The White Dragon

CHAPTER VIII

JAXOM WAS DISAPPOINTED that all Lytol's coaxing could not draw more facts from the Harper about his explorations in the South. At the point where Jaxom's fatigue made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open, it occurred to him that Robinton had indeed succeeded in rousing Lytol to support his and N'ton's desire to keep interest in the South to a minimum.

Jaxom's last waking thought was one of admiration for the Harper's devious methods. No wonder he had not objected to Jaxom training with N'ton when he saw Lytol was in favor of it. The Harper needed the older man as the Lord Holder at Ruatha. Training Ruth to chew firestone kept the young Lord from wanting to take Hold in Lytol's place.

The next morning Jaxom was positive that he couldn't have moved during the night. He was bindingly stiff, his face and shoulder stung with the Threadscore and that reminded him of Ruth's injury. With no regard for his own discomfort, he whipped aside the furs and, grabbing the numbweed pot as he went, burst into Ruth's weyr.

The faintest rumble told him that the white dragon was still sound asleep. He also seemed not to have moved for his leg was propped in the same position.

That made it easier for Jaxom to work and he smeared a new coating of numbweed along the line of the score. Only then did it occur to Jaxom that he and Ruth might have to wait until they'd healed before they could join the weyrlings at Fort Weyr.

Lytol did not share his thought. The reason Jaxom was going to Fort Weyr was to avoid scoring, to learn how to take care of his dragon and himself during Threadfall. If he got teased because he hadn't ducked fast enough, he deserved it. So, after breaking his fast, Jaxom flew Ruth to the Weyr.

Fortunately two of those in training were near his own age of eighteen Turns not that being older would have bothered Jaxom as long as he could train Ruth properly. He did have to suppress the insidious urge to excuse Ruth's scoring with the real reason for the supposed clumsiness. He took refuge in knowing that he had achieved more than they'd ever guess a small consolation.

His first problem in the weyrling class was to relieve Ruth of the embarrassment of the endless fire lizards that settled on him. No sooner was one group dislodged and sent off than another appeared, to the disgust and exasperation of K'nebel, the weyrlingmaster.

«Does this go on all day wherever you are?» the man asked Jaxom irritably.

«More or less. They just… come. Especially since… what happened at Benden Weyr.»

K'nebel snorted his aggravation even as he nodded his understanding. «I don't like to put truth to these notions that dragons flamed fire lizards, but you'll never get Ruth going if the fire lizards don't leave him alone. And if they don't leave him alone, one of 'em will get flamed!»

So Jaxom had Ruth shoo the fire lizards away as quickly as they arrived. It took time before Ruth remained unencumbered for any appreciable period. Then, either all the fire lizards in the vicinity had looked in, or Ruth had been sufficiently firm and the rest of the morning's class was undisrupted.

Despite all the interruptions, K'nebel kept the weyrlings working until the noonday meal was called. Jaxom was invited to stay and, as a mark of his rank, was shown to the large table reserved for senior dragonriders.

The conversation was dominated by continued speculation about the return of the egg and which one of the queen riders had returned it. The discussions served to reinforce Jaxom's decision to remain silent. He cautioned Ruth, needlessly, it appeared since the white dragon was more interested in chewing firestone and dodging Thread than in past events.

The fire lizards about him had lost all their previous agitation. Their primary concern now was eating, the secondary one was their hides. With the advent of the warmer weather, they had begun shedding and were plagued by itching. The images they projected to Ruth no longer had alarming content.

Since he was engaged at Fort Weyr in the mornings, Jaxom had to forego the classes at the Harper and Smith crafthalls. That meant he wouldn't have to endure Menolly's tendency to ask searching questions, and he was well pleased. He was also heartily amused when he realized that Lytol was leaving him several uncommitted hours in the afternoons. Obligingly he and Ruth took off for the Plateau Hold to see how the new wheat was prospering of course.

Corana was about the hold these days since her brother's wife was near her time. When she showed a pretty concern for his healing score, he did not abuse her notion that he'd acquired it in a legitimate Fall, protecting the Hold from Thread. She rewarded him for that protection in a fashion that embarrassed him even as it relieved him. He'd as soon save his favors for honest endeavor. But he couldn't be annoyed with her when, in the languor that followed their pleasure, she made several references to fire lizards and asked if he'd ever had a chance to find a clutch when he was fighting Thread.

«Every beach in the North is well staked,» he told her and, noting her intense disappointment, added, «Of course, there are lots of empty beaches in the Southern Continent!»

«Could you fly in on your Ruth without those Oldtimers knowing?» Clearly Corana knew little of the most recent events, another relief to Jaxom, who was beginning to be bored by the Weyr's preoccupation with that topic.

Fly in on Ruth made the whole thing seem simple enough; especially as Ruth would not upset strange fire lizards since he had apparently made friends with them all.

«I suppose I could.» His hesitation was due to the complications of planning an absence long enough to allow him to go South. Corana misconstrued what he said, and again, he was too tenderhearted and too gratified to correct her.

