The White Dragon p-4

by Anne McCaffrey

  Live? Of course, he would live. Silly voices. He was just tired. He wanted to sleep.

  Harper, Harper, do not leave us. Harper, we love you. Do not go.

  The voices were not loud, but they held on to him, in his mind. That was it. They were not letting his mind go.

  Someone else, outside him, was holding something to his lips.

  «Master Robinton, you must try to swallow the medicine. You must make the effort. It will ease the pain.» That voice he recognized. Lessa. Distraught.

  Of course, she would be, with F'lar having to kill a rider, and all the trouble with the theft of the egg, and Ramoth being so upset.

  Harper, obey Lessa. You must obey Lessa, Harper. Open your mouth. You must try.

  He could ignore Lessa, he could bat feebly at the cup at his lips and try to spit out the bitter tasting pill which was melting on his tongue, but he could not ignore those insistent voices. He let them put wine in his mouth, and swallowed the pill with it. At least they had the kindness to give him wine, not water. Water would have been undignified for the Harper of Pern. He could never have swallowed water with the pain in his chest.

  Something seemed to snap inside him. Ah, the pain in his chest. It was easing, as if the snap had been the loosening of the tight band that constricted his heart.

  He sighed at the relief. One didn't fully appreciate the absence of pain, he thought.

  «Take a sip of the wine, Master.» He felt the cup at his lips again.

  Wine, yes, that would complete his cure. Wine always did revive him. Only he still wanted to sleep. He was so very tired.

  «And another!»

  You may sleep later. You must listen to us and stay. Harper, listen! We love you. You must stay.

  The Harper resented their insistence.

  «How long does it take the man to get here?» That was Lessa's voice, sounding fiercer than he'd ever heard her. Why did she also sound as if she were weeping? Lessa weeping?

  Lessa is weeping for you. You do not want her to weep. Stay with us, Harper. You cannot go. We will not let you go. Lessa should not weep.

  No, that was right, Lessa should not weep. Robinton didn't really believe that she was. He forced his eyes to open and saw her bending over nun. She was weeping! The tears were dropping from her cheeks to his hand which lay limp and upturned as if to receive the tears.

  «You mustn't weep, Lessa. I will not have you weeping.» Great Shells, he was losing his voice control. He cleared his throat. This would never do.

  «Don't try to talk, Robinton,» Lessa said, gulping back her sobs. «Just rest. You've got to rest. Oldive is coming. I told them to time it. Just rest. More wine?»

  «Have I ever refused wine?» Why was his voice so faint?

  «Never,» and Lessa was laughing and crying at the same time.

  «Who's been nagging me? They wouldn't let me go. Make them let me rest, Lessa. I'm so tired!»

  «Oh, Master Robinton, please!»

  Please what?

  Harper, stay with us. Lessa will weep.

  «Oh, Master Oldive. Over here!» That was Lessa again, leaving his side.

  Robinton tried to reach for her.

  «Don't exert yourself!» She was holding him down, but she was staying beside him. Dear Lessa! Even when he was angry with her, he loved her nonetheless. Perhaps more, because she was angry so often and anger intensified her beauty.

  «Ah, Master Robinton.» Oldive's soothing voice made him open his eyes. «The chest pain again? Just nod. I'd rather you didn't make the effort to speak.»

  «Ramoth says he has great pain and is very tired.»

  «Oh? Convenient having the dragon listen, too.» Master Oldive was putting cold instruments to his chest and on his arm. Robinton would have liked to protest.

  «Yes, I know they're cold, my dear Harper, but necessary. Now listen to me, your heart has been overstrained. That was the pain in your chest. Lessa gave you a pill which has relieved that pain for the moment. But the immediate danger is past. I want you to try to sleep. You are going to need a lot of rest, my good friend. A lot of rest.»

  «Then tell them to be quiet and let me sleep.»

  «Who's to be quiet?» Oldive's voice was soothing, and Robinton was vaguely annoyed because he suspected Oldive didn't believe he'd heard them keeping him awake. «Here, take this pill and a sip of wine. I know you've never refused wine.»

  Robinton smiled weakly. How well they knew him, Oldive and Lessa.

  «It's Ramoth and Mnementh talking to him, Oldive. They said he had nearly gone…» Lessa's voice broke on the last note.

