“F’lar has made a good point,” Jaxom said.
“Not if you go to that cove, Jaxom. I’m sure the fatal fascination fire-lizards all have for Ruth will operate even there.”
“You want me to go to the Southern Continent?”
Robinton noted the incredulity and sudden start of intense interest in Jaxom’s eyes. So, the boy had discovered that flying a fire-breathing dragon was not enough to keep him content with his life.
“I don’t want anyone to go South,” F’lar replied, “since that . . . is a breach of our agreement, but I can’t see any other way of locating D’ram.”
“The cove is a long way from the Southern Weyr,” Robinton said gently, “and we know the Oldtimers don’t venture far from it.”
“They ventured far enough from it a little while ago, didn’t they?” F’lar asked with considerable heat in his voice and an angry shine in his amber eyes.
Wearily Robinton saw that the breach between Harper Hall and Benden Weyr was only thinly healed.
“Lord Lytol,” the Benden Weyrleader continued, “I am remiss. May we have your permission to recruit Jaxom to this search?”
Lytol shook his head and gestured toward Jaxom. “It is entirely up to Lord Jaxom.”
Robinton could see F’lar digesting the implications of that referral, and he gave Jaxom a long keen look. Then he smiled. “And your answer, Lord Jaxom?”
With commendable poise, Robinton thought, the young man inclined his head. “I’m flattered to be asked to assist, Weyrleader.”
“You don’t happen to have any maps of the Southern Continent in this Hold, do you?” asked F’lar.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Then Jaxom added a hasty explanation. “Fandarel gave us several sessions of chart-making at his Hall.”
The charts were, however, incomplete. F’lar recognized them as copies of F’nor’s original explorations of the Southern Continent when the Benden wing-second had taken Ramoth’s first clutch back ten Turns to mature before Thread would fall again—an undertaking marked by partial success.
“I have more comprehensive maps of the coastline,” Robinton said casually and scribbled a note to Menolly which he attached to the clasp on Zair’s collar. He sent the little bronze back to the Harper Hold with an entreaty not to forget his errand.
“And he’ll bring the charts back directly?” F’lar asked, skeptical and somewhat contemptuous. “Brekke and F’nor keep trying to convince me of their usefulness, too.”
“I suspect with something as important as the charts, Menolly will wheedle the watchdragon into bringing her.” Robinton sighed, wishing he’d thought to insist she return the charts by fire-lizard. No opportunity should be wasted.
“How much timing it have you done, Jaxom?” F’lar asked suddenly.
A flush suffused Jaxom’s face. With a start, Robinton saw the thin line of scar white against the reddened cheek. Luckily that side of Jaxom’s face was turned away from the Weyrleader.
“Well, sir . . .”
“Come, lad, I don’t know any young dragonrider who hasn’t used the trick to be on time. What I want to establish is how accurate Ruth’s time sense is. Some dragons don’t have any at all.”
“Ruth always knows when he is,” Jaxom replied with quick pride. I’d say he has the best time memory on Pern.”
F’lar considered that for a long moment. “Have you ever tried any long jumps?”
Jaxom nodded slowly, his eyes flicking to Lytol whose face remained impassive.
“No wavering of the leap? No unduly long stay between?”
“No, sir. It’s easy to be accurate anyhow if you jump at night.”
“I’m not sure I follow that reasoning.”
“Those star equations that Wansor worked out. I think you were at that session in the Smithcrafthall . . .” The young man’s voice trailed off uncertainly until F’lar caught his drift and looked his surprise. “If you work out the position of the dominant stars in the skies, you can position yourself most accurately.”
“If you jump at night,” the Masterharper added, never having thought to put that use to Wansor’s equations.
“Never occurred to me to do that,” F’lar said.
“There is a precedent,” Robinton remarked, grinning, “in your own Weyr, F’lar.”
“Lessa used the stars from the tapestry to go back for the Oldtimers, didn’t she?” Jaxom had clearly forgotten that, and also, to judge by the sudden comic dismay on his face, forgotten that his reference to the Oldtimers was not adroit.
