The Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  Menolly shrugged. “Someone who turned out to be Mirrim. Oddly enough, her fire-lizards never uttered a chirp of objection. No, I think the partnering was as much . . . well, destined to be as you and Ruth. Not at all like my acquisition of Poll. As if I needed another fire-lizard.” She grimaced ruefully. “But his shell cracked just as I was passing him to that addle-handed child of Lord Groghe’s. He’s never faulted me, and the child got a green. A bronze would have been wasted on that brat!”

  Jaxom pointed a forefinger at Menolly. “You are blathering! What is it you’re hiding? What is it that you know about Ruth that I don’t?”

  Menolly looked Jaxom straight in the eye. “I don’t know anything, Jaxom. But, by your own account to me a few minutes gone by, Ruth greeted the news of Path’s imminent mating with all the enthusiasm of a weyrling asked to change glow baskets.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Doesn’t mean anything. So don’t get defensive. Ruth is maturing late. That’s all you need to think about it . . . especially with Corana on hand.”

  “Menolly!”

  “Don’t explode! You’ll undo all the good rest you had last night. You were faded!” She put her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze. “I’m not prying about Corana. I’m commenting, although you might not appreciate the distinction.”

  “It does occur to me that Ruatha Hold is not Harper business,” he said, gritting his teeth against the words he’d like to use.

  “You, Jaxom, rider of white Ruth, are the Harper’s business—not young Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha.”

  “You’re making distinctions again.”

  “Yes, I am, Jaxom,” and although her voice was serious, her eyes twinkled. “When Jaxom influences what happens to Pern, then he becomes Harper business.”

  Jaxom stared at her, still baffled by her silence on the matter of the egg’s return. Then he caught the odd warning expression in her eyes; for some reason beyond his comprehension, she did not want him to confirm that adventure.

  “You’re several people at once, Jaxom,” she went on, earnestly. “The Lord of a Hold which cannot be in contention, the rider of an unusual dragon and a young man who’s not quite sure who or what he should be. You can, you know, be all and more, without being disloyal to anyone, or yourself.”

  Jaxom snorted. “Who’s speaking? The Harper, or Menolly the Meddler?”

  Menolly shrugged, gave a rueful twist of her mouth, neither smile nor denial. “Partly Harper, because I can’t look at most things without thinking Harper, but Menolly mostly, right now, I think, because I don’t want you to be upset. Particularly not after that feat you pulled off yesterday!” There was no doubt of the warmth of her smile.

  Her fair of fire-lizards came swooping into the weyr. Jaxom suppressed his annoyance at the interruption because he’d have preferred to keep Menolly talking in this unusually expansive mood. But the fire-lizards were clearly excited and, before Menolly could calm them enough to find out, Ruth came into the weyr, his eyes whirling with myriad colors.

  D’ram and Tiroth are here, and everyone is very excited Ruth said, pushing his nose at Jaxom to be caressed. Jaxom obliged, and went on to rub eye ridges damp from Ruth’s swimming. Mnementh is very pleased with himself. There was a note of grievance in that addition.

  “Well, Mnementh couldn’t have brought D’ram and Tiroth back without your help, Ruth,” Jaxom replied staunchly. “Right, Menolly?”

  I could not have found D’ram and Tiroth without the fire-lizards’ help, Ruth remarked graciously. And you thought of going back twenty-five Turns.

  Menolly sighed, unable to hear Ruth’s last comment.

  “Actually, we owe more to those Southern fire-lizards.”

  “That’s just what Ruth said . . .”

  “Dragons are honest people!” Menolly exhaled heavily and rose. “Come on, my friend. You and I had better return to our own halls. We’ve done what we were sent to do. Done it well. That’s all the satisfaction we’re likely to have.” She shot him an amused look. “Isn’t that so?” She gathered up her pack. “Which is the way some matters have to remain. Right?”

  She slipped her arm through his, hauling him to his feet, grinning in a semi-conspiratorial fashion that oddly enough did dispel the resentment he was beginning to feel.

  As they came out on the ledge, they could see the activity about the queen’s weyr, as riders and women from the Lower Caverns came streaming across to greet D’ram and his bronze.

