The White Dragon

AFTERWORD

SPRING HAD COME again to Northern Pern and Ruatha Hold. Once the winter's damages had been repaired and the first crops set, there had been great business on the Hold itself, all aimed to have the old place look its best on the one spring morning when Wansor's equations said no Thread would fall anywhere but harmlessly far to the west at sea.

Ruatha's walls were scrubbed, its paving brightly sealed, and this day banners hung from every un shuttered window while flowers decked every corner of the courts and the Hall. Southern vines had been flown in the night before to garland the fire heights. The broad meadows below the Hold proper were covered with tents and divided into fields for the runner beasts of the guests. Dragons began to arrive, greeted by the old brown watchdragon, Wilth, who would surely be hoarse from bugling welcome before the ceremonies began.

Fire lizards were everywhere and had to be constantly called to order by dragon and friend. But the atmosphere was so relaxed, so jubilant, that pranks and antics, human or creature, were amicably tolerated.

To cater to so many guests, half Pern north and south it seemed. Fort Hold and Weyr, as well as Benden, had joined kitchen staffs with Ruatha. Toric had obligingly sent from Southern meadows dragonloads of fresh fruit, fish, wild bucks and wherries whose flesh was prized for its tender gamey taste, so distinct from Northern meats. Great roasting, baking and steaming pits had been in operation since the previous evening, the aromas commingling to set mouths watering.

There had been festivities the night before, dancing and singing until early morning, for traders had arrived well in advance, no one minding the multiple uses of this occasion. Now more people poured up the roads, flew down from the skies as the momentous hour for the ceremonious confirmation of the young Lord of Ruatha Hold drew close.

The Harper comes, Ruth told Jaxom and Sharra as the white dragon pushed open the doors of his weyr and stepped into his courtyard.

Jaxom and Sharra, in the main room of their ground level apartment, heard his joyous bugle of welcome, just as if he hadn't said goodnight to the Harper in the early hours of that morning.

Lioth says for you to wait here. Harper and N'ton want to speak to you without other ears.

Jaxom turned to Sharra in surprise.

«Oh, it can't be anything untoward, Jaxom,» she said, smiling. «Master Robinton would have told us last night. I still think that tunic is too tight across your chest.»

«All the spring digging at Ship Meadow, my love,» Jaxom said, inhaling so that the fabric of his brown tunic strained at the seams.

«If you split this new material, you'll have to wear it mended!» She smiled as she spoke her scold then kissed him.

Sharra's kisses were to be enjoyed whenever possible, so he held her tightly.

«Jaxom! I will not go mussed to your Confirmation.»

Ramoth and Mnementh are here! Ruth rose on his haunches to bugle a sufficiently honorable greeting.

«You'd think he was the one being Confirmed as Lord Holder,» Sharra said, her rich voice filled with laughter.

«It's been a joint effort,» Jaxom said, grinning broadly. He hugged her swiftly just once more, relieved that the winter's uncertainty had given way to spring.

He'd never been busier: managing the Hold and delving into the ancient mysteries of the Plateau and the Ship Meadow whenever he could spare a few hours. Lytol, as Jaxom had hoped, had found himself tremendously involved in the excavations, spending more and more time with the Harper at Cove Hold. With his Confirmation now a certainty, Jaxom had been admitted to the inner councils of the Lord Holders, as much because of his association with Toric as his own rank. Jaxom doubted that Toric would tolerate much more of the conservatism that dominated the Lord Holders' attitudes to anything. Larad of Telgar Hold, Asgenar of Lemos, Begamon and Sigomel seemed more of Toric's mind, and Jaxom found himself willing to be ranked with them rather than side with Groghe, Sangel and some of the older men. Some of the old Lord Holders simply didn't understand the needs of today nor the call of the vast Southern lands with their infinite variety and challenge.

Today's formalities were token and excuse for a gathering of Weyr, Craft and Hold, a festival of the end of the cold months of the Turn, a happy day when no Thread fell on any part of Pern.

Lioth landed in the small kitchen courtyard, Ruth backing into his quarters to give the great bronze dragon sufficient space. The Harper slid from his shoulder, waving a thick roll, and N'ton's crack faced grin indicated they had news of great import.

«Lessa and F'lar must hear our news, too,» N'ton said, as he and the Harper joined the young Holders. «They're just coming now.» He signaled Lioth to the fire heights.

The two men removed their flying jackets, Robinton never relinquishing hold on the roll as he did so. They watched with growing impatience as first golden Ramoth and then bronze Mnementh discharged their passengers and ascended to the fire heights to join Lioth.

