The White Dragon p-4

by Anne McCaffrey

  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 a
ny 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.»

  CHAPTER IX

  Early Summer, Harpercraft 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 baste 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 filing 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 holding 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.»