As he and Ruth winged homeward from the Plateau, it occurred to Jaxom that the ripples from his initial outburst just a short while ago were still spreading. He had finally achieved proper training for Ruth and, if he hadn't taken Hold, at least he was finally enjoying more of the prerogatives of a Lord Holder. He grinned, savoring Corana's sweetness. Judging by her sister's warm welcome, he assumed the Plateau Hold would not object to a half blooded addition. Success in that area would do him no harm in the eyes of Lord Holders. He considered bringing Corana to the Hold, but decided against it. That would be unfair to the other fosterlings and cause trouble for Brand and Lytol. It wasn't as if he didn't have Ruth and couldn't come and go at his leisure and speedily. Furthermore, if he brought Corana to his quarters, she'd demand more of his attention at Ruth's expense than he was willing to give.

The third afternoon he went to the Plateau Hold, Fidello's wife was in labor and Corana too distracted to do more than beg his pardon for the fuss and excitement. He asked if they wished the Hold's healer, but Fidello said that one of his dependents was skillful in such matters and had said that his wife would have no trouble with the birth. Jaxom made all the appropriate remarks, then left, feeling slightly put off by this unanticipated obstacle to his expectations.

Why are you laughing? Ruth asked as they winged back to the Hold.

«Because I'm a fool, Ruth. I'm a fool.»

I don't think you are. She makes you feel good, not a fool.

«That's why I'm a fool now, silly dragon. I went up there expecting… expecting to feel good and she's too busy. And only a few sevendays ago I wouldn't have dreamed I'd be as lucky with her. That's why I'm a fool now, Ruth.»

I will always love you, was Ruth's reply because he felt that was the response Jaxom needed.

Jaxom reassuringly caressed his dragon's neck ridge, but he couldn't suppress his self deprecatory mirth. He discovered a second obstacle when he returned to the Hold. Lytol informed him that the remainder of Ramoth's clutch would probably Hatch the next day, and that Jaxom would have to put in an appearance at Benden. The Lord Warder peered intently at Jaxom's healed score and nodded.

«Do try to keep out of the Weyrleaders' sight. They'd know at a glance what that was,» Lytol said. «No sense advertising your folly.»

Jaxom privately thought the scar gave him a more mature appearance but he promised Lytol he'd stay well away from Lessa and F'lar.

Jaxom rather enjoyed Hatchings, more so when Lytol was not present. He felt guilty about that but he knew that, at each Hatching, painful memories of Lytol's beloved Larth tortured the man.

News of the imminent Hatching came to Fort Weyr while Jaxom was flying wing tip in weyrling Fall practice. He finished the maneuver, begged the weyrlingmaster's pardon and took Ruth between to Ruatha so that he could change into proper clothing. Lytol along with Menolly's Rocky reached him at the same moment and requested that he collect Menolly, since Robinton was already at Ista Weyr with the Harperhall's dragon and rider.

Jaxom put a good face on the request since he could think of no excuse to refuse. Well, he'd hurry her out of the Hall and into the Weyr so quickly that she wouldn't have time to ask any questions.

When he and Ruth arrived at the Harpercrafthall, Ruth bellowing his name to the watchdragon on the fire heights, Jaxom became furious. Why, there were enough Fort Weyr dragons on the meadow to take half the Hall. Why hadn't she asked one of them? He was determined that she wouldn't have a chance to nag at him and asked Ruth peremptorily to tell her fire lizards that he was here and waiting in the meadow. He had barely formed the words in his mind when Menolly came dashing out of the archway toward him, Beauty, Rocky and Diver chittering in circles above her head. She began shrugging into her riding jacket, awkwardly juggling something from one hand to the other.

«Get down, Jaxom,» she ordered imperiously. «I can't do it when your back's to me.»

«Do what?»

«This!» She held up one hand to show him a small pot. «Get down.»

«Why?»

«Don't be dense. You're wasting time. This is to cover that scar. You don't want Lessa and F'lar to see it, do you, and ask awkward questions? Come down! Or we'll be late. And you're not supposed to time it, are you?» She added the last comment as he still hesitated, not altogether reassured by her altruism.

«I've got my hair brushed over «

«You'll forget and push it back,» she said, gesturing him to do so now as she unscrewed the pot lid. «I got Oldive to make some without scent. There. Only takes a dab.» She had applied it to his face and then brushed the residue on the skin of his wrist above his glove. «See? It blends in.» She stared critically at him. «Yes, that does the trick. No one would ever know you've been scored.» Then she chuckled. «What does Corana think of your scar?»

«Corana?»

«Don't glare at me. Get up on Ruth. We'll be late.

Very clever of you, Jaxom, to cultivate Corana. You'dve made a good harper with your wits.»

Jaxom mounted his dragon, furious with her but determined not to rise to her lure. It was just like her to find out such things, hoping to aggravate him. Well, she wasn't going to succeed.

«Thanks for thinking of the salve, Menolly,» he said when he got his voice under control. «It certainly wouldn't do to annoy Lessa right now, and I do have to be at this Hatching.»

«Indeed you do.»

