The White Dragon

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Others did, and you know how fire-lizards chatter.” Then Jaxom recalled Menolly’s comments. “What are that lot thinking of now?”

  Their full bellies. The wherries were juicy and tender. Very good eating. They do not remember better in many Turns.

  “Would they go away if you told them to?”

  Ruth snorted, his eyes whirling a bit, more with amusement than irritation. They would wonder why and come to see. I will tell them if you want me to. Maybe they would stay away long enough.

  “Just like them: they’ve more curiosity than sense. Well, as Robinton is always saying, there’s a way to solve every problem. We’ll just have to find a way.”

  On their return to Ruatha Hold, Ruth’s digestion was working noisily. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on a sun-warmed rock and sleep, and since the brown watchdragon was away from his usual post, Ruth settled there. Jaxom waited in the Great Courtyard until he saw Ruth safely ensconced, and then he sought Lytol.

  If Brand had commented on Jaxom’s request to Lytol, the Lord Warder gave no sign, greeting Jaxom with his usual reserve and enjoining him to eat quickly as they had rather a long ride to make. Tordril and one of the other older fosterlings living under Lytol’s supervision would accompany them. Masterfarmer Andemon had sent a new seed he had developed for a high-yield, fast-growing wheat. Southern fields, grub-infested and planted with this wheat seed, had produced phenomenally healthy, blight-resistant crops, that were able to survive long dry spells. Andemon wondered how the wheat would fare in a rainier, Northern climate.

  Many of the older small holders were stubborn about trying something new. “As hidebound as Oldtimers,” Lytol would mutter, but somehow or other he managed to prevail. For instance, Fidello, who owned the hold they were seeding, was only two Turns in the holding, the previous man having died of a fall while tracking wild wherries.

  So, after a quick meal, the travelers set off on some of the specially bred runners that could pace a long summer’s day without tiring. Though Jaxom used to find it tedious to take hours to cross country he could fly between on Ruth in a few breaths, he did enjoy an occasional runner ride. Today, with spring in the air and secure in the knowledge that he was still in Lytol’s good graces, he enjoyed the trip.

  Fidello’s holding was in northeast Ruatha, on a plateau with the snow-capped mountains of Crom in the background. When they reached the plateau, the blue fire-lizard that rode on Tordril’s arm shrilled a greeting and took off to make an aerial circle of introduction to a brown that was probably looking to Fidello and set to watch for the visitors. Immediately the two fire-lizards winked between. Tordril and Jaxom exchanged glances, knowing that a welcoming cup of klah and sweetbreads would be waiting at the holding. Their ride had given them an appetite.

  Fidello himself rode out to escort them on the last part of the road. He was mounted on a sturdy work-beast whose summer coat gleamed with health through the rough and patchy winter fur. His Hold, to which he welcomed them in an earnest but restrained manner, was small and well kept. His dependents, including those of the last holder, had assembled to serve the visitors.

  “He’s got a good cook,” Tordril said in an aside to Jaxom as the three younger men made conspicuous inroads on the food laid out on the long Hall table. “And a deuced pretty sister,” he added as the girl approached them bearing a steaming pitcher of klah.

  She was pretty, Jaxom agreed, looking at her closely for the first time. Trust Tordril to spot the prettiest girl. Brand would have to keep his eye on this one when he ventured out of the Hold to the workers’ cots below the bridge. This pretty girl, however, had a timid smile for Jaxom, not Tordril, and even though the prospective Lord of Ista tried to engage her in conversation, she gave him short answers, keeping her smiles for Jaxom. She left his side only when her brother joined them to say that perhaps they’d better seed the fields or it would be a long, dark ride back to the Hold.

  “I wonder would you have got her so quick if I’d been Lord of Ruatha?” Tordril asked Jaxom as they checked their saddle girths before mounting.

  “Got her?” Jaxom stared blankly at Tordril. “We only chatted.”

  “Well, you could have her next time you . . . ah, have a chance to chat. Or does Lytol mind a few half-bloods around? Father says it keeps the full ones on their toes! Ought to be easy for you with Lytol weyrbred, and not as stuffy about such things.”

