A Gift of Dragons - Anne McCaffrey [70]
While we wait for that to happen, the little queen said imperiously, you may feed me, Nian. I’m starving.
Remembering the bowl in her hand, Nian grabbed a handful of the meat cubes and offered them to Quinth, who bolted them down so quickly that Nian could see the outline of the mass slide down her neck. Then Quinth opened her mouth again, and again, and again. Nian was forced to sniff in the blood that was oozing from her nose and blot the stream on her sleeve, leaving a red smear behind it.
“Someone bring a cold towel and some numbweed,” the Weyrwoman was calling. “Nian, Quinth’s rider, has a bloody nose. How very awkward, my dear.” The Weyrwoman offered Nian her clean handkerchief. “They don’t really mean to hurt anyone in an Impression,” she said, “but it was obvious Quinth wanted you and you simply didn’t realize that she was headed toward you the moment her shell cracked.” She gave a little laugh. “Queens are very determined.” That seemed to be a good trait, judging by the indulgence in the Weyrwoman’s voice.
“How did it happen that she was chosen by the queen and not me?” demanded Robina, standing in front of them, pointing an accusatory finger at Nian
I didn’t choose her, Quinth said to Nian, flicking a wingtip at Robina in dismissal.
“Well, this is outrageous!” Robina retorted, as she dodged Quinth’s wing tip for fear of being pushed onto the hot sands. When she regained her balance, Robina placed her hands on her hips while tapping one toe in the sands.
“There are green dragons hatching, Robina,” the Weyrwoman said pleasantly, pointing to the right. As Nian glanced in that direction, she saw Orla patting a green dragon with one hand and shoving meat toward it with the other.
“They are the most valuable dragons in Threadfall,” the Weyrwoman said. “And far more difficult to train. Take a challenge once in your lifetime, Robina. It would do you good.”
Eyes wide with outrage, Robina stamped toward the exit, head high. Amazingly enough, a shiny wet green dragonet was stumbling after her as fast as it could make its legs go.
“Oh, no! Almost all the hatchlings have Impressed. Neru must be a dragonrider—it shouldn’t have been me!” Nian protested in an undertone. Looking around for her twin, she found him standing back by his favorite egg. She could see the thin line of a crack on the side bulge of the egg and Neru was crouched beside it, hands balled in fists as he verbally encouraged its occupant.
“Come on now, that last crack was a good one. Another one and you’ll be out.”
Nian stuffed another handful of meat into Quinth’s mouth and then headed toward her brother. The Weyrwoman held her back, shaking her head. “We have discovered that if an egg doesn’t crack on its own, the occupant is probably damaged and it is best to leave nature to take her course.”
“And let the dragon die?” Nian was appalled.
A weyrperson approached them proffering damp towels, one of which the Weyrwoman pressed to the nape of Nian’s neck. Nian gasped at the cold feel of it. With her other hand, the Weyrwoman used the other cloth to mop the blood off Nian’s face and smeared some numbweed on the bridge of her nose. Embarrassed at being tended by the Weyrwoman herself, Nian gently took the cloth and finished mopping her nose and face. And someone else handed her a second bowl of meat.
I am still hungry, Nian, if you don’t mind, Quinth told her in no uncertain tones, crossing in front of her. I am sorry I made your nose bleed.
A wave of love washed over Nian and she turned adoring eyes on her new lifelong partner. Oh, sorry my love, I forgot! And she shoved a larger than usual handful at her queen.
Quinth butted Nian, a nudge that would have been strong enough to make the girl lose her balance if Quinth had not immediately stepped in front of her to prevent