The White Dragon

CHAPTER III

WITH A FORCE that set all the cups and plates bouncing, Jaxom brought down both fists on the heavy wooden table.

«That is enough,» he said into the stunned silence. He was on his feet, jerking his broad, bony shoulders back because his arms had been jarred by the blows. «That is quite enough!»

He didn't shout, he was oddly pleased to recall later, but his voice was deepened by this explosion of long suppressed anger and carried clearly to the edge of the Hall. The drudge who was bringing in another pitcher of hot klah paused in confusion.

«I am the Lord of this Hold,» Jaxom went on, staring first at Dorse, his milk brother. «I am Ruth's rider. He is unmistakably a dragon.» Jaxom now bent his gaze on Brand, the head steward whose jaw had dropped in surprise. «He is, as usual,» and Jaxom's glance flickered across Lytol's blankly puzzled face, «in the very good health he has enjoyed since his Hatching.» Jaxom passed over the four fosterlings who were all too new at Ruatha Hold to have started jibing at him. «And yes,» he said directly to Deelan, his milk mother whose lower lip was quivering at her nursling's startling behavior, «this is the day when I go to the Smithcrafthall where, as you all well know, I shall be served with the food and courtesy adequate to my needs and station. Therefore,» and his glance swept the faces around the table, «the subjects of this morning's conversation do not need to be aired again in my presence. Have I made myself clear?»

He didn't wait for an answer but strode purposefully from the Hall, elated at having finally said something and half guilty because he had lost control of his temper. He heard Lytol call his name but for once that summons did not exact obedience.

This time it would not be Jaxom, however young a Lord or Ruatha Hold he still was, who apologized for his behavior. The enormous backlog of similar incidents, manfully swallowed or overlooked for any number of logical reasons, swept aside every consideration except to put as much distance between himself and his invidious position, his too reasonable and conscientious guardian and the obnoxious group of people who mistook daily intimacy for license.

Ruth, picking up his rider's distress, came charging out of the old stable which made his weyr at Ruatha Hold. The white dragon's fragile seeming wings were half spread as he rushed to give whatever aid his mate needed. With a breath that was half a sob, Jaxom vaulted to Ruth's back and urged him up out of the courtyard just as Lytol appeared at the massive Hold doors. Jaxom averted his face so that later he'd be able to say truthfully that he hadn't seen Lytol waving.

Ruth beat strongly upward, his lighter mass launched more readily than that of the regular sized dragons.

«You're twice the dragon the others are. Twice! You're better at everything! Everything!» Jaxom's thought was so turbulent that Ruth trumpeted defiance.

The startled brown watchdragon queried them from the fire heights and the entire Hold population of fire lizards materialized around Ruth, dipping and swooping, chirping in echoed agitation.

Ruth cleared the fire heights and then winked into between, unerringly going to the high mountain lake above the Hold which had become their special retreat.

The penetrating cold of between, brief passage though it was, reduced Jaxom's temper. He began shivering, since he wore only his sleeveless tunic, as Ruth glided down effortlessly to the water's edge.

«It's completely and utterly unfair!» he said, slamming his right fist into his thigh so hard that Ruth grunted with the impact.

What is troubling you today? the dragon asked as he landed daintily on the lake verge.

«Everything! Nothing!»

Which? Ruth reasonably wanted to know and turned his head to gaze at his rider.

Jaxom slid from the soft skinned white back and encircled the dragon's neck with his arms, pulling the wedge shaped head against him, for comforting.

Why do you let them upset you? Ruth asked, his eyes whirling with love and affection for his weyrmate.

«A very good question,» Jaxom replied after a full moment's consideration. «But they know exactly how.» Then he laughed. «This is where all that objectivity Robinton talks about ought to operate… and doesn't.»

The Masterharper is honored for his wisdom. Ruth sounded uncertain, and his tone made Jaxom smile.

He was always being told that dragons had no ability to understand abstract concepts or complex relationships. Too often Ruth surprised him by remarks that cast doubt on the theory. Dragons, particularly Ruth in Jaxom's biased opinion, obviously perceived far more than others credited to them. Even Weyrleaders like F'lar or Lessa and even N'ton. Thinking about the Fort Weyrleader reminded Jaxom that he now had a particular reason for going to the Mastersmithhall this morning. N'ton, who would be there to hear Wansor, was the only rider Jaxom felt would be likely to help him.