  “I must admit, it’s rather nice to leave Benden with everyone in a good frame of mind for a change,” Menolly said as Ruth bore her and Jaxom upward.

  Jaxom expected to deposit Menolly safely in the Harperhall and return home. No sooner had Ruth announced himself to the watchdragon on the fire-heights than Zair and a Harper-banded little queen attached themselves with precarious talon holds to Ruth’s neck.

  “That’s Sebell’s Kimi. He’s back!” There was an exultant ring to Menolly’s voice that Jaxom had never heard before.

  The watchdragon says that the Harper wants to see us. So does Zair, Ruth told Jaxom. He means me, too, Ruth added with a note of pleasant surprise.

  “Why shouldn’t the Harper want to see you, Ruth? He’s sure to give you the credit you’re due,” Jaxom said, still nursing a bit of resentment as he slapped the arched neck affectionately. Ruth had turned his head to choose a landing space in the courtyard.

  Master Robinton and a man with a master’s knot on his shoulder came striding down the Hall’s steps. Master Robinton’s arms were outstretched so he could encircle both Menolly and Jaxom with an enthusiasm that almost embarrassed Jaxom. Then, to his complete surprise, the other Harper grabbed Menolly from Robinton’s grasp and began to swing her around and around, all the time kissing her soundly. Instead of protesting this treatment of their friend, the fire-lizards went into spectacular aerial maneuvers of twined necks and overlapped wings. Jaxom knew that fire-lizard queens rarely indulged in tactile contact with queens, but Beauty and the strange gold were as joyously indulging as Menolly and the man. Glancing to see what the Harper’s reaction was to such excess, Jaxom was astonished to see Master Robinton grinning with smug pleasure, an expression quickly altered when he noticed Jaxom’s regard.

  “Come, Jaxom, Menolly and Sebell have several months’ news to exchange and I want to hear your version of D’ram’s discovery.”

  As Robinton guided Jaxom toward the Hall, Menolly cried out and pushed herself free of Sebell’s arms, although Jaxom noticed that her fingers remained entwined in Sebell’s as she took a hesitant step toward Robinton. “Master?”

  “What?” Robinton affected dismay. “Cannot Sebell command a measure of your time after so long an absence?”

  Jaxom was gratified to see Menolly caught by uncertainty and confusion. Sebell was grinning.

  “Hear what he has to tell you first, girl,” Robinton said, more kindly. “I’ll make do admirably with Jaxom.”

  Glancing back at the pair as Robinton escorted him into the Hall, Jaxom saw their arms linked about each other’s waists, heads inclined together. Their fire-lizards spiraled above, following them as they walked slowly toward the meadow beyond the Harper Hall.

  “You brought D’ram and Tiroth back?” the Harper asked Jaxom.

  “I found them. The Benden Weyrleaders returned them this morning, Benden time.”

  Robinton hesitated, his foot nearly missing the top step as he led Jaxom to his own quarters. “They were there, though, in that cove, all along? Just as I surmised.”

  “Twenty-five Turns back,” and, with no further urging, Jaxom recounted the adventure from the beginning. His listener was more sympathetic and attentive than either Lessa or F’lar had been, so Jaxom began to enjoy his unaccustomed role.

  “Men?” The Harper, who had been lounging in his chair, one booted foot propped on the table, abruptly came off the end of his spine. His heel rang on the stone floor. “They’d seen men?”

  Jaxom was momentaril
y startled. Whereas the Weyrleaders had been alarmed and skeptical, the Master Harper acted almost as if he’d expected this news.

  “I’ve always maintained that we came from the Southern Continent,” the Harper said, more to himself than anyone else. Then he signaled Jaxom to continue.

  Jaxom obeyed but was soon aware that only half the Harper’s attention was on his narrative, though the man nodded and asked occasional questions. Jaxom told of his and Menolly’s safe return to Benden Weyr, remembered to mention his gratitude to Mnementh for permitting Ruth to eat. He fell silent then, wondering how to ask a question of his own of the Harper, but Robinton was frowning at some private reflections.

  “Tell me again what the fire-lizards said about these men,” the Harper asked, leaning forward, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on Jaxom. On his shoulder, Zair echoed a querying note.

