TEXT: N'ton?" he asked politely, suddenly aware that he had spoken without
  due regard for his companion's rank
  as Weyrleader of Fort.
  N'ton grinned and gestured toward the grassy bank of the lake. They
  squelched through the mud created by
  rinsing soapsand from the little dragon and, as one, turned for a full view
  of Ruth gleaming wetly in the
  morning sun.
  "I've never seen him cleaner," N'ton remarked after due consideration,
  adding hastily, "not to imply that you
  haven't always kept him immaculate, Jaxom. However, if you don't ask
  him to move out of that mud, he
  won't stay clean long."
  Jaxom passed on the request hastily. "And keep your tail up, Ruth, till
  you are on the grass."
  From the comer of his eye, Jaxom noticed that Dorse and his cronies
  were creeping away, just in case N'ton
  had any further hard work for them. Jaxom had somehow managed to
  keep the smugness he felt under
  control all during Ruth's bath. Dorse and the others hadn't dared dis-
  obey the dragonrider when N'ton had
  
  had to endure from his milk-brother and his cronies.
  "You know," N'ton began, frowning slightly as he folded his arms across
  his damp-spattered tunic, "Ruth isn't
  really white."
  Jaxom stared incredulously at his dragon. "He's not?"
  "No. See how his hide has shadows of brown and gold, and ripples of
  blue or green on the near flank."
  "You're right!" Jaxom blinked, surprised at discovering something totally
  new about his friend. "I guess those
  colors are much more noticeable because he's so clean and the sun's
  so bright today!" It was such a
  pleasure to be able to discuss his favorite topic with an understanding
  audience.
  "He's . . . more ... all dragon shades than the lack of any," N'ton contin-
  ued. He slanted one hand against the
  angle of Ruth's heavily muscled shoulder, then cocked his head as he
  stared at the powerful hind- quarters.
  "Beautifully proportioned, too. He may be small, Jaxom, but he's a fine-
  looking fellow!"
  Jaxom sighed again, unconsciously straightening his shoulders and
  pushing out his chest with pride.
  
  been good.
  "Do you think he's strong enough to fly me?".N'ton awarded Jaxom a
  thoughtful gaze. "Let's see, you Impressed him a Turn last spring, and
  we're into
  cool weather now. Most dragons achieve their full growth in their first
  Turn. I don't think Ruth's grown half-hand
  in the last six months so we have to conclude that he has reached his
  full growth. Hey, now, N'ton
  reacted to Jaxom's sad sigh, "he's bigger than any runner beast by half
  a head, isn't he? They can be ridden
  for hours without tiring, right? And you're not exactly a heavyweight like
  Dorse there."
  "Flying's a different sort of effort, isn't it?"
  "True, but Ruth's wings are proportionately large enough to his body to
  support him in flight..."
  "So he is a proper dragon, isn't he?"
  N'ton stared at Jaxom. Then he put both hands on the boy's shoulders.
  "Yes, Jaxom, Ruth is a proper
  dragon, for all he's half the size of his fellows! And he'll prove it today
  when he flies you! So let's get you and
  
  the happy blue tone of Ruth's lightly whirling; jewel-faceted eyes.
  As they walked on in silence, Jaxom raised his eyes to the imposing cliff
  face which was Ruatha Hold, the
  second oldest human habitation on Pern. It would be his to Hold when
  he came of age or when his guardian,
  Lord Lytol, former weaver-journeyman, former dragonrider, decided that
  he was wise enough-that is, if the
  other Lord Holders finally overcame their objections to his inadvertent
  Impression of the half-sized dragon,
  Ruth. Jaxom sighed, resigned to the fact that he would never be allowed
  to forget that moment.
  Not that he wanted to, but Impressing Ruth had caused all kinds of
  problems for the Benden Weyrleaders,
  F'lar and Lessa, for the Lord Holders, and for himself since he was not
  allowed to be a real dragonrider and
  live in a Weyr. He had to remain Lord Holder of Ruatha or every
  younger Holdless son of every major Lord
  would fight to the death to fill that vacancy. The worst problem he had
  caused was to the man he
  desperately wanted most to please, his guardian. Lord Lytol. Had Jaxom
  only paused a moment to think
  
  this was so, Jaxom often wondered, why then hadn't Lytol protested
  when the Weyrleaders and Lord
  Holders agreed that Jaxom must try to raise the little dragon at Ruatha?
  Looking up to the fire-heights, Jaxom noticed that N'ton's bronze Lioth
  was nose to nose with Wilth, the
  elderly brown watch dragon. He wondered what the two dragons were
  talking about. His Ruth? The trial of
  the day? He noticed fire-lizards, tiny cousins to the big dragons, exe-
  cuting lazy spirals above the two
  dragons. Men were driving wherries and runner beasts from the main
  stables out to the pastures, north of
  the Hold. Smoke issued from the line of smaller cotholds that bordered
  the ramp into the Great Court and
  along the edge of the main road east. To the left of the ramp, new cots
  were being built since the inner
  recesses of Ruatha Hold were considered unsafe.
  "How many fosterlings does Lytol have at Ruatha Hold, Jaxom?" N'ton
  suddenly asked.
  "Fosterlings? None, sir." Jaxom frowned. Surely N'ton knew that.
  "Why not? You've got to get to know the others of your rank."."Oh, I ac-
  company Lord Lytol quite often to the other Holds."
  
  Weyr."
  Jaxom could not control the flush that rose to his hairline. Was it possi-
  ble that N'ton had somehow found out
  that he and F'lessan had squeezed through a hole onto Benden's
  Hatching Ground for a close look at
  Ramoth's eggs? He didn't think F'lessan would have told that! Not to
  anyone! But Jaxom had often
  wondered if touching that little egg had somehow destined its occupant
  to be his!
  "I don't see much of F'lessan these days. I don't have much time, taking
  care of Ruth and all."
  "No, of course not," N'ton said. He seemed about to say more and then
  changed his mind.
  As they walked on in silence, Jaxom wondered if he'd said something
  wrong. But he couldn't think about it
  for long. Just then N'ton's fire-lizard, brown Tris, whirled in for a landing
  on the padded shoulder of the
  Weyrleader, chirping excitedly.
  "What's wrong?" asked Jaxom.
  "He's too excited to make sense," N'ton replied with a laugh, and he
  stroked the little creature's neck uttering
  
  like to take up the Weyrleader's valuable time with silly questions. But,
  today, it didn't seem like such a silly
  question.
  N'ton turned his head to his fire-lizard and, in a moment, Tris gave a
  quick chirp and then busily cleaned his
  forepaw. N'ton chuckled. "He likes Ruth. That's all the answer I get from
  him. I'd hazard the notion that it's
  because Ruth is nearer their size. They can see him without having to
  back up several dragonlengths to do
  so."
  "I suppose so." Jaxom still had reservations. "What ever it is, fire-lizards
  come from all over to visit him. They
  tell him the most outrageous stories but that makes him happy, espe-
  cially when I can't be right there with
  him."
  They had reached the roadway and were heading for the ramp into the
  Great Court.
  "Don't be long dressing, will you, Jaxom? Lessa and F'lar ought to arrive
  soon," N'ton said as he kept going
  straight on through the great gates toward the massive metal Hold door.
  "Finder'll be in his quarters at this
  
  not just an overgrown fire-lizard as Dorse so often teased him. And, too,
  he'd finally be able to get away from
  Dorse. Today was the first time in Turns he hadn't had to endure
  Dorse's teasing as he washed Ruth. Not
  that the boy was just jealous of Jaxom's having Ruth. Dorse had always
  taunted Jaxom, ever since he could
  remember. Before Ruth had come, Jaxom had managed to make him-
  self scarce in the dark recesses of
  Ruatha's many levels. Dorse didn't like the dark, stuffy corridors and
  stayed away. But with Ruth's arrival,
  Jaxom no longer was able to disappear and avoid Dorse's attentions.
  He often wished that he didn't owe
  Dorse so much. But he was Lord of Ruatha and Dorse was his milk-
  brother so he owed him his life. For if
  Deelan hadn't given birth to Dorse two days before Jaxom's unexpected
  arrival, Jaxom would have died in
  his first hours. Therefore, Jaxom had been taught by Lytol and the Hold
  harper, he must share everything
  with his milk-brother. As far as Jaxom could see, Dorse benefited far
  more than he did. The boy, a full hand
  
  he first arrived at Ruatha a Turn and
  a half ago, it had been obvious that he would quickly grow too large to
  enter the traditional apartment of the
  Lord Holder within the Hold proper.
  So Lytol had decided that the old stables, with the vaulted ceiling, could
  be refurbished suitably for sleeping
  quarters and a work room for Jaxom and a fine spacious Weyr for the
  little dragon. New doors had been
  specially designed by Mastersmith Fandarel and hung with such inge-
  nuity that a slightly built lad and an
  awkward hatchling could manage them.
  I will sit here in the sun, Ruth told Jaxom, poking his head past the en-
  trance to their quarters. My bed hasn't
  been swept.
  "Everyone's been so busy cleaning for Lessa's visit," Jaxom said, gig-
  gling as he remembered the terror in
  Deelan's face when Lytol had told her that the Weyrwoman was coming.
  In his milk-mother's eyes, Lessa
  was still the only full-blooded Ruathan left alive after Fax's treacherous
  attack on the Hold over twenty Turns
  ago.
  
  Wilth and Lioth heralded the visitors
  with appropriate trumpetings.
  Jaxom rushed to the window and peered out, catching a glimpse of
  huge wings as the newcomers settled
  into the great courtyard. He didn't wait long enough to see the Benden
  dragons remove themselves to the
  fire-heights, accompanied by excited fairs of fire lizards. Drying himself
  hurriedly, he wriggled out of his wet
  trousers. It didn't take him long to don his good new clothes and stamp
  into the boots made especially for
  this occasion and lined with downy wherry-hide for warmth in flight. Re-
  cent practice made it easy for him to
  rig the riding straps on the eager little dragon..As Jaxom and Ruth
  emerged from their quarters, Jaxom was again assailed by apprehension.
  What if N'ton
  had been wrong? What if Lessa and F'lar decided to wait just a few
  more months to see if Ruth would grow?
  What if Ruth, being such a small dragon, didn't have enough strength to
  fly him? Supposing he hurt Ruth?
  Ruth crooned encouragingly. You couldn't hurt me. You are my friend.
  And he butted Jaxom affectionately,
  
  you.
  Jaxom realized that he did. Taking courage from his dragon's accep-
  tance of such a large audience, he
  straightened his shoulders and strode forward.
  F'lar and Lessa, as the chief dragonriders, were the most important
  guests. F'nor, brown Canth's rider and
  mate of the sad Brekke, was also present but he was a good friend to
  Jaxom. N'ton, of course, was there
  since he was Fort's Weyrleader and Ruatha was beholden to Fort Weyr.
  Master Robinton as Harper of Pern
  was here and, beside him, Jaxom was glad to see Menolly, the Harper
  girl who had often been his
  champion. Jaxom reluctantly admitted the right of Lord Sangel of South
  Boll and Lord Groghe of Fort to be
  present as representatives of the Holders.
  At first Jaxom couldn't see Lord Lytol. Then Finder moved to say
  something to Menolly and Jaxom spotted
  his guardian. He hoped Lytol would really look at Ruth this once, if never
  again.
  They had crossed the courtyard now and stood before the steps, Jaxom
  resting his right hand on Ruth's
  
  Lessa, and she was cocking her head to
  look up at him. He'd always thought of Lessa as big. To be looking down
  on the Weyrwoman of Benden was
  somehow embarrassing.
  "I'd say you've the advantage of F'lessan still, and he's getting longer
  every time I look," she added.
  Jaxom began to stammer an apology.
  "Nonsense, Jaxom, stand up to your inches," F'lar said, coming up be-
  side his weyrmate. His attention was
  centered on Ruth, and the white dragon raised his head slightly to be at
  eye level with the tall Weyrleader.
  "You've made more hands of height, Ruth, than I'd have given you at
  your Hatching! You've done well by
  your friend. Lord Jaxom." The Benden Weyrleader put a slight emphasis
  on the title as he turned his gaze
  from dragon to rider.
  Jaxom winced, disliking the reminder of his equivocal position.
  "However, I can't see that you'll ever reach the stature of our good
  Mastersmith, so I don't think you'll
  overburden Ruth in flight." F'lar glanced at the others on the steps.
  "Ruth's a full head higher in the shoulder
  
  haunches and spread his wings, the muscles
  rippling through chest and shoulder with the clouded shades of all
  dragon colors.
  "He's completely in proportion to himself," F'lar said, dipping under the
  wing to inspect the upper side of the
  broad, transparent membrane. "Oh, thank you, Ruth," he added as the
  white dragon obligingly tilted his
  wing. "I take it he's as eager to fly you as you are!"
  "Yes, sir, because, sir, he is a dragon, and dragons all fly!"
  The look F'lar shot him caused Jaxom to hold his breath, wondering if
  his quick answer had been too bold.
  When he heard Lessa laugh, he looked over at her. But she wasn't
  laughing at him, or at Ruth. Her eyes
  rested on her weyrmate. F'lar's right eyebrow arched as he grinned back
  at her. Jaxom felt they weren't
  aware of him or Ruth at all.
  "Yes, dragons do fly, don't they, Lessa?" the Weyrleader said softly, and
  Jaxom realized they were sharing
  some private joke.
  Then F'lar raised his head to the fire-heights where golden Ramoth,
  bronze Mnementh, and the two browns,
  
  forward as if to give Jaxom a leg up to the neck of the white dragon.
  Jaxom was torn between pleasure at having the Weyrleader of all Pern
  to assist him and indignation that
  F'lar thought him incapable of mounting unaided.
  Ruth intervened by swinging his wings out of the way and bending his
  left knee. Jaxom stepped lightly on
  the proffered limb and swung to the proper position between the last two
  neck ridges. Those protuberances
  in a full dragon were sufficient to keep a man steady in ordinary flight,
  but Lytol had insisted that Jaxom use
  riding straps as a safety measure. As Jaxom secured the strap buckles
  to his belt's metal loops, he cast
  surreptitious glances at the crowd. But no one showed a trace of sur-
  prise or contempt for this precaution.
  When he was ready, that awful coldness of doubt rose once more in his
  belly. Supposing that Ruth couldn't
  ...
  He caught the confident grin on N'ton's face and saw Master Robinton
  and Menolly hold up their hands in
  salute. Then F'lar lifted his fist above his head in the traditional signal to
  rise.
  
  the straps, then hung on tightly as the
  little white dragon's powerful wing strokes lifted them upward, past the
  first rank of windows and the startled
  faces of the holders, up so quickly to the fire-heights that Jaxom saw the
  other tiers of windows in a blur.
  Then the great dragons extended their wings, bugling encouragement to
  Ruth. Fire-lizards swirled about
  them, adding their silvery voices. Jaxom just hoped they wouldn't startle
  Ruth or get in his way..They are pleased to see us in the air together.
  Ramoth and Mnementh are very happy to see you on my
  back at last. I am very happy. Are you happier now?
  The almost plaintive question caused a lump to lodge in Jaxom's throat.
  He opened his mouth to respond,
  only to have sound torn from his lips by the press of wind against his
  face.
  "Of course, I'm happy. I'm always happy with you," he said joyfully. "I'm
  flying with you, just like I wanted to.
  This'll show everyone that you're a right dragon!"
  You're shouting!
  "I'm happy. Why shouldn't I shout?"
  I'm the only one to hear you and I hear you very well indeed.
  
  Ramoth says you must grip more tightly with your legs as you do on
  runners.
  "I didn't want to interfere with your breathing." Jaxom pressed his legs
  tightly into the warmth of the silken
  neck, heartened by the security the grip gave him.
  That's better. You can't hurt my neck. You can't hurt me. You're my
  rider. Ramoth says we must land. Ruth
  sounded rebellious.
  "Land? We just got airborne!"
  Ramoth says I must not strain. Flying you is no strain. It is what I want to
  do. She says we may fly a little
  farther every day. I like that idea.
  Ruth corrected his descending plane so that they approached the court
  from the southeast. People on the
  roadway stopped to stare and then to wave. Jaxom thought he heard
  cheers but the wind rushed past,
  making it difficult to be sure. Those in the court turned to follow his path.
  Every window on the second and
  first tier of the Hold had its observers.
  "They'll all have to admit you're a proper flying dragon now, Ruth!"
  
  learn now.
  Savoring the triumph of the airborne experience, Jaxom sat for a mo-
  ment, rubbing his chest and reassuring
  Ruth. Then he was aware of F'lar, F'nor and N'ton coming towards him
  with expressions of approval. But
  why was the Harper looking so thoughtful? And why was Lord Sangel
  frowning?
  The dragonriders say we can fly. They are the ones who matter, Ruth
  told him..Jaxom could discern no expression at all on the face of Lord Lytol.
  That dulled Jaxom's pride in their
  achievement. How he had hoped that today of all days he might receive
  some flicker of approval, some
  kindly response from his guardian.
  He never forgets Larth, Ruth said in his softest tone.
  "See, Jaxom? I told you," N'ton cried as the three dragonriders ranged
  themselves by Ruth's shoulder.
  "Nothing to it."
  "Very good first flight, Jaxom," F'lar said, running his eyes over Ruth for
  any signs of stress. "No bother to
  him at all."
  
  until we were sure Ruth had reached
  his full growth."
  F'nor winked at Jaxom and N'ton grimaced, while F'lar raised his eyes
  upward, indicating the need for
  patience. That intimacy made Jaxom realize that he, Jaxom of Ruatha,
  had indeed been admitted to a
  kinship with the three most powerful dragonriders of Pern.
  "You're a dragonrider now, lad," N'ton said.
  "Yes." F'lar frowned as he lengthened the word. "Yes, but you may not
  fly all over the world tomorrow, nor
  may you try going between. Not yet. You do realize that, I trust. Fine!
  You're to exercise Ruth in flight every
  day. Do you have a slate on those drills, N'ton?"
  F'lar passed N'ton's slate over to Jaxom. "Those wing muscles have got
  to be strengthened slowly, carefully,
  or you will place too great a strain on them. That's the danger. The time
  might come when you'd need speed
  or maneuverability and those unfit muscles wouldn't respond! You heard
  about that tragedy at High
  Reaches?" F'lar's expression was stern.
  
  N'ton laughed and clapped Jaxom on the knee. "I'll wager you do, young
  Lord Jaxom, right up to the teeth!"
  F'lar turned to the Fort Weyrleader, surprised at the tone of the rejoin-
  der. Jaxom held his breath. Did Weyr
  leaders speak without thinking? Lord Lytol was al ways after Jaxom to
  think before he opened his mouth.
  "I'll oversee Jaxom's initial training, F'lar, no need to worry about his
  sense of responsibility on that score. It's
  well ingrained," N'ton went on. "And, with your permission, I'll instruct
  him on flying between when I feel he's
  ready. I think," he gestured toward the two Lord Holders arguing with
  Lessa, "the less publicity for that phase
  of training, the better."
  Jaxom could feel the slight tension in the air as N'ton and F'lar regarded
  each other. Suddenly Mnementh
  and then Ramoth bugled from the heights.."They agree," N'ton said in a
  soft voice.
  F'lar shook his head slightly and brushed away the lock of hair that fell
  into his eyes.
  "It's obvious, F'lar, that Jaxom deserves to be a dragonrider," F'nor said
  in the same persuasive tone.
  
  you'd try it on your own anyhow,
  wouldn't you, young Jaxom, being of Ruathan Blood?"
  "Sir?" Jaxom really didn't quite believe his good fortune.
  "No, F'lar, Jaxom wouldn't try such a thing on his own," N'ton replied in a
  curious tone. "That's the trouble. I
  think Lytol has done his job too well."
  "Explain," F'lar said curtly.
  F'nor held up his hand. "Here's Lytol himself," he said in quick warning.
  "Lord Jaxom, if you would settle your friend in his quarters, and then join
  us all in the Hall?" The Lord
  Warder bowed politely to everyone. A muscle in his face started to
  twitch as he quickly turned and walked
  back to the steps.
  He could have said something then ... if he'd wanted to, Jaxom thought,
  staring sadly at his guardian's broad
  back.
  N'ton gave him another clout on his knee and, when Jaxom looked at
  the Fort Weyrleader, he winked.
  "You're a good lad, Jaxom, and a good rider." Then he sauntered after
  the other dragonriders.
  
  missing the Harper's tall figure as
  they swarmed to get into the Hold.
  The incident lifted Jaxom's spirits and he directed Ruth to their quarters.
  As his glance swept the windows,
  he saw people pulling back. He sincerely hoped that Dorse and all his
  pals had witnessed every moment,
  had noticed the handgrasp of F'nor and seen how he'd been talking to
  the three most important dragonriders
  on all Pern. Dorse would have to be more careful now that Jaxom was
  also going to be allowed to take his
  Ruth between. Dorse had never figured on that, had he? Nor, thought
  Jaxom, had he. Wasn't it just capital
  of N'ton to suggest it? And when Dorse heard, he'd just have to chew it
  raw and swallow!
  Ruth answered his thoughts with a smug croon as the dragon paced
  into the old stable courtyard and
  dropped his left shoulder for Jaxom to dismount.
  "We can fly now, and get away from here, Ruth. And we'll be able to go
  between, too, and go anywhere we
  want on Pern. You flew just beautifully, and I'm sorry I was such a poor
  rider, walloping you like that on your
  
  guest of honor must be absent.
  Warned by the shrieks of the fire-lizards, Robinton moved quickly to
  flatten himself against the right-hand
  leaf of the great metal doors, then put his hands across his face as a
  shield. He'd been caught too often in
  frantic fire-lizard fairs not to take precautions. Generally speaking, how-
  ever, the fire-lizards at the Harper
  Hall, thanks to Menolly's teachings, were well behaved. He smiled as he
  heard Lessa's exclamation of
  surprise and dismay. After he had felt the wind of their passing, he re-
  mained where he was and, sure
  enough, the fair swept back through the doorway. He heard Lord
  Groghe call his little queen, Merga, to
  order. Then his own Zair found him and, scolding as if Robinton had de-
  liberately tried to hide from him, the
  little bronze fire-lizard settled on his padded left shoulder.
  "There! There's a lad!" Robinton said, stroking the agitated bronze with
  his finger and receiving a head
  sweeping caress on his cheek in return. "I wouldn't leave you, you ought
  to know that. Were you flying with
  Jaxom, too?"
  
