from rolling and her jaw from working, but was not successful. “Right,” she murmured sarcastically, “Not like we want to celebrate two dragons being successful. Surely it's more important that we engage in territorial disputes over our Weyr versus their Weyr. Don't be a wherrybrain. The more eggs on the sands, the more of us will have a chance to Impress.”

Moira folded her arms across her chest and intently returned her attention to the Candidatemaster.

Indeed, a touchy breed.

Nasuymi nearly groaned in exasperation. Really? Really? Was this what lessons were coming to? Her little ones in the creche were more disciplined than this when the Head Woman or someone else important came through. Of course, they needed to be on their best behavior when spies were in Trine! What else could these meddlesome Healers and Riders be but spies... Jealous was more like it, Nasuymi mused to herself.

She tried to keep up with what little was going on but it was useless. O'rer had a point. Very rare was it for a Crimson to fly and clutch successfully. For some reason, Nasuymi felt that if she were to Impress, it would be from the Red's clutch. Something about being the underdog, the one everyone wanted to count out made her all the more determined. Dredging her mind back to the present class, Nasumyi waited for the next lecture or whatever would happen next.