«Shells!» Jaxom kicked rebelliously at a stone, watching the ripples it caused when it skittered across the surface of the lake and finally sank. Robinton had often used the ripple effect to demonstrate how a tiny action produced multiple reactions. Jaxom let out a snort, wondering how many ripples he'd caused this morning by storming out of the Hall. And just why had this morning bothered him so much? It had begun like other mornings, with Dorse's trite comments about oversized fire lizards, with Lytol's habitual query about Ruth's health as if the dragon were likely to deteriorate overnight and with Deelan snidely repeating that sickeningly old hoot about visitors starving at the Smithcrafthall. To be sure, Deelan's mothering had lately begun to irritate Jaxom, especially when the dear soul invariably fondled him in front of her seething natural son, Dorse. All the time honored, worn out nonsense that started a day, every day, at Ruatha Hold. Why, today, should it jerk him to his feet in a fury and drive him from the Hall he was Lord of, fleeing from people over whom, in theory, he had all control and right?

And there was nothing wrong with Ruth. Nothing. No. I am fine, Ruth said, then added in a plaintive tone, except that I didn't have time for my swim.

Jaxom stroked the soft eye ridges, smiling indulgently. «Sorry to spoil your morning, too.»

You haven't. I'll swim in the lake. Quieter here, Ruth said and nuzzled Jaxom. It's better here for you, too.

«I hope so.» Anger was foreign to Jaxom and he resented the violence of his inner feelings and those who had driven him to such a point of fury. «Better swim. We've got to go on to the Smithcrafthall, you know.»

Ruth had no sooner spread his wings than a clutch of fire lizards appeared in the air above him, wildly cluttering and loudly broadcasting thoughts of smug satisfaction at their cleverness in finding him. One winked out immediately and Jaxom felt another stab of resentment. Keeping track of him, huh? That'd be one more order from him when he got back to the Hold. Who did they think he was, an unbreeched child or an Oldtimer?

He sighed, repentant. Of course, they'd be worried about him when he'd stormed out of the Hold like that. Not that he was likely to go anywhere but to the lake. Not that he could possibly come to harm with Ruth, and not that he and Ruth could go anywhere on Pern where fire lizards couldn't find them.

His resentment flared anew, this time against the silly fire lizards. Why, of all dragons, did every fire lizard have an insatiable curiosity about Ruth? Wherever they went on Pern, every fire lizard in the neighborhood came popping in to gawk at the white dragon. This activity used to amuse Jaxom because the fire lizards would give Ruth the most incredible images of things they remembered, and Ruth would pass the more interesting ones to him. But today, as with everything else, amusement had soured to irritation.

«Analyze,» Lytol was fond of directing him. «Think objectively. You can't govern others until you can control yourself and see the broader, forward looking view.»

Jaxom took a couple of deep breaths, the kind Lytol recommended he take before speaking, to organize what he was going to say.

Ruth had winged over the deep blue waters of the little lake now, fire lizards outlining his graceful figure. He suddenly folded his wings and dove. Jaxom shuddered, wondering how Ruth could enjoy the biting cold waters fed by the snowcapped peaks of the High Ranges. In the muggy midsummer heat, Jaxom often found it refreshing, but now, with winter barely past? He shuddered again. Well, if dragons didn't feel the three times more intense cold of between, a plunge in an icy lake would not be bothersome.

Ruth surfaced, waves lapping against the bank at Jaxom's feet. Jaxom idly stripped a branch of its thick needles and launched them one after another into the incoming ripples. Well, one wave of reaction to this morning's outburst was the dispatch of fire lizards to find him.

Another, the look of stunned amazement on Dorse's face. That had been the first time Jaxom had ever rounded on his milk brother, though, Shells, it was only the thought of Lytol's displeasure at his loss of control that had kept Jaxom's temper in check so long. Dorse loved nothing better than to taunt Jaxom about Ruth's lack of stature, masking his malicious jibes in mock brotherly quarrels, knowing all too well that Jaxom could not retaliate without a rebuke from Lytol for conduct unbecoming his rank and station. Jaxom had long outgrown the need for Deelan's fussing but innate kindness and gratitude to her for the milk which had nourished him after his premature birth had long prevented Jaxom from asking Lytol to retire her.

So why, today, had all this suddenly come to a boil? Ruth's head emerged from the waters again, the many faceted eyes reflecting the bright morning sun in greens and brilliant clear blues. The fire lizards attacked his back with rough tongues and talons, scrubbing off infinitesimal motes of dirt, splashing water over him with their wings, their own hides darkened by the wetting.

The green turned to batter her nose at one of the two blues and swatted the brown with her wing to make him work to her satisfaction. Despite himself, Jaxom laughed to see her scolding. She was Deelan's green and so much in manner like his milkmother that he was reminded of the weyr axiom that a dragon was no better than his rider.

In that way, Lytol had done Jaxom no disservice. Ruth was the best dragon in all Pern. If and now Jaxom recognized the underlying cause of his rebellion Ruth was ever allowed to be. Immediately all the frustrated anger of the morning returned, disrupting what little objectivity he had gained at the peaceful lakeside. Neither he, Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha, nor Ruth, the white runt of Ramoth's clutch, were allowed to be what they really were.