  the only one of the older generation of Lord Holders who would dispute
  that liberty. Robinton felt that he'd
  done a fair job of influencing Groghe toward the boy, but then Groghe
  was smarter than Sangel. Besides, he
  owned a fire-lizard and that made him more charitably inclined toward
  Jaxom and Ruth. Robinton couldn't
  remember whether Sangel didn't want or had been unable to Impress a
  fire-lizard. He must ask Menolly. Her
  queen. Beauty, ought to be clutching soon. Useful that his journey-
  woman had a queen fire-lizard so that he
  could dispose of the eggs where he deemed it would do everyone the
  most good.
  He watched a moment longer, rather touched by the sight. Between
  Jaxom and Ruth there was an aura of
  innocence and vulnerability, of dependence and protection of each for
  the other.
  Jaxom had entered the world at a decided disadvantage, torn from his
  dead mother's body, with his father
  fatally wounded in a duel a half-hour later. Bearing in mind what N'ton
  and Finder had disclosed to him just
  
  of a man's arm, these fire-lizards.
  They weren't as intelligent as dragons, but they were utterly satisfying
  as companions-and occasionally
  useful.
  Now, he'd better join the others and see how he could insinuate his
  suggestion to Lytol. Young Jaxom would
  be a perfect addition to his scheme.
  "Robinton!" F'lar called him from the doorway of the Hold's smaller re-
  ception room. "Hurry up here. Your
  reputation is at risk."
  "My what? I'm coming . . ." The Harper's long legs brought him quickly
  into the room by the end of the
  sentence. From the smiles of those standing by the flasks of decanted
  wine, the Harper had no trouble
  guessing what was afoot.."Ah! You think to catch me out!" he cried,
  dramatically gesturing at the wine. "Well, I'm sure I can manage to
  maintain my reputation here! Just as long as you've marked the flasks
  correctly, Lytol."
  Lessa laughed and picked one up, exhibiting her choice to the assem-
  bled. She poured a glass of the deep
  
  must get her out of the Harper Hall
  now and on her own.
  Robinton made a proper show of wine-tasting, since this was obviously
  expected of him. He examined the
  color of the wine in the sunlight that streamed into the room, sniffed
  deeply of its aroma, then sipped ever so
  delicately and made a huge business of swishing the wine in his mouth.
  "Hmmm, yes, well. There's no
  trouble in recognizing this vintage," he said, a shade haughtily.
  "Well?" Lord Groghe demanded, his thick fingers twitching a bit on the
  broad belt in which he had hooked
  his thumbs. He rocked on his booted feet with impatience.
  "One never hastens a wine!"
  "Either you know or you don't," Sangel said with a skeptical sniff.
  "Of course I know it. It's the Benden pressing of eleven Turns back, isn't
  it, Lytol?"
  Robinton, aware of the silence in the room, was surprised by the look on
  Lytol's face. Surely the man
  couldn't still be upset about Jaxom flying the little dragon, could he? No,
  the muscle twitch had gone from his
  cheek.
  
  when she visits her former Hold.' Am I not right, Lytol?"
  "Oh, you're right on all counts," Lytol admitted with what sounded suspi-
  ciously like a chuckle.
  "About wines, Master Harper, you're infallible."
  "What a relief!" F'lar said, clapping the Harper on the shoulder. "I could
  never have borne your loss of
  reputation, Robinton."
  "It is a proper wine to celebrate this occasion. I give you all Jaxom,
  young Lord of Ruatha Hold and proud
  rider of Ruth." Robinton knew he'd put a dragon among wherries with
  his words, but there was no point
  hiding from the fact that, though Jaxom was Lord-elect of Ruatha Hold,
  he was also and undeniably a
  dragonrider. Lord Sangel cleared his throat abruptly before taking the
  required sip. Lessa's scowl suggested
  she'd rather he made any other toast just then.
  Then, after clearing his throat a second time, Sangel jumped in as
  Robinton had hoped he would. "Yes,
  about that, there must be some understanding as to how much of a
  dragonrider young Jaxom is to be. I was
  
  "We've no shortage of trained, Blooded men to take Hold here, either,"
  Sangel said, shooting his jaw out
  belligerently. Trust old Sangel to come to the point, thought Robinton
  gratefully.
  "Not with Ruathan Blood," Lessa said, her gray eyes flashing. "The
  whole point of my relinquishing my blood
  right to this Hold when I became Weyrwoman was to cede it to the one
  remaining male with any Ruathan
  Blood in his veins-Jaxom! As long as I live, I will not permit Ruatha, of all
  the Holds on Pern, to be the prize
  for continent-wide blood duels among younger sons. Jaxom remains as
  Lord Holder-elect of Ruatha; he will
  never be a fighting dragonrider."
  "Just like to set matters straight," Sangel said, stepping aside to avoid
  the icy stare Lessa gave him. "But
  you've got to admit, Weyrwoman, that riding dragons, no matter in how
  limited a fashion, can be dangerous.
  Heard about that weyrling at High Reaches . . ."
  "Jaxom's riding will be controlled at all times," F'lar promised. He threw
  a warning glance at N'ton. "He will
  never fly to fight the Thread. The danger would be too great."
  
  description. No offense meant, Lytol, but I noticed today that the lad
  finds himself . . . isolated from others.
  Having his own dragon accounts for part of it, I'm sure. Since no lads his
  age have been allowed a chance to
  Impress fire-lizards, the hold boys have no appreciation of his prob-
  lems."
  "Dorse been nagging him again?" Lytol asked, pulling at his lower lip as
  he regarded N'ton.
  "Then you're not unaware of the situation?" N'ton appeared relieved.
  "Certainly not. It's one reason I myself have pressed you, F'lar, to permit
  the boy to fly. He would then be
  able to visit the Holds which have boys his age and rank."
  "But surely you've fosterlings?" Lessa cried, looking about the room as if
  she had somehow overlooked the
  presence of Holder younglings.
  "I was about to arrange a half-Turn fostering for Jaxom when he Im-
  pressed." Lytol spread one hand to
  indicate an end to that plan.
  "I can't support the notion of Jaxom leaving Ruatha for fostering," Lessa
  said with a frown. "Not when he's
  the last of the Bloodline..."
  
  "That's another matter I'd like to broach," Lord Sangel said, stepping up
  to F'lar with a glance at Groghe for
  support. "What are we Holders to do?"."To do?" asked F'lar, momentar-
  ily perplexed.
  "With the younger sons," Robinton said smoothly, "for whom there are
  no more holds to manage in South
  Boll, Fort, Ista, and Igen-to name the Lords with the largest families of
  hopeful sons."
  "The Southern Continent, F'lar, when can we start opening the Southern
  Continent?" Groghe asked. "That
  Toric, who stayed behind in the Southern Hold, maybe he could use a
  strong, active, energetic, ambitious
  lad or two, or three?"
  "The Oldtimers are in the Southern Continent,"
  Lessa said sternly. "They can do no one harm there, since the land is
  protected by grubs."
  "I hadn't forgotten where the Oldtimers are, Weyrwoman," Groghe re-
  marked, raising his eyebrows. "Best
  place for 'em, they don't bother us, they do what they want, without
  making honest folk suffer." There was a
  
  "Me? No! What d'you think I am, crazy? Not but what that gaggle of
  young men, fighting at the drop of a
  glove ... Mind you, it's fists they fight with and I keep all weapons
  blunted, but their noise is enough to drive
  me between or outside. . . . Oh, I take your point, Weyrleader," Groghe
  added gloomily and his fingers did a
  rapid dance on his broad belt. "Yes, makes it difficult, doesn't it? We're
  not geared to live holdless, are we?
  Toric's not looking to increase his Holding at all? Something's got to be
  done about the youngbloods. Not
  just in my Hold, either, eh, Sangel?"
  "If I may make a suggestion," Robinton broke in quickly when he saw
  F'lar hesitating. Considering the
  alacrity with which F'lar gestured him to proceed, he appeared grateful
  for the Harper's interruption. "Well,
  half a Turn ago. Lord Groghe's fifth son Benelek had an idea to improve
  a harvesting implement. The Fort
  Smithcraftmaster suggested that Fandarel ought to be interested. In-
  deed the good Mastersmith was. Young
  Benelek went to Telgar for special instruction and also talked one of the
  High Reaches' sons into joining him,
  
  Groghe grunted. "They want land to hold, not ideas. What about South-
  ern?"
  "That solution can surely be investigated," Robinton said, treating
  Groghe's insistence as offhandedly as he
  dared. "The Oldtimers won't live forever."
  "In truth, Lord Groghe, we're by no means against expanding holds in
  the Southern," F'lar said. "It's just that
  . . ."
  "The time must be chosen," Lessa finished when he faltered. There was
  a curious gleam in her eyes that
  suggested to the Harper she had other reservations as well.
  "We'll not have to wait until the end of this Pass, I hope," Sangel said
  peevishly.."No, just until we are in no danger of dishonoring our word," F'lar
  said. "If you'll think back, the Weyrs have
  agreed to explore the Southern Continent ..."
  "The Weyrs agreed to get rid of Thread and the Red Star, too," Sangel
  said, irritated now.
  "F'nor here and Canth still bear the scars of that Star," Lessa reminded
  him, indignant at having the Weyrs
  criticized.
  
  Lord Holders persisted in believing that the dragonriders could, if they
  would put their minds to it, char
  Thread at its source on the Red Star and end forever the menace that
  kept people hold-fast. Mention,
  however, he deemed sufficient and quickly changed the subject.
  "My archivist. Master Arnor, is going blind from trying to decipher erod-
  ing Record hides. He does well, but
  sometimes I think he doesn't at all understand what it is he is saving and
  thus unwittingly miscopies blurred
  words. Fandarel has commented on this problem, too. He's of the firm
  opinion that some of the mysteries
  from those old Records stem from miscopying. Now, if we had copyists
  who knew the discipline-"
  "I'd like Jaxom to have some training that way," Lytol said.
  "I was hoping you'd suggest him."
  "Don't go back on your offer to take my son, Lytol," Groghe said.
  "Well, if Jaxom's ..."
  "I see no reason why both solutions cannot be used," Robinton said.
  "We'd have boys his own age and rank
  fostering here where Jaxom must learn to Hold, but Jaxom would also
  learn skills with others of different
  
  the boy to come to her side.
  "Yes, Lessa."
  "Some other settlings been done, too, kinsman," she went on, smiling
  when she saw his apprehensive look.
  "You know my son, Horon, don't you? Your age?" Groghe asked.
  Jaxom nodded, startled.
  "Well, he's going to foster here as company for you."
  "And possibly some other lads," said Lessa. "Would you like
  that?".Robinton noticed the incredulous widening of Jaxom's eyes as he
  glanced from Lessa to Groghe and back
  to Lytol where his glance remained until Lytol had nodded solemnly.
  "And, when Ruth is flying well, how about coming to my Hall to see what
  I can teach you about Pern that
  Lytol doesn't know?" Robinton asked.
  "Oh, sir," and Jaxom looked again to his guardian, "may I really do all
  this?" There was unadulterated relief
  and joy in Jaxom's voice.
  CHAPTER II
  Benden Weyr, Present Pass, 13th Turn
  DUSK WAS SETTLING in Benden Weyr as Robinton climbed the stairs
  to the queen's weyr, something he
  
  bronze Mnementh was seated on his
  haunches, regarding the new arrivals, his jewel-faceted eyes gleaming
  in the dim light. Robinton's Zair
  reacted by digging his claws sharply into the Harper's ear and twining
  his tail more tightly about his neck.
  "He won't hurt you, Zair," Robinton said, but he hoped the message
  would also satisfy the Southern Holder
  whose face and bearing were taut with surprise.
  "He's almost twice as big as any of the Oldtimers' beasts," Toric said in
  a respectfully hushed voice. "And I
  thought N'ton's Lioth was big!"
  "I believe that Mnementh's the largest bronze," Robinton said, continu-
  ing up the last few steps. He was
  concerned by that twinge in his chest. He'd have thought that all his re-
  cent and unexpected rest would have
  eased that condition. He must remember to speak to Master Oldive
  about it. "Good evening, Mnementh," he
  said as he reached the top step, inclining his body toward the great
  bronze. "It strikes me as disrespectful to
  barge by without acknowledging him," he said in an aside to Toric. "And
  this is my friend, Toric, whom Lessa
  
  tween himself and bronze Mnementh.
  "I'd better warn you," Robinton said, keeping amusement out of his
  voice, "that Ramoth's even larger!"
  Toric's response was a grunt which dissolved into a gasp as the corridor
  opened up into the large rocky
  chamber which served as the home of Benden's queen. She was asleep
  on her stone couch, her wedge-shaped
  head pointing in their direction, gleaming golden in the glows that illumi-
  nated the weyr.
  "Robinton, you are indeed safely back," Lessa cried, running toward
  him, a wide smile lighting her unusual
  face. "And so tanned!"
  To the Harper's delighted surprise, she threw her arms about him in a
  brief and totally unexpected embrace.."I should get storm-lost more often,"
  he managed to say in a light tone, grinning as raffishly as he could with
  his heart pounding in his chest. Her body had been so vibrant, so light
  against him.
  "Don't you dare!" She flashed him a look compounded of anger, relief
  and outrage, then her mobile face
  assumed a more dignified smile for the other guest. "Toric, you are very
  welcome here, and thank you for
  
  "You're not a good seaman, then, Robinton?"
  F'lar asked with a laugh. He gripped the Southerner's arm in greeting
  and with his left hand gave the Harper
  an affectionate crack on the arm.
  Robinton suddenly realized that his adventure had had disturbing reper-
  cussions in this Weyr. He was both
  gratified and chagrined. True, at the time of the gale, he'd been far too
  occupied with his rebellious stomach
  to think beyond surviving the next wave that crashed over their little
  boat. Menolly's skill had kept him from
  realizing the acute danger they were in. Afterward he had come to ap-
  preciate their position and wondered if
  Menolly had suppressed her own fear lest she lose honor in his eyes.
  She'd gone about her seamanship,
  managing to save most of the wind-torn sail, rigging a sea anchor,
  lashing him to the mast as he'd been
  made weak by nausea and retching.
  "No, F'lar, I'm no seaman," Robinton said now, with a shudder. "I'll leave
  that to those born to the craft."
  "And follow their advice," Toric warned, somewhat tartly. He turned to
  the Weyrleaders. "He's got no weather
  
  received on current, tide, drift and
  wind. He knew more than he'd take care ever to need about those as-
  pects of the seaman's craft. Lessa
  laughed at his droll tone and poured wine.
  "Do you realize," he asked, twirling the glass in his fingers, "that there
  wasn't a drop of wine on board?"
  "Oh, no!" Lessa cried in comic dismay. F'lar's laughter joined hers.
  "What deprivation!"
  Robinton then got down to the purpose of this visit. "It was, however, a
  felicitous accident. There is, my dear
  Weyrleaders, considerably more of the Southern Continent than we'd
  ever thought." He glanced at Toric,
  who produced the map he'd hastily copied from the larger one in his
  Hold. F'lar and Lessa obligingly held the
  comers to flatten the stiff hide. The Northern Continent was detailed as
  was the known portion of the
  Southern Continent. Robinton pointed to the thumb of the Southern
  peninsula which contained the Southern
  Weyr and Toric's Hold, then gestured to the right and left of that land-
  mark where the coastline and a good
  
  long as the Weyr was properly
  supplied with game and fresh fruit."."Supplied?" exclaimed F'lar. "They'd
  only to walk a few dragon lengths from the weyrs and pick what they
  needed."
  "Sometimes they do. Mostly I find it easier to have my holders supply
  their demands. They don't bother us
  then."
  "Bother you?" Lessa's voice was indignant.
  "That's what I said, Weyrleader," Toric replied, a steely note in his voice;
  he turned back to the map. "My
  holders have been able to penetrate this far into the interior. Very diffi-
  cult going. Tough jungle growth that
  dulls the keenest chopping blade in an hour. Never seen such vegeta-
  tion! We know there are hills here and
  a mountain range farther back," he tapped the relevant area on the
  map, "but I'd not fancy carving my way
  there length by length. So we scouted along the shoreline, found these
  two rivers and proceeded up them as
  far as we could. The western river ends in a flat marshy lake, the south-
  eastern one at a falls, six-seven
  
  "No, Weyrleader, they are not! And frankly, without some easier way to
  penetrate that vegetation," Toric
  tapped the hide, "I don't have the men, much less the energy to bother.
  I've all the land I can hold right now
  and still be sure my people are safe from Thread." He paused. Although
  Robinton had a fair idea what he
  was hesitating about, the Harper wanted the Weyrleaders to know first-
  hand what this energetic Southerner
  thought. "Most of the time the dragonmen don't bother on that score,
  either."
  "What?" Lessa exploded, but F'lar touched her shoulder.
  "I'd wondered about that, Toric."
  "How dare they?" Lessa continued, her gray eyes flashing. Ramoth
  stirred on her couch.
  "They dare, all right," Toric said, looking nervously at the queen.
  However, Robinton could see that Lessa's appalled reaction to the Old-
  timers' delinquency gratified the man.
  "But ... but ..." Lessa spluttered with indignation.
  "Are you able to manage, Toric?" F'lar asked, calming his weyrmate with
  a firm hand.
  
  "That isn't the point," Lessa said angrily. "They are dragonmen, sworn to
  protect-"
  "You sent them south because they weren't," Toric reminded her. "So
  they couldn't injure people here."
  "That still doesn't give them any right to-"
  "I told you, Lessa, they're not harming us. We manage fine without
  them!"
  A sort of challenge in Toric's tone made Robinton hold his breath. Lessa
  had a quick temper.."Is there anything you need from the North?" asked
  F'lar, in oblique apology.
  "I was hoping you'd ask," the Southerner said, grinning. "I know you
  can't break your honor by interfering
  with the Oldtimers in the South. Not that I mind . . ." he added quickly as
  he saw Lessa about to protest
  again. "But we are running out of some things, like properly forged metal
  for my Craftsmith, and parts for the
  flamethrowers that he says only Fandarel can make."
  "I'll see that you get them."
  "And I'd like a young sister of mine, Sharra, to study with that healer the
  Harper was telling me about, a
  Master Oldive. We've some odd sorts of fevers and curious infections."
  
  the space in the world, some people become unsettled when there
  aren't dragons in the sky during
  Threadfall!"
  "Why, yes," F'lar said with a nonchalance that caused Robinton to stifle
  a laugh, "I believe there are a few
  hardy souls who would be interested in joining you."
  "Good. If I've enough to Hold properly, then I can see my way clear to
  extending beyond the rivers next cool
  season." Toric's relief was visible.
  "I thought you said it was impossible . . ." F'lar began.
  "Not impossible. Just difficult," Toric replied, adding with a smile, "I've
  some men keen to continue despite
  the odds, and I'd like to know what's out there."
  "So would we," Lessa said. "The Oldtimers won't last forever."
  "That fact often consoles me," Toric replied. "One thing, though . . ." He
  paused, looking through narrowed
  eyes at the two Benden Weyrleaders.
  So far, Toric's audacity had delighted Robinton. The Harper was very
  pleased at how he'd managed to
  prime the man into requesting the very thing that the North needed the
  most-a place to send the
  
  and how to get it. Therefore he was addressing Lessa and F'lar as
  equals.
  "One small matter," he continued, "which I'd like clarified?"
  "Yes?" F'lar prompted him.
  "What happens to Southern, to my holders, to me, when the last of
  those Oldtimers is gone?"
  "I'd say that you will have more than earned the right to Hold," F'lar said
  slowly, with an unmistakable accent
  on the final word, "what you have managed to carve out of that jungle
  for yourself!"
  "Good!" Toric gave a decisive nod of his head, his eyes never leaving
  F'lar's. Then, suddenly, his tanned
  face dissolved into a smile. "I'd forgotten what you Northerners can be
  like. Send me some more-"."Will they hold what they have carved?"
  Robinton asked quickly.
  "What they hold, they have," Toric replied in a grave manner. "But don't
  flood me with people. I've got to
  sneak them in when the Oldtimers aren't looking."
  "How many can you sneak in ... comfortably?" asked F'lar.
  "Oh, six, eight, the first time. Then when we've got holds, the same
  again." He grinned. "The first ones build
  
  huge cone-shaped mountain far, far in
  the distance, right in the center of the cove..."
  "But you came back along the shore, didn't you?" F'lar was impatient.
  "What was it like?"
  "It was there," Robinton said uninformatively. "That's all I can say. . . ."
  He glared at Toric, who was
  chuckling at his discomfiture. "We had a choice Of sailing very close to
  land which Menolly said was
  impossible as we didn't know the bottom, or with sufficient searoom to
  keep beyond the Western Current
  which would evidently have brought us right back to the cove. It is, as
  I've said, a very beautiful spot, but I
  was glad to leave it for a while. Consequently, while land was there, it
  was not close enough for any
  inspection by me."
  "That's too bad." F'lar looked very unhappy.
  "Yes and no," replied Robinton. "It took us nine days to sail back along
  that coast. That's a lot of land for
  Toric to explore."
  "I'm willing, and I'll be ready if I get the supplies I need..."
  
  "Is that how you chanced to be South in the first place?" asked Lessa.
  "How else?" Robinton said, assuming a very innocent expression. "Me-
  nolly was attempting to teach me to
  sail, a storm came up unexpectedly and blew us straight into Toric's
  harbor. Didn't it, Toric?"
  "If you say so. Harper!"
  CHAPTER III
  Morning at Ruatha Hold, and Smithcrafthall at Telgar Hold, Present
  Pass, 15'. 5.9
  WITH A FORCE that set all the cups and plates bouncing, Jaxom
  brought down both fists on the heavy
  wooden table.
  "That is enough," he said into the stunned silence. He was on his feet,
  jerking his broad, bony shoulders
  back because his arms had been jarred by the blows. "That is quite
  enough!".He didn't shout, he was oddly pleased to recall later, but his voice
  was deepened by this explosion of long
  suppressed anger and carried clearly to the edge of the Hall. The
  drudge who was bringing in another
  pitcher of hot klah paused in confusion.
  
  new at Ruatha Hold to have started jibing at him. "And yes," he said di-
  rectly to Deelan, his milk-mother
  whose lower lip was quivering at her nursling's startling behavior, "this is
  the day when I go to the
  Smithcrafthall where, as you all well know, I shall be served with the
  food and courtesy adequate to my
  needs and station. Therefore," and his glance swept the faces around
  the table, "the subjects of this
  morning's conversation do not need to be aired again in my presence.
  Have I made myself clear?"
  He didn't wait for an answer but strode purposefully from the Hall, elated
  at having finally said something
  and half-guilty because he had lost control of his temper. He heard Lytol
  call his name but for once that
  summons did not exact obedience.
  This time it would not be Jaxom, however young a Lord or Ruatha Hold
  he still was, who apologized for his
  behavior. The enormous backlog of similar incidents, manfully swal-
  lowed or overlooked for any number of
  logical reasons, swept aside every consideration except to put as much
  distance between himself and his
  
  back and urged him up out of the
  courtyard just as Lytol appeared at the massive Hold doors. Jaxom
  averted his face so that later he'd be
  able to say truthfully that he hadn't seen Lytol waving.
  Ruth beat strongly upward, his lighter mass launched more readily than
  that of the regular-sized dragons.
  "You're twice the dragon the others are. Twice! You're better at every-
  thing! Everything!" Jaxom's thought
  was so turbulent that Ruth trumpeted defiance.
  The startled brown watchdragon queried them from the fire-heights and
  the entire Hold population of fire-lizards
  materialized around Ruth, dipping and swooping, chirping in echoed
  agitation.
  Ruth cleared the fire-heights and then winked into between, unerringly
  going to the high mountain lake
  above the Hold which had become their special retreat.
  The penetrating cold of between, brief passage though it was, reduced
  Jaxom's temper. He began shivering,
  since he wore only his sleeveless tunic, as Ruth glided down effortlessly
  to the water's edge.
  