  Nearly gone, was I? Is that what it feels like to be so close to death? Like being very tired?

  You will stay now. Harper. We can let you sleep. But we will be with you. We love you.

  Dragons talking to me? Dragons keeping me from death? How kind they are for I did not want to die yet. There is so much to be done. Problems to be solved. There'd been a problem on my mind.. about dragons, too…

  «Who flew Caylith?»

  Did he manage to say that out loud? He didn't even hear his own voice in his ears.

  «Did you hear what he said, Oldive?»

  «Something about Caylith.»

  «Wouldn't you know he'd worry about that at a time like this?» Lessa sounded more like herself, acerbic. «Barnath flew Caylith, Robinton. Now, will you sleep?»

  Sleep, Master. We will listen.

  The Harper drew a deep breath into his lungs and relaxed gratefully into sleep.

  CHAPTER XV

  Evening at Jaxom's Cove and Late Evening at Ista Weyr, 15.8.28

  SHARRA WAS SHOWING Brekke and Jaxom how to play a children's game in the sand with pebbles and sticks when Ruth, sleeping just beyond them with the fire lizards, woke up. He reared to a sitting position, stretching his neck and keening the long piercing note that marked a dragon's passing.

  «Oh no!» Brekke reacted just a shade faster than Jaxom. «Salth is gone!»

  «Salth?» Jaxom wondered who that was.

  «Salth!» Sharra's face drained of color. «Ask Ruth where!»

  «Canth says he was trying to fly Caylith and burst his heart!» Brekke answered the question, her shoulders sagging in new grief and a poignantly remembered tragedy. «The fool! He must have known that the younger dragons would be faster, stronger than poor old Salth!»

  «Serves T'kul right! And don't soar over me, Brekke.» Sharra's eyes flashed as Brekke turned to reprimand her. «Remember, I've had to deal with T'kul and the rest of those Oldtimers. They are not like your Northern dragonfolk at all. They're… they're impossible! I could bum your ears with tales! If T'kul was fool enough to set his bronze to fly a young queen, with the competition there'd be for the Istan Weyrleadership, then he deserves to lose his beast! I'm sorry. Harsh words for you, Brekke, and Jaxom, but I know what those Southerners are like. You don't!»

  «I knew there'd be real trouble sometime, exiling them like that,» Brekke said slowly, «but…»

  «From what I've heard, Brekke,» Jaxom said from a compulsion to erase the desolate look from her face, «that was the only way to handle them. They weren't honoring their responsibilities to the people beholden to them. They were greedy, over and above proper timing. Further,» and he brought out his strongest point, «I heard Lytol criticizing those dragonriders!»

  «I know, Jaxom. I know all that but they did come forward from their own time to save Pern…» Jaxom wondered if she realized she was wringing her hands till the knuckles showed white.

  «To save Pern, yes, and then they demanded that we remember that every time we drew breath in their presence,» Jaxom went on, recalling all too clearly the arrogant and contemptuous manner with which T'ron had treated Lytol.

  «We ignore the Oldtimers,» Sharra said, with a shrug. «We go about our business, keep our Hold green clear, pen up our animals during Fall. We just run a quick search with the flamethrowers to be sure the grubs have done their work.»

  «Don't they ride a Fal
l?» Brekke asked in surprise.

  «Oh, now and again. If they feel like it, or if their dragons get too upset…» Sharra's contempt was trenchant. Then she noticed the dismay on the other two faces and added, «Oh, what's happened is not the dragons' fault, mind you. And I don't suppose that it's really the riders' either. I do think they should at least try to act what they are. To be sure, most of the Oldtimers stayed north. So just a few are giving dragonmen a poor reputation in Southern. Still… if they'd met us halfway… we would have helped.»

  «I should go, I think,» Brekke said, rising and facing west. «T'kul is half a man now. I know how that feels…» Her voice petered out and her face drained of all color as she stared to the west, her eyes getting larger until a cry of horror burst from her Ups. «Oh no!» Her hand went to her throat and she turned it palm outward as if warding off an attack.

  «Brekke, what is it?» Sharra leaped to her feet, her arms about the woman.

  Ruth whimpered and nudged against Jaxom for reassurance.

