The White Dragon

by Anne McCaffrey

  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 lire-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.”

  CHAPTER IX

  Early Summer, Harpercraft Hall and

  Ruatha Hold, 15.7.3

  THE FIRST HINT Robinton had was from Zair, who woke abruptly from a sound morning’s sleep in the sun on the window ledge and flew to Robinton’s shoulder, wrapping his tail firmly about the Harper’s neck. Robinton, not having the heart to rebuke his friend, tried to ease the tension of the tail so that he didn’t have the sensation of choking to death. Zair rubbed his cheek against the Harper’s, crooning.

  “Whatever is the matter with you?”

  Just then the watchdragon on the fire-heights rose to his haunches and bugled. A dragon appeared in midair, answered the summons smartly before beginning a circle to land.

  A knock on the door was followed so closely by its opening that the courtesy was hardly observed. Robinton was forming a reprimand as he slewed round in his chair and saw Menolly, with Beauty clinging tightly to her shoulder, Rocky, Diver and Poll doing an aerial dance about her.

  “It’s F’lar and Mnementh,” she cried.

  “So I had just perceived, my dear. Why the panic?”

  “Panic? I’m not in a panic. I’m excited. This is the first time since the egg was taken that Benden has come to you.”

  “Then be a polite child and see if Silvina has any sweetbreads to eat with our klah. It is,” he sighed wistfully, “a shade too early in the morning to offer wine.”

  “It’s not too early in Benden’s morning,” Menolly said as she left the room.

  Robinton sighed again, sadly, as he looked at the empty doorway. She had grieved over the estrangement of the Harper Hall and Benden Weyr. So, in his own way, had he. He brought his thoughts sharply away from that. There’d been no hint of distress in Mnementh’s acknowledgement of the watchdragon’s challenge. What had brought F’lar to Benden? And, more important, did the Weyrleader come with Lessa’s knowledge? And consent?

  Mnementh had landed now. F’lar would be striding across the meadow. Robinton began to twitch with more impatience for that final walk than he had felt during the four sevendays of coolness between Weyr and Hall.

  Robinton rose and paced to the window just as F’lar entered the inner courtyard of the Crafthall. He was walking with long strides, but F’lar always did, so there did not seem to be any haste in his errand. Then why was he coming to the Hall?

  F’lar spoke to a journeyman, who was packing a runner for a trip. Fire-lizards congregated on the roof. Robinton saw F’lar raise his head and notice them. The Harper briefly considered whether he ought to ask Zair to leave while F’lar was present. No sense firing resentment of any consequence right now.

  F’lar had entered the Hall. Through the open window, Robinton could hear the Weyrleader’s voice and the pause for an answer. Silvina? More likely his journeyman, he thought, smiling to himself, lying in wait for the Weyrleader. Yes, he was right. He could hear Menolly’s voice and F’lar’s as they came up the stairs. The sounds of the voices were unmarked by emotion. Good girl! Easy does it.

  “Ah, Robinton, Menolly informs me that her fire-lizards refer to Mnementh as ‘the biggest one,’ ” F’lar said with a slight smile on his face as he entered the room.

  “They’re chary of awarding accolades, F’lar,” Robinton replied, taking the tray from Menolly, who withdrew, closing the door. Not that her absence precluded her knowing what would happen, not with Beauty attuned to Zair.

  “There’s no trouble at Benden, is there?” Robinton asked the Weyrleader as he handed him a cup of klah.

  “No, no trouble.” Robinton waited. “But there is a puzzle that I thought you might be able to answer for us.”

  “If I can, I will,” the Harper said, gesturing to F’lar to seat himself.

  “We can’t find D’ram.”

  “D’ram?” Robinton almost laughed in surprise. “Why can’t you find D’ram?”

  “He’s alive. We know that much. We don’t know where.”

  “Surely Ramoth could touch Tiroth?”

  F’lar shook his head. “Perhaps I should have said when.”

  “When? D’ram’s timed it somewhere? I mean, somewhen?”

  “That’s the only explanation. And we can’t see how he could possibly have gone back to his own Time. We don’t believe that Tiroth has that much strength in him. Timing it, as you know, is very draining on both dragon and rider. But D’ram has gone.”

  “That’s not unexpected surely,” Robinton said slowly, his mind turning rapidly over the possibilities of when.

  “No, not unexpected.”

  “He wouldn’t have gone to the Southern Weyr?”

  “No, because Ramoth would have no trouble locating him there. And G’dened went back quite a distance, before Threadfall, at Ista itself, thinking D’ram would stay where his memories are.”

  “Lord Warbret offered D’ram any one of those caves on the south side of Ista Island. He seemed agreeable.”

  Then as F’lar’s shrug negated that suggestion, the Harper added, “Yes, he was too agreeable.”

  F’lar rose, striding restlessly about, turning back to the Harper. “Have you any ideas where the man could have gone? You were with him a great deal. Can you remember anything?”