  Jaxom slid from the soft-skinned white back and encircled the dragon's
  neck with his arms, pulling the
  wedge-shaped head against him, for comforting..Why do you let them
  upset you? Ruth asked, his eyes whirling with love and affection for his
  weyrmate.
  "A very good question," Jaxom replied after a full moment's considera-
  tion. "But they know exactly how."
  Then he laughed. "This is where all that objectivity Robinton talks about
  ought to operate . . . and doesn't."
  The Masterharper is honored for his wisdom. Ruth sounded uncertain,
  and his tone made Jaxom smile.
  He was always being told that dragons had no ability to understand ab-
  stract concepts or complex
  relationships. Too often Ruth surprised him by remarks that cast doubt
  on the theory. Dragons, particularly
  Ruth in Jaxom's biased opinion, obviously perceived far more than oth-
  ers credited to them. Even
  Weyrleaders like F'lar or Lessa and even N'ton. Thinking about the Fort
  Weyrleader reminded Jaxom that he
  now had a particular reason for going to the Mastersmithhall this morn-
  ing. N'ton, who would be there to hear
  
  bothered him so much? It had begun like
  other mornings, with Dorse's trite comments about oversized fire-lizards,
  with Lytol's habitual query about
  Ruth's health-as if the dragon were likely to deteriorate overnight-and
  with Deelan snidely repeating that
  sickeningly old hoot about visitors starving at the Smithcrafthall. To be
  sure, Deelan's mothering had lately
  begun to irritate Jaxom, especially when the dear soul invariably fondled
  him in front of her seething natural
  son, Dorse. All the time-honored, worn-out nonsense that started a day,
  every day, at Ruatha Hold. Why,
  today, should it jerk him to his feet in a fury and drive him from the Hall
  he was Lord of, fleeing from people
  over whom, in theory, he had all control and right?
  And there was nothing wrong with Ruth. Nothing. No. I am fine, Ruth
  said, then added in a plaintive tone,
  except that I didn't have time for my swim.
  Jaxom stroked the soft eye ridges, smiling indulgently. "Sorry to spoil
  your morning, too."
  You haven't. I'll swim in the lake. Quieter here, Ruth said and nuzzled
  Jaxom. It's better here for you, too.
  
  winked out immediately and Jaxom felt another stab of resentment.
  Keeping track of him, huh? That'd be
  one more order from him when he got back to the Hold. Who did they
  think he was, an unbreeched child or
  an Oldtimer?
  He sighed, repentant. Of course, they'd be worried about him when he'd
  stormed out of the Hold like that.
  Not that he was likely to go anywhere but to the lake. Not that he could
  possibly come to harm with Ruth,
  and not that he and Ruth could go anywhere on Pern where fire-lizards
  couldn't find them.
  His resentment flared anew, this time against the silly fire-lizards. Why,
  of all dragons, did every fire-lizard
  have an insatiable curiosity about Ruth? Wherever they went on Pern,
  every fire-lizard in the neighborhood
  came popping in to gawk at the white dragon. This activity used to
  amuse Jaxom because the fire-lizards
  would give Ruth the most incredible images of things they remembered,
  and Ruth would pass the more
  interesting ones to him. But today, as with everything else, amusement
  had soured to irritation.
  
  suddenly folded his wings and dove. Jaxom shuddered, wondering how
  Ruth could enjoy the biting cold
  waters fed by the snowcapped peaks of the High Ranges. In the muggy
  midsummer heat, Jaxom often
  found it refreshing, but now, with winter barely past? He shuddered
  again. Well, if dragons didn't feel the
  three-times-more-intense cold of between, a plunge in an icy lake would
  not be bothersome.
  Ruth surfaced, waves lapping against the bank at Jaxom's feet. Jaxom
  idly stripped a branch of its thick
  needles and launched them one after another into the incoming ripples.
  Well, one wave of reaction to this
  morning's outburst was the dispatch of fire-lizards to find him.
  Another, the look of stunned amazement on Dorse's face. That had
  been the first time Jaxom had ever
  rounded on his milk-brother, though, Shells, it was only the thought of
  Lytol's displeasure at his loss of
  control that had kept Jaxom's temper in check so long. Dorse loved
  nothing better than to taunt Jaxom about
  Ruth's lack of stature, masking his malicious jibes in mock-brotherly
  quarrels, knowing all too well that
  
  eyes reflecting the bright morning sun in greens and brilliant clear blues.
  The fire-lizards attacked his
  back with rough tongues and talons, scrubbing off infinitesimal motes of
  dirt, splashing water over him with
  their wings, their own hides darkened by the wetting.
  The green turned to batter her nose at one of the two blues and swatted
  the brown with her wing to make
  him work to her satisfaction. Despite himself, Jaxom laughed to see her
  scolding. She was Deelan's green
  and so much in manner like his milkmother that he was reminded of the
  weyr axiom that a dragon was no
  better than his rider.
  In that way, Lytol had done Jaxom no disservice. Ruth was the best
  dragon in all Pern. If-and now Jaxom
  recognized the underlying cause of his rebellion-Ruth was ever allowed
  to be. Immediately all the frustrated
  anger of the morning returned, disrupting what little objectivity he had
  gained at the peaceful lakeside.
  Neither he, Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha, nor Ruth, the white runt of Ramoth's
  clutch, were allowed to be what
  they really were.
  
  Jaxom knew he could never be a dragonrider because he had to be
  Lord Holder of Ruatha. Only he was not
  really a Lord Holder because he couldn't go up to Lytol and just say: "I'm
  old enough to take over now!
  Thanks and good-bye!" Lytol had worked too hard and long to make
  Ruatha prosper to take second place to
  the bumblings of an untried youth. Lytol only lived for Ruatha. He'd lost
  so much else: first his own dragon,
  then his small family to Fax's greed. All his life now centered about
  Ruathan fields and wheat, and runners,
  and how many wherry bucks...
  No, in all fairness, he would simply have to wait until Lytol, who enjoyed
  vigorous health, died a natural
  death before he started Holding at Ruatha.
  But, Jaxom continued his thoughts logically, if Lytol is active so that
  Ruatha Hold is not in dispute, why
  couldn't he and Ruth occupy their time learning to be proper dragon and
  rider. Every fighting dragon was
  needed now, what with Thread falling from the Red Star at unexpected
  intervals. Why should he have to
  
  the water to shake his wings dry. He half- paddled, half-flew to the
  shore. I am a dragon. You are my rider.
  No man can change that. Be what you are. I am.
  "But not really. They won't let us be what we are," Jaxom cried. "They're
  forcing me to be everything but a
  dragonrider."
  You are a dragonrider. You are also, and Ruth said this slowly as if try-
  ing to understand it all himself, a Lord
  Holder. You are a student with the Mastersmith and the Masterharper.
  You are a friend of Menolly, Mirrim,
  F'lessan and N'ton. Ramoth knows our name. So does Mnementh. And
  they know me. You have to be a lot
  of people. That is hard.
  Jaxom stared at Ruth, who gave his wings a final flick and then folded
  them fastidiously across his back.
  I am clean. I feel well, the dragon said as if this announcement should
  resolve all of Jaxom's internal doubts.
  "Ruth, whatever would I do without you?"
  I don't know. N'ton comes to see you. He went to Ruatha. The little
  brown who followed looks to N'ton.
  
  I wanted my swim, Ruth replied. We will be in time. Ruth rose from the
  ground when Jaxom had barely
  settled on his back. We will not keep N'ton waiting. Before Jaxom could
  remind Ruth that they weren't
  supposed to go between time, they had.
  "Ruth, what if N'ton finds out we've been timing it," Jaxom said through
  chattering teeth as they broke out of
  between into the hot midmorning sun of Telgar over the Mastersmith-
  crafthall.
  He will not ask.
  Jaxom wished that Ruth wouldn't sound so complacent. But then, the
  white dragon wouldn't have to take
  N'ton's tongue-lashing. Timing was bloody dangerous!
  I always know when I'm going, Ruth replied, not at all perturbed. That's
  something few other dragons can
  say.
  They were barely in a landing circle above the Smithcrafthall complex
  before N'ton's great bronze Lioth burst
  into the air above them.
  "And how you know how to time it that close, I'll never know," Jaxom
  said.
  
  raised his hand and was holding what could only be Jaxom's wherhide
  riding jacket.
  As they circled downward, Jaxom saw that they were by no means the
  first arrivals. He counted five
  dragons, including F'lessan's bronze Golanth and Mirrim's green Path
  who warbled a greeting. Ruth landed
  lightly on the meadow before the Smithcrafthall with Lioth touching down
  the next moment. As N'ton slid
  down the bronze shoulder, his brown fire-lizard, Tris, appeared and set-
  tled impertinently on Ruth's upper
  crest, chirping smugly.
  "Deelan said you'd gone off without this," N'ton said and tossed the
  jacket at Jaxom. "Well, I suppose you
  don't feel the cold the way my old bones do. Or are you practicing sur-
  vival tactics?"
  "Ah, N'ton, not you, too!"
  "Me, too, what, young fella?"
  "You know..."
  "No, I don't know." N'ton gave Jaxom a closer look. "Or did Deelan's
  babbling this morning have real
  significance?"
  
  we are. Tell me, did something
  momentous happen this morning? Ruth looks fine."
  Embarrassed, Jaxom looked away from the quizzical regard of the Fort
  Weyrleader and gave himself a bit
  more time by shrugging into his jacket.
  "I told the entire Hold off this morning."
  "I told Lytol it wouldn't be long now."
  "What?"
  "What tipped the scales? Deelan's blubbering?"
  "Ruth is a dragon!"
  "Of course he is," N'ton replied with such emphasis that Lioth turned his
  head to regard them. "Who says
  he's not?"
  "They do. At Ruatha. Everywhere! They say he's nothing but an over-
  grown fire-lizard. And you know that's
  been said."
  Lioth hissed. Tris took wing in surprise, but Ruth warbled complacently
  and the others settled.
  "I know it's been said," N'ton replied, taking hold of Jaxom's shoulders.
  "But there isn't a dragonrider I know
  
  how to chew firestone."
  "It's not that, Jaxom . .."
  "Then what is it? There isn't a place on Pern we can't get to, first time,
  right on. Ruth's small but he's faster,
  turns quicker midair, less mass to move-"
  "It's not a question of ability, Jaxom," N'ton said, raising his voice slightly
  to make Jaxom hear what he had
  to say, "it's a matter of what is advisable."
  "More evasions."
  "No!" N'ton's firm negative cut through Jaxom's resentment. "Flying with
  a fighting wing during Threadfall is
  bloody dangerous, lad. I'm not impugning your courage, but bluntly,
  however keen you are, however quick
  and clever Ruth is, you'd be a liability to a fighting wing. You haven't the
  training, the discipline ..."
  "If it's only training-"
  N'ton grabbed Jaxom by the shoulders to stop his contentiousness.
  "It isn't." N'ton drew a deep breath. "I said it's not a question of Ruth's
  abilities or yours; it is solely a question
  of advisability. Pern can't afford to lose either you, young Lord of
  Ruatha, or Ruth, who is unique."
  
  in defeat. "You see, but the
  answer's still no! It would just make different ripples, probably bigger
  ones, wouldn't it? So I've got to muck
  on as something in between everything. Not a real Lord Holder, not a
  real dragonrider . . . not a real
  anything except a problem. A real problem to everybody!"
  Not to me, Ruth said clearly and reassuringly touched his rider with his
  muzzle.
  "You're not a problem, Jaxom, but I do see that you have one," N'ton
  said with quiet sympathy. "If it were up
  to me, I'd say it would do you a world of good to join a wing and teach
  Ruth to chew firestone. For the
  firsthand knowledge no other Lord Holder could contest."
  For one hopeful moment, Jaxom thought N'ton was offering him the
  chance he so wanted.
  "If it were my decision, Jaxom, which it isn't and can't be. But," and N'ton
  paused, his eyes searching
  Jaxom's face, "this is a matter that had better be discussed. You're old
  enough to be confirmed as Lord
  Holder or to do something else constructive. I'll speak to Lytol and F'lar
  on your behalf."
  
  "I won't forget, Jaxom, only . . ." and N'ton grinned, "for the sake of the
  First Shell, don't let anyone catch you
  giving Ruth firestone. And be bloody careful when you go!"
  In a state of mild shock, Jaxom stared at N'ton as the Weyrleader hailed
  a friend inside the building. N'ton
  had understood. Jaxom's depression lifted instantly.
  As he crossed the threshold of the Smithcrafthall, he hesitated, adjust-
  ing his sight to the interior after the
  bright spring sun. Intent on his own problems, he'd also forgotten how
  important a session this was to be.
  Masterharper Robinton was seated at the long work table, cleared for
  this occasion of its usual clutter, and
  F'lar, Benden's Weyrleader, was beside him. Jaxom recognized three
  other Weyrleaders and the new
  Masterherdsman Briaret. There were a good half a wing of bronze riders
  and Lord Holders, the leading
  smiths and more harpers than any other craft to judge by the color of tu-
  nics on men he didn't recognize
  immediately.
  Someone was calling his name in an urgent hoarse whisper. Looking to
  his left, Jaxom saw that F'lessan
  
  "What? And miss a chance to ride dragonback?" F'lessan asked with
  good-natured candor. "I brought four in
  myself."
  "A lot of people have assisted Wansor in collating the material," Benelek
  said in his usual didactic manner.
  "Naturally they want to hear what use has been made of their time and
  effort."
  "They sure didn't come for the food," F'lessan said with a snicker.
  Now why, wondered Jaxom, doesn't F'lessan's remark annoy me?
  "Nonsense, F'lessan," Benelek replied, too literal minded to understand
  when someone was being facetious.
  "Food's very good here. You eat enough of it."
  "I'm like Fandarel," F'lessan said. "I make efficient use of anything edi-
  ble. Sush! Here he is himself. Shells!"
  The young bronze rider grimaced with disgust. "Couldn't someone have
  made him change his clothes?"
  "As if clothes mattered for a man with a mind like Wansor's." Benelek
  dropped his voice but he was nearly
  sputtering with contempt for F'lessan.
  "Today of all days, Wansor should look tidy," Jaxom said. "That's what
  F'lessan meant."
  
  hall.
  "Well, my, my . . . All for my stars? My stars, my, my!" His reaction sent
  a ripple of amusement through the
  hall. "This is most gratifying. I'd no idea . . . Most gratifying. And Robin-
  ton, you're here ..."
  "Where else?" The Masterharper's long face was suitably serious but
  Jaxom thought he saw the man's lips
  twitch in an effort not to smile. Robinton then half-guided, half-pushed
  Wansor toward the platform at the far
  end of the hall.
  "Come on, Wansor," Fandarel said in his rolling tones.
  "Oh yes, so sorry. Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Ah, and there's Lord
  Asgenar. How very good of you to
  come. I say, is N'ton here, too?" Wansor executed a full circle. Being
  nearsighted, he peered closely at
  faces, trying to spot N'ton. "He really should be-"
  "Here I am, Wansor," N'ton raised his arm.
  "Ah." The worried frown vanished from the round face of the Starsmith
  as Menolly had impudently, if
  accurately, labeled him. "My dear N'ton, you must come up front. You've
  done so much work, watching and
  
  indeed look, Jaxom noticed, as if he'd been sleeping in those clothes.
  He probably hadn't changed since the
  last Threadfall to judge by the sharpness of the creases in the back of
  his tunic.
  But there was nothing sloppy about the charts of star positions which
  Wansor now tacked up on the wall.
  Where did Wansor get that lurid red color for the Red Star-the color al-
  most pulsed on the paper. Nothing
  dithering about his spoken presentation. Out of deference and respect
  for Wansor, Jaxom tried to pay close
  attention but he had heard it all before and his mind returned inexorably
  to N'ton's parting shot. "Don't let
  anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone!"
  As if he would be that foolish. Here Jaxom hesitated. Although he knew
  in theory the whys and hows of
  teaching a dragon to chew firestone, he had also learned in his classes
  that between theory and practice
  anything could happen. Maybe he could enlist F'lessan's help?
  He glanced at the friend of his boyhood, who had Impressed a bronze
  two Turns ago. Candidly, Jaxom did
  
  anything at all remarkable.
  Mirrim? Jaxom glanced toward the girl. The morning sun slanted
  through her browny hair, catching golden
  glints which he'd never noticed before. She was oblivious to anything
  but Wansor's words. She'd probably
  give Jaxom an argument about not precipitating the Weyr into more
  problems and then set one of those fire-lizards
  of hers on him to be sure he didn't set himself ablaze.
  Jaxom was privately convinced that T'ran, the other young bronze rider
  from Ista Weyr, thought Ruth was
  essentially an overgrown fire-lizard. He'd be even less help than F'les-
  san..Benelek was out, too. He ignored dragons and fire-lizards as com-
  pletely as they ignored him. But give
  Benelek a diagram or a machine, even the assorted parts of a machine
  found in the old holds and weyrs,
  and he'd spend days trying to figure out what it was supposed to be or
  do. Generally he could make a full
  machine work, even if he had to dismantle the whole thing to find out
  why it wasn't operating. Benelek and
  Fandarel understood each other perfectly.
  
  "The stars mark time for us in every Turn and help us distinguish one
  Turn from another," Wansor was
  saying and Jaxom brought his attention guiltily back to the speaker.
  "The stars guided Lessa on her
  courageous trip back through time to bring the Oldtimers forward."
  Wansor cleared his throat at his
  somewhat unfortunate mention of the two dragonrider factions. "And the
  stars will be our constant guides in
  future Turns. Lands, seas, people and places may change but the stars
  are ordered in their courses and
  remain secure."
  Jaxom remembered hearing some talk of trying to alter the course of the
  Red Star, deflecting it away from
  Pern. Had Wansor just proved that that couldn't be done?
  Wansor went on to emphasize that once you understood the basic orbit
  and speed of any star, you could
  compute its position in the heavens as long as you also calculated the
  effect of its nearest neighbors at
  conjunction; at any given time.
  "So, there is no doubt in our minds that we can now accurately predict
  Threadfall, according to the position
  
  which F'lar originally observed.
  "With this equation," Wansor rapidly jotted the figures down on the
  board, and Jaxom again noticed that for
  a sloppy looking person, his notations were conversely precise, "we can
  compute further conjunctions which
  will affect Threadfall during this Pass. Indeed, we can now point to
  where the various stars have been at any
  time in the past and will be at any time in the future."
  He was writing equations at a furious pace and explaining which stars
  were affected by which equations. He
  turned then, his round face settling into a very serious expression. "We
  can even predict, on the basis of this
  knowledge, the exact moment when the next Pass will begin. Of course,
  that's so many Turns in the future
  that none of us need worry about it. But I think it's comforting to know
  nonetheless."
  Scattered chuckles caused Wansor to blink and then hesitantly grin, as
  if he belatedly realized that he'd said
  something humorous.
  "And we must make sure that no one forgets in the long Interval this
  time," Mastersmith Fandarel said, his
  
  meeting let the substance out of that
  notion, and Jaxom snorted at his self-centered whimsy. The more peo-
  ple-in every Hold, in the Weyrs-who
  knew what was being done in each of the Crafthalls, by the individual
  Craftmasters and by their chief.technicians, the less chance there was that
  the ambitious plans to preserve all Pern from the ravages of
  Thread would be lost again.
  Jaxom, F'lessan, Benelek, Mirrim, Menolly, T'ran, Piemur, various other
  likely successors to Lord Holders
  and advanced junior craftsmen formed the nucleus of the regular school
  at the Smith and Harper crafthalls.
  Each student learned to appreciate the other crafts.
  Communication is essential. That was one of Robinton's tenets. Wasn't
  he always saying, "Exchange
  information, learn to talk sensibly about any subject, learn to express
  your thoughts, accept new ones,
  examine them, analyze. Think objectively. Think toward the future."
  Jaxom let his eyes drift about the room at the gathering, wondering how
  many of them could accept all of
  Wansor's explanations. True, with this lot he had the advantage that
  most of them had watched the stars
  
  Jaxom surmised that some sort of a discreet watch was kept on hap-
  penings there. N'ton had once made an
  oblique reference to the Southern Hold. The students had a very de-
  tailed map of the land about the Hold
  and of some of the neighboring areas which indicated that the Southern
  Continent extended far deeper into
  the Southern seas than anyone had guessed even five Turns ago. Dur-
  ing one of his talks with Lytol,
  Robinton had once let slip something that led Jaxom to believe the
  Masterharper had been in the Southern
  lands recently. It amused Jaxom to wonder how much the Oldtimers
  knew of what occurred on the
  mainland. There were some obvious changes which even those with the
  most closed minds would have to
  admit seeing. What of the ever-increasing spreads of forestland about
  which the Oldtimers bad protested-expanses
  now protected by the burrowing grubs that farmers had once tried to
  exterminate, erroneously
  considering them a bane instead of a carefully contrived blessing and
  safeguard.
  
  mouth open to speak when one of
  the Ista Hold watchers jumped to his feet to ask Wansor to clarify an
  anomaly concerning the fixed position
  of the trio of Stars known as the Day Sisters. Before Wansor could an-
  swer him, someone else informed the
  man that no anomaly existed and a spirited argument began.
  "I wonder if we could use Wansor's equations to go ahead in time
  safely," F'lessan mused.
  "You deadglow! You can't go to a time that hasn't happened!" Mirrim
  answered him tartly before the others
  could. "How would you know what's happening there? You'd end up in a
  cliff or a crowd, or surrounded by
  Thread! It's dangerous enough to go back in time when at least you can
  check on what happened or on who
  was there. Even then you could, and you would, muddle things. Forget
  it, F'lessan!"
  "Going ahead could serve no logical purpose at this time," Benelek re-
  marked in his sententious way.
  "It'd be fun," F'lessan said, undeterred. "Like knowing what the Old-
  timers are planning. F'lar's sure they're
  going to try something. They've been far too quiet down there."
  
  good one. Now I think it's turned the whole lot of us into do-nothing talk-
  ers. And thinkers!" He rolled his eyes
  upward in disgust. "We talk, we think everything to death. We never do
  anything. At least I have to do first
  and think later when we fight Thread!" He turned on his heel and then,
  brightening, announced, "Hey, there's
  food!" He began to weave through the crowd to the doors where heavily
  laden trays were being passed
  through to the central table.
  Jaxom knew F'lessan's remarks had been general, but the young Lord
  keenly felt the jibe about fighting
  Thread.
  "That F'lessan!" Menolly said at his ear. "He wants to keep glory in the
  bloodline. A bit of derring-do . . ." and
  her sea-blue eyes danced with laughter as she added, "for me to tune
  about!" Then she sighed. "And he's
  not the type at all. He doesn't think beyond himself. But he's got a good
  heart. C'mon! We'd better lend a
  hand with the food."
  "Let us do!" Jaxom's quip was rewarded by Menolly's smile of apprecia-
  tion.
  
  that annoyed him. The other Lords
  Holder and Craftmasters were all cordial, inquiring courteously after
  Ruth and Lytol. They all seemed quite
  willing to exchange pleasantries with him but would not discuss Wan-
  sor's theories. Perhaps, Jaxom thought
  cynically, they hadn't understood what Wansor had said and were
  ashamed to show their ignorance before
  the younger man. Jaxom sighed. Would he ever be old enough to be
  considered on equal terms?
  "Hey, Jaxom, dump that," F'lessan grabbed his sleeve. "Got something
  to show you."
  Believing he had done his duty, Jaxom pushed his tray onto the table
  and followed his young friend out the
  door. F'lessan kept going, grinning like a dimwit, and then swung round
  to point at the roof of the
  Smithcrafthall.
  The Hall was a large building with steep gables. The roof appeared to
  be in colorful motion, rippling with
  sound. A veritable fair of fire-lizards were perched on the gray slates,
  chirping and humming to one another
  
  sometimes for days. I don't think I could account for more than two be-
  sides Beauty, my queen. She sticks by
  me constantly. You know," she turned a serious face to him, "they're
  going to be a problem. Not mine,
  because I make mine behave, but this sort of thing." She gestured to-
  ward the covered roof. "They're such
  dreadful gossips. I'll wager most of those don't look to the people within.
  They've been attracted by the
  dragons and by your Ruth in particular."
  "A fair gathers like that wherever Ruth and I go," Jaxom said a bit
  sourly.
  Menolly looked across the valley to where Ruth was lying on the sunny
  riverbank with three other dragons
  and the usual wing or two of ministering fire-lizards.."Does Ruth mind?"
  "No," Jaxom grinned tolerantly, "I think he rather enjoys it. They keep
  him company when I have to be
  elsewhere on Hold business. He says they have all sorts of fascinating
  and unlikely images in their minds.
  He likes looking . . . most times. Sometimes he gets annoyed-says they
  get carried away."
  "How can they?" Menolly was bluntly dubious.
  
