“The one thing I don’t want just now is a wife.”
“Oh? Got yourself taken care of?”
“Menolly!”
“Don’t look so shocked. We Harpers understand the frailties of human flesh. And you’re tall, and nice-looking, Jaxom. Lytol’s supposed to be giving you instruction in all the arts . . .”
“Menolly!”
“Jaxom!” She mimicked his tone perfectly. “Doesn’t Lytol ever let you off to have some fun on your own? Or do you just think about it? Honestly, Jaxom,” her tone became acerbic and her expression registered impatience with him, “between Robinton, though I love the man, and Lytol, F’lar, Lessa and Fandarel, I think they’ve turned you into a pale echo of themselves. Where is Jaxom?”
Before he could sort out a suitable answer for her impertinence, she gave him a piercing look through slightly narrowed eyes. “They do say the dragon is the man. Maybe that’s why Ruth is so different!”
On that cryptic remark she rose and made her way back to the others.
Jaxom had half a mind to call Ruth and leave if all he was going to get were insults and slights.
“Like a sulky boy!” N’ton’s words came back to him. Sighing, he settled back to the grass. No, he would not depart hastily from an awkward scene for the second time that morning. He would not act in an immature fashion. He would not give Menolly the satisfaction of knowing that her provocative comments bothered him at all.
He stared down the river where his dear companion played, and wondered. Why is Ruth different? Is the dragon the man? To be sure, if Ruth were different, he shared it. His birth had been as bizarre as Ruth’s Hatching—he from a dead mother’s body, Ruth from an eggshell too hard for the half-sized beak to break. Ruth was a dragon, but not weyrbred. He was Lord Holder, but not confirmed so.
Well then, to prove one would be to prove the other and hail the difference!
Don’t let anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone! N’ton had said.
Wellaway, that would be his first goal!
CHAPTER IV
Ruatha Hold, Fidello’s Hold, and Various
Points Between, 15.5.10–15.5.16
OVER THE NEXT few days, Jaxom realized that it was one thing to form the resolution to teach Ruth to chew firestone, and quite another to find the time to do so. It was impossible to contrive a free hour. Jaxom entertained the unworthy thought that perhaps N’ton had tipped his plan to Lytol so that the Warder had consciously found activities to fill his days. As quickly, Jaxom discarded the notion. N’ton was not a treacherous or sly man. On sober examination, Jaxom had to admit that his days had always been full: with Ruth’s care first, then lessons, Hold duties and, in past Turns, meetings at other Holders which Lytol felt he must attend—as a silent observer—to extend his knowledge of Hold management.
Jaxom simply hadn’t realized the extent of his involvement until now, when he desperately wanted time to himself which did not have to be explained or arranged in advance.
The other problem which he hadn’t seriously considered was that no matter where he and Ruth went, a fire-lizard was sure to appear. Menolly was correct in calling them gossips and he had no wish for them to oversee his unauthorized instruction. He experimented by popping Ruth up to a mountain ledge in the High Reaches which had been a practice ground when he was teaching Ruth to fly between. The area was deserted, barren, without so much as mountain weed peeping up from under the late hard snow. He’d given Ruth directions while they were airborne and, at that particular moment, unaccompanied by fire-lizards. He’d counted no more than twenty-two breaths before Deelan’s green and the Hold steward’s blue arrived over Ruth’s head. They squeaked in astonishment and then began to complain about the location.
Jaxom then tried two more equally unfrequented locations, one in the plains of Keroon and another on a deserted island off the coast of Tillek. He was followed to both places.
At first he seethed over such surveillance and envisioned himself tackling Lytol on the matter. Common sense urged that Lytol would scarcely have asked either the steward or Deelan to set their creatures on Jaxom. Misplaced zeal! If he tried to tell Deelan straight out, she’d weep and wail, wring her hands and run straight to Lytol. But Brand, the steward, was a different matter. He had come from Telgar Hold two Turns back when the old steward had proved unable to control the lustiness of the fosterlings. Jaxom paused. Now then, Brand would understand the problems of a young man.
