The Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Do we actually know there are fire-lizards in this part of the South?”

  “Oh, yes, didn’t I mention?” Menolly pretended to be contrite. “We saw a queen mating, and I nearly lost Rocky and Diver to her. Beauty was furious.”

  “Anything else that hasn’t been mentioned that I should know?”

  Menolly grinned at him. “I need to have the old memory jogged by association. You’ll know what is needed when the time comes.”

  Jaxom decided that two could play that word game and grinned back at her, before choosing a redfruit to eat. It was so warm that he set aside his riding jacket and helmet. Ruth continued to enjoy a leisurely and lengthy bath as Menolly’s fire-lizards performed alongside him, their combined show affording their indulgent audience considerable amusement.

  It got hotter, the white sands reflecting the sun’s rays and baking the cove even where they were in shade. The clear water and the fun the beasts were having was too much for Jaxom to watch any longer. He unlaced his boots, wriggled out of his trousers, whipped off his shirt and raced for the water. Menolly was soon splashing beside him before he was a dragonlength from the shore.

  “We’d better not take too much sun,” she told him. “I got a colossal burning the last time.” She grimaced in recollection. “Peeled like a tunnel snake.”

  Ruth erupted beside them, blowing out water, all but swamping them with strokes from his wings, and then, solicitously extending a helping tail as the two choked and spluttered from the water they’d swallowed.

  Menolly’s body was trimmer than Corana’s, Jaxom noticed as they waded out, happily exhausted by their swim with Ruth. She was longer in the leg and not nearly as rounded in the hip. A bit too flat in the breast, but she moved with a grace that fascinated Jaxom more than courtesy allowed. When he looked back, she had put on pants and overtunic, so that her slim bare arms were exposed to the sun as she dried her hair. He preferred long hair in a girl, though with all the dragonriding Menolly did, he could see why she’d keep it short enough to wear under a helmet.

  They shared a yellow fruit which Jaxom had never eaten before. Its mild taste was well seasoned by the salt in his mouth.

  Ruth emerged from the water, shaking water all over Jaxom and Menolly.

  The sun is warm, he said when they complained of the shower. Your clothes will dry quickly. They always do at Keroon.

  Jaxom shot a glance at Menolly but she evidently hadn’t caught the significance of the remark. She was resettling herself, disgusted by the wet sand that now speckled her clothes and bare arms.

  “It’s not the wet that bothers,” Jaxom told Ruth, as he brushed his face before lying down again, “it’s the gritty sand.”

  Ruth worked himself into a good wallow of dry sand and the fire-lizards, giving little tired cheeps, nestled down against him.

  Jaxom thought that one of them should stay awake to see if local fire-lizards responded to the lure of the white dragon, but the combination of exercise, food, sun and the limpid air of the cove were too much.

  Ruth’s soft call woke him. Do not move. We have visitors.

  Jaxom was on his side, his head pillowed on his left hand. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked directly at Ruth’s shade-dappled body. He counted three bronze fire-lizards, four greens, two golds and a blue. None of them wore neck paint or bands. As he watched, a brown came gliding in to land by one of the golds. The two exchanged nose touches and then cocked their heads at Ruth’s head which was on the sand at their level. Ruth had the lids of one eye half-opened.

  Beauty, who had been asleep on the other side of Ruth, minced carefully across the white dragon’s shoulders and returned the courtesies of the strangers.

  “Ask them if they remember seeing a bronze dragon?” Jaxom thought to Ruth.

  I have. They’re thinking about it. They like me. They’ve never seen anything like me before.

  “Nor will again.” But Jaxom was amused at the delight in his dragon’s tone. Ruth did so like to be liked.

  A long time ago there was a dragon, a bronze one, and a man who walked up and down the beach. They did not bother him. He didn’t stay long, Ruth added, almost as an afterthought.

  Now what did that mean? Jaxom wondered, apprehensive. Either we came and got him. Or he and Tiroth suicided.

  “Ask them what else they remember about men,” Jaxom said to Ruth. Maybe they saw F’lar with D’ram.

  The new fire-lizards became so excited that Ruth’s head came up out of the sand and his eyes flashed open and began to whirl with alarm. At his movement, Beauty lost her grip on his ridge and slid out of sight, reappearing with wings working furiously as she repositioned herself, squawking over her disarrangement.