  South." Jaxom then turned around to say something to F'lessan, who
  was nowhere to be seen.
  "I'll tell you something, Jaxom," Menolly dropped her voice, "F'lessan
  was right. Something is going on down
  South. Some of my lot have been very agitated. I get an image of a sin-
  gle egg but it's not in an enclosed
  weyr. I thought maybe my Beauty had hidden another clutch. She
  sometimes does that. Then I got the
  impression that what she was seeing happened long ago. And Beauty's
  no older than Ruth, so how could
  she remember any more than five Turns back?"
  "Fire-lizards with delusions of locating the First Shell?" Jaxom laughed
  heartily.
  "I can't quite seriously laugh at their memories. They do know the odd-
  est sorts of things. Remember F'nor's
  Grail not wanting to go to the Red Star? For that matter all the fire-
  lizards are terrified of the Red Star."
  "Aren't we all?"
  "They knew, Jaxom, knew before the rest of Pern had any knowledge."
  Instinctively they both turned eastward, toward the malevolent Red Star.
  "So?" Menolly asked cryptically.
  
  "I'm not worried. The fire-lizards are outside, for one thing. For another,
  they can only visualize what they've
  understood." Menolly chuckled, a habit of hers which Jaxom found a
  pleasant change from the giggling of
  Holder girls. "Can you imagine what nonsense someone like T'kul would
  make of Wansor's equations? Seen
  through lizard eyes?".Jaxom's personal recollections of the High
  Reaches Oldtimer Weyrleader were sparse, but he'd heard
  enough from Lytol and N'ton to realize that man's mind was closed to
  anything new. Though nearly six Turns
  of fending on his own down in the Southern Continent might have
  broadened his outlook.
  "Look, it isn't me alone who's worried," Menolly went on. "Mirrim is, too.
  And if anyone today understands
  fire-lizards, it's Mirrim."
  "You don't do badly yourself-for a mere Harper."
  "Well, thank you, my Lord Holder." She gave him a facetious salute.
  "Look, will you find out what the fire-lizards
  are telling Ruth?"
  Don't they talk to Mirrim's green dragon?" Jaxom was reluctant to have
  more to do with fire-lizards at the
  
  Menolly's eyes glinted with devilment and she beckoned him closer, as
  if anyone were near enough to hear
  what they'd been saying. "I think Lord Groghe fancies you for that beast-
  bosomed third daughter of his."
  Jaxom groaned in horror.
  "Don't worry, Jaxom. Robinton squashed the idea. He wouldn't do you a
  disservice there. Of course,"
  Menolly glanced at him from the comers of her laughing eyes, "if you
  have anyone else in mind, now's the
  time to say so."
  Jaxom was furious, not with Menolly but with her news, and it was hard
  to dissociate tidings and bearer.
  "The one thing I don't want just now is a wife."
  "Oh? Got yourself taken care of?"
  "Menolly!"
  "Don't look so shocked. We Harpers understand the frailties of human
  flesh. And you're tall, and nice
  looking, Jaxom. Lytol's supposed to be giving you instruction in all the
  arts . .."
  "Menolly!"
  
  gave him a piercing look through
  slightly narrowed eyes. "They do say the dragon is the man. Maybe
  that's why Ruth is so different!"
  On that cryptic remark she rose and made her way back to the others.
  Jaxom had half a mind to call Ruth and leave if all he was going to get
  were insults and slights.."Like a sulky boy!" N'ton's words came back to
  him. Sighing, he settled back to the grass. No, he would not
  depart hastily from an awkward scene for the second time that morning.
  He would not act in an immature
  fashion. He would not give Menolly the satisfaction of knowing that her
  provocative comments bothered him
  at all.
  He stared down the river where his dear companion played, and won-
  dered. Why is Ruth different? Is the
  dragon the man? To be sure, if Ruth were different, he shared it. His
  birth had been as bizarre as Ruth's
  Hatching-he from a dead mother's body, Ruth from an eggshell too hard
  for the half-sized beak to break.
  Ruth was a dragon, but not weyrbred. He was Lord Holder, but not con-
  firmed so.
  
  form the resolution to teach Ruth to
  chew firestone, and quite another to find the time to do so. It was im-
  possible to contrive a free hour. Jaxom
  entertained the unworthy thought that perhaps N'ton had tipped his plan
  to Lytol so that the Warder had
  consciously found activities to fill his days. As quickly, Jaxom discarded
  the notion. N'ton was not a
  treacherous or sly man. On sober examination, Jaxom had to admit that
  his days had always been full: with
  Ruth's care first, then lessons. Hold duties and, in past Turns, meetings
  at other Holders which Lytol felt he
  must attend-as a silent observer-to extend his knowledge of Hold man-
  agement Jaxom simply hadn't realized
  the extent of his involvement until now, when he desperately wanted
  time to himself which did not have to be
  explained or arranged in advance.
  The other problem which he hadn't seriously considered was that no
  matter where he and Ruth went, a fire-lizard
  was sure to appear. Menolly was correct in calling them gossips and be
  had no wish for them to
  
  counted no more than twenty-two breaths before Deelan's green and
  the Hold steward's blue arrived over
  Ruth's head. They squeaked in astonishment and then began to com-
  plain about the location.
  Jaxom then tried two more equally unfrequented locations, one in the
  plains of Keroon and another on a
  deserted island oft the coast of Tillek. He was followed to both places.
  At first he seethed over such surveillance and envisioned himself tack-
  ling Lytol on the matter. Common
  sense urged that Lytol would scarcely have asked either the steward or
  Deelan to set their creatures on
  Jaxom. Misplaced zeal! If he tried to tell Deelan straight out, she'd weep
  and wail, wring her hands and run
  straight to Lytol. But Brand, the steward, was a different matter. He had
  come from Telgar Hold two Turns
  back when the old steward had proved unable to control the lustiness of
  the fosterlings. Jaxom paused. Now
  then, Brand would understand the problems of a young man.
  So, when Jaxom returned to Ruatha Hold, he found Brand in his office,
  giving out discipline to some drudges
  
  erence he would show to Lytol or a
  ranking visitor. With some embarrassment Jaxom remembered his out-
  burst of a few mornings before and
  wondered. No, Brand wasn't the obsequious type. He had the steady
  eye, the steady hand, firm mouth and
  stance that Lytol had often told Jaxom to look for in the trustworthy man.
  "Brand, I can't seem to go anywhere without fire-lizards from this Hold
  appearing. Deelan's green, and if you
  don't mind my saying so, your blue. Is all that really necessary any-
  more?"
  Brand's surprise was honest.
  "Occasionally," Jaxom hurried on, "a fellow likes to get off by himself,
  completely by himself. And, as you
  know, fire-lizards are the world's greatest gossips. They might get the
  wrong impression ... if you know what
  I mean?"
  Brand did but, if he was- amused or surprised, he dissembled well.
  "I do apologize, Lord Jaxom. An oversight, I assure you. You know how
  anxious Deelan used to be when
  you and Ruth first started flying between and the fire-lizards followed as
  a safeguard. I should have long ago
  
  grinned with uninhibited ease "-should act
  accordingly."
  "Ah, well, yes. Thank you." Jaxom managed to leave Brand's office
  without further loss of poise and strode
  rapidly to the first bend of the corridor.
  There he stopped, mulling over the implications of that interview. "Old
  enough to be confirmed in your rank .
  . ." And Lord Groghe thinking to marry him to his daughter. Surely the
  canny Fort Holder wouldn't do that if
  there was any doubt of Jaxom's being confirmed in rank. The prospect
  now alarmed and annoyed Jaxom
  whereas the day before it would have pleased him enormously. Once he
  officially became Lord of Ruatha,
  any chance he might have had of flying with the fighting wings would be
  gone. He didn't want to be Lord of
  Ruatha-at least not yet. And he certainly didn't want to be saddled with a
  female not of his own choosing.
  He should have told Menolly that he had no trouble with any of the
  Holder girls . . . when he was of the mind.
  Not that he had followed some of the bawdier fosterlings' examples. He
  wasn't going to have the reputation
  
  Jaxom pushed himself off the wall, unconsciously straightening his
  shoulders. Brand's deference had been
  rather bracing. Now that he thought about it, he remembered other evi-
  dences of a change of attitude toward
  him, something his preoccupation with firestone had blinded him to until
  now. He suddenly realized that
  Deelan had not pestered him at the breakfast table to eat more than he
  wanted, that Dorse had been
  inexplicably absent the past few days. Nor had Lytol's morning remarks
  been prefaced with inquiries after
  Ruth's health but, rather, had concerned the day's upcoming busi-
  ness..The night he had returned from the Mastersmithhall, Lytol and Finder
  had been eager to learn about
  Wansor's stars and that recital had taken up the whole evening. If the
  fosterlings and others had been
  unusually silent, Jaxom had only attributed that state of affairs to their
  interest in the discussion. Lytol, Finder
  and Brand had not had trouble finding their tongues.
  The next morning there had been no time for more than a cup of klah
  and a meatroll as Thread was due to
  
  him in the early morning or late evening. He hunted with Ruth every
  fourth day since the white dragon
  required more frequent meals than the larger ones. The Hold's fire-
  lizards usually accompanied Ruth,
  feasting with him. Most people fed their pets daily by hand, but the urge
  for hot, fresh-killed or self-caught
  food could never be trained out of the fire-lizards and it had been de-
  cided not to interfere with that instinct.
  Fire-lizards were quixotic creatures and although there was no doubt
  that they became genuinely attached
  at Hatching, they were subject to sudden fits and frights and would dis-
  appear, often for long periods of time.
  When they returned, they acted as if they'd never been gone, except for
  transmitting some rather
  outrageous images.
  Ruth would be ready to hunt today, Jaxom knew. He heard his weyr-
  mate's impatience to be off. Laughing,
  Jaxom shrugged on the heavy riding jacket and stamped into his boots
  as he politely inquired what sort of
  eating Ruth fancied.
  
  way to the huge metal doors that
  opened onto the stable courtyard and pushed them open with his fore-
  legs.
  Alerted by Ruth's hungry thoughts, the Hold's fire-lizards swirled about
  in eager anticipation. Jaxom mounted
  and directed Ruth aloft. The old brown watchdragon called good hunting
  from the fire-heights, and his rider
  waved.
  From Hold tithings, the six Weyrs of Pern maintained their own herds
  and flocks on which the Weyr dragons
  fed. No Lord Holder ever objected to an occasional rider feeding his
  dragon off his land. As Jaxom was Lord
  Holder and technically had the right to anything within Ruatha's borders,
  Ruth's hunting was primarily a
  matter of courtesy. Lytol had not needed to instruct Jaxom to spread his
  beast's appetite so that no holder
  was overburdened.
  On this particular morning Jaxom gave Ruth coordinates of a rich grass
  holding where Lytol had mentioned
  buck-wherries were being fattened for spring slaughtering. The holder
  was out on his runner when Jaxom
  
  hatch wherry eggs proper if vermin burrow under and crack shells.
  There are four or five from each clutch
  gone, lost to snakes and the like. Fire-lizard would keep 'em off. They
  do for your man down at Bald Lake
  Hold and others I've spoken to. Fire-lizards are mighty handy creatures.
  Lord Jaxom, and being a holder
  now these past twelve Turns, it's only my due. Bald Lake Palon, now
  he's got a fire-lizard and he's only held
  for ten Turns."."I can't imagine why you've been slighted, Tegger. I'll see
  that something is done about it. We haven't a
  clutch at the moment but I'll do what I can when we have."
  Tegger gave surly thanks and then suggested that Jaxom hunt the buck
  flock to be found browsing at the far
  end of the plain meadow. He wanted to take the nearer flock for
  slaughter and a hunting dragon ran a
  sevenday's weight off bucks.
  Jaxom thanked the man and Ruth warbled his gratitude, startling Teg-
  ger's runner into bucking.. Tegger
  grimly yanked the beast's head about, preventing a bolt.
  Tegger was unlikely to Impress a fire-lizard, Jaxom thought as he
  leaped to Ruth's shoulder.
  
  things that are interesting when you're not with me.
  Jaxom only then became aware that the usual fire-lizard escorts weren't
  about, even though Ruth was
  hunting. He hadn't meant that Brand should curtail all fire-lizards excur-
  sions with them.
  Ruth plaintively asked if they couldn't get on with the hunting since he
  was hungry. So they proceeded to the
  suggested area and Ruth let Jaxom down on a grassy rise with a good
  view of the hunt where he made
  himself comfortable. No sooner had Ruth become airborne than a flight
  of fire-lizards appeared, courteously
  landing to await the dragon's summons to join him after his kill.
  Some dragons took their time selecting their meal, swooping on flock or
  herd to scatter it and isolate the
  fattest. Either Ruth made up his mind quickly or else he was influenced
  by Jaxom's knowledge that Tegger
  would not appreciate overrun wherries. Whatever, the white dragon dis-
  patched the first buck in one deft
  swoop, cracking the creature's long neck as he brought it down.
  Ruth left the delighted fire-lizards picking the bones and killed a second
  time, eating as daintily as ever. The
  
  Jaxom regarded the feasting fire-lizards thoughtfully. He wondered if
  any were from Ruatha. Ruth replied
  immediately that they had come from the surrounding area.
  So, mused Jaxom, I've only solved the problem of keeping Ruathan fire-
  lizards from following. But what one
  fire-lizard knew, they all seemed to know so he would still have to keep
  his activities from their sight.
  Jaxom knew a dragon needed time to chew and digest firestone for the
  best effect. Dragonriders would
  begin to feed their beasts stone several hours before Thread was due to
  fall. How fast could Ruth work up a
  full enough gullet of stone to produce the fire breath? He wondered.
  He'd have to go carefully. Since.dragons differed in capacity and readiness,
  each rider had to find out for himself what his beast's
  peculiarities were. If only he could have trained Ruth in a Weyr and
  have the benefit of a weyrlingmaster's
  experience ...
  Well, firestone was no problem. The old watch-dragon had to be sup-
  plied so there was a goodly pile on the
  fire-heights. And Ruth wouldn't need as much as a big dragon.
  
  Holder, he couldn't get out of making an appearance.
  Idly Jaxom wondered if the Lord Holders ever worried whether he might
  try to imitate his tyrannical father's
  taking ways or not. They would run on about Bloodlines, and blood tell-
  ing, but weren't they the least bit
  nervous about his Fax blood telling? Or were they counting on the influ-
  ence of his mother's blood. Everyone
  was right willing to discuss his Lady Mother Gemma with him, but did
  they ever fumble and fight to find
  another subject if he mentioned his unlamented father. Were they afraid
  to have him get ideas from his
  father's aggressive ways? Or was it merely courtesy not to talk about
  the dead unkindly? They certainly had
  no bar about discussing the living in destructive terms.
  Jaxom toyed with the idea of conquest. How would he set about reduc-
  ing Nabol or-since Fort Hold was too
  big a bite-Tillek? Or Crom, perhaps, though he liked Lord Nessel's old-
  est son, Kern, far too much to do him
  out of what was rightfully his. Shells, he was a fine one to talk of con-
  quest, when he couldn't even control the
  destiny of himself and his dragon!
  
  meaty and sweet. You are worried again.
  "I want us to be proper dragon and rider, and fight Thread, me on your
  back, you flaming."
  Then we will do it, Ruth said with unshakable faith. I am a dragon, you
  are my rider. Why does this become
  a problem?
  "Well, wherever we go the fire-lizards come."
  You told the thick man with the blue-Ruth's identification of Brand-they
  were not to follow. They did not come
  here.
  "Others did, and you know how fire-lizards chatter." Then Jaxom re-
  called Menolly's comments. "What are
  that lot thinking of now?"
  Their full bellies. The wherries were juicy and tender. Very good eating.
  They do not remember better in
  many Turns.
  "Would they go away if you told them to?"
  Ruth snorted, his eyes whirling a bit, more with amusement than irrita-
  tion. They would wonder why and
  
  settled there. Jaxom waited in the Great Courtyard until he saw Ruth
  safely ensconced, and then he sought
  Lytol.
  If Brand had commented on Jaxom's request to Lytol, the Lord Warder
  gave no sign, greeting Jaxom with
  his usual reserve and enjoining him to eat quickly as they had rather a
  long ride to make. Tordril and one of
  the other older fosterlings living under Lytol's supervision would accom-
  pany them. Masterfarmer Andemon
  had sent a new seed he had developed for a high-yield, fast-growing
  wheat. Southern fields, grub-infested
  and planted with this wheat seed, had produced phenomenally healthy,
  blight-resistant crops, that were able
  to survive long dry spells. Andemon wondered how the wheat would
  fare in a rainier. Northern climate.
  Many of the older small holders were stubborn about trying something
  new. "As hidebound as Oldtimers,"
  Lytol would mutter, but somehow or other he managed to prevail. For
  instance, Fidello, who owned the hold
  they were seeding, was only two Turns in the holding, the previous man
  having died of a fall while tracking
  
  joyed the trip.
  Fidello's holding was in northeast Ruatha, on a plateau with the snow-
  capped mountains of Crom in the
  background. When they reached the plateau, the blue fire-lizard that
  rode on Tordril's arm shrilled a greeting
  and took off to make an aerial circle of introduction to a brown that was
  probably looking to Fidello and set to
  watch for the visitors. Immediately the two fire-lizards winked between.
  Tordril and Jaxom exchanged
  glances, knowing that a welcoming cup of klah and sweetbreads would
  be waiting at the holding. Their ride
  had given them an appetite.
  Fidello himself rode out to escort them on the last part of the road. He
  was mounted on a sturdy work beast
  whose summer coat gleamed with health through the rough and patchy
  winter fur. His hold, to which he
  welcomed them in an earnest but restrained manner, was small and well
  kept. His dependents, including
  those of the last holder, had assembled to serve the visitors.
  "He's got a good cook," Tordil said in an aside to Jaxom as the three
  younger men made conspicuous
  
  Tordril, and even though the
  prospective Lord of Ista tried to engage her in conversation, she gave
  him short answers, keeping her smiles
  for Jaxom. She left his side only when her brother joined them to say
  that perhaps they'd better seed the
  fields or it would be a long, dark ride back to the Hold.
  "I wonder would you have got her so quick if I'd been Lord of Ruatha?"
  Tordril asked Jaxom as they checked
  their saddle girths before mounting.
  "Got her?" Jaxom stared blankly at Tordril. "We only chatted."
  "Well, you could have her next time you ... ah, have a chance to chat.
  Or does Lytol mind a few half-bloods
  around? Father says it keeps the full ones on their toes! Ought to be
  easy for you with Lytol weyrbred, and
  not as stuffy about such things.".Lytol and Fidello joined them at that
  point but Tordril's envious comment set Jaxom's thoughts on a very
  fruitful tack. What was her name? Corana? Well, Corana could be very
  useful. There was only the one fire-lizard
  about the Plateau Hold-and, if Ruth could just dissuade that creature
  from following them ...
  
  closed lids for a moment and then
  agreed that perhaps another half-sack might be to the wise. Tordril's
  expression mirrored surprise, envy and,
  Jaxom felt, some respect for plausibility. Lytol duly ordered a half-sack
  of Andemon's seed from Brand's
  locked stores, and Jaxom sauntered off with it to don his riding gear.
  Ruth, full of himself after a good feed, wanted to know if there was a
  nice lake near the hold. Jaxom thought
  that the river was wide enough for a respectable dragon's bath, but they
  weren't going there for water sports.
  They managed to take off without anyone seeing the second sack slung
  on Ruth-or the fighting straps.
  Although the fire-lizards engaged in their usual dizzy pattern around
  them while Ruth was becoming
  airborne, none emerged with them at the Plateau Hold.
  Fidello himself took receipt of the additional seed with such profuse
  thanks that Jaxom was a bit abashed at
  his duplicity.
  "Didn't like to mention it in front of the Lord Warder, Lord Jaxom, but
  that's a fair big field I've ready for this
  
  pregnant wife was in no way misled by
  his casual return.
  "Everyone else has gone to the river, to the place where it forms an is-
  land, to gather withies. Lord Jaxom,"
  she said, glancing at him coquettishly, as she served him hot klah. "On
  your beautiful dragon, that's no more
  than a moment's trip for you, my Lord."
  "Now why would Lord Jaxom want to see withies gathered?" Fidello
  asked, but received no direct answer.
  The social amenities discharged, Jaxom directed Ruth aloft, circled
  while waving down at Fidello, and then
  took them between to the mountain well beyond the keenest eye of any
  hold. The brown fire-lizard followed.
  "Shells! Ruth, tell him to get lost."
  Immediately the brown winked out.
  "Good, now I can teach you to chew firestone."
  I know.
  "You think you know. I've been around dragonriders long enough to
  know that doing so is not quite as
  simple as that."
  
  of my other stomach, he told Jaxom
  before he could be reminded. Later Jaxom swore that he could all but
  hear the chewed fragments rolling
  down the dragon's gullet. The two sat and regarded each other, waiting
  for the next step.
  "You're supposed to belch."
  I know. I know how to belch. But I can't.
  Jaxom politely offered him another largish piece of firestone. This time
  the chewing did not resound so
  noticeably. Ruth swallowed, then seemed to settle more on his
  haunches.
  OH!
  On the heels of the mental exclamation, a rumble started that made
  Ruth look quickly at his white belly. His
  mouth opened. With a startled shout, Jaxom launched himself to one
  side just as a tiny trickle of flame
  appeared at the white dragon's muzzle. Ruth jerked backward, only
  saved from falling over by the set of his
  tail.
  I think I need more firestone to make a respectable flame.
  
  "I don't think we've got the hang of it."
  We also haven't burned any Thread midair.
  "We aren't exactly ready to do that yet. But we have proved that you can
  chew firestone."
  I never doubted it.
  "I never did either, Ruth, but," Jaxom sighed heavily, "we're going to
  need a lot of firestone at hand, until you
  learn the way of sustaining a continuous eruption."
  Ruth looked so disconsolate that Jaxom hastily reassured him, stroking
  his eye ridges and caressing his
  headbone.
  "We should have been allowed to train you properly with the other
  weyrlings. It's just not fair. I've always
  said so. You can't help your difficulties today. But, by the First Shell,
  we'll eventually succeed together.".Ruth allowed himself to be reassured,
  then brightened. We will work harder, that's all. But it would be easier
  with more firestone. Brown Wilth never uses much anymore. He's really
  too old to chew at all.
  "That's why he's a watchdragon."
  Jaxom emptied the sack of any firestone rubble, tied it up by the neck
  thong and looped it around his belt.
  
  about her face and now clung to her cheeks in damp waves.
  "Has there been Thread?" she asked, her green eyes becoming round
  with alarm.
  "No. Why?"
  "I can smell firestone."
  "Oh, these riding clothes. I always use them during Fall. Smell must
  cling to them. I just didn't notice."
  That was one hazard he hadn't considered and he'd have to do some-
  thing about it. "I flew up with more
  seed for your brother ..."
  She thanked him sweetly for taking so much trouble for such a small
  hold as theirs. Then she became shy.
  Jaxom rather liked drawing her out and sent her into another spin by in-
  sisting on helping with the withie
  gathering.
  "This Lord Holder wants to know how to do everything he requires of his
  holders," he said, to silence her
  protests.
  Actually, he enjoyed himself. When they had amassed a huge bundle,
  he offered to fly it home on Ruth if
  
  was in no mood for a cold bath, Jaxom knew they'd better scrub off the
  firestone stink before going back to
  Ruatha. It took time to sandscrub the smell from Ruth's fair hide. Then
  Jaxom had to dry his impregnated
  shirt and pants, spreading them in full sun on the bushes. By that time
  the sun was well past zenith and he
  had spent far more time than dallying with Corana would cover. So he
  took a risk and returned to Ruatha
  between time to when the sun was still on the morning side of the sky.
  But one detail he forgot to take into
  his calculations nearly gave away their endeavor.
  He was at dinner when his dragon let out a call for him, an urgent call.
  "Ruth!" he explained as he sprang
  from his chair at the table and raced across the Hall to the corridor to his
  quarters.
  My stomach burns, Ruth began telling him in great distress.
  "Shells, it's the stones," Jaxom replied as he ran down the deserted
  hallway. "Go outside, to the fire-heights.
  Where Wilth leaves his."
  Ruth wasn't sure he could fly in his condition.
  
