“Timing it,” F’nor said thoughtfully.
Zair squeaked piteously and Robinton soothed him. Again the fire-lizard inserted in his mind the image of dragons flaming fire-lizards: the black nothingness, and a glimpse of an egg.
“Did you both get that picture, too, from your friends?” he asked, though their startled expression made the question unnecessary.
Robinton pressed Zair for a clearer image, a view of where the egg was, and received nothing but the impression of flame and fear.
“I wish they’d a bit more sense,” Robinton said, forcing down his irritation. Tantalizing to be so close, thwarted by the limited scope of fire-lizard vision.
“They’re still upset,” F’nor said. “I’ll try with Grall and Berd later on. I wonder if Menolly’s getting the same reaction from hers. You might ask her when you’ve got back to the Harpercrafthall, Master Robinton. With ten, she might get that much more clarity.”
Robinton agreed as he rose, but thought of one last thing. “N’ton, weren’t you among the bronzes who went to Southern Weyr, to see if the egg had been taken there?”
“I was. The Weyr was deserted. Not even an old dragon left behind. Completely deserted.”
“Yes, that would follow, wouldn’t it?”
When Jaxom and Menolly, on Ruth, entered the air above Fort Hold, Ruth called his name to the watchdragon and was almost smothered by fire-lizards. They so impeded his progress that he dropped a few lengths before he could get them to give him wing room. The moment he landed, the fire-lizards swarmed over him and his riders, keening with anxiety.
Menolly called out reassurances as fire-lizards clung to her clothing, got tangled in her hair. Jaxom found two trying to sit on his head, several had tails wrapped around his neck and three were beating their wings frantically to remain at eye level with him.
“What’s got into them?”
“They’re terrified! Dragons breathing fire at them,” Menolly cried. “But no one’s doing that to you, you silly clunches. You only have to stay away from the Weyrs for a bit.”
Other Harpers, attracted by the commotion, came to their rescue, either taking the fire-lizards bodily from Jaxom and Menolly, or sternly recalling the ones that looked to them personally. When Jaxom started to shoo them away from Ruth, the dragon told him not to bother—he, Ruth, would calm them down himself shortly. They were frightened because they remembered being chased by dragon fire. Since the Harpers were all now clamoring for news from Benden, Jaxom decided to let Ruth handle the fire-lizards.
The Harpers had received some pretty distorted images from the fire-lizards returning, terrified, to the Harpercrafthall: Benden full of immense bronze dragons, breathing fire, ready to fight; Ramoth acting like a blood-maddened watchweyr, and curious images of the queen egg solitary in the sand. But what made the Harpers extremely apprehensive was the vision of dragons flaming at fire-lizards.
“Benden dragons did not flame any fire-lizards,” Jaxom and Menolly both said.
“But all the fire-lizards must stay away from Benden unless they’re sent to either Brekke or Mirrim,” Menolly added firmly. “And we’re to mark all those that look to Harpers with Harper colors.”
Jaxom and Menolly were ushered into the Harperhall and given wine and hot soup. Neither of them got to eat it hot because no sooner were they served than some of the Hold people arrived, soliciting the news. Menolly recounted the major portion of the happening, being the trained Harper. Jaxom’s respect for the girl increased greatly as he listened to her flowing voice evoke the emotions appropriate to each part of her narrative, without distorting what he knew to have happened. One of the senior Harpers, soothing the blue fire-lizard in the crook of his arm, kept nodding his head as if approving her use of Harper tricks.
When Menolly stopped speaking, a respectful murmur of thanks was heard throughout the room. Then the listeners became the speakers, dissecting the news, wondering who had returned the egg and how—and why, which was still the biggest question. How were the Weyrs going to protect themselves? Were the main Holds in any danger? Who knew to what lengths the Oldtimers might go if they’d steal a Benden egg? Now, there’d been some mysterious occurrences—insignificant in themselves but in total highly suspicious—which the Harpers felt ought to be reported to Benden Weyr. Those mysterious shortages at the iron mines, for instance. And what about those young girls who were carried off and no one could trace where? Could the Oldtimers be looking for more than dragon eggs?