  Lytol and Fidello joined them at that point but Tordril’s envious comment set Jaxom’s thoughts on a very fruitful tack. What was her name? Corana? Well, Corana could be very useful. There was only the one fire-lizard about the Plateau Hold—and, if Ruth could just dissuade that creature from following them . . .

  When they returned to the Hold late that night, Jaxom quietly climbed to the fire-heights and took a good sackful of firestone from the brown’s supply while the old watch-dragon and his rider were having a brief evening flight to stretch wings.

  The next morning he casually asked Lytol if he thought they had brought enough seed for Fidello. Theirs did seem to be a very large field. Lytol regarded his ward from under half-closed lids for a moment and then agreed that perhaps another half-sack might be to the wise. Tordril’s expression mirrored surprise, envy and, Jaxom felt, some respect for plausibility. Lytol duly ordered a half-sack of Andemon’s seed from Brand’s locked stores, and Jaxom sauntered off with it to don his riding gear.

  Ruth, full of himself after a good feed, wanted to know if there was a nice lake near the Hold. Jaxom thought that the river was wide enough for a respectable dragon’s bath, but they weren’t going there for water sports. They managed to take off without anyone seeing the second sack slung on Ruth—or the fighting straps. Although the fire-lizards engaged in their usual dizzy pattern around them while Ruth was becoming airborne, none emerged with them at the Plateau Hold.

  Fidello himself took receipt of the additional seed with such profuse thanks that Jaxom was a bit abashed at his duplicity.

  “Didn’t like to mention it in front of the Lord Warder, Lord Jaxom, but that’s a fair big field I’ve ready for this seed and I’d want to see a good return to justify Lord Lytol’s opinion of me. Would you care for refreshment? My wife . . .”

  Only his wife? “It would be welcome. The morning’s nippy.” He patted Ruth affectionately and dismounted, following Fidello into the Hold. He was pleased to notice that the main Hall was as tidy as it had been for their expected visit. Corana was not in evidence, but Fidello’s very pregnant wife was in no way misled by his casual return.

  “Everyone else has gone to the river, to the place where it forms an island, to gather withies, Lord Jaxom,” she said, glancing at him coquettishly, as she served him hot klah. “On your beautiful dragon, that’s no more than a moment’s trip for you, my Lord.”

  “Now why would Lord Jaxom want to see withies gathered?” Fidello asked, but received no direct answer.

  The social amenities discharged, Jaxom directed Ruth aloft, circled while waving down at Fidello, and then took them between to the mountain well beyond the keenest eye of any Hold. The brown fire-lizard followed.

  “Shells! Ruth, tell him to get lost.”

  Immediately the brown winked out.

  “Good, now I can teach you to chew firestone.”

  I know.

  “You think you know. I’ve been around dragonriders long enough to know that doing so is not quite as simple as that.”

  Ruth gave a sort of sniff as Jaxom dug a lump of firestone the size of his own generous fist out of the sack.

  “Now think of your other stomach!”

  Ruth lidded his eyes completely as he accepted the firestone. The noise as he chewed the lump startled him. His eyes came wide open, making Jaxom exclaim: “Should you make that much noise?”

  It is rock.

  He threw one lid over his eyes as he suddenly swallowed. I am thinking of my other stomach, he told Jaxom before he could be reminded. Later Jaxom swore that he could all but hea
r the chewed fragments rolling down the dragon’s gullet. The two sat and regarded each other, waiting for the next step.

  “You’re supposed to belch.”

  I know. I know how to belch. But I can’t.

  Jaxom politely offered him another largish piece of firestone. This time the chewing did not resound so noticeably. Ruth swallowed, then seemed to settle more on his haunches.

  OH!

  On the heels of the mental exclamation, a rumble started that made Ruth look quickly at his white belly. His mouth opened. With a startled shout, Jaxom launched himself to one side just as a tiny trickle of flame appeared at the white dragon’s muzzle. Ruth jerked backward, only saved from falling over by the set of his tail.

  I think I need more firestone to make a respectable flame.

  Jaxom offered several smallish lumps. Ruth made quick work of the chewing. And quicker work of the eruption of gas.

  That was much more the thing, Ruth said with satisfaction.

  “Wouldn’t do much against Thread.”

