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Lerath’s wings were now the duo’s greatest problem. The dragonet had the most troublesome habit of keeping his wings spread when he walked, not fully, but enough to double the width he took up in the halls. V’al had ignored it when the blue had been freshly hatched, thinking it would give His some extra balance while the weak muscles developed. But by now his friend’s wing and shoulder muscles looked as developed as his legs, the great dark sails were no longer “cute,” as his roommate Optheli had once put it, but bulky and sometimes hazardous.

I prefer to have them open, the blue said primly one day, while V’al was headed to the dining hall for lunch. There was a corner of the hall for those with inseparable dragonets, but V’al preferred overhearing the conversations unrestricted seating offered, and Lerath preferred the peak of the day for his sunning.

You knocked down that boy a few days ago though. Remember? The one carrying linen?

I always remember. he answered quickly. For a dragon at least, he had an uncanny memory. I did not to mean to knock him down, but he was not hurt, only startled. Besides, I would like my wings strong when I start flying.

Some distance behind the junior weyrling and his dragon, the boy with the linens was stalking. The last time he saw V’al and Lerath he was giving them, both of them, a swift verbal thrashing after Lerath knocked him over on his way to the laundry room, Lerath for not watching where he was going and V’al for raising a clumsy dragon. The whole exchanged had lasted less than ten seconds. After all he had more important things to do, like finish his chores. Later on he realized who he’d bumped into.

He waited until V'al entered the dining hall. Before V'al went to sit down, and before any of V’al’s friends could show up to claim him, the linens boy ambled up beside the young rider wearing a somewhat unfriendly smile, like he couldn’t decide between bluntness or sarcastic affability. “Hey, remember me?”

His was a hard face to forget. Everything about him was sharp, rigid. He wasn’t ugly, nor was he particularly handsome, but his long limbs and spiny features certainly made him odd looking. His beady green eyes narrowed smugly. He seemed pleased to have found him.

V’al scanned the tables before he picked an isolated seat. He was in a decent mood, but he didn’t feel sociable today, and Lerath was distracting him too much to listen in on other people. You have got to be more careful, he said seriously over Lerath’s light dismissal of the problem. They’ll restrict you to outdoors early if you really cause a problem, and I won’t be able to see you as often in the day. He sensed Lerath stewing over an answer and took a seat at the end of an unpopulated table. Before he could look over the platters and bowls on the table, however, he looked up to see a boy a bit older than himself, smirking down at him. He frowned at the boy’s sharp face and tried to imagine it scowling, angrier. Yes, it was the same person. “From in the halls a few days ago, yes.”

The older boy jumped onto the bench as if he owned it and folded his arms over the table. Low on manners, stocked up on boldness. “That’s not the first time you’ve seen me. I was at the last hatching, too.” His wording took on a vague condescending tone.”You probably didn’t notice. My name’s Balt.”

For the time being he wanted to keep his motives ambiguous. Unfortunately, he was doing a poor job. His bitterness over losing a hatchling to a mere holdborn who hadn’t endured the drudgery of candidacy for so much as month was already creating surface ripples. Clearly, something was eating at him.

Of course he hadn’t noticed. It was a Hatching after all, and like every other Candidate on the sands, his eyes had been on the eggs. V’al gave Balt a measuring look, as if trying to figure out just what to do with him. “I’m V’al. Sorry about the other day.” He didn’t look sorry, staring levelly at the Candidate. Nor did he sound it, as his apology was given dismissively, mouthed off to fill in time while he thought. Lerath interrupted his thinking, asking who His was speaking to, and when the answer came, becoming endlessly curious. After a short conversation that took only a second, he added aloud, “Lerath is as well.”

At the mention of Lerath Balt seemed to hesitate. He reached for a plate and started to fill it absently. Judging from his plate his thinness was not due to a weak apatite. “He’s very striking,” he said at last, a bit awkwardly.

V’al’s lack of sincerity didn’t upset him. He couldn’t remember whether V’al apologized to him the other day, partly because he didn’t care. Apologies counted for nothing in his mind. He had watched other candidates apologize time and time again for the exact same transgression without ever trying to change their behavior. People like that made him want to scream. V’al seemed like a decent person, despite his stupid good luck, but that didn’t make his apology worth more than the next person.

“It’s amazing that you’re still so new here yet you already have your own dragon. Most candidates aren’t so lucky. Where are you from anyway?”

Lerath. That’s what was sticking in the older boy’s craw then. Just the fact of the blue was the problem then. V’al wondered what reaction Balt expected to get out of this. Apologies that he’d Impressed so soon, or maybe anger, just so Balt could have a good fight? Torn between annoyance and derision, V’al decided to bait Balt as neutrally as possible to see what became of the Candidate. He started picking food out for his plate. Unlike Balt, V’al owed his fitness to diet, for he didn’t eat much. “Ursul. I was a leatherworking apprentice there. I didn’t expect to Impress either. When I was Searched I actually told the dragon that he was wasting everyone’s time, and when I got here I spent as much time practicing my craft as doing Candidate work. Almost had myself an extra job with one of the tanners here when Hatching came.” His voice was smooth and utterly calm, as if they were discussing the merits of tubers.