Menolly eased her way out of the center of the audience and beckoned Jaxom to follow her. “I’m talked dry,” she said with a heavy sigh and led him down the corridor to the huge copyroom where moldy Records were transcribed before their messages were lost forever. Her lizards suddenly appeared and she signaled them to land on one of the tables. “You lot are about to wear the very latest design for fire-lizards!” She rummaged in the cabinet under the table. “Help me find white and yellow, Jaxom. This can is dried up.” She chucked it into a bin in the corner.
“And what is your design for fire-lizards?”
“Hmmmm. Here’s white. Harper blue with journeyman light blue, separated by white and framed by Fort Hold lattice yellow. That ought to label them accurately, don’t you think?”
Jaxom agreed and found himself required to hold fire-lizard necks still. This assignment was rendered all the more difficult because the fire-lizards seemed to want to look him straight in the eye.
“If they’re trying to tell me something, I’m not getting the message,” Jaxom told Menolly as he patiently endured the fifth soulful scrutiny.
“I suspect,” Menolly said, speaking in disjointed phrases as she carefully applied her root colors, “what you’ve got—hold him still, Jaxom—is the only . . . dragon on Pern . . . that . . . they’re not—hold him—scared silly of right now. Ruth doesn’t . . . after all chew firestone.”
Jaxom sighed because he could see that Ruth’s sudden popularity was going to ruin his private plans. Much as he was loath to do so, he was going to have to time it because if the fire-lizards didn’t know when they went they couldn’t follow him! That reminded him of his original errand to the Harpercrafthall.
“I started out this morning to get Wansor’s equations from you . . .”
“Hmmm, yes.” Menolly grinned at him over a squirming blue fire-lizard. “That seems like Turns ago. Well, we’ll just patch the white on Uncle, and I’ll give ’em to you. I’ve also got some winter-summer season charts you might as well have, seeing as you’ve been so cooperative. Piemur hasn’t written out many yet.”
A blue fire-lizard came zipping into the paint room, chirping with relief when it saw Jaxom.
It is the thick man’s blue, Ruth said from outside.
“I’ve only the one blue fire-lizard and we just did him, didn’t we?” Menolly asked in surprise, glancing about the room at the others.
“It’s Brand’s. I’d better get back to Ruatha Hold. I should’ve gone back hours ago.”
“Well, don’t be a fool and meet yourself coming,” she said with a laugh. “You’ve been on legitimate business this time.”
Managing a light laugh, Jaxom caught the roll of charts she threw in his direction. She couldn’t know what he had in mind. He was entirely too sensitive to her random remarks. Sign of a guilty conscience.
“Then you’ll alibi me to Lytol?”
“Anytime, Jaxom!”
Back at Ruatha Hold, he had the whole tale to tell again with an audience as rapt, astonished, angered and relieved as the Harpers and the Fort Holders. He found himself unconsciously using Menolly’s turns of phrase and he wondered how long before she’d make a Ballad of the event.
He finished by directing everyone owning a fire-lizard to band the creature with Ruatha colors: brown with red squares, banded by white and black. He got that task organized when he noticed that Lytol was still seated in his heavy chair, one hand playing with the corner of his lower lip, his eyes fixed on some indistinct point
on the flagstones.
“Lytol?”
The Lord Warder recalled himself to the present with an effort and frowned at Jaxom. Then he sighed. “I’ve always feared that the conflict might come to dragon against dragon.”
“It’s not come to that, Lytol,” Jaxom said quietly and as persuasively as he could.
The man looked intently into Jaxom’s eyes. “It could, lad. It so easily could. And I, and you, owe so much to Benden. Should I go there now?”
“Finder remained.”
Lytol nodded and Jaxom wondered if the Lord Warder felt he’d been slighted. “Better for Finder to travel on dragonback.” He passed his hand over his eyes and shook his head.
“You’re not well, Lytol. A cup of wine?”