  Ruth just opened his mouth for more firestone. What Jaxom had brought was all too quickly consumed. But with it, Ruth managed to sear a fair swath among the rock weeds.

  “I don’t think we’ve got the hang of it.”

  We also haven’t burned any Thread midair.

  “We aren’t exactly ready to do that yet. But we have proved that you can chew firestone.”

  I never doubted it.

  “I never did either, Ruth, but,” Jaxom sighed heavily, “we’re going to need a lot of firestone at hand, until you learn the way of sustaining a continuous eruption.”

  Ruth looked so disconsolate that Jaxom hastily reassured him, stroking his eye ridges and caressing his headbone.

  “We should have been allowed to train you properly with the other weyrlings. It’s just not fair. I’ve always said so. You can’t help your difficulties today. But, by the First Shell, we’ll eventually succeed together.”

  Ruth allowed himself to be reassured, then brightened. We will work harder, that’s all. But it would be easier with more firestone. Brown Wilth never uses much anymore. He’s really too old to chew at all.

  “That’s why he’s a watchdragon.”

  Jaxom emptied the sack of any firestone rubble, tied it up by the neck thong and looped it around his belt. He hadn’t needed the rope for fighting straps, after all. He was about to tell Ruth to transfer directly to Ruatha when he remembered that he had better consolidate his alibi for future use. He had no trouble finding the withie gatherers by the river island, and Corana eagerly came to meet him. She was very pretty, he realized, with a delicate flush to her skin and round greenish eyes. Her dark hair had escaped the braids about her face and now clung to her cheeks in damp waves.

  “Has there been Thread?” she asked, her green eyes becoming round with alarm.

  “No. Why?”

  “I can smell firestone.”

  “Oh, these riding clothes. I always use them during Fall. Smell must cling to them. I just didn’t notice.” That was one hazard he hadn’t considered and he’d have to do something about it. “I flew up with more seed for your brother . . .”

  She thanked him sweetly for taking so much trouble for such a small hold as theirs. Then she became shy. Jaxom rather liked drawing her out and sent her into another spin by insisting on helping with the withie gathering.

  “This Lord Holder wants to know how to do everything he requires of his holders,” he said, to silence her protests.

  Actually, he enjoyed himself. When they had amassed a huge bundle, he offered to fly it home on Ruth if she’d ride with him. Corana was honestly frightened but he assured her they’d only fly straight since she wasn’t dressed for cold between. Jaxom got in a couple of kisses before Ruth circled to land his passengers at the Hold. He decided that one way or another, Corana would no longer be just an excuse.

  When he had deposited her and the withies, he directed Ruth between to their mountain lake. Though he was in no mood for a cold bath, Jaxom knew they’d better scrub off the firestone stink before going back to Ruatha. It took time to sandscrub the smell from Ruth’s fair hide. Then Jaxom had to dry his impregnated shirt and pants, spreading them in full sun on the bushes. By that time the sun was well past zenith and he had spent far more time than dallying with Corana would cover. So he took a risk and returned to Ruatha between time to when the sun was still on the morning side of the sky. But one detail he forgot to take into his calculations nearly gave away their endeavor.

  He was at dinner when his dragon let out a call for him, an urgent call. “Ruth!” he explained as he sprang from his chair at the table and raced across the Hall to the corridor to his quarters.

  My stomach burns, Ruth began telling him in great distress.

  “Shells, it’s the stone,” Jaxom replied as he ran down the deserted hallway. “Go outside, to the fire-heights. Where Wilth leaves his.”

  Ruth wasn’t sure he could fly in his condition.

  “Nonsense. You can always fly.” Ruth had to disgorge his second stomach outside the weyr. Lytol might just follow to see what ailed the beast for him to interrupt Jaxom at dinner.

  I can’t move. I’m weighed down in the middle.

  “You’re just going to regurgitate the firestone ash. Dragons don’t keep that in their stomachs: they can’t pass it. The stuff has got to come back up.”

  I feel as if it will.

  “Not in the weyr, Ruth. Please!”

  Scarcely a second later, Ruth eyed him apologetically. In the middle of the weyr floor, a small pile of what looked like brownish gray wet sand exuded steam.