  “He wasn’t talking very much toward the end, just sat there holdin
g Fanna’s hand.” Robinton found that he needed to swallow. As accustomed as he was to mortality, D’ram’s devotion to his Weyrwoman and his silent grief at her death had the power to bring tears to the Harper’s eyes. “I tendered offers of hospitality to him from Groghe and Sangel. In fact, I gather he could have gone anywhere on Pern and been welcome. Obviously he prefers the company of his memories. Might I ask if there is any reason to know where he is?”

  “No reason other than our concern for him.”

  “Oldive said that he was completely in possession of his reason, F’lar, if that’s your worry.”

  F’lar made a grimace and impatiently stroked back a forelock which invariably fell into his eyes when he was agitated. “Frankly, Robinton, it’s Lessa. Ramoth can’t find Tiroth. Lessa’s certain he’s gone far enough back in time to suicide without giving us distress. It’s in D’ram’s nature to do so.”

  “It is also his option,” Robinton said gently.

  “I know. I know. And no one would fault him but Lessa is very worried. D’ram may have stepped down, Robinton, but his knowledge, his opinions are valuable and valued. Right now more than ever. Bluntly we need him . . . need him available to us.”

  Robinton thought briefly about the possibility that D’ram had realized this and deliberately removed himself and Tiroth from easy access. But D’ram would serve Pern, and dragonfolk at any time.

  “He perhaps needs time to recover from his grief, F’lar.”

  “He was worn out with tending Fanna. You know that. He could also be sick and who would be there to help? We’re both worried.”

  “I hesitate to suggest this, but has Brekke tried with the fire-lizards? Hers as well as those at Ista Weyr.”

  A grin tugged at the worried line of F’lar’s mouth. “Oh, yes. She insisted. No luck. The fire-lizards need a direction to go between time just like dragons.”

  “I didn’t exactly mean sending them. I mean, asking them to remember a lone bronze dragon.”

  “Asking those creatures to remember?” F’lar laughed with incredulity.

  “I’m serious, F’lar. They have good memories which can be triggered. For instance, how could the fire-lizards have known that the Red Star . . .” He was interrupted by a squeal of protest from Zair, who launched himself so quickly from Robinton’s shoulder that he scratched the Harper’s neck. “I will mention it in his presence!” Robinton said, ruefully patting the scratch. “My point is, F’lar, that the fire-lizards all knew that the Red Star was dangerous and could not be reached before F’nor and Canth tried to go there. If you can get a fire-lizard to make any sense when you mention the Red Star, they say they remember being afraid of it. They? Or their ancestors when our ancestors first attempted to go to it?”

  F’lar gave the Masterharper a long searching stare.

  “That isn’t the first memory of theirs that has proved to be accurate,” Robinton went on. “Master Andemon believes that it’s entirely possible that these creatures can remember unusual events that one of their number has witnessed or felt. Instinct plays a part with all animals—why not in their memories, too?”

  “I’m not sure I see how you intend to get this—this fire-lizard memory to work in helping to find D’ram, whenever he’s got to.”

  “Simple. Ask them to remember seeing a lone dragon. That would be unusual enough to be noted . . . and remembered.”

  F’lar was not convinced it would work.

  “Oh, I think so if we ask Ruth to ask them.”

  “Ruth?”

  “When every fire-lizard was scared to death of the other dragons, they beleaguered Ruth. Jaxom’s told me that they talk with his white wherever they are. With so many, there’s bound to be one that might remember what we want to know.”

  “If I could relieve Lessa’s fears, I’d even forget my antipathy to those nuisances.”

  “I trust you’ll remember that statement.” Robinton grinned to soften the remark.

  “Will you come with me to Ruatha Hold?”

  In that moment, Robinton remembered Jaxom’s Threadscoring. Of course, it would be long healed. But he couldn’t remember if N’ton had ever discussed Jaxom’s training with Benden Weyr.

  “Shouldn’t we find out if Jaxom’s at the Hold?”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” F’lar asked, frowning.

  “Because he’s often about the Hold, learning the land, or at Fandarel’s with the other young people.”

  “A point.” F’lar looked away from the Harper, out the window, his eyes unfocused. “No, Mnementh says Ruth’s at the Hold. See, I have my own message sender,” F’lar added with a grin.

  Robinton hoped that Ruth would think to tell Jaxom that Mnementh had bespoken him. He wished that he’d had time to send Zair with a message to Ruatha but he had no excuse and certainly no wish to jeopardize this gesture of F’lar’s.

  “More reliable than mine and farther reaching than Fandarel’s little wire.” Robinton donned the thick wherhide jacket and helmet he used when flying. “Speaking of Fandarel, he’s got his lines as far as Crom’s mines, you know.” He gestured F’lar to precede him out of the room.

  “Yes, I know. That’s another reason to locate D’ram.”

  “It is?”

  F’lar laughed at the Harper’s bland question, a laugh that held no constraint so that Robinton sincerely hoped that this visit mended their relationship.

  “Hasn’t Nicat been at you, too, Robinton? To go south to those mines?”

  “The ones Toric’s been trading from?”

  “I thought you’d know.”