  "Not in the weyr, Ruth. Please!"
  Scarcely a second later, Ruth eyed him apologetically. In the middle of
  the weyr floor, a small pile of what
  looked like brownish gray wet sand exuded steam.
  I feel much better now, Ruth said in a very small voice.
  "Can you hear Lytol coming?" Jaxom asked Ruth, because his heart
  was pounding so from running that that
  was all he could hear. He dashed out the metal doors and into the
  kitchen yard to fetch a bucket and shovel.
  "If I can just get this outside before it smells up the place . . ." He worked
  as fast as he could and fortunately
  the mess just filled the one bucket. It wasn't as if Ruth bad chewed
  enough firestone for a full four-hour
  Threadfall.
  Jaxom pushed the bucket out and sprinkled sweet sand on the spot.
  "No Lytol?" he asked, somewhat surprised.
  No.
  Jaxom exhaled heavily with relief, patted Ruth reassuringly. He wouldn't
  forget to have Ruth regurgitate in a
  safe spot next time.
  
  "Don't let them follow us."
  They were only being courteous. They like me.
  "There's such a thing as being too popular."
  Ruth sighed.
  "Is this too much firestone?" Jaxom asked, not wanting to overburden
  the beast.
  Of course not. I'm very strong.
  Jaxom directed Ruth between to the Keroon desert destination. There
  was the sea to bathe in afterward and
  plenty of sweetsand to scrub off firestone stench, and sun hot enough to
  dry his clothing in next to no time.
  CHAPTER V
  Morning in Harpercraft Hall, Fort Hold, Afternoon in Benden Weyr, Late
  Afternoon in Harpercraft Hall,
  15.5.26.ANOTHER THREADFALL PASSED before Jaxom could get off
  to the Plateau hold again. He seemed to
  have more success with Corana than in getting Ruth to sustain flame
  properly. The white dragon's throat
  was nearly burned from keeping in belches when fire-lizards would sud-
  denly appear at the most inopportune
  
  Ruathan Harper was scheduled to learn how to use Wansor's star
  equations. Every Harper was expected to
  master that so at least one other person besides the Holder could make
  an accurate check on Threadfall.
  The Masterharperhall was part of the sprawling complex of dwellings in-
  side and outside the Fort Hold cliffs.
  When Jaxom and Finder, on Ruth, burst into the air above the Harper-
  crafthall, they met chaos. Fire-lizards
  were swooping and diving, screaming in an ecstasy of agitation. The
  watchdragon on Fort Hold's fire-heights
  was up on his hind legs, front ones pawing the air, wings fanning at the
  stretch, bellowing in fury.
  Angry! They are angry! was Ruth's startled comment. Ruth! I am Ruth!
  Ruth! he called in his inimitable tenor
  bugle.
  "What's happened?" Finder demanded in Jaxom's ear.
  "Ruth says they're angry."
  "Angry? I've never seen a dragon that angry before!"
  Filled with apprehension, Jaxom directed Ruth to the courtyard of the
  Harpercrafthall. So many people were
  
  Hall up to them, dragging on her
  flying gear as she ran. "We've got to go to Benden Weyr. They've stolen
  the queen egg."
  She was scrambling up behind Finder on Ruth's back, apologizing for
  crowding him and urging Jaxom to get
  a move on. "Are three too many for Ruth?" Menolly asked with belated
  concern as the white dragon seemed
  to hesitate before launching himself.
  Never.
  "Who stole Ramoth's egg? How? When?" Finder asked.
  "This half-hour past. They're calling in all the bronzes and the other
  queens. They're going to Southern in
  force and make them give the egg back."
  "How do they know it was Southern?" asked Jaxom.
  "Who else would need to steal a queen egg?"
  Then all conversation was suspended as Ruth took them smartly be-
  tween. They erupted into the air over
  Benden, and suddenly three bronzes were arrowing out of the sun right
  at them, flaming. Ruth let out a
  squeal and went between, emerging over the lake and chattering at his
  would-be attackers at the top of his
  
  would be passed without challenge."
  As she spoke, more dragons appeared, trumpeting to the three bronzes
  guarding from the heights. The new
  arrivals circled tightly to land their riders by a crowd gathered around the
  entrance to the Hatching Ground.
  Jaxom, Finder and Menolly started across the Bowl to join them.
  "Jaxom, have you ever seen so many dragons?" Menolly looked around
  at the crowded Weyr rim, at the
  dragons on weyr ledges, all with wings spread, ready for instant flight.
  "Oh, Jaxom, what if it comes to
  dragon fighting dragon?"
  The terror in her voice echoed his own feelings perfectly.
  "Those fool Oldtimers must be desperate," Finder said grimly.
  "How could they get away with such bare-faced thievery?" Jaxom
  wanted to know. "Ramoth never leaves a
  clutch." Not since the time F'lessan and I disturbed her eggs, he added
  guiltily to himself.
  "F'nor brought us the news," Menolly said. "He said she'd gone to feed.
  Half the Benden fire-lizards were in
  the Ground. They always are-"
  
  gave an almighty shriek and went between. The next thing three
  bronzes came flying out of the upper
  entrance, they had heard Ramoth scream. She came charging out of
  the Hatching Ground but they had
  gone between before she'd got a winglength off the ground."
  "Didn't they send dragons after them?"
  "Ramoth went after! With Mnementh but a breath behind her. Not that it
  did any good."
  "Why not?"
  "The bronzes went between time."
  "And not even Ramoth would know when."
  "Exactly. Mnementh checked the Southern Weyr and Hold and half the
  hot beaches."
  "Not even the Oldtimers could be stupid enough to take a queen egg
  straight back to Southern."
  "But surely the Oldtimers would not know," Finder added wearily, "that
  we know they took the egg."
  By that time they had reached the outskirts of the crowd, where dragon-
  riders from other Weyrs as well as
  Lords Holder and Craftmasters had gathered. Lessa stood on the ledge
  of her weyr, F'lar beside her along
  
  again to peer in at the eggs remaining
  on the hot sands. Her tail started lashing and she let out angry buglings
  that obscured the discussions going
  on above her on the ledge.
  "It's dangerous to take an egg between," someone in front of Jaxom and
  Menolly said.
  "I suppose it could go a ways, so long as the egg was good and warm to
  start and took no hurt."
  "We ought to just mount up and go down and run those Oldtimers out of
  the Weyr."
  "And have dragon fight dragon? You're as bad as the Oldtimers."
  "But we can't have dragons stealing our queen eggs! This is the worst
  insult Benden's ever taken from the
  Oldtimers. And I say, make them pay for it."
  "The Southern Weyr is desperate," Menolly said in an undertone to
  Jaxom. "None of their queens has risen
  to mate. The bronzes are dying, and they don't even have any young
  greens."
  Just then Ramoth gave a piteous cry, throwing her head up toward
  Lessa. Every dragon in the Weyr
  
  heard his exclamation or noticed him
  pointing. All Jaxom could think of was that if the Southern bronzes were
  indeed dying, the Oldtimers might
  use this confusion to try and steal a bronze egg as well.
  He took to his heels, followed by Menolly and Finder, but he was over-
  come by such a wave of weakness
  that he was forced to stop. Something seemed to be sapping his
  strength, but Jaxom had no idea what it
  could be.
  "What's the matter, Jaxom?"
  "Nothing." Jaxom pulled Menolly's hands from his arm and all but
  pushed her toward the Ground. "The eggs.
  The eggs!"
  His injunction was drowned in Ramoth's bellow of surprise and exulta-
  tion.
  "The egg. The queen egg!"
  By the time Jaxom had recovered from his inexplicable vertigo and
  reached the Hatching Ground, everyone
  was staring with relief at the sight of the queen egg, now safely posi-
  tioned once again between Ramoth's
  
  empty place, where the queen egg had
  too obviously been missing. And what about the three strange bronzes
  streaking out of the high entrance to
  the Ground. More acceptable was the notion that the Oldtimers had had
  second thoughts about the theft,
  that they, too, were reluctant to pit dragon against dragon.
  Lessa had remained in the Ground, trying to persuade Ramoth to let her
  see if the egg had come to any
  harm. Soon she came hurrying out of the Ground to F'lar and Robin-
  ton.."That's the same egg but it's older and harder, ready to Hatch anytime
  now. The girls must be brought."
  For the third time that morning, Benden Weyr was in a state of high ex-
  citement-happier fortunately, but still
  generating as much chaos. Jaxom and Menolly managed to keep out of
  the way but remained close enough
  to hear what was going on.
  "Whoever took that egg kept it at least ten days or more," they heard
  Lessa saying angrily. "That demands
  action."
  "The egg is back safely," Robinton said, trying to calm her.
  
  thought turned sickeningly in Jaxom's
  mind and he could feel Menolly beside him shutting off the implications
  of such a contest.
  "The egg was somewhen for long enough to be brought close to hatch-
  ing hardness," Lessa went on, her
  face set with her anger. "It's probably been handled by their candidate. It
  could have been influenced
  enough so that the fledgling won't Impress here."
  "No one has ever proved how much an egg is influenced by pre-
  Hatching contact," Robinton was saying in
  his most persuasive voice. "Or so you've had me understand any num-
  ber of times. Short of dumping their
  candidate on top of the egg when it hatches, I can't think their conniving
  can do them any good or the egg
  any more harm."
  The assembled dragonfolk were still very tense but the initial impetus to
  rise in wings and destroy the
  Southern Weyr had cooled considerably with the return of the egg, how-
  ever mysterious that return was.
  "Obviously, we can no longer be complacent," said F'lar, glancing up at
  the watchdragons, "or secure in the
  
  Weyrwoman. "Some of them come on
  legitimate errands and give us a lot of assistance." ,
  "Two were playing that game," Robinton said without humor.
  Menolly dug Jaxom in the ribs, reminding him that the Harperhall's fire-
  lizards, hers included, did a lot of
  assisting.
  "I don't care," Lessa told Brekke and glared around at the assembled,
  looking for fire-lizards. "I don't want to
  see them about here. Ramoth's not to be pestered by those plaguey
  things. Something's to be done to keep
  them where they belong."."Mark 'em with their colors!" was Brekke's
  quick reply. "Mark 'em and teach them to speak their name and
  origin the way dragons do. They're quite capable of learning courtesy.
  At least the ones who come to
  Benden by order."
  "Have them report to you, Brekke, or Mirrim," Robinton suggested.
  "Just keep them away from Ramoth and me!" Lessa peered in at
  Ramoth and then whipped around. "And
  someone bring up that wherry that Ramoth didn't eat. She'll be the bet-
  ter for something in her belly right
  now. We'll discuss this violation of our Weyr later. In detail."
  
  "So's Ruth," Jaxom said as they crossed the Bowl to him. "He's turned
  almost gray."
  Ruth was more than scared, he was trembling with anxiety.
  Something is wrong. Something is not right, he told his rider, his eyes
  whirling erratically with gray tones.
  "Your wing was injured?"
  No. Not my wing. Something is wrong in my head. I don't feel right. Ruth
  shifted from all four legs to his
  hindquarters, and then back again to all four, rustling his wings.
  "Is it because all the fire-lizards have gone? Or the excitement about
  Ramoth's egg?"
  Ruth said it was both and neither. The fire-lizards were all frightened;
  they remembered something which
  frightened them.
  "Remembered? Huh!" Jaxom felt exasperated with fire-lizards and their
  associative memories, and their
  ridiculous images which were making his sensible Ruth miserable.
  "Jaxom?" Menolly had detoured to the Lower Caverns and shared with
  him the handful of meatrolls, she'd
  cadged from the cooks. "Finder says Robinton wants me to go back to
  the Harpercrafthall and let them and
  
  As Robinton climbed the steps to the queen's weyr, he was thinking
  faster than he had ever done. Too much
  was going to depend on what happened now-the whole future course of
  the planet, if he read reactions
  correctly. He knew more than he ought about conditions in the Southern
  Weyr but his knowledge had done
  him no service today. He berated himself for being so naive, as unsee-
  ingly obtuse as any dragonrider for
  assuming that the Weyrs were inviolable and a Hatching Ground un-
  touchable. He had had warnings from
  Piemur; but he simply hadn't correlated the information properly. Yet, in
  light of today's occurrence, he ought
  to have arrived at the logical conclusion that the desperate Southerners
  would make this prodigious attempt.to revive their failing Weyr with the
  blood of a new and viable queen. Even if he had reached the proper
  conclusion, Robinton thought ruefully, how ever would he have been
  able to persuade Lessa and F'lar that
  that was what the Southerners planned today. The Weyrleaders would
  have been properly scornful of such
  a ridiculous notion.
  
  Merika and Mardra, had had no part in the plan; they wouldn't wish to be
  deposed by a young queen and her
  rider. Had one of them returned the egg?
  No, thought Robinton, it had to be someone with an intimate knowledge
  of the Benden Weyr Hatching
  Ground ... or someone possessed of the blindest good luck and skill to
  go between into and out of the
  cavern.
  Robinton relived briefly the compound terror he had experienced during
  the egg's absence. He winced
  thinking of Lessa's fury. She was still likely to arouse the Northern
  dragonriders. She was quite capable of
  sustaining the unthinking frenzy that had all but dominated the events of
  the morning. If she continued in her
  demand for vengeance against the guilty Southerners, it could be as
  much a disaster for Pern as the first
  Threadfall had been.
  The egg had been returned. Robinton clung to the comforting fact that it
  was apparently unharmed despite
  its aging in that elapsed subjective time. Lessa could choose to make its
  condition an issue. And, if the egg
  
  tive action would be launched against
  the criminals and wished, as fervently as Robinton, to avoid such a con-
  frontation.
  "This is indeed a black moment," someone with a deep sad voice said.
  The Harper turned, grateful for the
  sane support of the Mastersmith. Fandarel's heavy features were
  etched with worry and, for the first time,
  Robinton noticed the puffiness of age blurring the man's features, yel-
  lowing his eyes. "Such perfidy must be
  punished-and yet it cannot be!"
  The thought of dragon fighting dragon again seared Robinton's mind
  with terror. "Too much would be lost!"
  he said to Fandarel.
  "They have already lost all they had, being sent into exile. I often won-
  dered why they didn't rebel before."
  "They have now. With a vengeance."
  "To be met with more vengeance. My friend, we must keep our wits to-
  day as never before. I fear Lessa may
  be unreasonable and unthinking. Already she has let emotion dominate
  common sense." The Smith
  
  "I do not have a fire-lizard myself but I know only good of the little crea-
  tures. I never occurred to me that they
  constituted any threat for anyone."."You will support me in this then,
  Fandarel?" asked Brekke, who had entered behind them with F'nor. "Lessa
  is not herself. I do really understand her anxiety but she cannot be al-
  lowed to damn all fire-lizards for the
  mischief of a few."
  "Mischief?" F'nor was perturbed. "Don't let Lessa hear you call what
  happened mischief. Mischief? Stealing
  a queen egg?"
  "The fire-lizard's part was only mischief . . . popping in to Ramoth's cave
  like how many others have been
  doing since the eggs were laid." Brekke spoke more sharply than she
  usually did, and a tightness about
  F'nor's eyes and mouth indicated to Robinton that this couple were not
  in accord. "Fire-lizards have no
  sense of wrong or right."
  "They'll have to learn . . ." F'nor began with more heat than discretion.
  "I fear that we, who have no dragons," said Robinton, quickly interven-
  ing-lest today's event fracture the bond
  
  returned, Robinton . . ." His shoulders jerked in a convulsive shake and
  he pushed at his forehead as if
  trying to eliminate all memory of that scene.
  "If the egg hadn't been returned," Robinton said implacably, "dragon
  would have fought dragon!" He spaced
  out his words, putting as much force and distaste as he could in his
  tone.
  F'nor quickly shook his head, denying that outcome. "No, it would not
  have come to that, Robinton. You
  were wise..."
  "Wise?" Spat out by the infuriated Weyrwoman, the word cut like a knife.
  Lessa stood at the entrance to the
  Council Room, her slender frame taut with the emotions of the morning,
  her face livid with her anger. "Wise?
  To let them get away with such a crime? To let them plot even more
  base treacheries? Why did I ever think
  it necessary to bring them forward? When I remember that I pleaded
  with that excrescence T'ron to come
  and help us? Help us? He helps himself! To my queen's egg. If I could
  only undo my stupidity..."
  
  commandingly. "You wanted the egg returned. To achieve that end you
  were within your rights to send
  dragon against dragon, and no one to fault you. But the egg has been
  returned. To set dragon against
  dragon for revenge? Oh, no, Lessa. That you have no right to do. Not in
  revenge.
  "And if you must have revenge to satisfy your queen and your angry
  self, just think: They failed! They don't
  have that egg. Their actions have put all the Weyrs on guard so they
  could never succeed a second time.
  They have lost their one chance, Lessa. Their one hope of reviving their
  dying bronzes has failed. They
  have been thwarted. And they face . . .nothing. No future, no hope.
  "You can do nothing worse to them, Lessa. So with the return of that
  egg, you have no right in the eyes of
  the rest of Pern to do anything more."
  "I have the right to revenge that insult to me, to my queen, and to my
  Weyr!"."Insult?" Robinton gave a short bark of laughter. "My dear Lessa,
  that was no insult. That was a compliment
  of the highest order!"
  
  "Come, Lessa," he said with great sympathy and compassion, "we're all
  overwrought by this terrible event.
  None of us is thinking clearly . . ."
  He passed his hand across his face, no sham gesture for he was per-
  spiring with the effort to redirect the
  mood of so many. "Emotions are running far too high. And you've borne
  the brunt of it, Lessa." He took her
  by the arm and led the shocked but unresisting Weyrwoman to her
  chair, seating her with great concern and
  deference. "You must have been half-crazed by Ramoth's distress. She
  is calmer now, isn't she?"
  Lessa's jaw dropped in amazement and she continued to stare at
  Robinton with wide-open eyes. Then she
  nodded, closing her mouth and moistening her lips.
  "So you'll be more yourself then, too." Robinton poured a cup of wine
  and passed it to her. Still bemused by
  his startling attitude, she even sipped it. "And able to realize that the
  worst catastrophe that could happen to
  this world would be for dragon to fight dragon."
  Lessa set the cup down then, spilling wine on the stone table. "You . . .
  with your clever words . . ." and she
  
  had gone to each Weyrleader and Craftsmaster to judge their reactions.
  "Once dragon fights dragon, for
  whatever reason," his gesture wiped away any possible consideration,
  "we, the dragonriders of Pern, lose
  the rest of Pern!" He gave Lessa a long hard look which she returned
  with frozen implacability. Squarely he
  faced the room. "I wish with all my heart that there'd been some other
  solution that day at Telgar for T'ron
  and T'kul. Sending them to the Southern Continent seemed to be the
  answer. There they could do the rest
  of Pern scant harm ..."
  "No, just us-just Benden!" Lessa spoke with palpable bitterness. "It's
  T'ron and Mardra, trying to get back at
  you and me!"
  "Mardra would not favor a queen to depose her," said Brekke, who did
  not turn aside when Lessa whirled on
  her.
  "Brekke's right, Lessa," F'lar said, putting his hand on Lessa's shoulder
  with apparent casualness. "Mardra
  wouldn't like competition."
  
  keenly. D'ram was an honest, loyal, fair-minded man. He had felt com-
  pelled to support F'lar against those of
  his own Time. By such backing, he had influenced R'mart and G'narish,
  the other Oldtime Weyrleaders, to
  side with the Benden Weyr at Telgar Hold. So many undercurrents and
  subtle pressures abounded in this.chamber, Robinton thought. Whoever
  had conceived of kidnapping the queen egg might not have
  succeeded in that stratagem, but they had effectively shattered the soli-
  darity of the dragonriders.
  "I can't tell you how badly I feel about this, Lessa," D'ram continued,
  shaking his head. "When I heard, I
  couldn't believe. I just don't understand what good such an action would
  do them. T'kul's older than I. His
  Salth couldn't hope to fly a Benden queen. For that matter, none of the
  dragons in the South could fly a
  Benden queen!"
  D'ram's puzzled comment did as much as Robinton's pointed remarks to
  ease the multiple strains in the
  Council Room. Unconsciously D'ram had supported Robinton's conten-
  tion that an oblique compliment had
  been paid Benden Weyr.
  
  who have been friends and allies for how many Turns? You dragonrid-
  ers," his great forefinger stabbed at
  them, "were a fingernail away from setting your beasts against the old
  ones at Southern." Fandarel shook
  his head slowly from side to side. "This has been a terrible, terrible day!
  I am sorry for all of you." His gaze
  rested longest on Lessa. "But I think I am sorrier for myself and Pern if
  your anger doesn't cool and your
  good sense return. I will leave you now."
  With great dignity he bowed to each of the Weyrleaders and their
  women, to Brekke and last to Lessa, trying
  to catch her eyes. Failing, he gave a little sigh and left the room.
  Fandarel had clearly stated what Robinton wanted to be sure Lessa
  heard and understood-that the
  dragonriders stood in grave peril of losing control over Hold and Craft if
  they permitted their outrage and
  indignation to control them. Enough had been said, in the heat of the
  moment, in front of those Holders
  summoned to the Weyr during the crisis. If no further action was to be
  taken now that the egg had been
  returned, no Holder or Craftsmaster could fault Benden.
  
  said. "I permitted insult to overcome sanity once. Today is the result."
  D'ram's bowed head came up and he stared fiercely at F'lar, then shook
  his head vigorously. There were
  murmured disclaimers from other dragonriders, that F'lar had acted in all
  honor at Telgar.
  "Nonsense, F'lar," Lessa said, roused from her immobility. "That wasn't
  a personal fight. You had to fight
  T'ron that day to keep Pern together."
  "And today I cannot fight T'ron, or the other Southerners, or I won't keep
  Pern together!"
  Lessa stared back at F'lar for another long moment and then her shoul-
  ders sagged as she reluctantly
  accepted that distinction.
  "But ... if that egg does not hatch, or if the little queen is in any way
  damaged..."
  "If that should happen, we will certainly review the situation," F'lar
  promised her, raising his right hand to
  honor the condition..Fervently Robinton hoped that the little hatchling
  would prove healthy and vigorous, not a whit the worse for
  its adventuring. By the Hatching, he ought to have some information that
  might appease Lessa and save
  
  while Brekke, rising quickly to her
  feet, began to serve them.
  "We will wait until the Hatching," the Benden Weyrleader went on. "I
  don't think I have to suggest that you all
  take precautions against a similar occurrence."
  "None of us have any clutches hardening right now, F'lar," said R'mart
  of Telgar Weyr. "And none of us have
  Benden queens!" He had a sly twinkle in his eye as he glanced toward
  the Harper. "So, if eight of their
  beasts died this past Turn, I make it that there are now two hundred and
  forty-eight dragonriders left, and
  only five bronzes. Who brought the egg back?"
  "The egg is back: that's all that matters," F'lar said then half-emptied his
  cup at the first swallow.
  "Though I am deeply grateful to that rider."
  "We could find out," N'ton said quietly.
  F'lar shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to know. I'm not sure we need
  to know-just as long as that egg
  hatches a live and kicking queen."
  "Fandarel has his finger in the sore," Brekke said, moving gracefully to
  refill cups. "Just look what has
  
  as regards them, too."
  "We'll have to go softly on that score, Brekke," F'lar said, "but I have
  taken your point. Much was said this
  morning in the heat and confusion that was not meant to stand!"
  "I hope so. I sincerely hope so," said Brekke. "Berd keeps telling me that
  dragons have flamed fire-lizards!"
  Robinton let out a startled exclamation. "I got that wild notion from Zair,
  too, before I sent him to stay in your
  weyr, Brekke. But no dragon flamed here . . ." He looked about at the
  other Weyrleaders, some of whom
  were agreeing with Brekke's remark, others expressing concern over
  such an unlikely occurrence.
  "Not yet . . ." Brekke said, nodding significantly toward Ramoth's weyr.
  "Then we must make sure that the queen is not further upset by any
  sight of fire-lizards," F'lar said, his
  glance sweeping around the room for agreement. "For the time being,"
  he added, raising his hand to stop
  the half-formed protests. "It is the better part of wisdom for them not to
  be seen or heard right now. I know
  they've been useful, and some are proving to be very reliable messen-
  gers. I know many of you have them.
  
