“Popcorn! Fresh-made popcorn! Get it with sweet glaze! Popcorn! Get your popcorn here...” Illerion shouted over the general hubbub of the Gather, standing on his tiptoes to see over the heads of the people passing in front of him. Several paused to give his stand a curious look, but most paid no heed to what was no doubt just another Gather stall among the six dozen other ones.

Illerion absently popped a piece of the slightly sticky glazed popcorn in his mouth, relishing the crunchy sweetness. The young man had invented both the glaze and the popcorn it covered, and the Lord Holder had considered the concoction unusual enough to grant him a Gather stall—him, a mere holder from an obscure cothold hardly anyone knew of, had his very own reserved spot in the Gather! He smiled reminiscently...

From the very beginning of his cooking career, Illerion had liked experimenting with corn, as that was his family’s main food crop. Sweet corn bread, crunchy corn cakes, corn-on-the-cob, corn soup—you name it, and Illerion had probably cooked it. He was mostly known for his special way of preparing corn on the cob. It was a simple enough recipe; basically the staple food for the cothold.

Illerion had discovered popcorn by accident, actually. He’d been puttering around with dried corn for a while, and this time he was trying to make a corn dish that was salty instead of sweet. The young man had let the dried corn soak in diluted oil for a sevenday, then dumped them out in a pot over the fire, expecting the kernels to soften in the water. He whistled absently, sitting by the fire.

You can imagine Illerion’s surprise when his tune was interrupted by an odd snap-snap noise coming from the container. He carefully removed the precious glass lid and peered in. The corn kernels were jumping and popping into fluffy-looking white things. Illerion picked up one of the pieces and chewed it thoughtfully. Not bad at all. Pleasing to the teeth, and not too strong-flavored. A bit of salt would be good, he decided, and duly added a pinch. The results were...hmmm....quite satisfactory.

Illerion’s thoughts were interrupted by a discreet cough. He looked up to see a....rather odd-looking....dragonrider standing in front of the booth. He wasn’t abnormal or anything, but there was just something not-quite-right....Illerion realized he was staring, and quickly blinked. “Oh! Yes, how may I help you?” he asked politely, blushing a bit. The rider nodded. “Do you deliver?”

Illerion looked at him confusedly for a few seconds. “Er, yeah, I guess, as long as its not too far away.” He answered uncertainly. The man nodded again before speaking, “Good. I’d like you to take a package of this stuff-popcorn, you call it?-to one of my friends, Baeris. She’s at the Healing Den, if you’ve heard of it? Tell her Shard sent it.” Illerion nodded slowly and took the proffered marks from what’s-his-name—oh yeah, Shard’s—hand. Wait a minute. Wasn’t Shard the name of one of the Weyrleaders? Erp. He listened carefully as the bluerider (weren’t bronzeriders supposed to be Weyrleaders?) gave him the directions to this “Healing Den” place. It wasn’t far; Illerion could probably make it there before dark. Most of his popcorn had already been sold for a tidy profit, so there was no reason to linger here (except for the dancing and the food, said the little voice in the back of his mind. He ignored it.)

By this time the rider had disappeared again. The young man shrugged and began packing up his remaining wares.

“Er....hello?” Illerion called uncertainly, knocking softly on the nearest door. He leaned against it and nearly toppled over as it opened. A tall, dark-skinned woman smiled apologetically at him. “Whoops, sorry. So, young man, what brings you to the Healing Den? Come in. I’m Baeris.” She greeted him, beckoning.

“Uh, I was, um, sent with this, er, to give to you.” Illerion mumbled, handing Baeris the package of still-warm popcorn. She grinned and opened it, sampling the treat experimentally. “It’s good. Who makes it?” Illerion fidgeted and blushed, looking down at his feet. “Er....I do.” He answered in a small voice. Baeris grinned and fed a piece to the little blue firelizard on her shoulder, who cheeped happily. Then the woman’s eyes went all funny.

The young man looked at Baeris anxiously. He hadn’t put anything bad in the popcorn, had he? But the healer’s eyes focused once more in a few moments and she gave him an appraising look. “Fancy that. Dulath vehemently insists that you should be a Candidate for the Frenzy clutch.”

Illerion lost her about halfway through. He blinked. “Dulath? Candidate? Frenzy?” he repeated in confusion. Then something seemed to dawn on him. “You have a dragon?” the young man asked, his jaw twitching as if about to drop, but he kept it firmly shut. “There’s dragons here? What’s a Frenzy?” the questions just bubbled up out of nowhere, banishing his previous shyness.

Baeris laughed. “Yes, we do have dragons here. Special ones, mostly. A Frenzy is....well, call it a mass mating flight.” She explained, chuckling a little at the end. Illerion accepted that explanation wordlessly, not bothering to ponder the....er....implications. “Oh. So I could really, really be a Candidate?” he almost squeaked. Baeris (a dragonrider?) nodded firmly. “Dulath is usually right. Come, we have to go back to your family and sort it out.” She told him, giving the young man a push towards the door. Illerion automatically walked forward, still grinning and looking like an idiot.