«Well, Harper, Mnementh says you're bursting with news,» F'lar said, handing Jaxom his flying gear as Sharra assisted Lessa.

«Indeed I am, Benden,» and the Harper exaggerated each syllable, brandishing his roll in emphasis.

«So, what have you here?» Lessa asked.

«Nothing but the key to that colored map in the ship!» the Harper said, grinning at their response. «Piemur figured it out, working with Nicat, because we had the feeling it had something to do with the lay of the land. It does! The rock underneath the land, to be precise.» He was unrolling the map with Lessa and F'lar holding comers. «These dark brown patches indicate very old rock, in places that have never known earthquake or volcanic action. Never changed from this map to our present ones. The Plateau, shaded here as yellow, obviously had to be abandoned because of the eruption. See, here and here on the south and in Tillek, we have the same coloration. My dear friends, the ancients came to the North, to Fort, Ruatha, Benden, Telgar, because that land was safer from natural disasters!»

«Thread being an unnatural disaster?» Lessa asked in a droll voice.

«I prefer to cope with my disasters one at a time,» F'lar said. «Being attacked from the ground and the air would be a bit much!»

«Then Nicat and Piemur have also deduced where the ancients discovered metals, black water and black stone. The deposits are clearly marked both North and South! We've already worked many of the Northern mines.»

«More in the South?» F'lar asked, deeply interested. «Show me!»

Robinton pointed to half a dozen small markings. «How rich the deposits are is not yet known but I'm sure Nicat will tell us soon enough. He and Piemur make a potent team.»

«How many mines are in Toric's Hold?» F'lar asked.

N'ton chuckled. «No more than he's already discovered and produced. There're far more to be worked in dragonrider country,» he said, tapping the southeast. «When this Pass is over, I think I'll turn miner!»

«When this Pass is over…» F'lar echoed the words, his eyes catching the Harper's, suddenly aware that neither of them were likely to see that moment.

«When this Pass is over,» Jaxom said eagerly, his eyes scanning the map, «people can begin to concentrate on what we've found at the Plateau, too, and in those ships. We can rediscover the South! Maybe even solve the mystery of the ships and how we can get dragons to cross that airless void to the Dawn Sisters…» Jaxom's gaze went to the southeast, to beacons now hidden from his sight.

«And how to wipe out forever the threat of Thread from the Red Star itself,» Sharra said in a whisper.

F'lar gave a rueful laugh, brushing from his forehead the lock of hair, now gray streaked, that fell across his eyes. «I once thought to reach the Red Star. Maybe you young people won't find it so daunting a task once we've caught up on what men used to know.»

«Don't belittle your accomplishments, F'lar,» Robinton said sternly. «You've kept Pern Threadfree and united… in spite of itself!»

«Why, if it hadn't been for you,» Lessa said, looking about her, eyes flashing angrily for F'lar's self denigration, «none of this would have happened!» Her gesture meant Ruatha bannered for a happy day and secure in the knowledge that no Thread would mar the occasion anywhere.

«LORD JAXOM!» Lytol's bellow rang clearly from an upper window of Ruatha Hold.

«Sir?»

«Benden? Fort? The other Weyrleaders and all the Lord Holders of Pern, North and South, have gathered!»

Jaxom waved his hand in acknowledgment of the summons. F'lar rolled up the map and handed it back to Robinton with a bow.

«I'll examine it more closely later, Robinton.» Jaxom offered his arm to his Lady Sharra and would have gestured for the Master Harper and the dragonriders to precede them.

«By no means, it's your day. Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold,» the Harper said, and he bowed low, his arm coming up with a flourish to indicate the honor of precedence.

Laughing, Jaxom and Sharra strode out into the court, N'ton and Robinton behind them. F'lar presented his arm to Lessa but she had turned her eyes about the small kitchen courtyard and it wasn't hard for the bronze rider to sense her thoughts.

«It's your day, too, Lessa,» he said, taking her hand to his lips. «A day your determination and spirit made possible!» He turned her into his arms and made her look up at him. «Ruathan Blood Holds Ruatha lands today!»

«Which proves,» she said, pretending to be haughty though her body was pliant against his, «that if you try hard enough, and work long enough, you can achieve anything you desire!»

«I hope you're right,» F'lar said, unerringly turning his gaze toward the Red Star. «One day dragonriders will conquer that Star!»

«BENDEN!» The Harper's roar startled their private moment of triumph.

Grinning like errant children, Lessa and F'lar crossed the kitchen courtyard and raced up the steps to the Great Hall. The dragons on the fire heights rose to their haunches, bugling their jubilation on this happy day while fire lizards executed dizzy patterns in the Thread free sky!