Her tone was loaded but he'd no time to figure out what she meant as Ruth took them up and, with no further direction, between to Benden Weyr. No, he wouldn't let her rouse him. But she was bloody clever, this Harper girl.

Ruth came out of between midsyllable. «… uth. I'm Ruth. I'm Ruth.»

Which reminded Jaxom and he twisted his head about to look at Menolly's left shoulder.

«Don't worry. They're safely in Brekke's weyr.»

«All of them?»

«Shells, no, Jaxom. Only Beauty and the three bronzes. She may be mating soon and the boys won't leave her alone for a moment.» Menolly chuckled again.

«Are all that clutch spoken for?»

«What? Count the eggs before they're laid? Not at all!» Menolly sounded repressive. «Why? You don't want one, do you?»

«Not I.»

Menolly burst out laughing at his telling rejoinder and he groaned. Well, let her have her laugh.

«What would I do with a fire lizard?» he went on to settle her. «I promised Corana I'd see if I could get one for her. She's been very… kind to me, you know.» He was rewarded by the sound of Menolly's gulp of surprise.

Then she smacked him across the shoulder blade with her closed fist and he winced, then ducked away from her.

«Leave off, Menolly! I've a score on that shoulder, too.» He spoke with more irritation than he meant and then cursed himself for reminding her of what he avoided mentioning.

«I am sorry, Jaxom,» she said with such contrition that Jaxom was mollified. «How much scoring did you get?»

«Face, shoulder and thigh.»

She caught at his other shoulder. «Listen! They're thrumming wildly. And, look, there are candidates entering the Hatching Ground. Can we fly right in?»

Jaxom directed Ruth in through the upper entrance of the Hatching Ground. Bronzes were still bearing visitors to the Ground. As Ruth entered, Jaxom found his gaze going immediately to the spot by the arch where he and Ruth had transferred to return the egg. He felt a sudden surge of pride at his feat.

«I see Robinton, Jaxom. There on the fourth tier. Near the Istan colors. Would you sit with us, Jaxom?» There was an entreaty in her tone, and a slight emphasis that puzzled Jaxom. Who wouldn't want to sit with the Masterharper of Pern?

Ruth angled close to the tier, catching at the ledge with his claws and hovering long enough to permit Menolly and Jaxom to dismount.

As Jaxom settled his tunic before seating himself, he got a good long look at Master Robinton. He could understand Menolly's entreaty. The Harper seemed different. Oh, he had greeted Jaxom and Menolly brightly enough with a smile for his journeyman and a buffet on the shoulder for Jaxom but he had turned back to his own thoughts which, to judge by his expression, were sad. The Masterharper of Pern had a long face, generally mobile with quick expressions and reaction. Now, while the Harper apparently watched the progress of the young candidates as they moved across the warm sands of the Hatching Ground, his face was lined, his deep set eyes shadowed with fatigue and worry, the skin of his cheeks and chin sagged. He looked old, tired, and bereft. Jaxom was appalled and looked quickly away, avoiding Menolly's gaze because his thoughts must have been all too apparent to the observant Harper girl.

Master Robinton old? Tired, worried, yes. But aging? A cold emptiness assailed Jaxom's innards. Pern deprived of the humor and wisdom of the Master Harper? Even harder to contemplate was being without his vision and eager curiosity. Resentment replaced the sense of loss as Jaxom found himself, loyal to Robinton's precepts, trying to rationalize this wave of unpalatable reflection.

An urgent thrumming brought his attention back to the Hatching Ground. He'd been to enough Hatchings to realize that Ramoth's presence, when there was no queen egg, was unusual; her attitude was daunting. He wouldn't have wanted to brave her red whirling eyes, or the stabs of her head as she kept poking toward the oncoming candidates. Instead of fanning out so that they loosely circled the rocking eggs, the boys were in a tight group, as if that way they stood a better chance against her attentions.

«I don't envy them,» Menolly said to Jaxom in an undertone.

«Will she let them Impress, sir?» Jaxom asked the Harper, momentarily forgetting his awareness of the man's mortality.

«You'd think she was inspecting each one to see if he smelled of the Southern Weyr, wouldn't you?» the Harper replied, his voice light with humor.

Jaxom glanced at him and wondered if there hadn't been some unflattering trick of lighting for the Harper grinned with mischief, very much his customary self.

«I'm not sure I'd care for such a scrutiny right now,» he added, giving his left eyebrow a quirk upward.

Menolly coughed, her eyes dancing. Jaxom supposed they'd been South recently and wondered what they had learned.

Shells, he thought, in a sudden sweaty panic, the Southerners knew that none of them had returned the egg. Suppose Robinton had found that out?

An angry hiss from the Hatching Ground brought such a reaction from the audience that Jaxom quickly transferred his attention. One of the eggs had split, but Ramoth had moved so protectively over it that none of the candidates dared approach. Mnementh bellowed from his ledge outside and the bronzes within thrummed. Ramoth's head went up, her wings, shimmering gold and green, extended and she warbled a defiant answer. The other bronzes answered her in conciliating tones but Mnementh's bugle was clearly an order.