“We can’t ignore them, can we?” the Weyrleader said with more tolerance than Robinton had anticipated. “Well, they exist and can’t be ignored. To the present problem, Robinton. How long is it likely to take your fire-lizard?”
Just outside the Hold window a multivoiced squabbling arose, so obviously that of fire-lizards that they all hurried to the window.
“Menolly did it,” Robinton said in an undertone to Jaxom. “They’re here, F’lar.”
“Who? Menolly with the watchdragon?”
“No, sir,” Jaxom said, his voice triumphant, “Zair, and Menolly’s queen and her three bronzes. They’ve all got charts strapped to their backs.”
Zair flew in, chittering in a combination of anger, concern and confusion. Menolly’s four followed. The little queen, Beauty, started scolding all of them as she circled about the room. Robinton easily lured Zair to his arm. But Beauty kept her bronzes in circulation, out of reach, while F’lar, grinning sardonically, and Lytol, expressionless, watched the attempts of Robinton and Jaxom to land the other four fire-lizards.
“Ruth, would you tell Beauty to behave and come to my arm?” Jaxom cried as his futile attempts to coax the little queen began to assume ludicrous proportions in front of someone he was trying to impress.
Beauty let out a startled squawk but immediately came to rest on the table. She scolded Jaxom furiously as he undid the chart. She kept up her monologue as the bronzes timidly landed, not quite furling their wings, to have their burdens removed. Once free of their encumbrances, the bronzes retreated out the window. Beauty gave everyone in the room one final raucous harangue and then, with a flick of her tail, disappeared from sight. Zair let out one sort of apologetic cheep and hid his face in Robinton’s hair.
“Well,” Robinton said as welcome silence settled on the room, “they did return promptly, didn’t they?”
F’lar burst out laughing. “Return, yes. Delivery was another problem. I’d hate to have to argue for every message brought me.”
“That was just because Menolly wasn’t here,” Jaxom said. “Beauty wasn’t certain whom she could trust, you know. Meaning no offense, F’lar,” he added hastily.
“Here’s the one I need,” Robinton said, unwinding it fully. He gestured for the others to unroll the segments they held. Shortly the maps were placed in sequence across the table, the curling ends weighted down with pieces of fruit and wine cups.
“It would appear,” Lytol said mildly, “that you have been blown off course in every direction, Master Robinton.”
“Oh, not me, sir,” the Harper replied ingenuously. “SeaHolders have been very helpful here, here and here,” and he pointed to the western portions where an intricate coastline was carefully delineated. “This is the work of Idarolan and the captains reporting to him.” He paused, toying with the notion of mentioning just how much of Idarolan’s explorations had been assisted by the various fire-lizards of the crews. “Toric and his holders, of course,” he went on, deciding against gilding the matter now, “have a perfect right to discover their land. They’ve detailed this portion . . .” His hand swept across the peninsular thumb that was the Southern Hold and Weyr and substantial portions of the territory on either side.
“Where’re those mines located that Toric’s trading from?”
“Here.” Robinton’s finger dropped to the foothilled shading, slightly to the west of the settlement and well inland.
F’lar considered
the location, walking his fingers back across the well-stretched hide to the Weyr’s location. “And where’s this cove of yours?”
Robinton pointed to a spot which was as far distant from the Southern Weyr as Ruatha was from Benden. “In this area. There’re quite a few small coves in the coastline. I couldn’t say exactly which one it was, but in this general location.”
F’lar mumbled about his recollection being all too general and how would a dragon take the specific direction he’d need to go between.
“Dead center in the cove is the cone of an old mountain, perfectly symmetrical.” Robinton gestured appropriately. “Zair was with me and could give Ruth the proper image.” Robinton turned his head slightly and gave Jaxom a private wink.
“Could Ruth take a direction from a fire-lizard?” F’lar asked Jaxom, frowning at the unreliability of the source.
“He has,” Jaxom remarked, and Robinton caught the glint of amusement in the lad’s eyes. He began to wonder where fire-lizards had already led the white dragon. Would Menolly know?
“What is this?” F’lar demanded suddenly. “A conspiracy to restore fire-lizards to good odor?”