  They remember men. Why don’t I remember such things?

  “And dragons?” Jaxom suppressed a spurt of alarm, wondering how on earth the Oldtimers could know he and Menolly were here. Then his common sense asserted itself. They couldn’t know.

  He nearly jumped to his feet at the touch on his arm.

  “Find out when, Jaxom,” Menolly said in a soft whisper, “when was D’ram here?”

  No dragons. But many many men, Ruth was saying and added that the fire-lizards were too excited now to remember anything about one man and a dragon. He didn’t understand what they were remembering; each one seemed to have different memories. He was confused.

  “Do they know we’re here?”

  They haven’t seen you. They’ve only looked at me. But you aren’t their men. Ruth’s tone indicated he was as perplexed by this message as Jaxom.

  “Can’t you get them back to the subject of D’ram?”

  No, Ruth said sadly and with some disappointment. All they want to remember is men. Not my men, but their men.

  “Maybe if I stand up they will recognize me as a man.” Slowly Jaxom got to his feet, gesturing cautiously to Menolly to rise as well. What the fire-lizards needed was the proper perspective.

  You aren’t the men they remember, Ruth said as the fire-lizards, startled by the two figures rising from the sands, took wing. They circled once, at a safe distance, and then disappeared.

  “Call them back, Ruth. We’ve got to find out when D’ram is.”

  Ruth was silent for a moment, his eyes decreasing the speed of their whirl. Then he shook his head as he told his rider that they had gone away to remember their men.

  “They couldn’t mean Southerners,” Menolly said, having received some images from her friends. “That mountain is in the background of their images.” And she turned in that direction though she couldn’t see the mountain for the trees. “And they wouldn’t have meant Robinton and myself when we got storm-tossed here. Did they remember a boat, Ruth?” Menolly asked the white dragon, then looked at Jaxom for the answer.

  No one told me to ask about a boat, Ruth said plaintively. But they did say they saw a man and a dragon.

  “Would they react if . . . if Tiroth had gone between, Ruth?”

  By himself? To the end? Yes, they didn’t remember sadness. I remember sadness. I remember Mirath’s going very well. The white dragon’s tone was sad.

  Jaxom hurried to comfort him.

  “Did he?” Menolly asked anxiously, not hearing Ruth.

  “Ruth doesn’t think so. And besides, a dragon wouldn’t let his rider harm himself. D’ram can’t suicide with Tiroth alive. And Tiroth won’t if D’ram is still alive.”

  “When?” Menolly sounded upset. “We still don’t know when.”

  “No, we don’t. But if D’ram was here, long enough for the fire-lizards to remember him, if he planned to stay here as he must have, he would have had to build some sort of shelter for himself. There are rains in this part of the world. And Thread . . .” Jaxom had started toward the verge of the forest to test his theory. He called, “Hey, Menolly, Thread’s only been falling for the past fifteen Turns. That wouldn’t be too long a jump for Tiroth. They came forward in time at twenty-five Turn intervals. I’ll bet anything that’s his when, befo
re Thread. D’ram’s had enough of Thread for several lifetimes.” Jaxom scrambled across the sand back to his clothes and continued talking as he got dressed. That sense of rightness colored his speculation. “I’d say Dram’s gone back about twenty or twenty-five Turns. I’ll try then first. If we see any sign of D’ram or Tiroth, we’ll come right back, I promise.” He vaulted to Ruth’s back, fastening his helmet as he urged the white dragon to wing.

  “Jaxom, wait! Don’t be so quick . . .”

  Menolly’s words were lost in the noise of Ruth’s wings. Jaxom grinned to himself as he saw her jumping up and down in the sands in her frustration. He concentrated on the moment in time to when he wished to jump: predawn, with the Red Star far east, a pale, malevolent pink, not yet ready to swoop down on an unsuspecting Pern. But Menolly had a final say. He felt a tail wrapping about his neck just as he told Ruth to transfer between time.

  It seemed a long moment, suspended in that cold nothingness that was between. He could feel that chill inching its way through skin and bones warmed by a kind sun. He steeled himself for the ordeal. Then they were out in the cool dawn, the pink gleam of the Red Star low on the horizon.

  “Can you sense Tiroth, Ruth?” Jaxom could see nothing in the crepuscular light of this new day so many Turns before his birth.

