Menolly drew out of her confusion long enough to realize that the fire lizards’ hum had nothing to do with her song: their attention was not on the humans but…

“The eggs! They’re hatching!”

“Hatching!” “Hatching!” Both master and journeyman crowded each other to get through the door to the hearth and the fire-warming pots. “Menolly! Come here!”

“I’m getting the meat!”

“They’re hatching!” the Harper shouted. “They’re hatching. Grab that pot, Sebell, it’s wobbling!”

As Menolly dashed into the room, the two men were kneeling at the hearth, watching anxiously as the earthen pots rocked slightly.

“They can’t hatch IN the pots,” she said with a certain amount of asperity in her voice. She took the pot from the protecting encirclement of Sebell’s curved fingers and carefully upended it on the hearth, her fingers cushioning the egg until the sand spilled away from it. She turned to Robinton, but he had already followed her example. Both eggs lay in the light of the fire, rocking slightly, the striations of hatching marking the shells.

The fire lizards lined up on the mantel and the hearth, humming deep in their throats. The pulsing sound seemed to punctuate the now violent movements of the eggs as the hatchlings fluttered against the shells for exit.

“Master Robinton?” called Silvina from the outer room. “Master Robinton?”

“Silvina! They’re hatching!” The Harper’s jubilant bellow startled Menolly and set the fire lizards to squawking and flapping their wings in surprise.

Other harpers, curious about the noise, began to crowd in behind Silvina, who stood at the door to the Harper’s sleeping quarters. If there were too many people in the room, Menolly thought…

“No! Stay out! Keep them out!” she cried before she realized she’d said anything. “Yes. Stay back now,” Silvina was saying. “You can’t all see. You’ve got the meat, Menolly? Ah, so you have. Is it enough?”

“It should be.”

“What do we do now?” asked the Harper, his voice rough with suppressed excitement as he crouched above the egg.

“When the fire lizard emerges, feed it,” Menolly said, somewhat surprised, for the Harper must have been a guest at numerous dragon hatchings. “Just stuff its mouth with food.”

“When will they hatch?” asked Sebell, washing his fingers in his palms with excited frustration.

The fire lizards’ hum was getting more intense: their eyes whirling with participation in the event. Suddenly a second little golden queen erupted into the room, her eyes spinning. She let out a squeal which Beauty answered, lifting her wings higher, but in greeting, not challenge.

“Silvina!” Menolly pointed to the queen.

“Master Robinton, look!” said the headwoman and, as they all watched, the newly arrived queen took her place on the mantel beside Beauty, her throat vibrating as fast as the others.

“That’s Merga, Lord Groghe’s queen,” said the Harper, and then he glanced over his shoulder at the door. “I hope it isn’t an awkward time for him. This sort of summons could be inconvenient…”

Above the fire lizards’ vibrant sounds, they all heard the Harper’s name bellowed.

“Someone go and escort Lord Groghe,” ordered the Harper, his eyes never leaving the hearth and the two eggs.

“Robinton!” It would seem that his order was unnecessary for the bellower was rapidly approaching. “Robin…. What? They are? D’you know what? That Merga of mine’s in another taking. Forced me to come here! Here now, what’s all this? Where is Robinton?”

Menolly tore her eyes from the two eggs, though she was certain she saw a widening crack in the one on the left, to see the entrance of the Fort Lord Holder. As his voice indicated, he was a big man, almost as tall as the Harper but much broader in the torso, with thick thighs and bulging calves. He walked lightly for all his mass although he was breathing heavily from having come to the Hall at a fair pace.

“There you are! What’s this all about?”

“The eggs are about to hatch, Lord Groghe.”

“Eggs?” The brows of the Holder’s florid face were contracted into a puzzled scowl. “Oh, your eggs. They’re hatching? And Merga’s reacting?”

“I trust not at any inconvenience to you, Lord Groghe.”

“Well, not so’s I wouldn’t come when she insisted. How’d the creature know?”

“Ask Menolly.”

“Menolly?” And suddenly Menolly found herself the object of his intense, frowning scrutiny. “You’re Menolly?” The brows went up in surprise. “Little bit of a thing, aren’t you? Not at all what I expected. Don’t blush. I don’t bite. My fire lizard might. Wouldn’t worry you, though, would it? These are all yours? Why, my queen’s beside yours, friendly as can be. They’re not dangerous at all.”

“Menolly!” The Harper’s exclamation brought her attention back to the hearth.

His egg had given a convulsive rock, all but spinning itself off the hearthstone. Gasping, he’d put out both hands to prevent its falling. The shell cracked wide open, and a little bronze fire lizard rolled into his hands, creeling with hunger, its body glistening.

“Feed it! Feed it!” Menolly cried.

Robinton, unable to take his eyes off the fire lizard, fumbled for the piled meat and shoved food into the fire lizard’s open mouth. The little bronze, shaking its wings out for balance, snatched ferociously at the meat, gobbling so fast that Menolly held her breath for fear the creature would choke in its greed.

“Not too much. Make it wait! Talk to it. Soothe it,” Menolly urged. Just then the other egg split.

“It's a queen!” shouted Sebell, rocking back on his heels in the excess of his surprise. Only Lord Groghe’s quick hand on his back kept him from falling over.

“Feed her!” the Lord Holder barked.

“But I’m not to have the queen!” For one split second, Sebell started to turn and offer the queen to the Harper.

“Too late!” Menolly shouted, diving forward. to intercept the gesture. She jammed meat on Sebell’s seeking hand and then pushed it back to the frantically creeling queen. “You’re supposed to have a fire lizard. It doesn’t matter which!”

The Harper was oblivious to the interchange. He was intent on his bronze, stroking it, feeding it, crooning to it. The little queen had gobbled Sebell’s initial offering, her tail wrapping so firmly about his wrist that he could not have disentangled himself had he managed to sustain his moment of sacrifice.

Menolly turned to assist the Harper, but Lord Groghe was kneeling beside him, encouraging him. When the two hatchlings were bulging with food, Menolly removed the meat bowls.

“They’ll burst with another mouthful,” she told the reproachful Harpers. “Now, hold them against you. Stroke them. They should fall asleep. There now.” As the men complied with her urgings, the new fire lizards, sated for the present, wearily closed their eyes, their little heads dropping to the protecting forearms. She’d forgotten what a scant handful a newly hatched fire lizard was. Her friends had grown so much since hatching. Lord Groghe’s Merga was as tall in the shoulder as Beauty, but not so deeply chested. The two were now exchanging compliments, stroking heads and touching curved wings.

“It’s incredible,” the Harper said, his words no more than an articulated whisper, his eyes brilliant with joy. “It is absolutely the most incredible experience I have ever had.”

“Know what you mean,” Lord Groghe replied in an embarrassed mumble, ducking his head, but Menolly could see that the burly Holder’s face was flushed. “Can’t forget it myself.”

Carefully Master Robinton rose from his knees, his eyes on the sleeping fire lizard, his free hand poised in case an incautious movement unsettled the little bronze.

“It explains so very much that I could never have understood about dragonriders. Yes, it opens a whole new area of understanding.” He sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now I can sense, dimly, what Lytol, what Brekke must have suffered. And I know why young Jaxom must have Ruth.” He smiled at Lord Groghe’s grunt at that statement. “Yes, I have stood so long peering through a small opening into another Hold of understanding. Now I can see without obstruction.” His chin had dropped to his chest as he spoke in soft reflective tones, more to himself than those close enough to catch the whispered words. He shook himself slightly and looked up, his smile again radiant. “What a gift you have made me, Menolly. What a magnificent gift!”