“I thought we were forming a cooperative venture to locate D’ram,” Robinton replied in mild rebuke.
F’lar snorted and bent to study the maps.
The cooperation, Robinton realized, would be all on Ruth’s part. The outcome would finally depend on whether or not the Southern fire-lizards were attracted to the white dragon. Otherwise, Jaxom had agreed to try judicious time jumps backward in the cove . . . if, F’lar amended, Jaxom was able to find the proper one.
The subject of fire-lizard memory was discussed again; F’lar unwilling to concede that, unlike the dragons they otherwise resembled, the little creatures were capable of recall. Their tales might all be imaginary, the results of sun-dreams and insubstantial. To that Robinton replied that imagination relied on memory—without one, the other was impossible. The afternoon drew to a close, emphasized by the return of the fosterlings to the Hold after a day’s field tour with Brand. F’lar noted that he’d been gone far longer than he had intended when he set out from Benden. He cautioned Jaxom to be careful timing it—advice which Robinton suspected F’lar had best take to heart himself—and to take no risks with himself or his dragon. If he didn’t locate the cove, he was not to waste time and energy but return. If he did find D’ram, preferably he was to mark the time and place and return immediately to Benden with the coordinate for F’lar. F’lar did not want to intrude on D’ram’s grief unnecessarily, and if Jaxom could avoid being seen, so much the better.
“I think you could trust Jaxom to handle the situation diplomatically,” Robinton said, watching the young man through the side of his eyes. “He’s already proved to be discreet.” Now why would Jaxom react so to a simple compliment, Robinton wondered and smoothly made a fuss of rolling up the charts to divert attention from the discomposed young rider.
Robinton told Jaxom to get a good night’s sleep, a good morning’s breakfast, and to report to the Harpercrafthall immediately thereafter to acquire his guide. Then Robinton and F’lar left the Hold. As the Weyrleader and Mnementh brought the Harper back to his Hall, Robinton forebore to go beyond offering ordinary courtesies. The needs of Pern had brought the Benden Weyrleader back to the Hall. One step at a time!
As Robinton watched F’lar and bronze Mnementh climb above the fire-heights and wink out, Beauty appeared, scolding at Zair, who resumed his customary perch on the Harper’s shoulder. Zair did not respond to her crackling, causing Robinton to grin. Menolly must be agitating for an account of the afternoon’s doings. She wasn’t presumptuous enough to nag at him, but that didn’t keep Beauty from badgering his bronze. A good child, Menolly, and worth her weight in marks. He hoped she’d approve of a trip with young Jaxom. He hadn’t mentioned her participating in front of Lytol since F’lar had long ago enjoined him to the strictest secrecy about his Southern trips. Zair would not have been enough for Jaxom to find the right cove, but with Menolly, who had been with him on that stormy trip, and her fire-lizards to act as reinforcement, they’d have no trouble at all. But the fewer people who knew about it the better.
The next day when the Harper informed Jaxom of this added insurance for success, Jaxom looked relieved and surprised.
“Mind you, young Jaxom, it’s not to be discussed that Menolly and I have been exploring so far south. In point of fact, we hadn’t planned that trip . . .”
Menolly chuckled. “I told you there’d be a storm.”
“Thank you. I’ve heeded your weather wisdom since, as you well know.” He grimaced as he recalled three days of storm-sickness and a desperate Menolly clinging to the tiller of their light craft.
He saddled them with no further advice, urged them to take a supply of food from the kitchens and said he hoped they’d have a favorable report.
“Of D’ram’s whereabouts?” Menolly asked, her eyes dancing at him, “or the performance of the fire-lizards?”
“Both, of course, saucy girl. Away with you.” He had decided not to query Jaxom about his strong reactions to timing it and discretion. When he had told Menolly of his intention to send her and her fire-lizards to accompany Jaxom, she, too, had reacted in an unexpected fashion. He had casually asked her what was so amusing and she had merely shaken her head, convulsed in laughter. He couldn’t imagine what the two of them had been up to together. Now, as he watched Ruth circle into the skies above the Hold, he reviewed their interactions. Good-natured chaffing, certainly—a dollop of contention for leadership but nothing beyond the exchanges of old friends. Not, he hastily told himself, that Menolly would not make an excellent Lady Holder for Jaxom if the two were sincerely attached. It was just that . . . the Harper chided himself for interfering and turned to dull matters of Craft management which he had been delaying far too long.