  Ramoth to their presence. We'll all assemble again for the Hatching,
  Weyrleaders."
  "A good Hatching," D'ram said with a fervor that was sincerely seconded
  by everyone.
  Robinton half-hoped that F'lar might hold him back as the others dis-
  persed. But F'lar was in conversation
  with D'ram, and Robinton sadly decided that his absence would be ap-
  preciated. It grieved Robinton to be at
  odds with the Benden Weyrleaders and he felt weary as he made his
  way back to the weyr entrance. Still,
  F'lar had supported Robinton's plea for deliberation. As he reached the
  last turning of the corridor, he saw
  Mnementh's bronze bulk on the ledge, and he hesitated, suddenly re-
  luctant to approach Ramoth's mate.
  "Don't fret so, Robinton," N'ton said, stepping to his side and touching
  his arm. "You were so right and wise
  to speak out as you did, and probably the only one who could stop
  Lessa's madness. F'lar knows it." N'ton
  grinned. "But he does still have to contend with Lessa."
  "Master Robinton," F'nor's voice was low as if he didn't wish to be over-
  heard, "please join Brekke and me in
  
  rim was scrutinized.
  No sooner had the men entered the weyr than they were assaulted by
  four hysterical fire-lizards that had to
  be petted and reassured that no dragon would flame them-a fear which
  seemed to be common and
  persistent.
  "What is this large darkness that I get from Zair's images?" Robinton
  asked when he had caressed his little
  bronze into a semblance of order. Zair shivered frequently and, when-
  ever the Harper's gentle strokes
  lapsed, the bronze pushed imperiously at the negligent hand.
  Meanwhile Berd and Grall were perched on F'nor's shoulders, stroking
  his cheeks, their eyes bright yellow
  with anxiety and still whirling at a frantic rate. "When they're calmer,
  Brekke and I will try to sort the whole
  thing out. I get the impression that they are remembering something."
  "Not something like the Red Star?" N'ton asked.
  At his unfortunate reference, Tris, who had been lying quietly on his
  forearm, began to bat his wings and the
  others squealed in fright. "I'm sorry. Calm down, Tris."
  
  Berd, and certainly that little creature of Meron's, could not have known
  through one of their own kind that
  the . . . you know what . . . was dangerous to them. So how did they
  know to the point of hysterics? How
  could it be something they remembered?"
  "Runner beasts seem to know when to avoid treacherous ground ..."
  N'ton offered.."Instinct." Robinton pondered. "Could be instinct." Then he
  shook his head. "No, avoiding treacherous
  ground is not the same use of an instinctive fear: that's a generality. The
  . . . R-E-D-S-T-A-R," he spelled
  letter by letter, "is a specific. Ah, well!"
  "Fire-lizards are basically gifted with the same skills as dragons. Drag-
  ons, however, have no memories to
  speak of."
  "Which, let us fervently hope," F'nor said, raising his eyes toward the
  ceiling, "wipes out what happened
  today in record time."
  "Lessa does not suffer that gift," Robinton said with a heavy sigh.
  "She's not stupid either, Masterharper," N'ton said, adroitly reaffirming
  his respect for the man by the use of
  
  experience of Zair wanting to mate . . ." Robinton paused, remembering
  that astounding revival of desires he
  had thought himself well past, shrugged and met the understanding
  twinkle in N'ton's eyes. "So I can
  appreciate the pressures that randy brown and bronze dragons can ex-
  ert on their riders. Even a willing
  green, young enough to be flown, would help . . ." He looked question-
  ingly at the two dragonriders.
  "Not after today," F'nor said emphatically. "If they'd approached one of
  the Weyrs . . . D'ram for instance," he
  glanced at N'ton for corroboration, "perhaps a green would have gone, if
  only to prevent something
  disastrous. But to attempt to solve their problems by kidnapping a queen
  egg?" F'nor frowned. "How much
  do you know, Robinton, about what goes on down in the Southern
  Weyr? I know I gave you all the maps I'd
  made when I was timing it in the South."
  "Frankly, I know more about happenings in the Hold. I did get a mes-
  sage from Piemur recently that the
  dragonriders had been more private than is their custom. They don't mix
  much with holders, following the
  
  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 irrita-
  tion. 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, were-
  n't you among the bronzes who went
  
  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
  chinches. 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
  
  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 Harper-hall 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.
  
  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 sud-
  denly 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, sepa-
  rated by white and framed by Fort
  Hold lattice yellow. That ought to label them accurately, don't you
  think?"
  
  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.
  
  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 audi-
  ence as rapt, astonished, angered and
  relieved as the harpers and the Fort Holders. He found himself uncon-
  sciously 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 crea-
  ture 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
  
  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 accu-
  rately 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
  
  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 reas-
  surances 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
  
  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. 1 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.
  
  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 remem-
  ber 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 won'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
  
  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
  
  the old volcano that would eventually become Southern Weyr in the ap-
  propriate 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 quite 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 to-
  ward 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
  
  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 east-
  ern 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.
  Ruth was still only a winglength above the Weyr when they came out of
  between, a Turn in time ahead of
  Ruth's sunrise plunge.
  Ruth had just enough strength left in his forearms and wings to let the
  egg down carefully into the warm
  
  taut until Jaxom started with alarm.
  Two fire-lizards, a gold and a bronze, were watching them from the
  edge of the Weyr. In the brief glimpse
  Jaxom had of them before they winked out, he saw no colored bands
  about they necks.
  "Do we know them?"
  No.
  "Where're those two queens?"
  They showed me when. That's all you wanted.
  Jaxom felt bereft of their fragile guidance and stupid because he hadn't
  insisted they stay.
  There's firestone, Ruth said. And flame scar. The bronzes did flame at
  the fire-lizards here! A long time ago.
  The scar is growing weed.
  "Dragon against dragon!" Apprehension nagged at Jaxom. He didn't feel
  safe here. He wouldn't feel safe
  until they actually had that egg back in Benden where it belonged.
  "We've got to make another jump, Ruth. We don't dare wait here."
  Resolutely he unlooped the rope from about his waist and started mak-
  ing a rough sling with the fur rug.
  
  to take the weight. He started to
  check the knots again and then, some inner caution prompting him, he
  just mounted.
  "We'll go five Turns more into Keroon, to our place there. Do you know
  when?"
  Ruth thought a moment and then said he knew when.
  In between Jaxom had time to worry if he was making the jumps too
  long to keep the egg warm. It hadn't
  actually Hatched before he'd left. Maybe he should have waited, to find
  out if the egg had Hatched properly:
  then they'd've known how to judge the forward jumps. Maybe he'd even
  killed the little queen trying to save
  her. No, his mind reeled with between and paradoxes; the most impor-
  tant act, returning the queen egg, was
  in process. And dragon had not fought dragon-not yet..The shimmering
  heat of Keroon desert warmed his failing spirit as well as his body. Ruth
  looked a ghastly
  shade under the caking black mud. Jaxom released the rope and low-
  ered the egg to the sand. Ruth helped
  him cover it. It was midmorning, and not far from the hour when the egg
  must be back but at least six Turns
  
  know who brought the egg back
  that day. There weren't any in the Hatching Ground, so they don't know
  what they haven't seen." Jaxom
  decided not to think further on that subject.
  He was very tired as he leaned back against Ruth's warm flank. They'd
  rest a little while and let the egg
  warm up well in the midmorning sun before they'd make that last and
  trickiest jump. They had to position
  themselves to land just inside the Hatching Ground, where the arch of
  the entrance sloped abruptly down
  and obscured the view of anyone looking from the Bowl into the Ground.
  In fact, directly opposite the
  peephole and slit that F'lessan and Jaxom had used so many Turns
  ago. It was just luck that Ruth was small
  enough to risk going between inside the Ground but it'd been his own
  Hatching place so his feeling was
  innate. Thus far he'd lived up to his boast that he always knew when he
  was going....
  Even in the hot desert plains of Keroon there was some noise: infini-
  tesimal rustlings of insect life, hot
  
  and hot. Jaxom glanced around and saw the danger, the silver mist of
  descending Thread raining down
  across the desert. He slithered and scrambled to the egg. Ruth right be-
  side him, both digging it free, pushing
  it into the sling, frantically trying to judge the leading edge of Fall, won-
  dering and worrying that the skies
  weren't full of fighting dragons.
  As fast as they worked to secure the precious burden to Ruth for flight,
  they were not quite quick enough.
  The leading edge of Threadfall fell hissing to the sand around them as
  Jaxom got to Ruth's neck and
  directed him upward. Ruth, giving a belch of flame, vaulted skyward,
  trying to sear a path far enough above
  the ground to go between.
  A ribbon of fire sliced Jaxom's cheek, his right shoulder through the
  wherhide tunic, his forearm, his thigh.
  He felt, rather than heard, Ruth's bellow of pain, lost in the black of be-
  tween.
  Somehow Jaxom kept his mind on where and when they should be.
  They were finally in the Hatching
  
  the high ceiling and went between.
  Dragon would not now fight dragon!
  It was no surprise to Jaxom that Ruth came out of between above the
  little mountain lake. In what relative
  when, Jaxom was too concerned for his dragon to care at that moment.
  Ruth was whimpering with the pain
  in his foot and leg; all he wanted was to cool that Threadfire. Jaxom
  leaped from his neck to the shallows.and splashed water on the sweaty
  gray hide, cursing himself that the nearest numbweed was at Ruatha
  Hold. He was so clever, he was, that he never thought one of them
  might get hurt.
  The cool lake water was taking the sting from the Threadscores but
  Jaxom worried now about the mud
  causing an infection. Surely he could have used something less dan-
  gerous for camouflage than river mud.
  He didn't dare scour the wounds with sand: it would be too painful for
  Ruth and might just rub the cursed
  mud deeper into the wounds. For the first time in many days, Jaxom re-
  gretted the total absence of fire-lizards
  who could have helped him scrub his very dirty dragon. Once again he
  briefly wondered when,
  
  that he was clean enough for a last
  plunge in the deeper part of the lake.
  The ripples lapping around his soaked ankles brought Jaxom's memory
  back to that not so distant day of his
  rebellion.
  "Well," he said with a self-deprecatory chuckle, "among other things, we
  did get to fight Thread." And what a
  dismal showing they'd made of it with proof patent on their hides.
  We weren't exactly giving our complete attention to Thread, Ruth re-
  minded him with a note of reproach. I
  know how now. We'll be much better at it next time. I'm faster than any
  of the big dragons. I can turn on my
  tail and go between in a single length from the ground.
  Jaxom told Ruth fervently and gratefully that he was without doubt the
  best, fastest, cleverest beast in all
  Pern, North and South. Ruth's eyes whirled greenly with pleasure and
  he paddled to the shore, wings
  extended to dry.
  You are cold and hungry and sore. My leg hurts. Let's go home.
  Jaxom knew that was the wisest course; he had to get numbweed on
  Ruth's leg and on his own injuries. But
  
  take them home.
  The watchdragon caroled a greeting and a mere half-dozen fire-lizards,
  all banded in Hold colors, swarmed
  up to escort Ruth down to his weyr courtyard.
  One of the drudges came hurrying out of the kitchen entrance, eyes
  wide with excitement.
  "Lord Jaxom, there's been a Hatching. The queen egg Hatched, it did.
  You were sent to come but no one
  could find you."
  "I had other business. Fetch me some numbweed!"
  "Numbweed?" The drudge's eyes widened further with concern.
  "Numbweed! I'm sunburned.".Rather pleased with his resourcefulness
  considering he was shivering in wet clothes, Jaxom saw Ruth
  comfortably situated in his weyr, his injured leg propped up.
  It hurt Jaxom to get the tunic over his shoulder because Thread had
  scored right down the muscle, caught
  him at the wrist and continued to cut a long furrow down his thigh.
  A timid scratching on the door to the main Hold announced the incredi-
  bly speedy return of the drudge.
  Jaxom opened the door wide enough to get the jug of numbweed, and
  still keep his Threadscores from the
  
  Jaxom gratefully echoed the sentiments as he smeared his own
  wounds. Blessed, blessed numbweed.
  Never again would he begrudge his labor in gathering the plaquey,
  thorny greenery from which this
  incredible balm was stewed. He peered into his looking glass as he
  daubed his face cut. It'd leave a finger-long
  scar. No getting around that. Now if he could get around Lytol's wrath ...
  "Jaxom!"
  Lytol strode into the room after the most perfunctory knock at the door.
  "You've missed the Hatching at
  Benden Weyr and-" At the sight of Jaxom, Lytol stopped so quickly in
  midstride that he rocked back on his
  heels. Clad only in a bathing sheet, the marks on Jaxom's shoulder and
  face were quite visible.
  "The egg Hatched all right then? Good," Jaxom responded, picking up
  his tunic with a nonchalance he
  wasn't feeling. "I . . ." then he stopped, as much because his voice
  would be muffled in the fabric of his tunic
  as because he had been about to explain with his customary candor his
  bizarre night's work. He balked at
  
  and going between."
  Lytol approached Jaxom slowly, his eyes on the young man's face,
  begging the question.
  Jaxom settled his tunic, belted it, then smoothed the numbweed into the
  cut again. He didn't know what to
  say.
  "Oh, Lytol, would you mind taking a look at Ruth's leg? See if I doctored
  it right?" Jaxom waited then, facing
  Lytol calmly. He noticed, with a sadness for the inevitability of this mo-
  ment of reserve, that Lytol's eyes were
  dark with emotion. He owed the man so much, never more than at this
  moment. He wondered that he had
  ever considered Lytol cold or hard and unfeeling.
  "There's a trick of ducking Thread," Lytol said quietly, "that you'd better
  teach Ruth, Lord Jaxom."
  "If you'd be kind enough to tell me how. Lord Lytol..."
  CHAPTER VII
  Morning at Ruatha Hold, 15'.6.2
  "I CAME TO TELL you that we have guests. Lord Jaxom; Master
  Robinton, N'ton and Menolly are above,
  
  enough, and the numbweed's been applied in good time. We'll check
  again in a few hours. But I think he's all
  right." Lytol's gaze went then to Jaxom's all-too-obvious scoring.
  "I had no reason to excuse you to our guests." He sighed. "Be grateful
  it's N'ton above and not F'lar. I
  suppose Menolly knew what you were about?"
  "I told no one what I intended. Lord Lytol," Jaxom said with some for-
  mality.
  "At least you've learned discretion." The Lord Warder hesitated, his eyes
  sweeping the figure of his ward.
  "Ah, well, I'd best ask N'ton to take you for weyrling practice-safer that
  way and you'd be with others.
  Robinton will guess what you've been about, but he'd learn in due
  course no matter how we evaded. Come
  then, they'll not give you too hard a time for your clumsiness. Not that
  you don't deserve more than a ribbing,
  taking such a chance with yourself and Ruth. And right now, when order
  is all in pieces anyhow ..."
  "I apologize for distressing you. Lord Lytol..."
  The man subjected his charge to another shrewd scrutiny.
  
  we've kept our guests waiting long enough as it is."
  N'ton was facing the door of the smaller hall used at Ruatha when
  guests required privacy for their
  discussions. The bronze rider took one look at Jaxom's face and
  groaned. At his reaction. Master Robinton
  slewed round in his chair, his tired eyes registering surprise and, Jaxom
  hoped, a certain measure of
  approval.
  "You're Threadscored, Jaxom," Menolly cried, and her expression was
  one of shocked dismay. "How could
  you take such a risk right now?" She, who had taunted him about think-
  ing, not doing, was now furious with
  him.
  "I should have known you'd try it, young Jaxom," N'ton said with a weary
  sigh, a rueful smile on his face.
  "You were bound to break out soon, but your timing is atrocious."
  Jaxom would have liked to say that, in point of fact, his timing had been
  faultless, but N'ton went on: "Ruth
  wasn't hurt, was he?"
  "A single score on thigh and foot," Lytol replied. "Well doctored."
  
  head.
  "I approve," Lytol said in a firm voice, his face set. "I am Lord Jaxom's
  guardian, not F'lar or Lessa. Let her
  manage her own concerns. Lord Jaxom is my charge. He can come to
  little harm with the Fort Weyrlings."
  Lytol stared fiercely at Jaxom. "And he will agree not to put his teaching
  to the test without consulting us. Will
  you abide by that. Lord Jaxom?"
  Jaxom was relieved enough to know that the Benden Weyrleaders
  would not be queried so that he agreed
  to more stringent conditions than he might have. He nodded and was
  immediately beset by conflicting
  emotions-amusement because everyone had assumed the obvious and
  annoyance because, having
  achieved so much more that day, he was now reduced to apprentice
  level. Yet, his experience at Keroon
  had demonstrated too sharply how much he still had to learn about
  fighting Thread if he wished to keep
  whole his and his dragon's hides.
  N'ton had been peering intently at Jaxom and his frown deepened so
  that, for one moment, Jaxom
  
  "I'm in no danger on Ruth, N'ton," Jaxom said, relieved at being accused
  of a lesser transgression. "He
  always knows when he is."
  N'ton dismissed that talent impatiently. "Possibly, but the danger lies in
  the rider's mind-an inadvertent time
  clue that could set both in jeopardy. Coming too close to yourself in
  subjective time is dangerous. Besides
  it's draining for both dragon and rider. You don't need to time it, young
  Jaxom. You'll have time enough for
  all you need to do."
  N'ton's words caused Jaxom to recall the inexplicable weakness that
  had overcome him in the Hatching
  Ground. Was it possible that at that very moment-"I don't think you can
  have realized, Jaxom," Robinton
  began, interrupting Jaxom's thoughts, "just how critical matters are in
  Pern right now. And you should know."
  "If you mean about the egg-stealing, Master Robinton, and how close it
  came to dragon attacking dragon, I
  was in Benden Weyr that morning ..."
  "Were you?" Robinton was mildly surprised and shook his head as if he
  ought not to have forgotten. "Then
  
  "Dragons can't fight dragons!" Jaxom was appalled. "That's why the egg
  was returned." If his risk and Ruth's
  injury had been futile ...."Our Lessa is a woman of strong emotions,
  Jaxom-revenge being one of those most highly developed in
  her. Remember how you came to be Lord here?" Robinton's expression
  indicated regret for reminding
  Jaxom of his origin. "I do not belittle the Benden Weyrwoman when I
  say that. Such perseverance in the
  face of incredible odds is laudable. But her tenacity over the insult could
  have a disastrous effect on all Pern.
  So far, reason has prevailed but currently that balance is shaky indeed."
  Jaxom nodded, perceiving that he could never admit to his part, relieved
  that he had not blurted out his
  adventure to Lytol. No one must ever know that he, Jaxom, had re-
  turned the egg. Particularly Lessa. He
  sent a silent command to Ruth, who drowsily replied that he was too
  tired to talk to anyone about anything
  and couldn't he please sleep?
  "Yes," Jaxom said in reply to Robinton, "I quite understand the need for
  discretion."
  
  kinder it will be."
  "I didn't know that Fanna was ill," Jaxom said, and his thoughts leaped
  ahead to the sorrowful knowledge
  that Fanna's queen, Mirath, would suicide when her Weyrwoman died.
  A queen's death would upset every
  dragon-and Lessa and Ramoth!
  Lytol's expression was bleak, as it always was whenever he was re-
  minded of his own dragon's death.
  Jaxom swallowed the remainder of his pride and dismay about appren-
  ticing as a weyrling; he would never
  risk injuring Ruth again.
  "Fanna's been declining gradually," Robinton was saying, "a wasting
  sickness that nothing seems to halt.
  Master Oldive is at Ista with her now."
  "Yes, his fire-lizard will summon me when he's ready to leave. I want to
  be available to D'ram," N'ton said.
  "Fire-lizards, yes, hmmm," said Robinton. "Another sore subject at Ben-
  den Weyr." He glanced at his bronze,
  perched contentedly on his shoulder. "I felt naked without Zair at that
  Hatching. Upon my word!" He stared at
  
  plaguing them hasn't happened. Or,"
  she stared at Jaxom suddenly, "or has it?"
  Jaxom affected surprise and confusion.
  "They were worried about the egg hatching, Menolly?" Robinton asked.
  "Too bad we can't tell Lessa how
  concerned they've all been. It might help restore them to her good
  graces."
  "I think it's high time something was done about fire-lizards," Menolly
  said severely.
  "My dear girl . . ." Robinton was surprised.
  "I don't mean ours, Master Robinton. They've proved to be extremely
  useful. Too many people take them for
  granted and make no effort to train them." She gave a peculiar laugh.
  "As Jaxom can vouch. They.congregate wherever Ruth goes till he's driven
  between by their attentions. Isn't that right, Jaxom?" There
  was a strange quality about her gaze that puzzled him.
  "I wouldn't say he objects . . . most of the time, Menolly," he replied
  coolly, casually stretching his long legs
  under the table. "But a fellow likes a little time to himself, you know."
  Lytol gave a knowing snort which told Jaxom that Brand had had a word
  with the Warder about Corana.
  