  He sleeps, so does the man. They are here.

  Elation brimming inside him, Jaxom told Ruth to get back to Menolly but not too soon. Jaxom pictured the sun well over the forests and that was what he saw as Ruth burst back into now over the cove.

  For a moment he couldn’t see Menolly on the beach. Then Beauty and the other two bronzes—it was Rocky who had accompanied him—exploded beside them, Beauty blistering the air with her angry comments, while Diver and Poll chittered anxiously. Then Menolly appeared from the forest, planted both hands on her hip bones and just watched. He didn’t need to see her face to know she was furious. She continued to glare balefully at him while Ruth settled to the sand, careful not to flick it over the girl.

  “Well?”

  Menolly was very pretty, Jaxom thought, with her eyes flashing like that, but she was daunting, too.

  “D’ram was then. Twenty-five Turns back. I used the Red Star as a guide.”

  “I’m glad you used something constant. Do you realize that you’ve been gone from this time for hours?”

  “You knew I was all right. You sent Rocky with me.”

  “That didn’t help! You went so far Beauty couldn’t touch him. We had no idea where you were!” She flung her arms wide with her exasperation. “You could’ve met up with those men the other fire-lizards saw. You could’ve miscalculated and never come back!”

  “I’m sorry, Menolly, really I am.” Jaxom was genuinely contrite, if only to spare himself the sharp edge of her tongue. “But I couldn’t remember what time it was when we left, so I made sure we didn’t double up on ourselves coming back.”

  She calmed down a trifle. “You didn’t need to be that cautious. I was about to send Beauty for F’lar.”

  “You were worried!”

  “Bloody right.” She swooped and gathered up the pack, shrugging into her jacket and slapping her helmet on. “Incidentally I found the remains of a lean-to, near a stream back there,” she said as she slung him the pack. Vaulting neatly to Ruth’s back, she looked around for her fire-lizards that had disappeared. “Off again.” She gave a call, and Jaxom instinctively ducked from the rush of wings about his head.

  Menolly settled them down, Beauty and Poll on her shoulders, Rocky and Diver on Jaxom’s, and they were ready.

  When they emerged above Benden Weyr, Ruth caroled his name. Menolly’s fire-lizards cheeped uncertainly.

  “I wish I dared take you into the queen’s weyr, but that wouldn’t be smart. Off you go to Brekke!”

  As they disappeared, the watchdragon let out an outraged roar, wings extended, neck arching, eyes flashing with angry red. Startled, Menolly and Jaxom turned to see a fair of fire-lizards arrowing toward them.

  “They followed us from the South, Jaxom. Oh, tell them to go back!”

  The fair winked out abruptly.

  They only wanted to see where we came from, Ruth said to Jaxom in an aggrieved tone.

  “At Ruatha Hold, yes. Here, no!”

  They won’t come again, Ruth said sadly. They got frightened.

  By that time the watchdragon’s alarm had stirred up the Weyr. With sinking spirits, Jaxom and Menolly saw Mnementh raise himself on his ledge. They could hear Ramoth’s bellow and before they had landed in the Bowl, half the dragons were bellowing, too. The unmistakable figures of Lessa and F’lar appeared on the ledge by Mnementh.

  “We’re in for it now,” Jaxom said.

  “Not as bearers of good tidings, we’re not. Concentrate on that.”

  “I’m too bloody tired to concentrate on anything,” Jaxom replied with more feeling than he’d intended. His skin itched, probably the sand. Or too much sun, but he was uncomfortable.

  I am very hungry, Ruth said, looking wistfully toward the fenced killing ground of the Weyr.

  Jaxom groaned. “I can’t let you hunt here, Ruth.” He gave his friend an encouraging pat and, noticing F’lar and Lessa waiting for them, he hitched up his trousers, settled his tunic and gestured to Menolly that they’d better go.

  They’d taken no more than three steps, during which time Mnementh had turned his wedge-shaped head to F’lar, when the Weyrleader had spoken to Lessa and the two Benden leaders started down the steps, F’lar gesturing to Jaxom to move Ruth on to the killing ground.

  Mnementh is a kind friend, Ruth said. I may eat here. I am very very hungry.

  “Let Ruth go, Jaxom,” F’lar was calling across the intervening distance. “He’s gray!”