“No, I’ll be all right, lad,” Lytol pushed himself vigorously to his feet. “I don’t suppose in all the fuss that you remembered what you went to the Harpercrafthall for?”
Much relieved to hear Lytol sound like himself, Jaxom lightly announced that he had not only Wansor’s equations but some charts to work with. From then until the evening meal, Jaxom wished he’d not been so thoughtful because Lytol had him instructing Brand and himself in accurately timing Threadfall.
Teaching someone else a method is a very good way to make it easier to do yourself, as Jaxom found later that night when he worked some private equations of his own, poring over the rough map he had of the Southern Continent. There was too much activity all over Pern for him to go to an alternate “when” with any safety. And since he was going to time it, he might just as well go back at least twelve Turns, before anyone had started using the Southern Continent at all. He knew just where firestone could be mined so there’d be no problem supplying Ruth. The night stars were halfway to morning before he felt he could find his way to the then he wanted to find.
Just before daybreak, he was awakened by the sound of Ruth’s whimpering. He struggled from his furs and stumbled barefoot on the cold stones, blinking sleep from his eyes. Ruth’s forelegs were churning and his wing elbows twitched with whatever dream disturbed him. Fire-lizards burrowed about him; most of them did not wear Ruathan colors. He shooed the creatures away and Ruth, sighing, dropped into a deeper, quiet sleep.
CHAPTER VI
Ruatha Hold and Southern Hold,
15.5.27–15.6.2
THE HOLD DAY began by sending out fire-lizards with messages to all the smaller Holds and craftcottages, ordering that every fire-lizard be appropriately marked and individually warned about approaching any Weyr. Some of the nearby holders had ridden in during the morning for reassurances about the garbled accounts the fire-lizards had given. So Lytol, Jaxom and Brand were kept busy all day. The next day, Thread was due to fall, and it fell at precisely the moment Lytol had calculated. This gave him great pleasure and reassured the more nervous holders.
Jaxom good-naturedly took his place with the flamethrower crew, not that any Thread escaped the Fort Weyr dragons. It amused Jaxom to think that at the next Threadfall, he too might be above ground on a fire-breathing Ruth.
The third day after the egg was stolen, Ruth was famished and wanted to hunt. But the fire-lizards came in such droves to accompany him that he killed only once and ate the beast up, bones and hide.
I will not kill for them, Ruth told Jaxom so fiercely that he wondered if Ruth might eventually flame the fire-lizards.
“What’s the matter? I thought you liked them!” Jaxom met his dragon on the grassy slope and caressed him soothingly.
They remember me doing something I do not remember doing. I did not do it. Ruth’s eyes whirled with red sparks.
“What do they remember you doing?”
I haven’t done it. And there was a tinge of fearful uncertainty to Ruth’s mental tone. I know I haven’t done it. I couldn’t do such a thing. I am a dragon. I am Ruth. I am of Benden! His last words sounded in a despairing tone.
“What do they remember you doing, Ruth? You’ve got to tell me.”
Ruth ducked his head, as if he wished he could hide, but he turned back to Jaxom, his eyes wheeling piteously. I wouldn’t take Ramoth’s egg. I know I didn’t take Ramoth’s egg. I was there by the lake all the time with you. I remember that. You remember that. They know where I was. But somehow they remember that I took Ramoth’s egg too.
Jaxom clung to Ruth’s neck to keep from falling. Then he took several very deep breaths.
“Show me the images they’ve been giving you, Ruth!”
And Ruth did, the projections growing more clear and vivid as Ruth calmed in response to his rider’s encouragement.
That’s what they remember, he said finally with a deep sigh of relief.
Jaxom told himself to think logically so he said out loud, “Fire-lizards can only tell what they’ve seen. You say they remember. Do you know when they remember seeing you take Ramoth’s egg?”
I could take you to that when.
“Are you sure?”
There are two queens—they’ve bothered me most because they remember best.
“They wouldn’t just happen to remember it at night, when the stars are out, would they?”
Ruth shook his head. Fire-lizards are not big enough to see enough stars. And that’s when they got flamed. The bronzes who guard the egg chew firestone. They don’t want any fire-lizards near.