  She is very afraid. She is speaking to Canth. He is unhappy. It is terrible. Another dragon is very weak. Canth is with him. It is Mnementh who talks now. T'kul fights F'lar!

  «T'kul fights F'lar?» Jaxom reached out to Ruth's shoulder for balance.

  The fire lizards picked up the agitation, dipping and swooping, cluttering in harsh cacophony that made Jaxom wave his arms at them to be silent.

  «This is ghastly, Jaxom,» Brekke cried. «I must go. They must see that T'kul is not responsible for what he's doing. Why don't they just overpower him? There must be someone with wits at Ista! What is D'ram doing? I'll get my flying things.» She ran back to the shelter.

  «Jaxom.» Sharra turned to him, one hand raised, appealing for his reassurance. «T'kul hates F'lar. I've heard him blame F'lar for everything that happens in Southern. If T'kul's dragonless, he'd be insane. He'd kill F'lar!»

  Jaxom drew the girl close to him, wondering which of them needed comfort more. T'kul trying to kill F'lar? He asked Ruth to listen hard.

  I hear nothing. Canth is between. I only hear trouble. Ramoth is coming…

  «Here?»

  No, where they are! Ruth's eyes deepened to the dark purple of worry. I do not like this.

  «What, Ruth?»

  «Oh, please Jaxom, what's he saying? I'm scared.»

  «He is, too. And so am I.»

  Brekke came back through the woods, her flying gear in one hand, in the other her small pack of medicines, half closed, and in danger of spilling its contents. She halted just before stepping onto the sands, blinked, frowning with impatience and dismay.

  «I can't get there! Canth must stay with B'zon's Ranilth. We can't lose two bronzes today!» She looked this way and that as if the beach could sprout an answer to her dilemma. She bit her underlip and then exclaimed in frustration. «I've got to go!»

  The second shock struck both Brekke and Jaxom at the same time as Ruth bugled in fear.

  «Robinton!» Brekke reeled and would have fallen if Sharra and Jaxom had not jumped to her support. «Oh, no, not Robinton? How?»

  The Master Harper.

  «Not dead?» Sharra cried.

  The Master Harper is very ill. They will not let him go. He will have to stay. As you did.

  «I'll take you, Brekke. On Ruth. Just let me get my flying gear.»

  Both women reached out to restrain him.

  «You can't fly yet, Jaxom. You can't go between!» The fear in Brekke's eyes was for him now.

  «You really can't, Jaxom,» Sharra said, shaking her head and pleading with her eyes. «The cold of between… you're just not well enough yet. Please!»

  They are afraid for you now, Ruth said, sounding confused. Very afraid. I do not know why it is wrong for you to ride me but it is!

  «He's right, Jaxom, it would be disastrous,» Brekke said, her body slumping with defeat. Wearily she raised her hand to her head, and pulled off the now unnecessary helmet. «You mustn't attempt going between for at least another month or six sevendays. If you did, you'd risk headaches for the rest of your life and the possibility of blindness….»

  «How do you know that?» Jaxom demanded, struggling with fury at having been kept ignorant of such a restriction, with frustration at not being able to help either Brekke or the Harper.

  «I know that,» Sharra said, turning Jaxom to face her. «One of the dragonriders at Southern took fire head. We didn't know the dangers of going between. He went blind first. Then mad with the pain in his head and… died. So did his dragon.» Her voice caught, remembering that tragedy, and her eyes were misted with tears.

  Jaxom could only stare at her, stunned.

  «Why wasn't I told that before?»

  «No reason to,» Sharra said, her eyes never leaving his, pleading with him for understanding. «You're getting stronger daily. By the time you realized the restriction existed, it might not have been necessary to warn you anymore.»

  «Another four or six sevendays?» He ground the words out, conscious that he was working his fists and that his jaw muscles ached with the effort to control his temper.

  Sharra nodded slowly, her face expressionless.

  Jaxom took a deep breath, forcing emotion down. «That does make it awkward, doesn't it, because right now we need a dragonrider.» He looked toward Brekke. Her head was turned slightly to the west. Jaxom could sense her longing to be where she was urgently needed, the restraint, that kept her from claiming Canth's help when he was needed elsewhere. «We have a dragonrider!» he exclaimed, whooping. «Ruth, would you take Brekke to Ista without me?»