Jaxom was Lord Holder in name only, because Lytol administered the Hold, made all its decisions, spoke in Council for Ruatha. Jaxom had yet to be confirmed by the other Lord Holders as Lord of Ruatha. True, a matter of form only since there was no other male on Pern with Ruathan Blood. Besides, Lessa, the only living full blooded Ruathan, had relinquished her blood right to Jaxom at the moment of his birth.

Jaxom knew he could never be a dragonrider because he had to be Lord Holder of Ruatha. Only he was not really a Lord Holder because he couldn't go up to Lytol and just say: «I'm old enough to take over now! Thanks and good bye!» Lytol had worked too hard and long to make Ruatha prosper to take second place to the bumblings of an untried youth. Lytol only lived for Ruatha. He'd lost so much else: first his own dragon, then his small family to Fax's greed. All his life now centered about Ruathan fields and wheat, and runners, and how many wherry bucks…

No, in all fairness, he would simply have to wait until Lytol, who enjoyed vigorous health, died a natural death before he started Holding at Ruatha.

But, Jaxom continued his thoughts logically, if Lytol is active so that Ruatha Hold is not in dispute, why couldn't he and Ruth occupy their time learning to be proper dragon and rider. Every fighting dragon was needed now, what with Thread falling from the Red Star at unexpected intervals. Why should he have to trudge about the countryside, lugging a clumsy flamethrower when he could more effectively fight Thread if Ruth were only allowed to chew firestone? Just because Ruth was half the size of the other dragons didn't mean he wasn't a proper dragon in all other respects.

Of course I am, Ruth said from the lake.

Jaxom grimaced. He'd been trying to think quietly.

I heard your feelings, not your thoughts, Ruth said calmly. You are confused and unhappy. He arched out of the water to shake his wings dry. He half— paddled, half flew to the shore. I am a dragon. You are my rider. No man can change that. Be what you are. I am.

«But not really. They won't let us be what we are,» Jaxom cried. «They're forcing me to be everything but a dragonrider.»

You are a dragonrider. You are also, and Ruth said this slowly as if trying to understand it all himself, a Lord Holder. You are a student with the Mastersmith and the Masterharper. You are a friend of Menolly, Mirrim, F'lessan and N'ton. Ramoth knows our name. So does Mnementh. And they know me. You have to be a lot of people. That is hard.

Jaxom stared at Ruth, who gave his wings a final flick and then folded them fastidiously across his back.

I am clean. I feel well, the dragon said as if this announcement should resolve all of Jaxom's internal doubts.

«Ruth, whatever would I do without you?»

I don't know. N'ton comes to see you. He went to Ruatha. The little brown who followed looks to N'ton.

Jaxom sucked in his breath nervously. Trust Ruth to know which was whose fire lizard. He had assumed the brown looked to someone at Ruatha Hold.

«Why didn't you tell me sooner?» Hurriedly Jaxom made to mount Ruth. He did most urgently want to see N'ton, and he wanted with equal intensity to keep in N'ton's good favor. The Fort Weyrleader didn't have that much free time to chat.

I wanted my swim, Ruth replied. We will be in time. Ruth rose from the ground when Jaxom had barely settled on his back. We will not keep N'ton waiting. Before Jaxom could remind Ruth that they weren't supposed to go between time, they had.

«Ruth, what if N'ton finds out we've been timing it,» Jaxom said through chattering teeth as they broke out of between into the hot midmorning sun of Telgar over the Mastersmithcrafthall.

He will not ask.

Jaxom wished that Ruth wouldn't sound so complacent. But then, the white dragon wouldn't have to take N'ton's tongue lashing. Timing was bloody dangerous!

I always know when I'm going, Ruth replied, not at all perturbed. That's something few other dragons can say.

They were barely in a landing circle above the Smithcrafthall complex before N'ton's great bronze Lioth burst into the air above them.

«And how you know how to time it that close, I'll never know,» Jaxom said.

Oh, Ruth said easily, I heard when the brown returned to N'ton and just came to that when.

Jaxom knew that dragons were not supposed to laugh but the feeling from Ruth was so close to laughter as to make no difference.

Lioth winged close enough to Jaxom and Ruth for the young Lord to see the bronze rider's expression a pleased grin. Jaxom thought Ruth had said N'ton had been at Ruatha first. Then Jaxom noticed that N'ton raised his hand and was holding what could only be Jaxom's wherhide riding jacket.

As they circled downward, Jaxom saw that they were by no means the first arrivals. He counted five dragons, including F'lessan's bronze Golanth and Mirrim's green Path who warbled a greeting. Ruth landed lightly on the meadow before the Smithcrafthall with Lioth touching down the next moment. As N'ton slid down the bronze shoulder, his brown fire lizard, Tris, appeared and settled impertinently on Ruth's upper crest, chirping smugly.

«Deelan said you'd gone off without this,» N'ton said and tossed the jacket at Jaxom. «Well, I suppose you don't feel the cold the way my old bones do. Or are you practicing survival tactics?»

