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Day off! Day off!! Greloren ran excited through the Gather towards the vendors. He'd been given a few marks by his fostermother and even his father had felt the need to give him a bit of money. It was always nice when his father acknowledged him... Greloren didn't blame the man for his upbringing in the Lower Caverns. After all, a dragon was a lot of work. But he always felt good when his father did nice things for him. Like letting him ride Tilenth to the Gather.

Sure, the other Candidates and weyrfolk had ridden in carts, but he'd ridden on his father's bronze! Just how cool was that!?

The boy searched about for one of the best things: something to put in his stomach. The smell of bubbly pies drew him towards one of the stalls where he paid for two of the hot pies. The sitting areas were already filling up, but he managed to snag an empty table where he could listen to good music and eat this wonderful food.

About the time he settled, a blue flit appeared and attempted to eat the other bubbly pie. Greloren frowned. "Night!" The silly flit apparently thought that bubbly pies were good for firelizards too. "Go play with the others..." But the flit wasn't that easily distracted.

Hesitance, or was it fear, kept Lahar a safe distance from the pretty maidens all a twitter beside the square. He hadn't the slightest want in attending the festivities, but with Mother hard on him to find a nice girl and Father wanting some alone time with Mother...well, Lahar simply had no choice. His satchel was heavy with coins, well-earned from clearing rocks and tanning and other such odd jobs around Hold and Home, and he figured it might be safer falling back to a drink hall. But what would Mother say to him then? When her only son came home from a night of "dancing", smelling of bitter beer and loneliness, with not even the floral kiss of a lady on his cheek?

So there he stood, each large hand grabbing at his upper arms, expression unpleasant. Perhaps he should count the moments until Father would be wary of pursuing his tight-lipped love and tip-toe home past willing participants. But what if he were to get lucky this time? Finding the two in a sweaty embrace would be far worse than the tongue lashing running home would get him! The lengthy lad edged toward the nearest stand, shaking the images out of his mind before they had time to materialize. Perhaps some water would settle him...

Ennrik had been excited for the Gather since he saw the flag go up. Having spent most of his adolescence in Harper Hall, just a short jaunt from Fort Hold, he had high expectations for Gathers, and he was eager to experience a Gather at Ista. Of course, like most apprentice harpers, he had been concerned about trying to get certain merchants to take the instruments he made and sell them to turn over some of the profit to him. That was something that needn't concern him anymore. The instruments he had brought with him, his pipes and his guitar, were instruments he wouldn't sell. And since he hadn't any marks, so to speak, with which to make purchases, his first instinct once he got to the Gather was to find the dancing square.

At Fort Gathers, the stage at the dancing square had been enormous, able to accommodate a large number of musicians or singers at a time. Ennrik had always been forbidden to take that stage because he was only an apprentice and because his master had not wished him to perform until she had perfected his voice, which turned out to be a calamitous decision, but one that couldn't be changed at this point. Ennrik loved the music that was played at Gathers. Not that he didn't also love the complex pieces composed chiefly for harpers to enjoy, but he preferred to see other, non-harpers taking joy in music. He also liked to watch the dancers, though he was not a dancer, himself.

He had settled himself by a stand which sold drinks and set himself up with a glass of fruit juice. It was too early to start on the wine, though he would probably have a few glasses in him before the day was done. His budget wouldn't stretch for the best quality wine, but with it he could afford to purchase some of the regular stuff, and that was fine with him. As he sat on the stool, taking advantage of the shade, he was startled to see a firelizard land on the counter next to him and begin to make demands on the owner, from what he could tell.

"Is she yours?" he asked the owner, indicating the green.

He cut an imposing figure, even smiling. A tall rider with black hair and sharp, hazel eyes. He wore his hair longer than most riders, half brushed back, tucked behind his ear, the rest hung where it would, largely obscuring one side of his face, though every time he moved, it gave away glimpses of thin scars to the bridge of his nose, and running from his jaw to his lips. They were clearly not thread scars, they didn't have that burnt, twisted look, more like the mark of a sharp edge.
He broke into a grin, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so, clearly amused by the antics of the flit, before glancing toward the dancers, tapping his foot and nodding to the music.

Sorry. Fixed it.

Ennrik's intent hadn't been to startle the girl. He was simply curious. He was pleased to hear that he hadn't given offense. It had seemed unlikely that he would with such an innocuous - and probably oft-asked - question, but it was always better to seem concerned about giving offense than charging headlong into a situation and then having to extricate oneself. His head tilted to one side as he listened. It was a habit of his. People said it made him look odd in the head, but he'd never minded, and besides, it did no one any harm.

Her story sounded interesting to him, despite her disclaimer. He listened carefully as she pronounced their names. Xyth and Daeok. He wondered if she had deliberately given Xyth a name that ended in -th to make her seem more like a dragon, andd ecided that it had probably been a subconscious impulse. The tantalising hints about her past history, especially her involvement with the Smithmaster, fascinated him. It wouldn't have surprised him to hear that this girl was training as a smith before being Searched - he was sure that was why she was here - even though smithing was not usual work for females. She had the build for it, which was not an uncharitably meant thought, simply an observation.

"They're both very attractive creatures," he remarked, complimenting the firelizards easily. "I'm sure you deserved to receive both of them, regardless of the Smithmaster's reservations."

He liked them well enough, and couldn't help feeling a little proud when Xyth demonstrated an interest in him, although he would have been willing to bet that her interest lay less with him than with something on his person. Maybe his fruit juice? Experimentally he nudged the cup of juice toward the firelizard to see if that was what itnerested.

"I have nothing I wouldn't mind being stolen by one such as her," he said.

Shortly after he'd finished making his off-handed remark to the girl with two firelizards, Ennrik's attention was captured by another owner of a firelizard. It made sense that there would be more of them here, since they were so close to a Weyr, but it was still a little distracting to see flashes of the creatures in flight, especially out of the corner of his eye, as he saw this newest one, a bronze. He didn't allow himself to become completely distracted from the flit because it would have been rude and strange-looking if his head suddenly jerked round to follow the flight of another firelizard. He didn't want to give offense to Xyth anymore than he'd wanted to offend her owner.

Despite his best intentions not to become distracted, it had long been Ennrik's habit to keep his ears open for the interesting snippets of information to be gleaned from others' conversations. It was a nasty habit, he knew, and when he was young he had been beaten whenever he was caught at it, but that hadn't stopped him, it had just forced him to learn to be more subtle, and develop a better ear. He'd always wondered if that was part of why he had such a good ear for music, but assumed it couldn't be the case, since the preferred form for beatings had been ear boxings, which were probably just as bad for his ears' internal workings as his habit was for fine tuning how he heard.

What he heard in this way surprised him: a familiar voice. He had a better memory for voices than he had for faces, which surprised no one, least of all himself, considering what his concentration at Harper Hall had been. He was, however, incredibly startled to recognize a voice he'd not thought to hear ever again. That of someone who had deserted Harper Hall over a year ago without explanation or farewell. Someone who really deserved a punch in the jaw that Ennrik had no intention of delivering. Bad for the hands, punching people. And Mal had always been devilishly quick on the return.

"Will you excuse me?" he asked, directing his question at both the smith-candidate and her curious firelizard.

He rose quickly, but not abruptly (he didn't want to startle the firelizards and provoke them into a startled attack), and not so quickly that he would give offense, he hoped. He seemed to be extraordinarily concerned with giving offense lately. Well. At least he didn't have to worry about that with Mal. He maneuvered easily until he was close enough to be heard without shouting and then said clearly, pronouncing each syllable distinctly, "What, by the first egg, are you doing here?"