Ramoth is very upset, Ruth said to Jaxom. The white dragon had discreetly retired to a sunny spot by the Bowl lake. His absence did not keep him from knowing what was happening within the Ground. Mnementh tells her she is being silly. The eggs must Hatch; the Hatchlings must make Impression. Then she will not have to worry about them again. They will be safe with men.

The croon of the bronzes deepened and Ramoth, still protesting an inevitable cycle of life, stepped slowly away from the eggs. Whereupon one of the older boys who had bravely led the first rank bowed formally to her and then stepped up to the split egg from which a young bronze was emerging, squealing as it tried to balance itself on wobbly legs.

«That boy has good presence of mind,» Robinton said, nodding his approbation. He was intent on the scene below. «Just what Ramoth needed, that courtesy. Her eyes are slowing and she's retracting her wings. Good. Good!»

Following the example set, two more of the older candidates bowed to Ramoth and moved quickly toward eggs that had begun rocking violently with the efforts of the Hatchlings to pierce their shells. If subsequent obeisances were jerky or skimped, Ramoth had been mollified although she emitted curious little barks as each dragonet made its Impression.

«Look, he got the bronze! He deserved him!» Robinton said, applauding, as the newly linked pair moved toward the entrance of the Ground.

«Who's the lad?» Menolly asked.

«From Telgar Hold; he's got the build and coloring of the old Lord and his wits.»

«Young Kirnety from Fort Hold has another bronze,» Menolly reported, delighted. «I told you he'd do it.»

«I have been wrong before and will be again, my dear girl. Infallibility would be a bore,» Master Robinton replied equably. «Are there any lads here from Ruatha, Jaxom?»

«Two, but I can't recognize them from this angle.»

«It's a good sized clutch,» Robinton replied. «Plenty to choose from.»

Jaxom was watching five boys who had circled one large egg covered with green splotches. He caught his breath as the dragonet's head emerged, turning to look at each of the boys as it shook shell fragments from its body. «And many boys disappointed,» Jaxom said as the little brown dragon pushed past the five boys, out into the sands, crooning piteously, swinging its head from side to side. What if, Jaxom thought with a pang of cold in his guts, Ruth had not found me suitable? Almost all the candidates had left the Ground when he'd freed Ruth from the overhard shell.

The searching dragonet stumbled, its nose burying into the warm sand. It righted itself, sneezed and cried again. Ramoth called out in warning and the boys nearest her retreated hurriedly. One of them, a dark haired, long legged lad whose bony knees were scarred, almost stumbled over the little brown. He caught himself with a wild flailing of his arms, started to back away and then halted, staring at the brown dragon. Impression occurred!

I was there. You were there. We are now together, said Ruth, responding to Jaxom's emotion at that scene. Jaxom blinked away an excess of moisture that collected in his eyes at that reaffirmation of their bond.

«It's all over so soon,» Menolly said, her voice petulant with regret. «I wish it wouldn't all happen in such a rush!»

«I'd say we'd had quite an afternoon,» Robinton stated, gesturing toward Ramoth. The queen was now glowering at the retreating pairs and shifting from foreleg to foreleg.

«D'you suppose now that they're all safely Hatched and Impressed, her temper will improve?» Menolly asked.

«And Lessa's as well?» Robinton's lips twitched to suppress his amusement. «No doubt once Ramoth can be persuaded to eat, both will feel more charitable.»

«I hope so.» Menolly's reply was low and fervent, not meant, Jaxom thought, to be heard by Robinton, for the Harper had turned to the back of the tiers, evidently looking for someone.

Robinton had heard, however, and gave his journeyman a warm grin. «Too bad we can't postpone this meeting until the happy restoration has occurred.»

«Can't I come with you this once?»

«To protect me, Menolly?». The Harper gripped her by the shoulder, smiling affectionately. «No, it's not a general meeting and I cannot offend by including you.»

«He can come…» Menolly jerked her thumb at I Jaxom, glaring at him with resentment.

«I can what?»

«You hadn't learned from Lytol that a meeting's been called after the Impression?» the Harper asked.

«Ruatha must attend.»

«They couldn't exclude you as Masterharper,» said Menolly in a tight voice.

«Why would they?» Jaxom asked, surprised by Menolly's uncharacteristic defensiveness.

«Because, you dim glow..»

«That's enough, Menolly. I appreciate your concern, but all things come to pass in the fullness of time. My head is neither bloodied or bowed. Once Ramoth has killed, I'll have no fear of being dragon bait, either.» Robinton patted her shoulder, reassuringly.

The queen was making her way out of the Hatching Ground and, as they watched, she took wing.

«There, you see. She's gone to feed,» the Harper said. «I have nothing to fear anymore.»

Menolly gave him a long sardonic look. «I just wish I could be with you, that's all.»

«I know. Ah, Fandarel,» The Harper raised his voice and waved to catch the eye of the big Mastersmith. «Come, Lord Jaxom, we've business in the Council Chamber.»