  "Well, sir," Jaxom replied, "no matter where we go, every fire-lizard in
  the vicinity pops in to see Ruth.
  Generally it's no bother because they keep Ruth amused if I'm busy with
  Hold matters."
  "They wouldn't by any chance have told Ruth why they've been trou-
  bled? Or did you know about those
  images?" Robinton leaned forward, eager to have Jaxom's answer.
  "You mean fire-lizards being flamed? The dark nothingness and the
  egg? Oh yes, they've been driving Ruth
  frantic with that nonsense," said Jaxom. He scowled as if annoyed for
  his friend, and was careful not to look
  in Menolly's direction. "But that seems to have passed. Perhaps the
  disturbance was connected with the
  stolen egg. But it's hatched now and look, they're not the least bit as
  agitated as they've been, and they're
  letting Ruth sleep by himself again."
  "Where were you when the egg was being Hatched?" Menolly pounced
  on Jaxom so swiftly with her
  question that Robinton and N'ton regarded her with surprise.
  "Why," and Jaxom laughed as he touched his scored cheek, "trying to
  sear Thread!"
  
  Southern dragonrider had returned the egg. He was discontented,
  though, because it would be a relief, a
  pleasure, to be able to tell someone what he'd done.
  Food was served them and they kept the discussions to the problem of
  the fire-lizards-whether they were
  more nuisance than valuable-until Jaxom pointed out that everyone
  about the table was converted. What
  they needed was a way to pacify Lessa and Ramoth.
  "Ramoth will forget her aggravation soon enough," N'ton said.
  "Lessa won't, although I doubt there'll be that much reason for me to
  send Zair to Benden Weyr."
  As N'ton and Lytol vigorously reassured the Harper, Jaxom realized
  there was a curious restraint about the
  man, an odd note in his voice when he mentioned Benden or the
  Weyrwoman. Robinton wasn't worried
  simply that Lessa had prohibited fire-lizards at Benden.
  "There's another aspect of this affair that is nagging at the back of my
  overactive imagination," Robinton
  said. "The matter has brought Southern to everyone's attention."."Why
  is that a problem?" Lytol asked.
  
  half-set to force their way in. What's to
  prevent the Lord Holders from taking the initiative and claiming whole
  portions of it?"
  "There wouldn't be dragons enough to protect that much area, that's
  what," Lytol said. "The Oldtimers surely
  wouldn't."
  "They don't really need dragonriders in the South," Robinton said slowly.
  Lytol stared at him, aghast at such a statement.
  "It's true," he said. "The land is thoroughly sowed by grubs. Traders
  have told me that they more or less
  ignore Falls; Holder Toric just makes certain everyone's safe and all
  stock is under cover."
  "There will come a time when no dragonriders will be needed in the
  North either," N'ton said, slowly,
  compounding Lytol's shock.
  "Dragonriders will always be needed on Pern while there is Thread!"
  Lytol emphasized his conviction by
  banging the table with his fist.
  "At least in our lifetimes," Robinton said soothingly. "But I could have
  wished less interest in Southern. Think
  it over, Lytol."
  
  sure you. There are some things that
  must be seen to be believed."
  "Such as?"
  Robinton idly stroked Zair as he gazed out, over Lytol's head, at some
  distant view.
  "Mind you, there are times when looking back can be helpful," he said
  and then turned back to the Lord
  Warder. "Are you aware that we originally, all of us, came from the
  Southern Continent?"
  Lytol's first surprise at such a sudden turn of the conversation melded
  into a thoughtful frown. "Yes, that was
  implicit in the oldest Records."
  "I've often wondered if there aren't older Records, moldering some-
  where in the South."
  Lytol snorted at the notion. "Moldering is right. There'd be nothing left
  after so many thousands of Turns."."They had ways of tempering metal,
  those ancestors of ours, ways that made it impervious to rust and wear.
  Those plates found at Fort Weyr, the instruments, like the long-distance
  viewer that fascinates Wansor and
  Fandarel. I don't believe that time can have erased all traces of such
  clever people."
  
  "Is that any reason for us to break ours?" Lytol asked, drawing his
  shoulders back and scowling at both
  Weyrleader and Harper.
  "They occupy only a small tongue of land, jutting out into the Southern
  Sea," said Robinton in his smooth
  way. "They have been unaware of any activity elsewhere."
  "You've already been exploring in the South?"
  "Judiciously. Judiciously."
  "And you'd not have your . . . judicious intrusions discovered?"
  "No," answered Robinton slowly. "I shall make the knowledge public
  soon enough. I don't want every
  disgruntled apprentice and evicted small holder running about indis-
  criminately, destroying what should be
  preserved because they haven't the wit to understand it."
  "What have you discovered so far?"
  "Old mine workings, shored up with lightweight but so durable a material
  that it is as unscratched today as
  when it was put in place in the shaft. Tools, powered by who can guess-
  bits and pieces that not even young
  Benelek can assemble."
  
  explorations in the South. At the point where Jaxom's fatigue made it
  difficult for him to keep his eyes open,
  it occurred to him that Robinton had indeed succeeded in rousing Lytol
  to support his and N'ton's desire to
  keep interest in the South to a minimum.
  Jaxom's last waking thought was one of admiration for the Harper's de-
  vious methods. No wonder he had not
  objected to Jaxom training with N'ton when he saw Lytol was in favor of
  it. The Harper needed the older man
  as the Lord Holder at Ruatha. Training Ruth to chew firestone kept the
  young Lord from wanting to take Hold
  in Lytol's place.
  The next morning Jaxom was positive that he couldn't have moved dur-
  ing the night. He was bindingly stiff,
  his face and shoulder stung with the Threadscore and that reminded
  him of Ruth's injury. With no regard for.his own discomfort, he whipped
  aside the furs and, grabbing the numbweed pot as he went, burst into
  Ruth's
  weyr.
  The faintest rumble told him that the white dragon was still sound
  asleep. He also seemed not to have
  
  how to take care of his dragon and himself during Threadfall. If he got
  teased because he hadn't ducked fast
  enough, he deserved it. So, after breaking his fast, Jaxom flew Ruth to
  the Weyr.
  Fortunately two of those in training were near his own age of eighteen
  Turns-not that being older would have
  bothered Jaxom as long as he could train Ruth properly. He did have to
  suppress the insidious urge to
  excuse Ruth's scoring with the real reason for the supposed clumsiness.
  He took refuge in knowing that he
  had achieved more than they'd ever guess-a small consolation.
  His first problem in the weyrling class was to relieve Ruth of the embar-
  rassment of the endless fire-lizards
  that settled on him. No sooner was one group dislodged and sent off
  than another appeared, to the disgust
  and exasperation of K'nebel, the weyrlingmaster.
  "Does this go on all day wherever you are?" the man asked Jaxom irri-
  tably.
  "More or less. They just . . . come. Especially since . . . what happened
  at Benden Weyr."
  
  lizards in the vicinity had looked in, or
  Ruth had been sufficiently firm and the rest of the morning's class was
  undisrupted.
  Despite all the interruptions, K'nebel kept the weyrlings working until the
  noonday meal was called. Jaxom
  was invited to stay and, as a mark of his rank, was shown to the large
  table reserved for senior dragonriders.
  The conversation was dominated by continued speculation about the
  return of the egg and which one of the
  queen riders had returned it. The discussions served to reinforce
  Jaxom's decision to remain silent. He
  cautioned Ruth, needlessly, it appeared since the white dragon was
  more interested in chewing firestone
  and dodging Thread than in past events.
  The fire-lizards about him had lost all their previous agitation. Their pri-
  mary concern now was eating, the
  secondary one was their hides. With the advent of the warmer weather,
  they had begun shedding and were
  plagued by itching. The images they projected to Ruth no longer had
  alarming content.
  
  new wheat was prospering-of course.
  Corana was about the hold these days since her brother's wife was near
  her time. When she showed a
  pretty concern for his healing score, he did not abuse her notion that
  he'd acquired it in a legitimate Fall,
  protecting the Hold from Thread. She rewarded him for that protection in
  a fashion that embarrassed him.even as it relieved him. He'd as soon save
  his favors for honest endeavor. But he couldn't be annoyed with
  her when, in the languor that followed their pleasure, she made several
  references to fire-lizards and asked
  if he'd ever had a chance to find a clutch when he was fighting Thread.
  "Every beach in the North is well staked," he told her and, noting her
  intense disappointment, added, "Of
  course, there are lots of empty beaches in the Southern Continent!"
  "Could you fly in on your Ruth without those Oldtimers knowing?"
  Clearly Corana knew little of the most
  recent events, another relief to Jaxom, who was beginning to be bored
  by the Weyr's preoccupation with that
  topic.
  Fly in on Ruth made the whole thing seem simple enough; especially as
  Ruth would not upset strange fire-lizards
  
  outburst just a short while ago were still spreading. He had finally
  achieved proper training for Ruth and, if he
  hadn't taken Hold, at least he was finally enjoying more of the preroga-
  tives of a Lord Holder. He grinned,
  savoring Corana's sweetness. Judging by her sister's warm welcome,
  he assumed the Plateau Hold would
  not object to a half-blooded addition. Success in that area would do him
  no harm in the eyes of Lord
  Holders. He considered bringing Corana to the Hold, but decided
  against it. That would be unfair to the other
  fosterlings and cause trouble for Brand and Lytol. It wasn't as if he didn't
  have Ruth and couldn't come and
  go at his leisure and speedily. Furthermore, if he brought Corana to his
  quarters, she'd demand more of his
  attention at Ruth's expense than he was willing to give.
  The third afternoon he went to the Plateau Hold, Fidello's wife was in la-
  bor and Corana too distracted to do
  more than beg his pardon for the fuss and excitement. He asked if they
  wished the Hold's healer, but Fidello
  said that one of his dependents was skillful in such matters and had said
  that his wife would have no trouble
  
  busy. And only a few sevendays ago I wouldn't have dreamed I'd be as
  lucky with her. That's why I'm a fool
  now, Ruth."
  I will always love you, was Ruth's reply because he felt that was the re-
  sponse Jaxom needed.
  Jaxom reassuringly caressed his dragon's neck ridge, but he couldn't
  suppress his self-deprecatory mirth.
  He discovered a second obstacle when he returned to the Hold. Lytol
  informed him that the remainder of
  Ramoth's clutch would probably Hatch the next day, and that Jaxom
  would have to put in an appearance at
  Benden. The Lord Warder peered intently at Jaxom's healed score and
  nodded.
  "Do try to keep out of the Weyrleaders' sight. They'd know at a glance
  what that was," Lytol said. "No sense
  advertising your folly."
  Jaxom privately thought the scar gave him a more mature appearance
  but he promised Lytol he'd stay well
  away from Lessa and F'lar..Jaxom rather enjoyed Hatchings, more so
  when Lytol was not present. He felt guilty about that but he knew
  
  requested that he collect Menolly, since Robinton was already at Ista
  Weyr with the Harperhall's dragon and
  rider.
  Jaxom put a good face on the request since he could think of no excuse
  to refuse. Well, he'd hurry her out of
  the Hall and into the Weyr so quickly that she wouldn't have time to ask
  any questions.
  When he and Ruth arrived at the Harpercrafthall, Ruth bellowing his
  name to the watchdragon on the fire-heights,
  Jaxom became furious. Why, there were enough Fort Weyr dragons on
  the meadow to take half the
  Hall. Why hadn't she asked one of them? He was determined that she
  wouldn't have a chance to nag at him
  and asked Ruth peremptorily to tell her fire-lizards that he was here and
  waiting in the meadow. He had
  barely formed the words in his mind when Menolly came dashing out of
  the archway toward him, Beauty,
  Rocky and Diver chittering in circles above her head. She began shrug-
  ging into her riding jacket, awkwardly
  juggling something from one hand to the other.
  
  you're not supposed to time it, are
  you?" She added the last comment as he still hesitated, not altogether
  reassured by her altruism.
  "I've got my hair brushed over-"
  "You'll forget and push it back," she said, gesturing him to do so now as
  she unscrewed the pot lid. "I got
  Oldive to make some without scent. There. Only takes a dab." She had
  applied it to his face and then
  brushed the residue on the skin of his wrist above his glove. "See? It
  blends in." She stared critically at him.
  "Yes, that does the trick. No one would ever know you've been scored."
  Then she chuckled. "What does
  Corana think of your scar?"
  "Corana?"
  "Don't glare at me. Get up on Ruth. We'll be late.
  Very clever of you, Jaxom, to cultivate Corana. You'dve made a good
  harper with your wits."
  Jaxom mounted his dragon, furious with her but determined not to rise
  to her lure. It was just like her to find
  out such things, hoping to aggravate him. Well, she wasn't going to suc-
  ceed.
  
  Ruth came out of between midsyllable. "... uth. I'm Ruth. I'm Ruth."
  Which reminded Jaxom and he twisted his head about to look at Me-
  nolly's left shoulder.
  "Don't worry. They're safely in Brekke's weyr."
  "All of them?"
  "Shells, no, Jaxom. Only Beauty and the three bronzes. She may be
  mating soon and the boys won't leave
  her alone for a moment." Menolly chuckled again.
  "Are all that clutch spoken for?"
  "What? Count the eggs before they're laid? Not at all!" Menolly sounded
  repressive. "Why? You don't want
  one, do you?"
  "Not I."
  Menolly burst out laughing at his telling rejoinder and he groaned. Well,
  let her have her laugh.
  "What would I do with a fire-lizard?" he went on to settle her. "I promised
  Corana I'd see if I could get one for
  her. She's been very . . . kind to me, you know." He was rewarded by
  the sound of Menolly's gulp of
  surprise.
  
  get?"
  "Face, shoulder and thigh."
  She caught at his other shoulder. "Listen! They're thrumming wildly.
  And, look, there are candidates entering
  the Hatching Ground. Can we fly right in?"
  Jaxom directed Ruth in through the upper entrance of the Hatching
  Ground. Bronzes were still bearing
  visitors to the Ground. As Ruth entered, Jaxom found his gaze going
  immediately to the spot by the arch
  where he and Ruth had transferred to return the egg. He felt a sudden
  surge of pride at his feat.
  "I see Robinton, Jaxom. There on the fourth tier. Near the Istan colors.
  Would you sit with us, Jaxom?"
  There was an entreaty in her tone, and a slight emphasis that puzzled
  Jaxom. Who wouldn't want to sit with
  the Masterharper of Pern?
  Ruth angled close to the tier, catching at the ledge with his claws and
  hovering long enough to permit
  Menolly and Jaxom to dismount.
  As Jaxom settled his tunic before seating himself, he got a good long
  look at Master Robinton. He could
  
  sands of the Hatching Ground, his face
  was lined, his deep-set eyes shadowed with fatigue and worry, the skin
  of his cheeks and chin sagged. He
  looked old, tired, and bereft. Jaxom was appalled and looked quickly
  away, avoiding Menolly's gaze
  because his thoughts must have been all too apparent to the observant
  Harper girl.
  Master Robinton old? Tired, worried, yes. But aging? A cold emptiness
  assailed Jaxom's innards. Pern
  deprived of the humor and wisdom of the Master Harper? Even harder
  to contemplate was being without his
  vision and eager curiosity. Resentment replaced the sense of loss as
  Jaxom found himself, loyal to
  Robinton's precepts, trying to rationalize this wave of unpalatable reflec-
  tion.
  An urgent thrumming brought his attention back to the Hatching Ground.
  He'd been to enough Hatchings to
  realize that Ramoth's presence, when there was no queen egg, was un-
  usual; her attitude was daunting. He
  wouldn't have wanted to brave her red whirling eyes, or the stabs of her
  head as she kept poking toward the
  
  "You'd think she was inspecting each one to see if he smelled of the
  Southern Weyr, wouldn't you?" the
  Harper replied, his voice light with humor.
  Jaxom glanced at him and wondered if there hadn't been some unflat-
  tering trick of lighting for the Harper
  grinned with mischief, very much his customary self.
  "I'm not sure I'd care for such a scrutiny right now," he added, giving his
  left eyebrow a quirk upward.
  Menolly coughed, her eyes dancing. Jaxom supposed they'd been
  South recently and wondered what they
  had learned.
  Shells, he thought, in a sudden sweaty panic, the Southerners knew that
  none of them had returned the egg.
  Suppose Robinton had found that out?
  An angry hiss from the Hatching Ground brought such a reaction from
  the audience that Jaxom quickly
  transferred his attention. One of the eggs had split, but Ramoth had
  moved so protectively over it that none
  of the candidates dared approach. Mnementh bellowed from his ledge
  outside and the bronzes within
  
  pening within the Ground. Mnementh
  tells her she is being silly. The eggs must Hatch; the Hatchlings must
  make Impression. Then she will not
  have to worry about them again. They will be safe with men.
  The croon of the bronzes deepened and Ramoth, still protesting an in-
  evitable cycle of life, stepped slowly
  away from the eggs. Whereupon one of the older boys who had bravely
  led the first rank bowed formally to
  her and then stepped up to the split egg from which a young bronze was
  emerging, squealing as it tried to
  balance itself on wobbly legs.."That boy has good presence of mind,"
  Robinton said, nodding his approbation. He was intent on the scene
  below. "Just what Ramoth needed, that courtesy. Her eyes are slowing
  and she's retracting her wings.
  Good. Good!"
  Following the example set, two more of the older candidates bowed to
  Ramoth and moved quickly toward
  eggs that had begun rocking violently with the efforts of the Hatchlings
  to pierce their shells. If subsequent
  obeisances were jerky or skimped, Ramoth had been mollified although
  she emitted curious little barks as
  
  delighted. "I told you he'd do it."
  "I have been wrong before and will be again, my dear girl. Infallibility
  would be a bore," Master Robinton
  replied equably. "Are there any lads here from Ruatha, Jaxom?"
  "Two, but I can't recognize them from this angle."
  "It's a good-sized clutch," Robinton replied. "Plenty to choose from."
  Jaxom was watching five boys who had circled one large egg covered
  with green splotches. He caught his
  breath as the dragonet's head emerged, turning to look at each of the
  boys as it shook shell fragments from
  its body. "And many boys disappointed," Jaxom said as the little brown
  dragon pushed past the five boys,
  out into the sands, crooning piteously, swinging its head from side to
  side. What if, Jaxom thought with a
  pang of cold in his guts, Ruth had not found me suitable? Almost all the
  candidates had left the Ground
  when he'd freed Ruth from the overhard shell.
  The searching dragonet stumbled, its nose burying into the warm sand.
  It righted itself, sneezed and cried
  again. Ramoth called out in warning and the boys nearest her retreated
  hurriedly. One of them, a dark-haired,
  
  that reaffirmation of their bond.
  "It's all over so soon," Menolly said, her voice petulant with regret. "I
  wish it wouldn't all happen in such a
  rush!"
  "I'd say we'd had quite an afternoon," Robinton stated, gesturing toward
  Ramoth. The queen was now
  glowering at the retreating pairs and shifting from foreleg to foreleg.
  "D'you suppose now that they're all safely Hatched and Impressed, her
  temper will improve?" Menolly
  asked.
  "And Lessa's as well?" Robinton's lips twitched to suppress his amuse-
  ment. "No doubt once Ramoth can be
  persuaded to eat, both will feel more charitable."
  "I hope so." Menolly's reply was low and fervent, not meant, Jaxom
  thought, to be heard by Robinton, for the
  Harper had turned to the back of the tiers, evidently looking for some-
  one..Robinton had heard, however, and gave his journeyman a warm grin.
  "Too bad we can't postpone this
  meeting until the happy restoration has occurred."
  "Can't I come with you this once?"
  
  "Ruatha must attend."
  "They couldn't exclude you as Masterharper," said Menolly in a tight
  voice.
  "Why would they?" Jaxom asked, surprised by Menolly's uncharacteris-
  tic defensiveness.
  "Because, you dim glow . .."
  "That's enough, Menolly. I appreciate your concern, but all things come
  to pass in the fullness of time. My
  head is neither bloodied or bowed. Once Ramoth has killed, I'll have no
  fear of being dragon bait, either."
  Robinton patted her shoulder, reassuringly.
  The queen was making her way out of the Hatching Ground and, as
  they watched, she took wing.
  "There, you see. She's gone to feed," the Harper said. "I have nothing to
  fear anymore."
  Menolly gave him a long sardonic look. "I just wish I could be with you,
  that's all."
  "I know. Ah, Fandarel," The Harper raised his voice and waved to catch
  the eye of the big Mastersmith.
  "Come, Lord Jaxom, we've business in the Council Chamber."
  
  Menolly's hint that this was to be an
  unusual meeting was reinforced. Again Jaxom wondered that Lytol was
  not here. He had, Jaxom knew,
  agreed to support Robinton.
  "Thought Ramoth was going to prevent Impression for a moment there,"
  Fandarel said, nodding at Jaxom.
  "Hear you've deserted me for your favorite pastime, huh, lad?"
  "Training only. Master Fandarel. All dragons must learn to chew
  firestone."
  "Upon my soul," Masterminer Nicat exclaimed. "Never thought he'd live
  long enough to do that."
  Jaxom caught the Masterharper's warning expression as he was about
  to reply with some heat, and
  rephrased his answer. "Ruth is very good at it, thank you."."One forgets
  the passage of time, Master Nicat," Robinton said, smoothly, "and that
  growth and maturity
  come to those we remember first as very young. Ah, Andemon, how are
  you today?" The Harper beckoned
  to the Masterfarmer to join them as they made their way across the hot
  sands.
  
  stress of the title before Nicat
  looked ahead at the steps up to the queen's weyr and the ledge where
  Mnementh generally perched.
  The bronze had gone off to watch his queen feed in the meadow below.
  Jaxom looked for the white hide of
  Ruth by the lake and felt his dragon's mental presence.
  "Good Hatching, with a nice bit of suspense for starters, huh?" Nicat
  said conversationally.
  "Did you have any lads on the Ground today?" Jaxom asked politely.
  "Only one this time; Two lads had already gone to Telgar's last Hatching
  so no complaints. No complaints.
  Although, if you've a clutch of fire-lizard eggs going a-begging, I wouldn't
  say no to a couple."
  Nicat's gaze was guileless, and it certainly would be no hair off his hide
  if Jaxom chose to teach Ruth to
  chew firestone and had appropriated sacks from the mines.
  "We've none presently, but you never can tell when a clutch'll be found."
  "I only mention it in passing. They're pure death for those pesky, ruinous
  tunnel snakes, not to mention
  being very clever about discovering gas pockets we don't smell. And
  gas pockets is about all we're mining at
  
  stone steps to the queen's weyr,
  Jaxom wished again that he wasn't bound by that promise to N'ton not
  to time it. He had too many demands
  on ordinary daytime to risk a hop between to the Southern beaches al-
  though Ruth might be lucky enough to
  locate a clutch quickly. He would like to oblige Master Nicat; he'd also
  like to find an egg for Corana. It also
  wouldn't hurt to indulge the disgruntled Tegger, who might have learned
  how to keep a fire-lizard now. But
  there was no way, short of timing it, that Jaxom could complete a trip
  south right now.
  Just as they reached the entrance, a bronze dragon appeared above
  the Star Stones, bugling. The watch-dragon
  replied. Jaxom noticed that everyone had stopped stock still to hear the
  exchange. Shells and
  shards, but they were nervous here in Benden. He wondered who had
  arrived.
  The Weyrleader from Ista, Ruth told him.
  D'ram? It wasn't incumbent on other Weyrleaders to attend Hatchings,
  though generally, unless Threadfall
  
  the Weyrwoman's huge stone chair, her face intense in its frown, and he
  quickly moved to the far comer of
  the room. Her keen eyes wouldn't be able to spot the score on his cheek
  at that distance..This was not to be a large meeting, the Harper had said.
  Jaxom watched the Mastercraftsmen file in, the
  other Weyrleaders, the major Lord Holders, but there were no
  weyrwomen or wing-seconds except for
  Brekke and F'nor.
  D'ram arrived in the company of F'lar and a younger man Jaxom didn't
  recognize though he wore wing-second
  colors. If Jaxom had been upset by the glimpse of the Masterharper's
  aging, he was shocked by the
  change in D'ram's appearance. The man seemed to have shrunk in the
  past Turn to a husk, dried up and
  frail. The Istan Weyrleader's step was jerky and his shoulders rounded.
  Lessa rose in one of her swift graceful gestures and went to meet the
  Istan, her hands outstretched, her
  expression unexpectedly compassionate. Jaxom had had the impres-
  sion that she had been totally
  immersed in her brooding. Now, all her attention was centered on
  D'ram.
  
  in a low hesitant voice. He cleared
  his throat, took a deep breath. "I wish to step down now as Istan
  Weyrleader. None of our queens is due to
  mate but I have no heart to continue longer. My Weyr has agreed.
  G'dened," and D'ram indicated the man
  who had accompanied him, "has led the past ten Falls on his Barnath. I
  should have stepped down sooner
  but . . ." he shook his head, smiling sadly, "we so hoped the illness
  would pass." He straightened his
  shoulders with an effort. "Caylith is oldest queen and Cosira a good
  Weyrwoman. Barnath has flown Caylith
  already and there's been a large strong clutch to prove them." Now he
  hesitated, glancing warily at Lessa. "It
  was the custom in the Oldtime, when a Weyr was leaderless, to throw
  open the first queen's flight in that
  Weyr to all young bronzes. In this fashion a new leader was fairly cho-
  sen. I would invoke that custom now."
  He said it almost belligerently and yet his manner toward Lessa was
  entreating.
  "You must be very sure of G'dened's Barnath then," R'mart of Telgar
  Weyr said in a disgusted tone of voice
  
  chance, R'mart, but D'ram's offer is exceedingly generous at this critical
  time. I'll inform all my bronze riders
  but I, for one, will permit only those whose dragons haven't yet had a
  chance to mate with a queen. I don't
  think it's fair to pile too many odds against Barnath, now is it?"
  "Isn't Caylith a Benden queen?" Lord Corman of Keroon Hold asked.
  "No, she's one of Mirath's laying. Parith is the Benden Hatched queen."
  "Caylith's an Oldtimer queen?"
  "Caylith is an Istan queen," F'lar said firmly but quickly.
  "And G'dened?"
  "I was born in the old time," the man said in a quiet voice but the ex-
  pression he turned to Lord Corman bore
  no trace of apology.."He is also a son of D'ram," Lord Warbret of Ista
  Hold said, speaking directly to Lord Corman as if that
  qualification should ease the Holder's tacit objection.
  "Good man. Good blood," Corman replied, not at all ruffled.
  "His leadership is in question, not his bloodline," F'lar said. "The custom
  is a good one ..."
  Jaxom clearly heard someone remark that it was the only good Oldtime
  custom he'd ever heard about, and
  he hoped that the low whisper hadn't carried far.
  