  I would take Brekke anywhere. The little white dragon raised his head, his eyes wheeling quickly as he stepped forward, toward Brekke.

  Brekke's face cleared miraculously of sorrow and helplessness. «Oh, Jaxom, would you really let me?»

  He was well repaid by the overwhelming gratitude in that breathless question.

  He took her arm, hurrying her to Ruth's side. «You must go. If Master Robinton…» Jaxom choked on the rest of that sentence, panic at the thought closing his throat.

  «Oh, thank you, Jaxom, Thank you, Ruth.» Brekke rumbled with the strap of her helmet. She struggled with her jacket before she could get her arm into the sleeve, and buckled the riding belt in place. When she was ready Ruth dipped his shoulder for Brekke to mount, then turned his head to be sure she was safely seated.

  «I'll send Ruth directly back, Jaxom. Oh, no, don't let him go! Don't let him sleep!» The last two sentences were directed to distant minds.

  We will not let him go, Ruth said. He briefly nosed Jaxom on the shoulder and then sprang up, showering his friend and Sharra with dry sand. He was barely wing height above the waves before he winked out.

  «Jaxom?» Sharra's voice was so unsteady that he tamed to her in concern. «What can have happened? T'kul couldn't have been mad enough to attack the Harper, too?»

  «The Harper may have tried to stop the fight, if I know him. Do you know Master Robinton?»

  «I know more of him,» she said, biting her underlip. She expelled her breath in a deep shudder, struggling to control her fears. «Through Piemur, and Menolly. I've seen him, of course, in our Hold and heard him sing. He's such a wonderful man. Oh, Jaxom! All those Southerners have run mad. Mad! They're sick, confused, lost!» She dropped her head against his shoulder, surrendering to her anxieties. Tenderly, he drew her against him.

  He lives! Ruth's reassurance rang faint but true in his head.

  «Ruth says he lives, Sharra.»

  «He must continue to live, Jaxom. He must! He must!» Her fists beat on his chest to emphasize her determination.

  Jaxom caught her hands, holding them flat, and smiled into her wide, flashing eyes.

  «He will. I'm sure he will, if it's in our power to think him so.»

  Jaxom was intensely aware, at this highly inappropriate moment, of Sharra's vibrant body pressing against his. He could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt, the long line of her thighs against
his, the fragrance of her hair, scented with sun and a blossom she had tucked behind her ear. The startled look that crossed her face told him that she, too, was aware of the intimacy of their positions aware and, for the first time since he had known her, confused.

  He eased his grip on her hands, ready to release her completely if necessary. Sharra was not Corana, not a simple hold girl obedient to the Lord of her Hold. Sharra was not a bed partner for a passing indulgence of desire. Sharra was too important to him to risk destroying their relationship with an ill timed demonstration. He was also aware that Sharra thought that his feelings for her stemmed from a natural gratitude for her nursing. He'd thought of that possibility in himself and decided that she was wrong. He liked too many things about her, from the sound of her beautiful voice, to the sure touch of her hands: hands he was aching to have caress him. He'd learned a good deal about her in the past few days, but he was aware of a hungry curiosity in himself to know much, much more. Her reaction to the Southerners had surprised him; she often surprised him. Part of her attraction, he supposed, was that he never knew what she'd say or how she'd say it.

  Suddenly he broke their partial embrace and, circling her shoulders lightly with his arm, guided her to the mats where they'd been so blithely playing a child's game. He put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle downward push.

  «We may have a long wait, Sharra, before we know for certain the Harper's all right.»

  «I wish I knew what was wrong! If that T'kul has harmed our Harper…»

  «What about his harming F'lar?»

  «I don't know F'lar, although I'd naturally be very sorry if he were hurt by T'kul.» She absently folded her legs as he sat down beside her, just close enough so that their shoulders nearly touched. «And, in a sense, F'lar ought to fight T'kul. After all, he sent the Oldtimers into exile so he ought to finish it.»

  «And he'll finish it by killing T'kul?»

  «Or being killed by him!»

  «We'd be in a far worse state,» Jaxom replied with more heat than he intended at her callous dismissal of F'lar's fate, «if the Benden Weyrleader gets killed! He is Pern!»

  «Really?» Sharra was willing to be converted. «I've never seen him…»