Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) by Cheryl Matthynssens Page B

but what rituals or things were done before the circle dancing began is what he did not understand. It seemed unlikely that he would be chosen given his Lerdenian blood.
    He looked up to see Mesiande a couple of rows over bent in planting. Her rounded form was even clearer to him in those tight mining pants. He shifted as his pants suddenly felt too tight, and looked away from her. Now if she would be in the circle, he would not be fearful. He knew that she would not hold his heritage against him. She was younger than he was, and he knew females did not join the circle until they could bear small ones. He glanced over to find her watching him, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun.
    He turned his head as he heard her shout at him, his facing flushing at his thoughts as if she could read them. “You are going crooked!"  Her voice was loud and had a tinge of laughter. The others villagers that were nearby planting looked up and frowned at him.
    He looked down and immediately corrected the korpen. He had allowed them to wander out of the path while lost in his thoughts. He could hear her soft laughter and glanced back with a rueful grin. She shook her head and went back to planting once more. He was so absorbed with watching her that he did not hear Tentret approach. In fact, he was unaware of his presence until his brother slapped him up beside the head.
    “She is too young."  Tentret scolded firmly. Tentret did not speak much even in the walls of their home, but when he spoke it was usually with a purpose.
    “She is not that much younger than me."  Alador protested. He looked at his brother who was fairly close to him in age. Tentret was forty turns now and still seemed to have no interest in finding a housemate.
    “Dorien should have never told you ‘til it was time. You will get yourself banned before you even receive your training."  Tentret eyed Alador with disapproval. He helped Alador pull up the plow and back the korpen up to where they had veered.
    “Training?  What training?"  Alador asked. It had never occurred to him there was anything to train for those in the circle seemed so at ease unless it was their first year. “Does it not just happen sort of, well, naturally?”
    “You do not think they send a male to the mating circle with no…experience do you?"  Tentret shook his head. He was the one who spent a great deal of time in books and often helped teach the small ones their letters and other skills to do with writing and reading. He always expected everyone 'to just know' things unless they were small ones.
    “I do not know. It is not like the men speak of it with the middlins."  Alador flushed with color. However, middlins spoke of it often. By the time you had been into the center of the circle for drumming, you had looked a few times through the tent flap. It was also possible to hear the activities between songs. Alador had a fundamental concept of what was going on behind him.
    “And now you know why, you are already losing your way at the thought of one you desire at the mention that you might be entering the circle."  Tentret scolded. Tentret looked at Mesiande and back to Alador.
    “So…what is this training?"  Alador quickly tried to divert his brother. Perhaps Tentret would finally speak of the rituals that occurred prior.
    “An elder will take you to her rugs and show you all that you need to know to insure not only pleasure, but a successful mating. The circle ensures we have small ones each season."  Tentret offered.
    Alador shuddered at the idea. “An Elder…"  He squeaked. He immediately began picturing the eldest of the women, toothless and covered in folds of aging skin. “How can one even begin to...want...well you know.”
    Tentret laughed. “A man’s nature is not that hard to coax forth, and they choose only those skilled for such tasks. Do not fret. This has been the way, and it has always brought success within the mating circle.”
    “I do not