«Ah, N'ton, not you, too!»

«Me, too, what, young fella?»

«You know…»

«No, I don't know.» N'ton gave Jaxom a closer look. «Or did Deelan's babbling this morning have real significance?»

«You didn't see Lytol?»

«No. I just asked the first person in the Hold where you were. Deelan was weeping because you'd gone off without your jacket.» N'ton drolly pulled down his lower lip in a trembling imitation of Deelan. «Can't stand weeping women at least women that age so I grabbed the jacket, promised on the shell of my dragon to force it about your frail body, sent Tris to see where Ruth was and here we are. Tell me, did something momentous happen this morning? Ruth looks fine.»

Embarrassed, Jaxom looked away from the quizzical regard of the Fort Weyrleader and gave himself a bit more time by shrugging into his jacket.

«I told the entire Hold off this morning.»

«I told Lytol it wouldn't be long now.»

«What?»

«What tipped the scales? Deelan's blubbering?»

«Ruth is a dragon!»

«Of course he is,» N'ton replied with such emphasis that Lioth turned his head to regard them. «Who says he's not?»

«They do. At Ruatha. Everywhere! They say he's nothing but an overgrown fire lizard. And you know that's been said.»

Lioth hissed. Tris took wing in surprise, but Ruth warbled complacently and the others settled.

«I know it's been said,» N'ton replied, taking hold of Jaxom's shoulders. «But there isn't a dragonrider I know who hasn't corrected the speaker somewhat forcefully on occasion.»

«If you consider him a dragon, why can't he act like one?»

«He does!» N'ton gave Ruth a long look as if the creature had somehow changed in the last moment.

«I mean like other full fighting dragons.»

«Oh.» N'ton grimaced. «So that's it. Look, lad…»

«It's Lytol, isn't it? He's told you not to let me fight Thread on Ruth. That's why you'll never let me teach Ruth how to chew firestone.»

«It's not that, Jaxom..»

«Then what is it? There isn't a place on Pern we can't get to, first time, right on. Ruth's small but he's faster, turns quicker midair, less mass to move «

«It's not a question of ability, Jaxom,» N'ton said, raising his voice slightly to make Jaxom hear what he had to say, «it's a matter of what is advisable.»

«More evasions.»

«No!» N'ton's firm negative cut through Jaxom's resentment. «Flying with a fighting wing during Threadfall is bloody dangerous, lad. I'm not impugning your courage, but bluntly, however keen you are, however quick and clever Ruth is, you'd be a liability to a fighting wing. You haven't the training, the discipline…»

«If it's only training «

N'ton grabbed Jaxom by the shoulders to stop his contentiousness.

«It isn't.» N'ton drew a deep breath. «I said it's not a question of Ruth's abilities or yours; it is solely a question of advisability. Pern can't afford to lose either you, young Lord of Ruatha, or Ruth, who is unique.»

«But I'm not Lord of Ruatha either. Not yet! Lytol is. He makes all the decisions… I just listen, and nod my head like a sunstruck wherry.» Jaxom faltered, aware he was implying criticism of Lytol. «I mean, I know Lytol has to manage until the Lord Holders confirm me… and I don't really want Lytol to leave Ruatha Hold. But if I could be a dragonrider, it wouldn't come to that. You see?»

As Jaxom caught the expression in N'ton's eyes, his shoulders slumped in defeat. «You see, but the answer's still no! It would just make different ripples, probably bigger ones, wouldn't it? So I've got to muck on as something in between everything. Not a real Lord Holder, not a real dragonrider… not a real anything except a problem. A real problem to everybody!»

Not to me, Ruth said clearly and reassuringly touched his rider with his muzzle.

«You're not a problem, Jaxom, but I do see that you have one,» N'ton said with quiet sympathy. «If it were up to me, I'd say it would do you a world of good to join a wing and teach Ruth to chew firestone. For the firsthand knowledge no other Lord Holder could contest.»

For one hopeful moment, Jaxom thought N'ton was offering him the chance he so wanted.

«If it were my decision, Jaxom, which it isn't and can't be. But,» and N'ton paused, his eyes searching Jaxom's face, «this is a matter that had better be discussed. You're old enough to be confirmed as Lord Holder or to do something else constructive. I'll speak to Lytol and F'lar on your behalf.»

«Lytol will say that I am Lord Holder, and F'lar will say Ruth isn't big enough for a fighting wing «

«And I won't say anything if you act like a sulky boy.»

A bellow overhead interrupted them. Two more dragons were circling, indicating that they wanted to land. N'ton waved acknowledgment, and then he and Jaxom jogged out of the way toward the Smithcrafthall. Just short of the door, N'ton held him back.

«I won't forget, Jaxom, only…» and N'ton grinned, «for the sake of the First Shell, don't let anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone. And be bloody careful when you go!»