This must be what Lytol had meant by his being required to attend the Hatching. But oughtn't Lytol to have been there if the meeting was as important as Menolly intimated? Jaxom was flattered by his guardian's confidence.

The two Masters, having met on their way down the tiers, attached other Craftmasters who nodded greetings with more solemnity than a Hatching generally occasioned. Menolly's hint that this was to be an unusual meeting was reinforced. Again Jaxom wondered that Lytol was not here. He had, Jaxom knew, agreed to support Robinton.

«Thought Ramoth was going to prevent Impression for a moment there,» Fandarel said, nodding at Jaxom. «Hear you've deserted me for your favorite pastime, huh, lad?»

«Training only. Master Fandarel. All dragons must learn to chew firestone.»

«Upon my soul,» Masterminer Nicat exclaimed. «Never thought he'd live long enough to do that.»

Jaxom caught the Masterharper's warning expression as he was about to reply with some heat, and rephrased his answer. «Ruth is very good at it, thank you.»

«One forgets the passage of time, Master Nicat,» Robinton said, smoothly, «and that growth and maturity come to those we remember first as very young. Ah, Andemon, how are you today?» The Harper beckoned to the Masterfarmer to join them as they made their way across the hot sands.

Nicat fell in beside Jaxom, chuckling. «Teaching the little white to chew firestone, huh? That wouldn't happen to be why some of our supplies appear short in the morning?»

«Master Nicat, I'm training at Fort Weyr and have all the firestone Ruth needs there.»

«Training at Fort Weyr, are you?» Nicat's grin widened as his eyes flicked to Jaxom's cheek, stayed and moved on. «With dragonriders, huh, Lord Jaxom?» There was the barest stress of the title before Nicat looked ahead at the steps up to the queen's weyr and the ledge where Mnementh generally perched.

The bronze had gone off to watch his queen feed in the meadow below. Jaxom looked for the white hide of Ruth by the lake and felt his dragon's mental presence.

«Good Hatching, with a nice bit of suspense for starters, huh?» Nicat said conversationally.

«Did you have any lads on the Ground today?» Jaxom asked politely.

«Only one this time; Two lads had already gone to Telgar's last Hatching so no complaints. No complaints. Although, if you've a clutch of fire lizard eggs going a begging, I wouldn't say no to a couple.»

Nicat's gaze was guileless, and it certainly would be no hair off his hide if Jaxom chose to teach Ruth to chew firestone and had appropriated sacks from the mines.

«We've none presently, but you never can tell when a clutch'll be found.»

«I only mention it in passing. They're pure death for those pesky, ruinous tunnel snakes, not to mention being very clever about discovering gas pockets we don't smell. And gas pockets is about all we're mining at present.»

The Masterminer sounded depressed and worried. Jaxom wondered what was in the air these days to produce such a general atmosphere of anxiety and sorrow. He'd always liked Master Nicat and, during their lessons in the mines, had come to respect the short heavyset craftmaster whose face was still black pored from working as an apprentice below the ground. As they climbed the stone steps to the queen's weyr, Jaxom wished again that he wasn't bound by that promise to N'ton not to time it. He had too many demands on ordinary daytime to risk a hop between to the Southern beaches although Ruth might be lucky enough to locate a clutch quickly. He would like to oblige Master Nicat; he'd also like to find an egg for Corana. It also wouldn't hurt to indulge the disgruntled Tegger, who might have learned how to keep a fire lizard now. But there was no way, short of timing it, that Jaxom could complete a trip south right now.

Just as they reached the entrance, a bronze dragon appeared above the Star Stones, bugling. The watch dragon replied. Jaxom noticed that everyone had stopped stock still to hear the exchange. Shells and shards, but they were nervous here in Benden. He wondered who had arrived.

The Weyrleader from Ista, Ruth told him.

D'ram? It wasn't incumbent on other Weyrleaders to attend Hatchings, though generally, unless Threadfall was imminent in their own area, they did come especially to Benden. Jaxom had already spotted N'ton, R'mart of Telgar Weyr, G'narish of Igen, T'bor of the High Reaches among those gathered. Then he remembered the Master Harper's talk about D'ram's Weyrwoman, Fanna. Was she worse?

When they reached the Council Chamber, Nicat parted from him. Jaxom took one look at Lessa, seated in the Weyrwoman's huge stone chair, her face intense in its frown, and he quickly moved to the far comer of the room. Her keen eyes wouldn't be able to spot the score on his cheek at that distance.

This was not to be a large meeting, the Harper had said. Jaxom watched the Mastercraftsmen file in, the other Weyrleaders, the major Lord Holders, but there were no weyrwomen or wing seconds except for Brekke and F'nor.

D'ram arrived in the company of F'lar and a younger man Jaxom didn't recognize though he wore wing second colors. If Jaxom had been upset by the glimpse of the Masterharper's aging, he was shocked by the change in D'ram's appearance. The man seemed to have shrunk in the past Turn to a husk, dried up and frail. The Istan Weyrleader's step was jerky and his shoulders rounded.