Balt took V’al’s tone as evidence that his true feelings were being effectively concealed. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. “Holdborn, huh? I thought as much.” He paid no attention to the contempt creeping into his voice. “I was born here. My mother is a crimson rider. She was born here too as well as my father. That’ll make me third generation once I Impress. What do you do as a leatherworker? Make anything useful?”

What are you talking about? I can’t tell if you’re amused or angry. V’al couldn’t have described it to the curious blue. He was too busy watching Balt. He wouldn’t be able to hold up this charade much longer. “Sounds prestigious,” he answered, looking down at his food to break the tension for a moment. Keeping his face relaxed was difficult. “I made a lot of runner saddles. Accessories too, belts, armbands, hair ornaments, that sort of thing. My hands are still rough from it.” He held a hand out, showing off the knotted calluses on his palms that were made even less appealing by the recent effects of dye on his skin. He hadn’t stopped moonlighting his craft, even though his dragon’s care soaked up most of his time, but like food, he didn’t need much sleep to function. Lerath gave an inarticulate mental complaint, and V’al had the impression His was on the way to see what the fuss was about.

Balt wrinkled his nose a bit. His eyes actually seemed to glaze over as V’al talked about his craft. The thing about saddles was vaguely interesting. He would need one of those once he Impressed, not that he planned on asking V’al for one. His father tried to push him towards the crafts and even tried to get him interested in leatherworking at one time. Balt was intelligent enough to pick up virtually any craft with ease, so it was plainly obvious when he failed to show a knack for leather that he was merely disinterested, as he was with all crafts.

“You must not have much time for it now, what with your new friend and all,” he said, taking a bite out of a meat roll.

“Not much,” he admitted. He was, in fact, wearing some of his work – the embroidered lapels of his leather vest – but it wasn’t worth mentioning to Balt. “How long have you been Standing?” he asked slowly as he tore a roll open and began heaping veggies into it. He gave Balt an approximating look over his roll, studying him more openly now.

“Longer than you,” Balt quipped. “I’ll have more experience than you when I Impress. Of course I would anyway, since my mother’s a crimson rider. What about your parents?”

Balt looked at V’al directly. He figured V’al’s father for a leatherworker, too. Judging by the way he acted they were probably a common family, nothing like the Lordship’s spawn that were sent here simply to be out of their family's hair.

Ahh, there it was. A decent opening. “I’m just the sick cuss between a feline and canine,” V’al joked in apparently unthinking cheer. “Luckily I don’t seem to need any experience in mucking out stalls and cleaning dishes to take care of Lerath, just oiling his hide, and skin’s all I know.” He grinned, and even with malice at the core of the smirk, it looked good on him. “I think, when you Impress,” and he put a suspicious emphasis on the word ‘when,’ “you won’t even find it too difficult yourself."

Balt bristled immediately and only became more ruffled as V’al went on. It was the ‘when’ that finally made his blood boil. He stood up with his hands on the table and looked down on V’al with a sneer. He growled, “You’re just an ignorant holdbred who got lucky on his first Stand. I don’t know about your father, but your mother was definitely a canine. You clearly inherited her smell. Her intelligence, too."

If Balt had ever met his mother, he’d have known it was no special trick to insult the woman. And V’al needed no reassurance about his differences from the wretch, not now. He was weeks’ distance away from her, Impressed without her even knowing. Even the name she’d given him had been mutilated to something respectable, and more importantly, different. He continued to sit with his hands at the sides of his plate, seemingly relaxed though his false grin was giving way to a more natural and impartial stare. He didn’t even speak. He felt quite revenged already for all of Balt’s sideling insults without adding anything.

It was impossible for a dragon of Lerath’s size to sneak anymore, but he appeared at the table with little fanfare except the normal ruffling of his wings. From the entrance, he’d heard only some of what was said, but His was not upset, which was cause enough to stay calm on his own. The dragon rumbled from beside the table without approaching his rider and eyed the candidate with a shining green eye. I came to apologize for knocking you over the other day. If that’s what you’re arguing about, I promise it was unintentional and more my fault than V’al’s.

Further addled by V’al’s indifferent, Balt was about to take his plate and move to another table when the young blue appeared behind him. He still would have grabbed his meal and gone if Lerath hadn’t spoken to him. Dragons rarely spoke to anyone except their riders. Normally Balt might have considered it an honor. For about half a second he just stood there, unsure of what to say. “No, that’s not what this is about.” He glanced at V’al suspiciously and looked back to Lerath. “But thank you for apologizing in person.”

V’al’s brow bunched, and for a moment he wondered just who Balt thought he was talking to. Then something clicked and he switched the look to Lerath.

I am, his dragon told him smugly before the question could even be asked. Then he cocked his head at Balt and the plate he’d been about to make off with. He gave a rumble and wink since the Candidate looked like he was trying to leave, and circled the table to crouch by V’al. The junior weyrling had forgotten his rival and was staring so intently at his dragon that there could be no doubt the mental conversation taking place was a serious one.

Balt blinked. Did V’al’s blue just… wink at him? He might have thought it aimed at V’al if Lerath weren’t looking right at him. Balt smiled thinly, a little puzzled by the gesture. It was nice to get the attention of a dragon. Glancing back at V’al, he noted the expression on his face and turned a little smug. Whatever just happened V’al apparently hadn’t played any part in it. Leaving the rider and dragon to their mental conversation, Balt walked away to find another table.