In a state of mild shock, Jaxom stared at N'ton as the Weyrleader hailed a friend inside the building. N'ton had understood. Jaxom's depression lifted instantly.

As he crossed the threshold of the Smithcrafthall, he hesitated, adjusting his sight to the interior after the bright spring sun. Intent on his own problems, he'd also forgotten how important a session this was to be. Masterharper Robinton was seated at the long work table, cleared for this occasion of its usual clutter, and F'lar, Benden's Weyrleader, was beside him. Jaxom recognized three other Weyrleaders and the new Masterherdsman Briaret. There were a good half a wing of bronze riders and Lord Holders, the leading smiths and more harpers than any other craft to judge by the color of tunics on men he didn't recognize immediately.

Someone was calling his name in an urgent hoarse whisper. Looking to his left, Jaxom saw that F'lessan and the other regular students had gathered humbly by the far window, the girls perched on stools.

«Half Pern's here,» F'lessan remarked, pleased, as he made room against the back wall for Jaxom.

Jaxom nodded to the others who appeared far more interested in watching the new arrivals. «Didn't think there'd be so many people interested in Wansor's stars and maths,» Jaxom said in a low voice to F'lessan.

«What? And miss a chance to ride dragonback?» F'lessan asked with good natured candor. «I brought four in myself.»

«A lot of people have assisted Wansor in collating the material,» Benelek said in his usual didactic manner. «Naturally they want to hear what use has been made of their time and effort.»

«They sure didn't come for the food,» F'lessan said with a snicker.

Now why, wondered Jaxom, doesn't F'lessan's remark annoy me?

«Nonsense, F'lessan,» Benelek replied, too literal minded to understand when someone was being facetious. «Food's very good here. You eat enough of it.»

«I'm like Fandarel,» F'lessan said. «I make efficient use of anything edible. Sush! Here he is himself. Shells!» The young bronze rider grimaced with disgust. «Couldn't someone have made him change his clothes?»

«As if clothes mattered for a man with a mind like Wansor's.» Benelek dropped his voice but he was nearly sputtering with contempt for F'lessan.

«Today of all days, Wansor should look tidy,» Jaxom said. «That's what F'lessan meant.»

Benelek grunted but did not pursue the subject. Then F'lessan nudged Jaxom in the ribs with a wink for Benelek's reaction.

Halfway inside the door, Wansor suddenly realized that the hall was filled. He stopped, peered around him, at first timidly. Then, when he recognized a face, he bobbed his head and smiled hesitantly. From all sides he met with encouraging grins and murmured greetings and gestures for him to continue to the front of the hall.

«Well, my, my… All for my stars? My stars, my, my!» His reaction sent a ripple of amusement through the hall. «This is most gratifying. I'd no idea… Most gratifying. And Robinton, you're here…»

«Where else?» The Masterharper's long face was suitably serious but Jaxom thought he saw the man's lips twitch in an effort not to smile. Robinton then half guided, half pushed Wansor toward the platform at the far end of the hall.

«Come on, Wansor,» Fandarel said in his rolling tones.

«Oh yes, so sorry. Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Ah, and there's Lord Asgenar. How very good of you to come. I say, is N'ton here, too?» Wansor executed a full circle. Being nearsighted, he peered closely at faces, trying to spot N'ton. «He really should be «

«Here I am, Wansor,» N'ton raised his arm.

«Ah.» The worried frown vanished from the round face of the Starsmith as Menolly had impudently, if accurately, labeled him. «My dear N'ton, you must come up front. You've done so much work, watching and looking at the most dreadful hours of the night. Come, you must «

«Wansor!» Fandarel half rose to project his commanding bellow. «You can't put everyone up front and they've all watched. That's why they're here. To see what their watching was all for. Now get up here and get on with it. You're wasting time. Sheer inefficiency.»

Wansor muttered protestations and apologies as he bounced up the short distance to the platform. He did indeed look, Jaxom noticed, as if he'd been sleeping in those clothes. He probably hadn't changed since the last Threadfall to judge by the sharpness of the creases in the back of his tunic.

But there was nothing sloppy about the charts of star positions which Wansor now tacked up on the wall. Where did Wansor get that lurid red color for the Red Star the color almost pulsed on the paper. Nothing dithering about his spoken presentation. Out of deference and respect for Wansor, Jaxom tried to pay close attention but he had heard it all before and his mind returned inexorably to N'ton's parting shot. «Don't let anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone!»

As if he would be that foolish. Here Jaxom hesitated. Although he knew in theory the whys and hows of teaching a dragon to chew firestone, he had also learned in his classes that between theory and practice anything could happen. Maybe he could enlist F'lessan's help?