Lessa rose in one of her swift graceful gestures and went to meet the Istan, her hands outstretched, her expression unexpectedly compassionate. Jaxom had had the impression that she had been totally immersed in her brooding. Now, all her attention was centered on D'ram.

«We're all assembled as you asked, D'ram,» Lessa said, pulling him to the chair beside her and pouring him a cup of wine.

D'ram thanked her for the wine and welcome, took a sip but, instead of seating himself, he turned to face the meeting. Jaxom could see that his face was marred by lines of fatigue as well as of age.

«Most of you already know my situation and Fanna's… illness,» he said in a low hesitant voice. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. «I wish to step down now as Istan Weyrleader. None of our queens is due to mate but I have no heart to continue longer. My Weyr has agreed. G'dened,» and D'ram indicated the man who had accompanied him, «has led the past ten Falls on his Barnath. I should have stepped down sooner but…» he shook his head, smiling sadly, «we so hoped the illness would pass.» He straightened his shoulders with an effort. «Caylith is oldest queen and Cosira a good Weyrwoman. Barnath has flown Caylith already and there's been a large strong clutch to prove them.» Now he hesitated, glancing warily at Lessa. «It was the custom in the Oldtime, when a Weyr was leaderless, to throw open the first queen's flight in that Weyr to all young bronzes. In this fashion a new leader was fairly chosen. I would invoke that custom now.» He said it almost belligerently and yet his manner toward Lessa was entreating.

«You must be very sure of G'dened's Barnath then,» R'mart of Telgar Weyr said in a disgusted tone of voice that rose over the startled murmurs.

G'dened, grinning broadly, managed to avoid meeting anyone's glance.

«I want the best leadership for Ista,» D'ram said, stiffly, resenting R'mart's implication of a token flight. «G'dened has proved his competence to my satisfaction. But he ought to prove it to everyone's.»

«That's fairly put.» F'lar rose to his feet, holding up his hands for silence. «I don't doubt G'dened has a good chance, R'mart, but D'ram's offer is exceedingly generous at this critical time. I'll inform all my bronze riders but I, for one, will permit only those whose dragons haven't yet had a chance to mate with a queen. I don't think it's fair to pile too many odds against Barnath, now is it?»

«Isn't Caylith a Benden queen?» Lord Corman of Keroon Hold asked.

«No, she's one of Mirath's laying. Parith is the Benden Hatched queen.»

«Caylith's an Oldtimer queen?»

«Caylith is an Istan queen,» F'lar said firmly but quickly.

«And G'dened?»

«I was born in the old time,» the man said in a quiet voice but the expression he turned to Lord Corman bore no trace of apology.

«He is also a son of D'ram,» Lord Warbret of Ista Hold said, speaking directly to Lord Corman as if that qualification should ease the Holder's tacit objection.

«Good man. Good blood,» Corman replied, not at all ruffled.

«His leadership is in question, not his bloodline,» F'lar said. «The custom is a good one…»

Jaxom clearly heard someone remark that it was the only good Oldtime custom he'd ever heard about, and he hoped that the low whisper hadn't carried far.

«D'ram would be within his right to keep to the Weyr for leadership,» F'lar continued, addressing the craftmasters and Lord Holders. «I, for one, deeply appreciate his offer and the willingness of the Weyr to open the mating flight.»

«I only want the best leadership for my Weyr,» D'ram repeated. «This is the only way to be certain Ista gets it. The only way, the only right way.»

Jaxom suppressed the urge to cheer and glanced about the room, willing the reactions to be favorable. All the Weyrleaders seemed to agree. As they should, since one of their riders might gain from it. Jaxom hoped that G'dened's Barnath would fly Caylith anyhow. That would prove there was good metal in the younger Oldtimers. No one would be able to say anything against Ista leadership once it was proved by competition!

«I have stated Ista's intention,» D'ram said, raising his tired voice over the murmur of individual conversations. «It is the will of my Weyr. I must go back now. My duty to you, Lords, Masters, Weyrleaders, all.»

He gave a quick sweeping nod to everyone, bowed more formally to Lessa, who rose, touched his arm in sympathy and let him pass.

To Jaxom's surprise and elation, everyone rose as D'ram left, but the Istan Weyrleader's head remained down. Jaxom wondered if he'd been aware of that spontaneous show of respect and felt a lump rise in his throat.

«I will take my leave as well, in case I'm needed,» G'dened said, bowing formally to Benden's leaders and the others.

«G'dened?» Lessa incorporated a wealth of question in his name.

The man shook his head slowly. «I will inform all the Weyrs when Caylith is ready to fly.» He quickly followed D'ram.

As the sound of his footsteps diminished down the corridor, voices began to rise. The Lord Holders weren't certain they approved of such an innovation. The Craftmasters were apparently divided, though Jaxom rather thought Robinton had known of D'ram's decision and was neutral. The Weyrleaders expressed complete satisfaction.

«Hope Fanna doesn't expire today,» Jaxom heard a Craftmaster murmur to his neighbor. «A death at a Hatching is a bad sign.»