So, when Jaxom returned to Ruatha Hold, he found Brand in his office, giving out discipline to some drudges for the depredations of tunnel-snakes in the storage rooms. To Jaxom’s astonishment, the drudges were instantly dismissed with the injunction that if they didn’t present him with two dead tunnel-snake carcasses apiece, they’d do without food for a few days.
Not that Brand had ever been lacking in courtesy to Jaxom, but such prompt attention surprised him, and he required a breath or two before he spoke. Brand waited with all the deference he would show to Lytol or a ranking visitor. With some embarrassment Jaxom remembered his outburst of a few mornings before and wondered. No, Brand wasn’t the obsequious type. He had the steady eye, the steady hand, firm mouth and stance that Lytol had often told Jaxom to look for in the trustworthy man.
“Brand, I can’t seem to go anywhere without fire-lizards from this Hold appearing. Deelan’s green, and if you don’t mind my saying so, your blue. Is all that really necessary anymore?”
Brand’s surprise was honest.
“Occasionally,” Jaxom hurried on, “a fellow likes to get off by himself, completely by himself. And, as you know, fire-lizards are the world’s greatest gossips. They might get the wrong impression . . . if you know what I mean?”
Brand did but, if he was amused or surprised, he dissembled well.
“I do apologize, Lord Jaxom. An oversight, I assure you. You know how anxious Deelan used to be when you and Ruth first started flying between and the fire-lizards followed as a safeguard. I should have long ago altered that arrangement.”
“Since when am I Lord Jaxom to you, Brand?”
The steward’s lips actually twitched. “Since the other morning . . . Lord Jaxom.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Brand.”
Brand inclined his head slightly, forestalling further apology. “As Lord Lytol remarked, you are well old enough to be confirmed in your rank, Lord Jaxom, and we—” Brand grinned with uninhibited ease “—should act accordingly.”
“Ah, well, yes. Thank you.” Jaxom managed to leave Brand’s office without further loss of poise and strode rapidly to the first bend of the corridor.
There he stopped, mulling over the implications of that interview. “Old enough to be confirmed in your rank . . .” And Lord Groghe thinking to marry him to his daughter. Surely the canny Fort Holder wouldn’t do that if there was any doubt of Jaxom’s being confirmed in rank. The prospect now alarmed and annoyed Jaxom whereas the day before it would have pleased him enormously. Once he officially became Lord of Ruatha, any chance he might have had of flying with the fighting wings would be gone. He didn’t want to be Lord of Ruatha—at least not yet. And he certainly didn’t want to be saddled with a female not of his own choosing.
He should have told Menolly that he had no trouble with any of the Holder girls . . . when he was of the mind. Not that he had followed some of the bawdier fosterlings’ examples. He wasn’t going to have the reputation of a lecher like Meron or that young fool of Lord Laudey’s, whom Lytol had sent back to his home Hold with some cover excuse that no one really believed. It was all right for the Lord Holder to beget a few halfbloods, quite another to dilute Holder Blood with other lines. Nonetheless, he would have to find a pleasant girl to give him the alibi he needed, and then take the time for more important things.
Jaxom pushed himself off the wall, unconsciously straightening his shoulders. Brand’s deference had been rather bracing. Now that he thought about it, he remembered other evidences of a change of attitude toward
him, something his preoccupation with firestone had blinded him to until now. He suddenly realized that Deelan had not pestered him at the breakfast table to eat more than he wanted, that Dorse had been inexplicably absent the past few days. Nor had Lytol’s morning remarks been prefaced with inquiries after Ruth’s health but, rather, had concerned the day’s upcoming business.
The night he had returned from the Mastersmithhall, Lytol and Finder had been eager to learn about Wansor’s stars and that recital had taken up the whole evening. If the fosterlings and others had been unusually silent, Jaxom had only attributed that state of affairs to their interest in the discussion. Lytol, Finder and Brand had not had trouble finding their tongues.
The next morning there had been no time for more than a cup of klah and a meatroll as Thread was due to fall across the spring-planted fields in the southwest and they had a long ride ahead.
I should have spoken out months ago, Jaxom thought as he entered his own quarters.