He glanced at the friend of his boyhood, who had Impressed a bronze two Turns ago. Candidly, Jaxom did not consider F'lessan more than a boy and certainly not serious enough about his responsibilities as a bronze rider. He was grateful that F'lessan had never told anyone that Jaxom had actually touched Ruth's egg when the dragon was still in its shell on the Hatching Ground. Of course, that would have been a serious offense against the Weyr. F'lessan would scarcely regard teaching a dragon to chew firestone as anything at all remarkable.

Mirrim? Jaxom glanced toward the girl. The morning sun slanted through her browny hair, catching golden glints which he'd never noticed before. She was oblivious to anything but Wansor's words. She'd probably give Jaxom an argument about not precipitating the Weyr into more problems and then set one of those fire lizards of hers on him to be sure he didn't set himself ablaze.

Jaxom was privately convinced that T'ran, the other young bronze rider from Ista Weyr, thought Ruth was essentially an overgrown fire lizard. He'd be even less help than F'lessan.

Benelek was out, too. He ignored dragons and fire lizards as completely as they ignored him. But give Benelek a diagram or a machine, even the assorted parts of a machine found in the old holds and weyrs, and he'd spend days trying to figure out what it was supposed to be or do. Generally he could make a full machine work, even if he had to dismantle the whole thing to find out why it wasn't operating. Benelek and Fandarel understood each other perfectly.

Menolly? Menolly was just the person, if he did need someone, in spite of her predilection for putting anything she heard into a tune a trick that was occasionally a real nuisance. But that talent made her an excellent Harper, in fact she was the first girl to be one in living memory. He stole a long look at her. Her lips were vibrating slightly and he wondered if she were already putting Wansor's stars to music.

«The stars mark time for us in every Turn and help us distinguish one Turn from another,» Wansor was saying and Jaxom brought his attention guiltily back to the speaker. «The stars guided Lessa on her courageous trip back through time to bring the Oldtimers forward.» Wansor cleared his throat at his somewhat unfortunate mention of the two dragonrider factions. «And the stars will be our constant guides in future Turns. Lands, seas, people and places may change but the stars are ordered in their courses and remain secure.»

Jaxom remembered hearing some talk of trying to alter the course of the Red Star, deflecting it away from Pern. Had Wansor just proved that that couldn't be done?

Wansor went on to emphasize that once you understood the basic orbit and speed of any star, you could compute its position in the heavens as long as you also calculated the effect of its nearest neighbors at conjunction; at any given time.

«So, there is no doubt in our minds that we can now accurately predict Threadfall, according to the position of the Red Star when in conjunction with our other near neighbors in the skies.»

Jaxom was amused that, whenever Wansor made a sweeping statement, he said we but when he announced a discovery, he said I.

«We believe that as soon as this blue star is released from the influence of the yellow star of our spring horizon and swings to the high east, Threadfall will resume the pattern which F'lar originally observed.

«With this equation,» Wansor rapidly jotted the figures down on the board, and Jaxom again noticed that for a sloppy looking person, his notations were conversely precise, «we can compute further conjunctions which will affect Threadfall during this Pass. Indeed, we can now point to where the various stars have been at any time in the past and will be at any time in the future.»

He was writing equations at a furious pace and explaining which stars were affected by which equations. He turned then, his round face settling into a very serious expression. «We can even predict, on the basis of this knowledge, the exact moment when the next Pass will begin. Of course, that's so many Turns in the future that none of us need worry about it. But I think it's comforting to know nonetheless.»

Scattered chuckles caused Wansor to blink and then hesitantly grin, as if he belatedly realized that he'd said something humorous.

«And we must make sure that no one forgets in the long Interval this time,» Mastersmith Fandarel said, his bass voice startling everyone after Wansor's light tenor. «That's what this union is all about, you know,» Fandarel added, gesturing to the audience.

Several Turns before, when Ruth's life expectancy, had been short, Jaxom had held a private if egocentric theory about the sessions at the Smithcrafthall. He had convinced himself that they had been initiated to give him an alternative interest in living in case Ruth died. Today's meeting let the substance out of that notion, and Jaxom snorted at his self centered whimsy. The more people in every Hold, in the Weyrs who knew what was being done in each of the Crafthalls, by the individual Craftmasters and by their chief technicians, the less chance there was that the ambitious plans to preserve all Pern from the ravages of Thread would be lost again.

Jaxom, F'lessan, Benelek, Mirrim, Menolly, T'ran, Piemur, various other likely successors to Lord Holders and advanced junior craftsmen formed the nucleus of the regular school at the Smith and Harper crafthalls. Each student learned to appreciate the other crafts.

Communication is essential. That was one of Robinton's tenets. Wasn't he always saying, «Exchange information, learn to talk sensibly about any subject, learn to express your thoughts, accept new ones, examine them, analyze. Think objectively. Think toward the future.»