«Besides spoiling the feast. I wonder just how strong G'dened's bronze is. Now if a Benden bronze rider got into Ista…»

Speaking of the feast reminded Jaxom that his stomach was roiling for lack of food. He'd been up early for his training as usual, and had had no more than time to change into good clothing at his Hold so he began to sidle to the exit. He could always coax a meatroll or a sweetbread from one of the Lower Cavern women to stay his hunger.

«Is this all the meeting there is?» Lord Begamon of Nerat Hold asked, his rasping voice falling into a momentary silence. He sounded peevish. «Haven't the Weyrs yet found out who took the egg? Even who returned it? That's what I thought we'd hear today.»

«The egg was returned. Lord Begamon,» F'lar said, extending his hand to Lessa.

«I know the egg was returned. I was right here when it happened. Was at its Hatching, too.»

F'lar continued to lead Lessa down the length of the room.

«This is another Hatching, Lord Begamon,» F'lar said. «A happy occasion for all of us. There will be wine below.» And the two Weyrleaders had left the room.

«I don't understand.» Begamon turned in confusion to the man beside him. «I thought we'd learn something today.»

«You did,» F'nor said, guiding Brekke past him. «That D'ram is stepping down as Weyrleader at Ista.»

«That doesn't concern me,» Begamon was growing more, rather than less, annoyed with the replies he was getting.

«That concerns you more than any puzzle over the egg,» F'nor said as he and Brekke left the room.

«I think that's all the answer you're going to get,» Robinton said to Begamon, a wry smile on his face.

«But… but aren't they doing anything about it? They're not just letting the Oldtimers insult them like that and not doing something?»

«Unlike Lord Holders,» N'ton said, coming forward, «dragonriders are not free to indulge their passions or honors at the expense of their primary duty, which is to protect all of Pern from Thread. That is the important occupation of dragonriders, Lord Begamon.»

«C'mon, Begamon,» Lord Groghe of Fort Hold said as he took the man by the arm. «It's Weyr business, not ours, you know. Can't interfere. Shouldn't. They know what they're doing. And the egg was returned. Too bad about D'ram's woman. Hate to see him go. Sensible fellow. F'lar didn't say but it must be Benden wine.»

Jaxom saw Lord Groghe searching the faces about him.

«Ah, Harper, it ought to be Benden wine here?» The Harper agreed and left the Council room in the company of the two Lords, Begamon still protesting the lack of information. Jaxom followed them out as the room was clearing. When he got to the base of the weyr steps, Menolly pounced on him.

«Well, what happened? Did they speak to him at all?»

«Did who speak to whom?»

«Did F'lar or Lessa address the Harper?»

«No reason why they would.»

«Plenty of reason why they wouldn't. What happened?»

Jaxom sighed for patience with her as he rapidly reviewed what had occurred.

«D'ram came here to ask no, to tell them that he's stepping down as Istan Weyrleader…» Menolly nodded encouragingly as if this were no news to her. «And he said he was invoking an Oldtime custom to throw the first queen's mating flight open to all bronzes.»

Menolly's eyes widened and she made her mouth round with surprise. «That must have rocked 'em back on their heels. Any protests?»

«From the Lord Holders, yes.» Jaxom grinned. «From the other Weyrleaders, no. Except that R'mart made a snide remark about G'dened being so strong there'd be no contest.»

«I don't know G'dened, but he's a son of D'ram's.»

«That doesn't always mean anything.»

«True.»

«D'ram kept saying that he wanted the best leadership for Ista Weyr and this was the way to achieve it.»

«Poor D'ram…»

«Poor Fanna, you mean.»

«No, poor D'ram. Poor us. He was very strong as a leader. Did Master Robinton speak at all?» she asked then, throwing off her reflections on D'ram for the more important consideration.

«He spoke to Begamon.»

«Not to the Weyrleaders?»

«No reason to. Why?»

«They've been such close friends for so long…and they're so unfair about it. He had to speak up. Dragons can't fight dragons.»

To which Jaxom stoutly agreed, his comment echoed by a rumble from his stomach so audible that Menolly glared at him. Jaxom was torn between embarrassment and amusement at such an internal betrayal. The laughter won and, even as he apologized to Menolly, he could see that the incident had triggered her sense of the ridiculous.

«Oh, come on. I won't get any sense out of you until you've eaten.»

It was not the most memorable of Hatching feasts nor particularly merry. A restraint touched the dragonriders. Jaxom did not try to figure out how much was due to D'ram's resignation or how much to the theft of the egg. He preferred not to hear any more about that. He was uncomfortable in Menolly's company because he couldn't put aside his feeling that she knew he'd brought the egg back. The fact that she said nothing about her suspicions worried him more because he also felt that she was leaving him in suspense on purpose; He didn't particularly wish to share a table with F'lessan and Mirrim, who might notice the Threadscore. Benelek was not his choice of a companion at any time and he certainly wouldn't have been at ease taking the place at the main tables to which his rank entitled him. Menolly had been dragged away from him by Oharan, the Weyr's Harper, and he could hear them singing. Had there been new music he might have stayed by them, just to be part of some group. But the Lord Holders were asking for their favorite songs and so were the proud parents of boys who had Impressed.