It had been established that Jaxom was not to be disturbed when he was caring for Ruth; a privacy that he was only now beginning to appreciate. Generally, Jaxom attended his dragon, oiling his skin and grooming him in the early morning or late evening. He hunted with Ruth every fourth day since the white dragon required more frequent meals than the larger ones. The Hold’s fire-lizards usually accompanied Ruth, feasting with him. Most people fed their pets daily by hand, but the urge for hot, fresh-killed or self-caught food could never be trained out of the fire-lizards and it had been decided not to interfere with that instinct. Fire-lizards were quixotic creatures and although there was no doubt that they became genuinely attached at Hatching, they were subject to sudden fits and frights and would disappear, often for long periods of time. When they returned, they acted as if they’d never been gone, except for transmitting some rather outrageous images.
Ruth would be ready to hunt today, Jaxom knew. He heard his weyrmate’s impatience to be off. Laughing, Jaxom shrugged on the heavy riding jacket and stamped into his boots as he politely inquired what sort of eating Ruth fancied.
Wherry, a juicy plain wherry, none of those stringy mountain ones. Ruth emphasized his distaste for the latter with a snort.
“You even sound hungry,” Jaxom said, entering the dragon’s weyr and approaching him.
Ruth laid his nose lightly on Jaxom’s chest, his breath cool even through the heavy riding jacket. His eyes were wheeling with the red overtone of active appetite. He made his way to the huge metal doors that opened onto the stable courtyard and pushed them open with his forelegs.
Alerted by Ruth’s hungry thoughts, the Hold’s fire-lizards swirled about in eager anticipation. Jaxom mounted and directed Ruth aloft. The old brown watchdragon called good hunting from the fire-heights, and his rider waved.
From Hold tithings, the six Weyrs of Pern maintained their own herds and flocks on which the Weyr dragons fed. No Lord Holder ever objected to an occasional rider feeding his dragon off his land. As Jaxom was Lord Holder and technically had the right to anything within Ruatha’s borders, Ruth’s hunting was primarily a matter of courtesy. Lytol had not needed to instruct Jaxom to spread his beast’s appetite so that no holder was overburdened.
On this particular morning Jaxom gave Ruth coordinates of a rich grass holding where Lytol had mentioned buck-wherries were being fattened for spring slaughtering. The holder was out on his runner when Jaxom and Ruth appeared, and he greeted the young Lord politely enough and replied to Jaxom’s courteous inquiries for his health, the progress of the flock and the laying weight of the hens.
“A thing I’d like you to mention to Lord Lytol,” the man began, and Jaxom detected resentment in his manner. “I’ve asked for a fire-lizard egg time and again. It’s my due as a holder and I’ve the need. I can’t hatch wherry eggs proper if vermin burrow under and crack shells. There are four or five from each clutch gone, lost to snakes and the like. Fire-lizard would keep ’em off. They do for your man down at Bald Lake Hold and others I’ve spoken to. Fire-lizards are mighty handy creatures, Lord Jaxom, and being a holder now these past twelve Turns, it’s only my due. Bald Lake Palon, now he’s got a fire-lizard and he’s only held for ten Turns.”
“I can’t imagine why you’ve been slighted, Tegger. I’ll see that something is done about it. We haven’t a clutch at the moment but I’ll do what I can when we have.”
Tegger gave surly thanks and then suggested that Jaxom hunt the buck flock to be found browsing at the far end of the plain meadow. He wanted to take the nearer flock for slaughter and a hunting dragon ran a seven-day’s weight off bucks.
Jaxom thanked the man and Ruth warbled his gratitude, startling Tegger’s runner into bucking. Tegger grimly yanked the beast’s head about, preventing a bolt.
Tegger was unlikely to Impress a fire-lizard, Jaxom thought as he leaped to Ruth’s shoulder.
Ruth agreed. That man had an egg once. The little one went between and never returned to its hatching place.
“How did you remember that?”
The fire-lizards told me.
“When?”
When it happened I have just remembered it. Ruth sounded very pleased with himself. They tell me many things that are interesting when you’re not with me.
Jaxom only then became aware that the usual fire-lizard escorts weren’t about, even though Ruth was hunting. He hadn’t meant that Brand should curtail all fire-lizard excursions with them.