  “Yes, I know that Nicat’s worried about mining. The ores are getting very poor. Fandarel’s a good sight more worried than Nicat. He needs the better quality metals.”

  “Once we allow the Crafts into the South, the Lord Holders will press for entry . . .” F’lar instinctively lowered his voice though the courtyard they were crossing was empty.

  “The Southern Continent is large enough to take all of Northern Pern and rattle it. Why, we’ve only touched the fringes of it, F’lar. Great Shells and Shards!” Robinton slapped his forehead. “Talk about fire-lizards and associative memories. That’s it! That’s where D’ram has gone.”

  “Where?”

  “At least I think that’s where he might have gone.”

  “Speak, man. Where?”

  “The problem is still when, I fancy. And Ruth is still our key.”

  They had only several dragonlengths to go before they reached Mnementh in the meadow. Zair fluttered above Robinton’s head, chittering anxiously well away from the bronze dragon. He refused to alight on Robinton’s shoulder, though the Harper gestured for him to land.

  “I’m going to Ruatha to the white dragon, to Ruth. Join us there, then, you silly creature, if you won’t ride on my shoulder.”

  “Mnementh doesn’t mind Zair,” F’lar said.

  “It’s still the other way round, I’m afraid,” Robinton said.

  A hint of anger danced in the bronze rider’s eyes. “No dragon flamed a fire-lizard.”

  “Not here, Weyrleader, not here. But all of them remember seeing it happen. And fire-lizards can only tell what they or one of them have actually seen.”

  “Then let’s get to Ruatha and see if one of them has seen D’ram.”

  So the fire-lizards were still tender subjects, thought Robinton sadly as he climbed up Mnementh’s shoulder to sit behind F’lar. He wished that Zair had not been so wary of Mnementh.

  Jaxom and Lytol stood on the Hold steps as Mnementh bugled his name to the watchdragon and circled to land in the huge courtyard. As the two visitors were being greeted, Robinton scanned Jaxom’ s face to see if the Threadscore was obvious. He couldn’t see a trace of it and wondered if he was examining the right cheek. He could only hope that Ruth had healed as well. Of course, F’lar was so involved with this business of D’ram he wouldn’t be looking for scoring on Ruth or Jaxom.

  “Ruth said Mnementh inquired for him, F’lar,”
Jaxom said. “I trust nothing is wrong?”

  “Ruth may be able to help us find D’ram.”

  “Find D’ram? He hasn’t . . .” Jaxom paused, looking anxiously at Lytol, who was frowning and shaking his head.

  “No, but he has timed it somewhen,” Robinton said. “I thought perhaps if Ruth asked the fire-lizards, they might tell him.”

  Jaxom stared at the Harper, who wondered why the lad looked so stunned and, curiously, scared. Robinton did not miss the quick flick of Jaxom’s eyes toward F’lar nor the convulsive swallowing.

  “I remembered hearing you comment that fire-lizards often tell Ruth things,” Robinton went on in a casual manner, giving Jaxom time to recover his composure. Whatever was bothering the boy?

  “Where? Possibly. But when, Master Robinton?”

  “I’ve a hunch I know where D’ram went. Would that help?”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Lytol said, looking from one to the other. “What’s this all about?” Lytol had been guiding the visitors into the Hold and toward the small private room. Wine and cups had been set on the table, together with cheese, bread and fruits.

  “Well,” Robinton said, eyeing the wineskin, “I’ll explain . . .”

  “And you’ll be dry, I’m sure,” Jaxom said, as he strode to the table to pour. “It’s Benden wine, Master Robinton. Only the best for our distinguished visitors.”

  “The lad’s growing up, Lytol,” F’lar said, taking the cup and raising it approvingly toward Lytol.

  “The lad has grown up,” Lytol said in a half-growl. “Now, about those fire-lizards . . .”

  Zair appeared midair, squealed and swooped to Robinton’s shoulder, wrapping his tail tightly about the Harper’s neck and chittering in a nervous tone as he reassured himself that Robinton had taken no harm riding the biggest one.

  “Pardon me,” Robinton said, and soothed Zair to silence. Then he explained to Lytol his theory that fire-lizards shared a vast pool of common knowledge which would explain their fear of—he cleared his throat and pointed east to spare them all his bronze’s antics. Fire-lizards were able to communicate strong emotions as evidenced by Brekke’s call to Canth that fateful night. They had had this fright about the queen’s egg and all had been in a high state of turmoil until the egg had Hatched properly. They seemed to remember seeing it near a black nothingness, and they seemed to remember being flamed. Jaxom had told him on several occasions that the fire-lizards regaled Ruth with incredible things they said they’d remembered seeing. If this curious talent of theirs was not the sun-dreams of silly creatures—he had to placate an outraged Zair—then here was a case in which it could be proved, with Ruth’s cooperation. D’ram had apparently gone off on his own, to a time when Ramoth could not reach the mind of his dragon. It was upsetting Ramoth and Lessa, who were worried that D’ram might be in physical distress. Despite his resignation as Weyrleader, Pern still had a need of and a place for D’ram and certainly did not wish to lose contact with him.