CHAPTER X
From Harpercraft Hall to the Southern
Continent, Evening at Benden Weyr, 15.7.4
As ruth flew upward from the meadow, Jaxom experienced a tremendous sense of relief and excitement as well as the usual tension that gripped him when making a long jump between. Beauty and Diver were perched on Menolly’s shoulders, tails twined about her neck. He had given shoulder room to Poll and Rocky since these four had accompanied the Harper and Menolly on that initial trip. Jaxom would have liked to ask what they’d been doing sailing in the Southern Continent. The boat made some sense since Menolly, being SeaHold-bred, was a good sailor. But there’d been a challenging gleam in Menolly’s eyes that had kept him from asking. He was wondering, too, if she had told the Harper anything of her suspicions about his part in returning the egg.
They went between first to Nerat’s tip, circling again while Menolly and her fire-lizards concentrated on imagining the cove far to the southeast. Jaxom had wanted to time it to the night before; he’d spent hours working out star positions in the Southern Hemisphere. Menolly and Robinton had overruled him unless Ruth couldn’t get a vivid enough picture of the cove from the combination of Menolly and the fire-lizards.
Somewhat to Jaxom’s disgruntlement, Ruth announced that he could clearly see where he was to go. Menolly makes very sharp pictures, he added.
Jaxom had no option but to ask him to change.
The quality of the air was Jaxom’s first impression of the new location: softer, cleaner, less humid. Ruth was gliding toward the little cove, expressing pleasure in anticipation of a good swim. Their guiding mountain peak glistened in the sun, distant, serene and unusually symmetrical.
“I’d forgotten how lovely it was,” Menolly said, breathing out a sigh in his ear.
The water had a clarity that made the sandy bottom of the cove quite visible, though Jaxom was sure that the water was by no means shallow. He noticed the brilliant reflection of yellowtails and the darting movements of whitefingers in the clear waters. Ahead of them was the perfect crescent of a white-sanded cove, trees of all sizes, some bearing yellow and
red fruits, forming a shady border. As Ruth descended to the beach, Jaxom could see dense forest extending unbroken toward the low range of foothills that culminated in that magnificent mountain. Just beyond this cove, on both flanks, were other little bays, not perhaps as symmetrically shaped, but equally peaceful and untouched.
Ruth came to a back-winging halt on the sands, urging his passengers to disembark as he intended to have a proper bath.
“Go ahead, then,” Jaxom said, patting Ruth’s muzzle affectionately and laughing as the white dragon, too eager to dive, waddled ungracefully into the sea.
“These sands are as hot as at Hatching Grounds,” Menolly explained, picking up her feet in fast order and heading toward the shaded area.
“They’re not that hot,” Jaxom said, following her.
“My feet are sensitive,” she replied, casting herself down on the beach. She glanced up and down and then grimaced.
“No signs, huh?” Jaxom asked.
“Of D’ram?”
“No, fire-lizard.”
She unslung the pack with their provisions.
“They’re likely sleeping off their early-morning feed. You’re still on your feet. See if there’re some ripe redfruits in that tree there, would you, Jaxom? Meatroll makes dry eating.”
Jaxom found sufficient ripe fruit to feed a Hold and brought as much as he could carry back to Menolly. He knew her fondness for them. Ruth was disporting himself in the water, diving and surfacing to tail length before crashing down with great splashings and wave-makings, the fire-lizards encouraging him with shrieks and buglings.
“Tide’s full in,” Menolly said as she bit into redfruit peel, tearing off a large hunk and squeezing the pulp for the juice. “Oh, this is heavenly! Why does everything Southern taste so good?”
“Forbidden, I guess. Does the tide make a difference to the fire-lizards’ appearing?”
“Not that I know of. Ruth will make the difference, I think.”
“So we have to wait until they notice Ruth?”
“That’s the easiest way.”
The Dragonriders of Pern Page 82