  I feel much better now, Ruth said in a very small voice.

  “Can you hear Lytol coming?” Jaxom asked Ruth, because his heart was pounding so from running that that was all he could hear. He dashed out the metal doors and into the kitchen yard to fetch a bucket and shovel. “If I can just get this outside before it smells up the place . . .” He worked as fast as he could and fortunately the mess just filled the one bucket. It wasn’t as if Ruth had chewed enough firestone for a full four-hour Threadfall.

  Jaxom pushed the bucket out and sprinkled sweet sand on the spot.

  “No Lytol?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

  No.

  Jaxom exhaled heavily with relief, patted Ruth reassuringly. He wouldn’t forget to have Ruth regurgitate in a safe spot next time.

  When he resumed his place at the table, Jaxom offered no explanation and none was asked—one more example of the new respect from his familiars.

  The next night he and Ruth filched as much firestone as the dragon could carry from the most logical place—the firestone mines in Crom. Half a dozen fire-lizards appeared during their raid, and Ruth merely sent each one on its way as soon as it appeared.

  “Don’t let them follow us.”

  They were only being courteous. They like me.

  “There’s such a thing as being too popular.”

  Ruth sighed.

  “Is this too much firestone?” Jaxom asked, not wanting to overburden the beast.

  Of course not. I’m very strong.

  Jaxom directed Ruth between to the Keroon desert destination. There was the sea to bathe in afterward and plenty of sweat sand to scrub off firestone stench, and sun hot enough to dry his clothing in next to no time.

  CHAPTER V

  Morning in Harpercraft Hall, Fort Hold,

  Afternoon in Benden Weyr, Late

  Afternoon in Harpercraft Hall, 15.5.26

  ANOTHER THREADFALL PASSED before Jaxom could get off to the Plateau Hold again. He seemed to have more success with Corana than in getting Ruth to sustain flame properly. The white dragon’s throat was nearly burned from keeping in belches when fire-lizards would suddenly appear at the most inopportune times. Jaxom was certain that every single one in Keroon Hold had had a look-in. Even Ruth’s patience was tried and they had to time it by a six-hour span so that their absence from Ruatha would not be con
sidered exceptional. Timing it tired him, Jaxom realized, as he fell into bed that night, exhausted and frustrated.

  To make matters worse he would have to go to the Masterharperhall the next day with Finder because the Ruathan Harper was scheduled to learn how to use Wansor’s star equations. Every Harper was expected to master that so at least one other person besides the holder could make an accurate check on Threadfall.

  The Masterharperhall was part of the sprawling complex of dwellings inside and outside the Fort Hold cliffs. When Jaxom and Finder, on Ruth, burst into the air above the Harpercrafthall, they met chaos. Fire-lizards were swooping and diving, screaming in an ecstasy of agitation. The watchdragon on Fort Hold’s fire-heights was up on his hind legs, front ones pawing the air, wings fanning at the stretch, bellowing in fury.

  Angry! They are angry! was Ruth’s startled comment. Ruth! I am Ruth! Ruth! he called in his inimitable tenor bugle.

  “What’s happened?” Finder demanded in Jaxom’s ear.

  “Ruth says they’re angry.”

  “Angry? I’ve never seen a dragon that angry before!”

  Filled with apprehension, Jaxom directed Ruth to the courtyard of the Harpercrafthall. So many people were dashing around, with fire-lizards zipping wildly about, that he had trouble finding a clear spot. No sooner had he landed than a wing of fire-lizards danced about him, projecting anxious, agitated thoughts that Ruth told Jaxom made no sense to him—and even less to Jaxom when he received them secondhand. He did perceive that these were Menolly’s beasts, sent to find out where he was.

  “There you are! You got my message?” Menolly came racing out of the Hall up to them, dragging on her flying gear as she ran. “We’ve got to go to Benden Weyr. They’ve stolen the queen egg.”

  She was scrambling up behind Finder on Ruth’s back, apologizing for crowding him and urging Jaxom to get a move on. “Are three too many for Ruth?” Menolly asked with belated concern as the white dragon seemed to hesitate before launching himself.

  Never.

  “Who stole Ramoth’s egg? How? When?” Finder asked.