  Ruth did indeed look gray, Jaxom realized, which was the shade he himself felt, now that the exhilaration of their quest was ebbing. Relieved, he signaled the white dragon to proceed to the ground.

  As he and Menolly walked toward the Weyrleaders, he felt his knees weaken unaccountably and he lurched against Menolly. She had her hand under his arm instantly.

  “What’s the matter with him, Menolly? Is he ill?” F’lar strode to her assistance.

  “He jumped back twenty-five Turns to find D’ram. He’s exhausted!”

  The next few moments were a blank to Jaxom. He reestablished contact with the here and now when someone held a rank-smelling vial under his nose, the fumes of which cleared his head and made him back away from the stink. He realized that he was sitting on the steps to the queen’s weyr, his body braced between F’lar and Menolly, with Manora and Lessa in front of him, everyone looking extremely anxious.

  A high-pitched squeal told him that Ruth had killed and, curiously, he felt better immediately.

  “Drink this slowly,” Lessa ordered, curling his fingers about a warm cup. The soup was rich with meat juice, savory with herbs and just the right temperature for drinking. He took two long gulps and opened his mouth to speak when Lessa gestured him imperiously to keep drinking.

  “Menolly’s given us the salient points,” the Weyrwoman said, pulling a disapproving grimace. “But you disappeared long enough to scare Menolly out of her harpered wits. How under the sun did you conclude he’d gone twenty-five Turns back? Don’t answer that yet. Drink. You’re transparent and I’d never hear the last of it from Lytol if you came to any harm over this numbwitted escapade.” She glared at her weyrmate. “Yes, I’ve been worried over D’ram but not to the point where I would risk a fingertip of Ruth’s hide to find him if he’s trying that hard to be lost. Nor am I very pleased to find fire-lizards involved.” She was tapping one foot now and her glare was divided equally between Menolly and Jaxom. “I still think they’re pests. Barging in where they’re not wanted. I suppose that unmarked fair that popped in followed you up from the South? I won’t sanction that.”

  “Well, I can’t keep them from following Ruth,” Jaxom said, too weary to be prudent. “Don’t think I haven’t t
ried!”

  “I’m sure you have, Jaxom,” Lessa said in a milder tone.

  A series of frightened wherry whistles was plainly heard from the killing ground. They saw Ruth swoop to dispatch a second fowl.

  “He certainly is neat,” Lessa remarked approvingly. “Doesn’t run a flock to bone making a choice. Can you stand, Jaxom? I think you’d best plan on spending the night here. Send one of those dratted fire-lizards of yours to Ruatha Hold, Menolly, and tell Lytol. It’ll take Ruth time to digest anyhow and I won’t permit this lad to risk between tired out of his mind and on a tired and sated dragon.”

  Jaxom got to his feet.

  “I’m all right now, thank you.”

  “Not when you’re leaning at that angle,” F’lar said with a snort as he slipped one arm around Jaxom. “Up to the weyr.”

  “I’ll bring a proper meal,” Manora promised and turned to go. “You can help me, Menolly. And send your message.”

  Menolly hesitated, obviously wanting to stay with Jaxom.

  “I don’t intend to eat him, girl,” Lessa said, shooing Menolly off. “Much less scold him when he’s reeling. I’ll save that for later. Come up to the weyr when you’ve sent word to Ruatha.”

  Jaxom felt obliged to protest their assistance, but they were convinced he needed it and by the time they’d reached the top of the weyrsteps, he ruefully sagged against their support. Mnementh regarded him kindly as Lessa and F’lar guided him into the weyr.

  This was not the first time Jaxom had been there, and, as they led him to the living corner, he wondered if he was always going to enter Ramoth’s weyr consumed with guilt. Could Ramoth perceive his thoughts? Her jeweled eyes turned idly without a trace of agitation as he was solicitously settled in a chair, and a foot rest positioned. When Lessa was spreading a fur over him, muttering about watching for chills after exertion, she paused, staring at him. She put her hand under his chin and turned his head slightly, then traced the line of Threadscore with a light finger.

  “Where did you acquire that, young Lord Jaxom?” she asked harshly, her eyes forcing him to look at her.

  F’lar, alerted by the tone in her voice, returned to the table with the wine and cups he’d taken from the wall chest.