  “They didn’t say much, Master Robinton. That’s the trouble! They got so excited, they made little sense at all. Menolly could probably tell you more because she had Beauty and the three bronzes with her. But—”

  “What did Ruth say?”

  Jaxom shrugged, unhappily aware that his half-answers were inadequate.

  “He said the images were too confused, even if they were all about men, their men. And we, Menolly and I, weren’t their sort of men.”

  Jaxom reached for the pitcher of klah, to slake the dryness of his mouth. He courteously filled a cup for the Harper who absently drained half of it while deep in thought.

  “Men,” Master Robinton said again, extending the last consonant and ending the sound with a click of his tongue. He got to his feet in such a fluid motion that Zair squawked, clawing for balance. “Men, and so long ago that the images the fire-lizards retain are vague. That is very interesting, very interesting indeed.”

  The Harper began to pace, stroking Zair, who chittered reprovingly.

  Jaxom glanced out the window at Ruth, sunning himself in the courtyard, the local fire-lizards clustered about him. Jaxom listened idly to the chorus, wondering why they were stopped so often in the Ballad, for he couldn’t detect discord in their harmonies. The breeze coming in the window was pleasant, soft with summer scents, and he was jerked back to his surroundings when Robinton’s hand gripped his shoulder.

  “You’ve done very well, lad, but you’d better get back to Ruatha now. You’re half asleep. That time jump took more out of you than I think you realize.”

  As Master Robinton accompanied Jaxom to the courtyard, he had him rehearse the conversation with the fire-lizards just once more. This time the Harper nodded his head sharply at each point as if to insure accurate recall.

  “That you found D’ram and Tiroth safe, Jaxom, is the least of this affair, I think. I knew I was right to involve you and Ruth. Don’t be surprised if you hear more from me on this business, with Lytol’s permission, of course.”

  With a final affectionate grip of his arm, Robinton stepped back to let Jaxom mount Ruth, the fire-lizards shrilling their disappointment at the end of their friend’s visit. As Ruth obediently climbed higher, Jaxom waved a cheery farewell to the diminishing figure of the Master Harper. Then Jaxom looked down toward the river for Menolly and Sebell. He was annoyed with himself, at the same time, for wanting to know where they were—and further irritated, because, when he did spot them, the intimacy of their attitude proved that they enjoyed a relationship of which he had been totally unaware.

  He did not go straight back to Ruatha Hold. Lytol would not be expecting him at any particular hour. As he also saw no fire-lizards abroad to betray his delinquency, he asked Ruth to take him to the Plateau Hold. In Ruth’s cheerful compliance, he wondered if the white dragon knew his mind better than he did himself.

  Now, it was close to midday in western Pern, and Jaxom wondered how he was going to attract Corana’s attention without every dependent in the Hold knowing of his visit. His need of her was great enough to make him irritable.

  She comes, Ruth said, dipping his wing so that Jaxom could see the girl emerging from the Hold, walking in the direction of the river, a basket balanced on one shoulder.

  What could have been more fortuitous! He told Ruth to take them to the river edge where the women of her Hold generally did their washing.

  The stream is not very deep, Ruth said casually, but there is a large rock in the sun where I can be comfortable and warm. And before Jaxom could answer, he began to glide down to the river, past the rapid boiling waters flowing across treacherously strewn boulders, to the calm pool and the flat stone outcropping. Angling himself neatly so as not to foul his wings in the branches of the heavy shade trees that bordered the river, Ruth landed lightly on the biggest rock. She comes, he repeated, ducking his shoulder so that Jaxom could dismount.

  Suddenly Jaxom was assailed by a conflict of desires and doubts. Mirrim’s angry remarks resounded in his head. Ruth was indeed well beyond the usual age of mating and yet . . .

  She comes and she is good for you. If she is good for you, it is good for me, Ruth said. She makes you feel happy and relaxed and that is good. The sun here makes me warm and happy, too. Go.

  Startled by the strength of his weyrmate’s tone, Jaxom stared up at Ruth’s face. The eyes were whirling gently, with the blues and greens of a contentment at odds with the force of his voice.

  Then Corana reached the last loop in the path to the river’s edge and saw him. She dropped her basket, spilling the linen, and ran, embracing him so fiercely, kissing his face and neck with such uninhibited delight, that he was soon too involved to think.