Ruth plaintively asked if they couldn’t get on with the hunting since he was hungry. So they proceeded to the suggested area and Ruth let Jaxom down on a grassy rise with a good view of the hunt where he made himself comfortable. No sooner had Ruth become airborne than a flight of fire-lizards appeared, courteously landing to await the dragon’s summons to join him after his kill.
Some dragons took their time selecting their meal, swooping on flock or herd to scatter it and isolate the fattest. Either Ruth made up his mind quickly or else he was influenced by Jaxom’s knowledge that Tegger would not appreciate overrun wherries. Whatever, the white dragon dispatched the first buck in one deft swoop, cracking the creature’s long neck as he brought it down.
Ruth left the delighted fire-lizards picking the bones and killed a second time, eating as daintily as ever. The flock had barely settled at the far end of the meadow when he launched himself unexpectedly for the third.
I told you I was hungry, Ruth said so apologetically that Jaxom laughed and told him to stuff himself with all he wanted.
I am not stuffing, Ruth replied with a mild rebuke that Jaxom would think such a thing of him. I am very hungry.
Jaxom regarded the feasting fire-lizards thoughtfully. He wondered if any were from Ruatha. Ruth replied immediately that they had come from the surrounding area.
So, mused Jaxom, I’ve only solved the problem of keeping Ruathan fire-lizards from following. But what one fire-lizard knew, they all seemed to know so he would still have to keep his activities from their sight.
Jaxom knew a dragon needed time to chew and digest firestone for the best effect. Dragonriders would begin to feed their beasts stone several hours before Thread was due to fall. How fast could Ruth work up a full enough gullet of stone to produce the fire breath? He wondered. He’d have to go carefully. Since dragons differed in capacity and readiness, each rider had to find out for himself what his beast’s peculiarities were. If only he could have trained Ruth in a Weyr and have the benefit of a weyrlingmaster’s experience . . .
Well, firestone was no problem. The old watchdragon had to be supplied so there was a goodly pile on the fire-heights. And Ruth wouldn’t need as much as a big dragon.
When still remained the problem. Jaxom had his morning free because Ruth was to hunt and it wasn’t sound practice to take a full dragon between—all that rich warm food would sour a dragon belly in cold between. So Jaxom would have to take the time to fly Ruth straight to Ruatha Hold. This afternoon would be taken up with overseeing spring planting, and if Lytol were real
ly going to arrange for him to be confirmed as Lord Holder, he couldn’t get out of making an appearance.
Idly Jaxom wondered if the Lord Holders ever worried whether he might try to imitate his tyrannical father’s taking ways or not. They would run on about Bloodlines, and blood telling, but weren’t they the least bit nervous about his Fax blood telling? Or were they counting on the influence of his mother’s blood? Everyone was right willing to discuss his Lady Mother Gemma with him, but did they ever fumble and fight to find another subject if he mentioned his unlamented father. Were they afraid to have him get ideas from his father’s aggressive ways? Or was it merely courtesy not to talk about the dead unkindly? They certainly had no bar about discussing the living in destructive terms.
Jaxom toyed with the idea of conquest. How would he set about reducing Nabol or—since Fort Hold was too big a bite—Tillek? Or Crom, perhaps, though he liked Lord Nessel’s oldest son, Kern, far too much to do him out of what was rightfully his. Shells, he was a fine one to talk of conquest, when he couldn’t even control the destiny of himself and his dragon!
Ruth, waddling with a full, bulging belly, belched happily as he made his way to his rider. He settled himself in the sun-warmed sweet grasses and began to lick his talons. He was always neat.
“Can you fly when you’re stuffed?” Jaxom asked when Ruth had finished tidying up.
Ruth turned his head, his eyes whirling in reproach. I can always fly. The dragon exhaled, his breath rather meaty and sweet. You are worried again.
“I want us to be proper dragon and rider, and fight Thread, me on your back, you flaming.”
Then we will do it, Ruth said with unshakable faith. I am a dragon, you are my rider. Why does this become a problem?
“Well, wherever we go the fire-lizards come.”
You told the thick man with the blue—Ruth’s identification of Brand—they were not to follow. They did not come here.
The White Dragon Page 8