Ruth was enjoying the emotional feast of the newly Hatched dragons but he did miss the ministrations of the fire lizards.

They don't like being cooped up in Brekke's weyr, Ruth told his rider. Why can't they come out? Ramoth's asleep with a very full belly. She wouldn't even know.

«Don't be too sure of that,» Jaxom said, glancing up at Mnementh, curled on the queen's ledge, his softly glowing eyes bright points on the other side of the darkening Weyr Bowl.

The outcome was that he and Ruth left the feast as soon after eating as courtesy permitted. While they were circling in to Ruatha Hold Jaxom began to worry about Lytol. His guardian would be extremely upset when Fanna died and her queen suicided. He wished he didn't have to bring the news of D'ram's resignation. He knew that Lytol respected the Oldtimer. He wondered what Lytol's reaction would be to the open mating flight.

Lytol merely grunted, gave a sharp nod of his head and asked Jaxom if any further development over the theft of the egg had been discussed. For Jaxom's recital of Lord Begamon's complaint, Lytol issued another sort of grunt, disgusted and contemptuous. Then he asked if there were any fire lizard eggs available; two more small holders had been pressing him for eggs. Jaxom said he'd ask N'ton in the morning.

«Considering the bad odor of fire lizards, I wonder anyone wants them,» the Fort Weyrleader remarked the next day when Jaxom told him his errand. «Or maybe that's why there's so many requests. Everyone is convinced no one else will want 'em, so they get in there now. No, I don't have any. But I wanted to speak with you. Fort Weyr flies with the High Reaches Weyr tomorrow during the northernly Fall. If it were over Ruatha, I'd ask you to join the weyrling wing. As it is, I'd better not. Can you understand?»

Jaxom allowed that he could, but did N'ton mean that he would be able to fight Ruth the next time Thread was over Ruatha.

«I discussed it with Lytol.» N'ton grinned, his eyes twinkling. «Lytol's reasoning is that you'd be so far above ground no Ruathan would realize his Lord Holder was risking his life and word wouldn't get back to Benden.»

«I risk my life and limbs far more surely on the ground with that flamethrower crew.»

«Quite likely, but we still don't want someone blurting the truth out to Lessa and F'lar. I've bad a good report of you from K'nebel. Ruth is all you told me he could be fast, clever and unusually quick in the air.» N'ton grinned again. «Between you and me, K'nebel says the little beast changes direction on his tail. His chief concern is that some of the others might get the notion that their dragons can do the same thing, and we'd have riders coming adrift.»

So the following morning, while the Weyr dealt with falling Thread, Jaxom hunted Ruth and then directed him to the lake for a good scrub and swim. While the fire lizards were grooming Ruth's neck ridges, Jaxom did a careful brushing of the scar on his leg.

Suddenly the white dragon whimpered. Apologetic, Jaxom looked around and noticed that the fire lizards had suspended their labors. All the animals had their heads cocked, as if listening to something beyond Jaxom's hearing.

«What's the matter, Ruth?»

The woman dies.

«Take me back to the Hold, Ruth. Hurry.»

Jaxom gritted his teeth as his wet clothing froze against his body in the cold of between. Teeth chattering, Jaxom glanced toward the watchdragon on the fire heights. Strangely enough, the beast was indolent in the sun when he ought to be responding to the death.

Now she is not yet dying, Ruth said.

It took Jaxom a moment to realize that Ruth had acted on his own initiative and timed it to just before the fire lizards' alarm at the lake.

«We promised not to time it, Ruth.» Jaxom could appreciate the circumstances but he didn't like the notion of going back on his word for any reason.

You promised. I did not. Lytol will need you in time.

Ruth landed Jaxom in the courtyard and the young Lord pelted up the stairs to the main Hall. He startled the drudge who was sweeping the dining hall with a demand to know Lytol's whereabouts. The drudge thought Lord Lytol was with Master Brand. Jaxom knew that Brand kept wine in his office but he ducked into the serving hall, grabbed up a wineskin by its thong, swept two cups into his other hand and strode to the steps of the inner hall, which he took two at a time. Catching the heavy inner door with the point of his shoulder, he worked the latch with his right elbow and continued without much loss of forward speed down the corridor to Brand's quarters.

Just as he threw open the door, Brand's little blue fire lizard struck the very listening pose that had alerted Jaxom at the lake.

«What's the matter, Lord Jaxom?» Brand cried, rising to his feet. Lytol's face showed his disapproval of such a mannerless entrance and he was about to speak when Jaxom pointed to the fire lizard.

The blue suddenly sat back on his haunches, opened his wings and began the shrill high ululation that was the keening of the fire lizards. As all color drained from Lytol's face, the men heard the deeper, equally piercing cries of the watchdragon and Ruth, each giving voice to the passing of a queen dragon. Jaxom splashed wine in a cup and held it to Lytol. «It doesn't stop the pain, I know,» he said in a rough tone, «but you can get drunk enough not to hear or remember.»