  Together they moved toward the soft moss that carpeted the ground beyond the stones, out of sight of the river bank, out of Ruth’s actual vision. Corana was as willing and eager as he was to satisfy desires thwarted on his previous visit to the Hold. As his hands touched her soft flesh and he felt her body press against his, he wondered briefly if she’d have been as willing a lover had he not been Ruatha’s Lord. But he didn’t care! He was her lover now! He gave himself to that pursuit with no further reservation. At the precise moment of his release, exquisite to the point of pain, he was aware of a gentle touch and knew, with a sense of relief that enhanced his own, that Ruth was joined to him then, as always.

  CHAPTER XII

  Ruatha Hold, Fidello’s Hold, Threadfall, 15.7.6

  Keeping a secret from one’s dragon was not easy. About the only safe time for Jaxom to think of anything he didn’t wish Ruth to perceive was very late at night when his friend was sound asleep, or in the morning if Jaxom happened to wake before Ruth. He had seldom needed to shield his thought from Ruth, which further complicated and inhibited the process. Then, too, the pace of Jaxom’s life—the now-boring training with the weyrling wing, helping Lytol and Brand to gear up the Hold to full summer activity, not to mention excursions to the Plateau Hold—caused Jaxom to fall asleep as soon as he pulled his bed furs about his shoulders. Mornings, he was often dragged out of his bed by Tordril or another fosterling just in time to keep appointments.

  Nevertheless, the problem of Ruth’s maturity cropped up in Jaxom’s mind at inconvenient times during his waking hours and had to be rigidly suppressed before a hint of his anxiety reached his dragon.

  Twice at Fort Weyr, to intensify the problem, a proddy green had taken off on a flight, pursued by such browns and blues as felt able to rise to her. The first time, Jaxom was in the middle of drill sequence and only happened to notice the flight above and beyond the weyrlings’ wing. His attention was abruptly diverted from them as a most unconcerned Ruth continued in the wing’s maneuver. Jaxom had to grab at the fighting straps to remain in place.

  The second time, Jaxom and Ruth were aground when the mating shrieks of a green blooding her kill startled the Weyr. The other weyrlings were immature enough to be disinterested but the weyrlingmaster looked in Jaxom’s direction for a long moment. All at once, Jaxom realized that K’nebel was apparently wondering if Jaxom and Ruth were going to join those waiting for the green to launch hersel
f.

  Jaxom was assailed by such a gamut of emotions—anxiety, shame, expectation, reluctance, and pure terror—that Ruth reared, wings wide, in alarm.

  What has upset you? Ruth demanded, settling to the ground and curving his neck about to regard his rider, his eyes whirling in quick response to Jaxom’s emotions.

  “I’m all right. I’m all right,” Jaxom said hastily, stroking Ruth’s head, desperately wanting to ask if Ruth felt at all like flying the green and hoping in a muted whisper deep inside him that Ruth did not!

  With a challenging snarl, the green dragon was airborne, the blues and browns after her while she repeated her taunting challenge. Quicker, lighter than any of her prospective mates, her facility strengthened by her sexual readiness, she achieved a conspicuous distance before the first male had become airborne. Then they were all after her. On the killing ground, their riders closed into a knot about the green’s rider. All too quickly, challenger and pursuers dwindled to specks in the sky. The riders half-ran, half-stumbled to the Lower Caverns and the chamber reserved there.

  Jaxom had never witnessed a mating flight of dragons. He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. He felt heart and blood thudding and a tension that he usually experienced only as he held Corana’s slender body against him. He suddenly wondered which dragon had flown Mirrim’s Path, which rider had—

  The touch on his shoulder made him jump and cry out.

  “Well, if Ruth isn’t ready to fly, you certainly are, Jaxom,” K’nebel said. The weyrlingmaster glanced up at far-distant specks in the sky. “Even a green’s mating can be unsettling.” K’nebel’s expression was understanding. He nodded at Ruth. “He wasn’t interested? No, well, give him time! You’d better be off. Drill was all but over today, anyhow. I’ve just got to keep these younger ones occupied someplace else when that green gets caught.”