Jaxom let his eyes drift about the room at the gathering, wondering how many of them could accept all of Wansor's explanations. True, with this lot he had the advantage that most of them had watched the stars form and reform their patterns, night after night, season after season until those stately patterns could be reduced to Wansor's clever diagrams and numbers. The trouble was that everyone was here in this room because he was willing to listen to new ideas and accept new thoughts. The ones who needed to be influenced were those who hadn't listened such as the Oldtimers now exiled to the Southern Continent.

Jaxom surmised that some sort of a discreet watch was kept on happenings there. N'ton had once made an oblique reference to the Southern Hold. The students had a very detailed map of the land about the Hold and of some of the neighboring areas which indicated that the Southern Continent extended far deeper into the Southern seas than anyone had guessed even five Turns ago. During one of his talks with Lytol, Robinton had once let slip something that led Jaxom to believe the Masterharper had been in the Southern lands recently. It amused Jaxom to wonder how much the Oldtimers knew of what occurred on the mainland. There were some obvious changes which even those with the most closed minds would have to admit seeing. What of the ever increasing spreads of forestland about which the Oldtimers bad protested expanses now protected by the burrowing grubs that farmers had once tried to exterminate, erroneously considering them a bane instead of a carefully contrived blessing and safeguard.

Jaxom's attention was reclaimed by the stamping of feet and the clapping of hands. He hastily added his own applause, wondering if he'd missed anything vital during his ruminations. He'd check with Menolly later. She remembered everything.

The ovation continued long enough to make Wansor blush with pleased embarrassment, until Fandarel rose and spread his tree limb arms for silence. But Fandarel no more got his mouth open to speak when one of the Ista Hold watchers jumped to his feet to ask Wansor to clarify an anomaly concerning the fixed position of the trio of Stars known as the Day Sisters. Before Wansor could answer him, someone else informed the man that no anomaly existed and a spirited argument began.

«I wonder if we could use Wansor's equations to go ahead in time safely,» F'lessan mused.

«You deadglow! You can't go to a time that hasn't happened!» Mirrim answered him tartly before the others could. «How would you know what's happening there? You'd end up in a cliff or a crowd, or surrounded by Thread! It's dangerous enough to go back in time when at least you can check on what happened or on who was there. Even then you could, and you would, muddle things. Forget it, F'lessan!»

«Going ahead could serve no logical purpose at this time,» Benelek remarked in his sententious way.

«It'd be fun,» F'lessan said, undeterred. «Like knowing what the Oldtimers are planning. F'lar's sure they're going to try something. They've been far too quiet down there.»

«Close your jaw, F'lessan. That's Weyr business,» Mirrim said sharply, glancing anxiously around her for fear some of the adults might have overheard his indiscreet remark.

«Communicate! Share your thoughts!» F'lessan spouted back some of Robinton's taglines.

«There's a difference between communication and gossip,» Jaxom said.

F'lessan gave his boyhood friend a long measuring look. «You know, I used to think this school idea was a good one. Now I think it's turned the whole lot of us into do nothing talkers. And thinkers!» He rolled his eyes upward in disgust. «We talk, we think everything to death. We never do anything. At least I have to do first and think later when we fight Thread!» He turned on his heel and then, brightening, announced, «Hey, there's food!» He began to weave through the crowd to the doors where heavily laden trays were being passed through to the central table.

Jaxom knew F'lessan's remarks had been general, but the young Lord keenly felt the jibe about fighting Thread.

«That F'lessan!» Menolly said at his ear. «He wants to keep glory in the bloodline. A bit of derring do…» and her sea blue eyes danced with laughter as she added, «for me to tune about!» Then she sighed. «And he's not the type at all. He doesn't think beyond himself. But he's got a good heart. C'mon! We'd better lend a hand with the food.»

«Let us do!» Jaxom's quip was rewarded by Menolly's smile of appreciation.

There was merit in both viewpoints, Jaxom decided as he relieved an overburdened woman of a tray of steaming meatrolls, but he'd think about it later.

The Mastersmith's kitchen had prepared for the large gathering, and besides succulent meatrolls there were hot fish balls, bread slabbed with the firm cheeses of the High Range, two huge kettles of klah.

As he passed food around, Jaxom became conscious of something else that annoyed him. The other Lords Holder and Craftmasters were all cordial, inquiring courteously after Ruth and Lytol. They all seemed quite willing to exchange pleasantries with him but would not discuss Wansor's theories. Perhaps, Jaxom thought cynically, they hadn't understood what Wansor had said and were ashamed to show their ignorance before the younger man. Jaxom sighed. Would he ever be old enough to be considered on equal terms?

«Hey, Jaxom, dump that,» F'lessan grabbed his sleeve. «Got something to show you.»

Believing he had done his duty, Jaxom pushed his tray onto the table and followed his young friend out the door. F'lessan kept going, grinning like a dimwit, and then swung round to point at the roof of the Smithcrafthall.