“That’s smart of them.”
None of the dragons like fire-lizards anymore. And if they knew what the fire-lizards remember about me, they wouldn’t like me, either.
“Then it’s just as well that you’re the only dragon who’ll listen to fire-lizards, isn’t it?” That observation wasn’t much comfort to either Ruth or Jaxom. “But why, if the egg is already back in Benden Weyr, are the fire-lizards bothering you about it?”
Because they don’t remember me going yet.
Jaxom felt he’d better sit down. This last statement would take a lot of thinking. No, he contradicted himself. F’lessan had been right. We think and talk things to death. He wondered briefly if Lessa and F’nor had been seized by this same sort of irrational compulsion at the moment of their decisions. He decided he’d better not think about that either.
“You’re sure you know when we have to go?” he asked Ruth once more.
Two queens flitted up, crooning lovingly: one even bold enough to light on Jaxom’s arm, her eyes wheeling with joy.
They know. I know.
“Well, I’m glad they’re willing to take us. I sure wish they’d seen stars!”
Jaxom permitted himself one more deep breath and then he swung to Ruth’s neck and told him to take them home.
Once he’d made his decision to act, it was amazing how easy it was to go ahead, just as long as he didn’t think about it. He assembled his flying gear, the rope, a fur robe to cover the egg. He gobbled down some meatrolls, casually winked at Brand as he sauntered out of the Hall, overwhelmingly glad that he had a handy excuse in his suspected affair with Corana.
It took longer to persuade Ruth to roll in the black tidal mud of the Telgar River delta, but Jaxom managed to persuade his weyrmate that a white hide was remarkably visible against the black tropical night or in full daylight inside the Hatching Ground where he planned for them to stay in the shadows.
From the images given Ruth by the two queens, Jaxom felt he could safely assume that the Oldtimers had taken the egg back in time but lodged it in the most logical and fitting spot for an egg, in the warm sands of the old volcano that would eventually become Southern Weyr in the appropriate time. He had already memorized the positions of Southern night stars so he’d probably be able to tell when he was, within a Turn or two. He’d have to count heavily on Ruth’s boast that he always knew when he was.
The fire-lizards arrived in full fair at the delta and enthusiastically helped him sully Ruth’s white coat with the clinging black mud. Jaxom dabbed it on his hands and face, and the shiny parts of his accoutrements. The fur robe was already dark enough.
Somehow Jaxom wasn’t qui
te sure that all this was happening to him, that he could be mixed up in such a wild venture. But he had to be. He was moving in inexorable steps toward a predestined event and nothing could stop him now. So he mounted Ruth calmly, trusting as he had never done before in his dragon’s abilities. Jaxom took two deep breaths.
“You know when, Ruth. We’d better get there!”
It was without doubt the longest, coldest jump he had ever made. He had one advantage over Lessa—he expected it. But that didn’t keep the jump from being frighteningly dark, or relieve a silence that was a noisy pressure in his ears, or keep the cold from striking his bones. He couldn’t come straight back with the egg; he’d have to take several steps to warm it.
Then they were above a darkened moist warm world that smelled of lush greenery and slightly decaying fruit. For a moment Jaxom had the hideous feeling that this was all a sun-dream of the fire-lizards. But something in the eerie way that Ruth glided as noiselessly as possible, a part of the gentle night breeze, made it real and immediate. Then he saw the egg below, a luminescent spot slightly to the right of Ruth’s searching head.
Jaxom let him glide a little farther to catch a glimpse of the Weyr’s eastern edge, the point from which he wanted to enter at all possible speed, at early dawn. Then he told Ruth to change and there seemed to be no time spent between. All at once the rising sun was warm on their backs. Ruth arrowed in, winging low and fast, over the backs of the drowsy bronzes and their napping riders. A quick deft swoop, Ruth grabbing the egg in his sturdy forearms, a lunge up and, before the startled bronzes could rise to their feet, the little white dragon had enough free air to go between again.
The White Dragon Page 12