The Hall was a large building with steep gables. The roof appeared to be in colorful motion, rippling with sound. A veritable fair of fire lizards were perched on the gray slates, chirping and humming to one another in earnest conversation a perfect parody of the intent discussions going on inside the building; Jaxom began to laugh.

«There can't be that many fire lizards looking to those inside,» he said to Menolly, who had just joined them. «Or have you acquired a couple more clutches?»

Brushing the laugh tears from her eyes, she denied guilt. «I've only the ten and they go off on their own, sometimes for days. I don't think I could account for more than two besides Beauty, my queen. She sticks by me constantly. You know,» she turned a serious face to him, «they're going to be a problem. Not mine, because I make mine behave, but this sort of thing.» She gestured toward the covered roof. «They're such dreadful gossips. I'll wager most of those don't look to the people within. They've been attracted by the dragons and by your Ruth in particular.»

«A fair gathers like that wherever Ruth and I go,» Jaxom said a bit sourly.

Menolly looked across the valley to where Ruth was lying on the sunny riverbank with three other dragons and the usual wing or two of ministering fire lizards.

«Does Ruth mind?»

«No,» Jaxom grinned tolerantly, «I think he rather enjoys it. They keep him company when I have to be elsewhere on Hold business. He says they have all sorts of fascinating and unlikely images in their minds. He likes looking… most times. Sometimes he gets annoyed says they get carried away.»

«How can they?» Menolly was bluntly dubious.

«They don't have much imagination, not really. They only tell what they see.»

«Or think they see, maybe?»

Menolly considered that. «What they see is usually pretty reliable. I know…» Then she stopped, looked dismayed.

«Never mind,» Jaxom said. «I'd be as thick as a hold door if I didn't realize you Harpers keep busy down South.» Jaxom then turned around to say something to F'lessan, who was nowhere to be seen.

«I'll tell you something, Jaxom,» Menolly dropped her voice, «F'lessan was right. Something is going on down South. Some of my lot have been very agitated. I get an image of a single egg but it's not in an enclosed weyr. I thought maybe my Beauty had hidden another clutch. She sometimes does that. Then I got the impression that what she was seeing happened long ago. And Beauty's no older than Ruth, so how could she remember any more than five Turns back?»

«Fire lizards with delusions of locating the First Shell?» Jaxom laughed heartily.

«I can't quite seriously laugh at their memories. They do know the oddest sorts of things. Remember F'nor's Grail not wanting to go to the Red Star? For that matter all the fire lizards are terrified of the Red Star.»

«Aren't we all?»

«They knew, Jaxom, knew before the rest of Pern had any knowledge.»

Instinctively they both turned eastward, toward the malevolent Red Star.

«So?» Menolly asked cryptically.

«So? So what?»

«So fire lizards have memories.»

«Ah, leave off, Menolly. You can't ask me to believe that fire lizards could remember things Man can't?»

«Got another explanation?» Menolly asked belligerently.

«No, but that doesn't mean there isn't one,» and Jaxom grinned at her. His smile turned to alarm. «Say, what if some of those fellows up there are from the Southern Hold?»

«I'm not worried. The fire lizards are outside, for one thing. For another, they can only visualize what they've understood.» Menolly chuckled, a habit of hers which Jaxom found a pleasant change from the giggling of Holder girls. «Can you imagine what nonsense someone like T'kul would make of Wansor's equations? Seen through lizard eyes?»

Jaxom's personal recollections of the High Reaches Oldtimer Weyrleader were sparse, but he'd heard enough from Lytol and N'ton to realize that man's mind was closed to anything new. Though nearly six Turns of fending on his own down in the Southern Continent might have broadened his outlook.

«Look, it isn't me alone who's worried,» Menolly went on. «Mirrim is, too. And if anyone today understands fire lizards, it's Mirrim.»

«You don't do badly yourself for a mere Harper.»

«Well, thank you, my Lord Holder.» She gave him a facetious salute. «Look, will you find out what the fire lizards are telling Ruth?»

Don't they talk to Mirrim's green dragon?» Jaxom was reluctant to have more to do with fire lizards at the moment than was absolutely necessary.

«Dragons don't remember things. You know that. But Ruth's different, I've noticed…»

«Very different…»

Menolly caught the sour note in his voice. «What's got your back up today? Or has Lord Groghe been to see Lytol?»

«Lord Groghe? What for?»

Menolly's eyes glinted with devilment and she beckoned him closer, as if anyone were near enough to hear what they'd been saying. «I think Lord Groghe fancies you for that beast bosomed third daughter of his.»

Jaxom groaned in horror.

«Don't worry, Jaxom. Robinton squashed the idea. He wouldn't do you a disservice there. Of course,» Menolly glanced at him from the comers of her laughing eyes, «if you have anyone else in mind, now's the time to say so.»

Jaxom was furious, not with Menolly but with her news, and it was hard to dissociate tidings and bearer. «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!