  Jaxom suppressed the urge to cheer and glanced about the room, will-
  ing the reactions to be favorable. All
  the Weyrleaders seemed to agree. As they should, since one of their
  riders might gain from it. Jaxom hoped
  that G'dened's Barnath would fly Caylith anyhow. That would prove
  there was good metal in the younger
  Oldtimers. No one would be able to say anything against Ista leadership
  once it was proved by competition!
  "I have stated Ista's intention," D'ram said, raising his tired voice over
  the murmur of individual
  conversations. "It is the will of my Weyr. I must go back now. My duty to
  you, Lords, Masters, Weyrleaders,
  all."
  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.
  
  gan to rise. The Lord Holders weren't
  certain they approved of such an innovation. The Craftmasters were ap-
  parently 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
  
  "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
  
  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 oc-
  curred.."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 in-
  voking 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
  
  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 con-
  sideration.
  "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 amuse-
  ment 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."
  
  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 sing-
  ing. 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.
  
  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
  any 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
  
  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 drag-
  ons 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."
  
  fire-lizards' alarm at the lake.
  "We promised not to time it, Ruth." Jaxom could appreciate the circum-
  stances 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.
  
  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.
  
  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 acknow-
  ledgement 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
  
  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 Mne-
  menth 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."
  
  "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 any-
  thing?"
  
  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 in-
  variably 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 dragon-
  folk at any time.
  
  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
  
  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."
  
  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
  
  menth 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 Mne-
  menth.
  Jaxom and Lytol stood on the Hold steps as Mnementh bugled his name
  to the watchdragon and circled to
  
  ing 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 convul-
  sive 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
  
  fire-lizards ..."
  Zair appeared midair, squealed and swooped to Robinton's shoulder,
  wrapping his tail tightly about the
  Harper's neck and cluttering 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 ex-
  plained 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
  
  had a need of and a place for D'ram and certainly did not wish to lose
  contact with him.
  "Now," Robinton went on, "there have been occasions in recent Turns . .
  ." He cleared his throat, glanced
  toward F'lar for permission and received the nod. ". . . occasions when I
  have ventured South. On one such
  instance, Menolly and I were blown off course, far to the east where we
  came to rest in a beautiful cove,
  white-sanded, with red fruit trees abounding; the waters of the cove
  teemed with yellowtail and white
  fingerfish. The sun was warm and the waters of a stream just inland was
  sweet as wine." He looked into his
  cup wistfully. With a laugh, Jaxom refilled it. "I told D'ram of it, I've for-
  gotten why now. I'm reasonably certain
  I described it well enough for a dragon of Tiroth's abilities to find his way
  there."."D'ram would not wish to cause complications here," Lytol said
  slowly. "He'd have gone to a time when the
  Oldtimers were not in the South. A jump back of ten-twelve Turns
  wouldn't overtax Tiroth."
  "A point, Robinton, that might complicate matters," F'lar said. "If these
  creatures can remember significant
  
  "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.
  
  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
  chartmaking 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 wingsecond had taken Ramoth's
  first clutch back ten Turns to mature
  before Thread would fall again-an undertaking marked by partial suc-
  cess.
  "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 di-
  rectly?" F'lar asked, skeptical and somewhat contemptuous. "Brekke and
  F'nor keep trying to convince me of their usefulness, too."
  
  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
  
  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 toler-
  ance than Robinton had anticipated.
  "Well, they exist and can't be ignored. To the present problem, Robin-
  ton. How long is it likely to take your
  fire-lizard?"
  Just outside the Hold window a multivoiced squabbling arose, so obvi-
  ously 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, cluttering 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
  
  Beauty let out a startled squawk but immediately came to rest on the ta-
  ble. 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 was-
  n'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
  
  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 ei-
  ther side.
  "Where're those mines located that Toric's trading from?"
  "Here." Robinton's finger dropped to the foothill 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.
  
  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 amuse-
  ment in the lad's eyes. He began to
  wonder where fire-lizards had already led the white dragon. Would Me-
  nolly 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
  
  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
  
  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
  
  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 in-
  teractions. 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 in-
  terfering and turned to dull matters of
  Craft management which he had been delaying far too long.
  
  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 combina-
  tion 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.
  
  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 m 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 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 eat-
  ing."
  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 shriek
  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."
  "Do we actually know there are fire-lizards in this part of the South?"
  
  eat. It was so warm that he set aside his riding jacket and helmet. Ruth
  continued to enjoy a leisurely and
  lengthy bath as Menolly's fire-lizards performed alongside him, their
  combined show affording their indulgent
  audience considerable amusement.
  It got hotter, the white sands reflecting the sun's rays and baking the
  cove even where they were in shade.
  The clear water and the fun the beasts were having was too much for
  Jaxom to watch any longer. He
  unlaced his boots, wriggled out of his trousers, whipped off his shirt and
  raced for the water. Menolly was
  soon splashing beside him before he was a dragonlength from the
  shore.
  "We'd better not take too much sun," she told him. "I got a colossal
  burning the last time." She grimaced in
  recollection. "Peeled like a tunnel snake."
  Ruth erupted beside them, blowing out water, all but swamping them
  with strokes from his wings, and then,
  solicitously extending a helping tail as the two choked and spluttered
  from the water they'd swallowed.
  
  He preferred long hair in a girl though, with all the dragonriding Menolly
  did, he could see why she'd keep it
  short enough to wear under a helmet.
  They shared a yellow fruit which Jaxom had never eaten before. Its mild
  taste was well seasoned by the salt
  in his mouth.
  Ruth emerged from the water, shaking water all over Jaxom and Me-
  nolly.
  The sun is warm, he said when they complained of the shower. Your
  clothes will dry quickly. They always do
  at Keroon.
  Jaxom shot a glance at Menolly but she evidently hadn't caught the sig-
  nificance of the remark. She was
  resettling herself, disgusted by the wet sand that now speckled her
  clothes and bare arms.
  "It's not the wet that bothers," Jaxom told Ruth, as he brushed his face
  before lying down again, "it's the
  gritty sand."
  Ruth worked himself into a good wallow of dry sand and the fire-lizards,
  giving little tired cheeps, nestled
  down against him.
  
  greens, two golds and a blue. None of
  them wore neck paint or bands. As he watched, a brown came gliding in
  to land by one of the golds. The two
  exchanged nose touches and then cocked their heads at Ruth's head
  which was on the sand at their level.
  Ruth had the lids of one eye half-opened.
  Beauty, who had been asleep on the other side of Ruth, minced care-
  fully across the white dragon's
  shoulders and returned the courtesies of the strangers.
  "Ask them if they remember seeing a bronze dragon?" Jaxom thought to
  Ruth..I have. They're thinking about it. They like me. They've never seen
  anything like me before.
  "Nor will again." But Jaxom was amused at the delight in his dragon's
  tone. Ruth did so like to be liked.
  A long time ago there was a dragon, a bronze one, and a man who
  walked up and down the beach. They
  did not bother him. He didn't stay long, Ruth added, almost as an after-
  thought.
  Now what did that mean? Jaxom wondered, apprehensive. Either we
  came and got him. Or he and Tiroth
  suicided.
  
  They remember men. Why don't I remember such things?
  "And dragons?" Jaxom suppressed a spurt of alarm, wondering how on
  earth the Oldtimers could know he
  and Menolly were here. Then his common sense asserted itself. They
  couldn't know.
  He nearly jumped to his feet at the touch on his arm.
  "Find out when, Jaxom," Menolly said in a soft whisper, "when was
  D'ram here?"
  No dragons. But many many men, Ruth was saying and added that the
  fire-lizards were too excited now to
  remember anything about one man and a dragon. He didn't understand
  what they were remembering; each
  one seemed to have different memories. He was confused.
  "Do they know we're here?"
  They haven't seen you. They've only looked at me. But you aren't their
  men. Ruth's tone indicated he was as
  perplexed by this message as Jaxom.
  "Can't you get them back to the subject of D'ram?"
  No, Ruth said sadly and with some disappointment. All they want to re-
  member is men. Not my men, but their
  men.
  
  "Call them back, Ruth. We've got to find out when D'ram is."
  Ruth was silent for a moment, his eyes decreasing the speed of their
  whirl. Then he shook his head as he
  told his rider that they had gone away to remember their men.
  "They couldn't mean Southerners," Menolly said, having received some
  images from her friends. "That
  mountain is in the background of their images." And she turned in that
  direction though she couldn't see the
  mountain for the trees. "And they wouldn't have meant Robinton and
  myself when we got storm-tossed here.
  Did they remember a boat, Ruth?" Menolly asked the white dragon, then
  looked at Jaxom for the answer.
  No one told me to ask about a boat, Ruth said plaintively. But they did
  say they saw a man and a dragon.."Would they react if ... if Tiroth had gone
  between, Ruth?"
  By himself? To the end? Yes, they didn't remember sadness. I remem-
  ber sadness. I remember Mirath's
  going very well. The white dragon's tone was sad.
  Jaxom hurried to comfort him.
  "Did he?" Menolly asked anxiously, not hearing Ruth.
  
  part of the world. And Thread . . ." Jaxom had started toward the verge
  of the forest to test his theory. He
  called, "Hey, Menolly, Thread's only been falling for the past fifteen
  Turns. That wouldn't be too long a jump
  for Tiroth, They came forward in time at twenty-five Turn intervals. I'll bet
  anything that's his when, before
  Thread. D'ram's had enough of Thread for several lifetimes." Jaxom
  scrambled across the sand back to his
  clothes and continued talking as he got dressed. That sense of right-
  ness colored his speculation. "I'd say
  D'ram's gone back about twenty or twenty-five Turns. I'll try then first. If
  we see any sign of D'ram or Tiroth,
  we'll come right back, I promise." He vaulted to Ruth's back, fastening
  his helmet as he urged the white
  dragon to wing.
  "Jaxom, wait! Don't be so quick ..."
  Menolly's words were lost in the noise of Ruth's wings. Jaxom grinned to
  himself as he saw her jumping up
  and down in the sands in her frustration. He concentrated on the mo-
  ment in time to when he wished to jump:
  
  steeled himself for the ordeal. Then they
  were out in the cool dawn, the pink gleam of the Red Star low on the ho-
  rizon.
  "Can you sense Tiroth, Ruth?" Jaxom could see nothing in the crepus-
  cular light of this new day so many
  Turns before his birth.
  He sleeps, so does the man. They are here.
  Elation brimming inside him, Jaxom told Ruth to get back to Menolly but
  not too soon. Jaxom pictured the
  sun well over the forests and that was what he saw as Ruth burst back
  into now over the cove.
  For a moment he couldn't see Menolly on the beach. Then Beauty and
  the other two bronzes-it was Rocky
  who had accompanied him-exploded beside them. Beauty blistering the
  air with her angry comments, while
  Diver and Poll chittered anxiously. Then Menolly appeared from the for-
  est, planted both hands on her hip
  bones and just watched. He didn't need to see her face to know she
  was furious. She continued to glare
  balefully at him while Ruth settled to the sand, careful not to flick it over
  the girl.
  
  idea where you were!" She flung
  her arms wide with her exasperation. "You could've met up with those
  men the other fire-lizards saw. You
  could've miscalculated and never come back!"
  "I'm sorry, Menolly, really I am." Jaxom was genuinely contrite, if only to
  spare himself the sharp edge of her
  tongue. "But I couldn't remember what time it was when we left, so I
  made sure we didn't double up on
  ourselves coming back."
  She calmed down a trifle. "You didn't need to be that cautious. I was
  about to send Beauty for F'lar."
  "You were worried!"
  "Bloody right." She swooped and gathered up the pack, shrugging into
  her jacket and slapping her helmet
  on. "Incidentally I found the remains of a lean-to, near a stream back
  there," she said as she slung him the
  pack. Vaulting neatly to Ruth's back, she looked around for her fire-
  lizards that had disappeared. "Off again."
  She gave a call, and Jaxom instinctively ducked from the rush of wings
  about his head.
  
  extended, neck arching, eyes flashing
  with angry red. Startled, Menolly and Jaxom turned to see a fair of fire-
  lizards arrowing toward them.
  "They followed us from the South, Jaxom. Oh, tell them to go back!"
  The fair winked out abruptly.
  They only wanted to see where we came from, Ruth said to Jaxom in an
  aggrieved tone.
  "At Ruatha Hold, yes. Here, no!"
  They won't come again, Ruth said sadly. They got frightened.
  By that time the watchdragon's alarm had stirred up the Weyr. With
  sinking spirits, Jaxom and Menolly saw
  Mnementh raise himself on his ledge. They could hear Ramoth's bellow
  and before they had landed in the
  Bowl, half the dragons were bellowing, too. The unmistakable figures of
  Lessa and F'lar appeared on the
  ledge by Mnementh.
  "We're in for it now," Jaxom said.
  "Not as bearers of good tidings, we're not. Concentrate on that."
  "I'm too bloody tired to concentrate on anything," Jaxom replied with
  more feeling than he'd intended. His
  
  They'd taken no more than three steps, during which time Mnementh
  had turned his wedge-shaped head to
  F'lar, when the Weyrleader had spoken to Lessa and the two Benden
  leaders started down the steps, F'lar
  gesturing to Jaxom to move Ruth on to the killing ground.
  Mnementh is a kind friend, Ruth said. I may eat here. I am very very
  hungry.
  "Let Ruth go, Jaxom," F'lar was calling across the intervening distance.
  "He's gray!"
  Ruth did indeed look gray, Jaxom realized, which was the shade he
  himself felt, now that the exhilaration of
  their quest was ebbing. Relieved, he signaled the white dragon to pro-
  ceed to the ground.
  As he and Menolly walked toward the Weyrleaders, he felt his knees
  weaken unaccountably and he lurched
  against Menolly. She had her hand under his arm instantly.
  "What's the matter with him, Menolly? Is he ill?" F'lar strode to her as-
  sistance.
  "He jumped back twenty-five Turns to find D'ram. He's exhausted!"
  The next few moments were a blank to Jaxom. He re-established con-
  tact with the here and now when
  
  "Drink this slowly," Lessa ordered, curling his fingers about a warm cup.
  The soup was rich with meat juice,
  savory with herbs and just the right temperature for drinking. He took
  two long gulps and opened his mouth
  to speak when Lessa gestured him imperiously to keep drinking.
  "Menolly's given us the salient points," the Weyrwoman said, pulling a
  disapproving grimace. "But you
  disappeared long enough to scare Menolly out of her harpered wits.
  How under the sun did you conclude
  he'd gone twenty-five Turns back? Don't answer that yet. Drink. You're
  transparent and I'd never hear the
  last of it from Lytol if you came to any harm over this numbwitted esca-
  pade." She glared at her weyr-mate.
  "Yes, I've been worried over D'ram but not to the point where I would
  risk a fingertip of Ruth's hide to find
  him if he's trying that hard to be lost. Nor am I very pleased to find fire-
  lizards involved." She was tapping
  one foot now and her glare was divided equally between Menolly and
  Jaxom. "I still think they're pests.
  Barging in where they're not wanted. I suppose that unmarked fair that
  popped in followed you up from the
  
  "He certainly is neat," Lessa remarked approvingly. "Doesn't run a flock
  to bone making a choice. Can you
  stand, Jaxom? I think you'd best plan on spending the night here. Send
  one of those dratted fire-lizards of
  yours to Ruatha Hold, Menolly, and tell Lytol. It'll take Ruth time to di-
  gest anyhow and I won't permit this lad
  to risk between tired out of his mind and on a tired and sated
  dragon.".Jaxom got to his feet.
  "I'm all right now, thank you."
  "Not when you're leaning at that angle," F'lar said with a snort as he
  slipped one arm around Jaxom. "Up to
  the weyr."
  "I'll bring a proper meal," Manora promised and tamed to go. "You can
  help me, Menolly. And send your
  message."
  Menolly hesitated, obviously wanting to stay with Jaxom.
  "I don't intend to eat him, girl," Lessa said, shooing Menolly off. "Much
  less scold him when he's reeling. I'll
  save that for later. Come up to the weyr when you've sent word to
  Ruatha."
  
  Ramoth perceive his thoughts? Her
  jeweled eyes turned idly without a trace of agitation as he was solici-
  tously settled in a chair, and a foot rest
  positioned. When Lessa was spreading a fur over him, muttering about
  watching for chills after exertion, she
  paused, staring at him. She put her hand under his chin and turned his
  head slightly, then traced the line of
  Threadscore with a light finger.
  "Where did you acquire that, young Lord Jaxom?" she asked harshly,
  her eyes forcing him to look at her.
  F'lar, alerted by the tone in her voice, returned to the table with the wine
  and cups he'd taken from the wall
  chest.
  "Acquire what? Oh ho, the young man has trained his dragon to chew
  firestone but not to duck!"
  "I thought it was decided that Jaxom was to remain in Holding at
  Ruatha."
  "I thought you said you wouldn't scold him," F'lar replied as he winked at
  Jaxom.
  "About timing it. But this . . ." she gestured angrily at Jaxom, "this is en-
  tirely different."
  
  "Jaxom's training is Lytol's responsibility and we've no complaints on
  that score. As far as Ruth is
  concerned, I'd say that he too falls under N'ton's jurisdiction. How long
  has this been going on, Jaxom?"
  "Not that long, sir. I asked N'ton because . . . well . . ." Here Jaxom's
  conscience interfered with his glibness.
  Above all else, Lessa must not think he had any part in returning that
  blasted egg..F'lar rescued him. "Because Ruth is a dragon, and dragons
  ought to fight Thread with firestone? Right?" He
  shrugged at Lessa. "What did you expect? He's Ruathan-blooded, like
  yourself. Just keep your hide and
  Ruth's intact."
  "We haven't flown in a Threadfall yet," Jaxom admitted realizing as he
  spoke how much resentment showed
  in his voice.
  F'lar gave him a friendly clout on the shoulder.
  "He's a sound lad, Lessa, stop glowering. If he's singed himself once,
  he's less likely to risk doing so again.
  Was Ruth hurt?"
  "Yes!" The anguish of that experience was plain in Jaxom's admission.
  
  "I can't say that I like all this," Lessa said.
  "We would have asked you, Weyrwoman," Jaxom began, not entirely
  truthful, "but there was so much
  trouble just then. ..."
  "Well. .." she began.
  "Well," echoed F'lar, "it really isn't up to you, Lessa, but you do under-
  stand, Jaxom, how awkward it would
  be for you to be seriously hurt right now. We can't afford to have a major
  Hold in contention."
  "I appreciate that, sir."
  "Nor, I'm afraid, is it wise to press your confirmation as Lord Holder-"
  "I don't want Lytol to have to step down, sir. Not ever."
  "Your loyalty does you credit but I really can understand and appreciate
  your ambiguous position. It's never
  easy to be patient, my friend, but patience can be rewarding."
  Again Jaxom was embarrassed by the look that Lessa and F'lar ex-
  changed.
  "And," the Weyrleader continued more briskly, as if he realized Jaxom's
  discomfiture, "you've already proved
  your resourcefulness today, though, believe me, had I known you to be
  so thorough, I'd have been more
  
  Oldtimers forward. So I thought it likely that D'ram would go back that
  interval. It left him time enough before
  the Pass started so he wouldn't have to worry about Thread."
  F'lar nodded approvingly, and Lessa appeared somewhat mollified.
  Ramoth turned her head toward the entrance.."Your meal is coming,"
  Lessa said, smiling. "No more talk till you've eaten. Ruth's way ahead of
  you, just
  brought down his third wherry, Ramoth says."
  "Don't worry about a bird or three or four," F'lar said, for Jaxom had
  winced at this report of Ruth's greed.
  "The Weyr can support the meal."
  Menolly entered, breathing heavily from the climb and, to judge by the
  beads of perspiration on her brow,
  her haste. When Lessa exclaimed that she'd brought enough food to
  feed a fighting wing, Menolly replied
  that Manora said it was nearly dinnertime and they might as well all eat
  in the weyr.
  If anyone had told Jaxom that morning that he'd enjoy a comfortable
  diner with the Benden Weyrleaders,
  he'd have told them to open their glow baskets. Despite the reassur-
  ances of Mnementh and Ramoth that
  
  table.
  "You can't always get fire-lizards to explain," Menolly said, glancing first
  at Jaxom to see if he wished to
  answer. "They got so excited when Ruth asked them if they remem-
  bered men that their images made no
  sense. Actually," Menolly paused, drawing her brows together in con-
  centration, "the images were so varied
  that you didn't see much."
  "Why would their images be varied?" Lessa asked, interested in spite of
  her present antagonism to fire-lizards.
  "Generally a group will come up with one specific image ..."
  Jaxom inhaled wearily: she couldn't be foolish enough to mention the
  egg pictures.
  "They echoed Canth's fall from the Red Star. My friends will often come
  back with rather good images, I
  think each reinforcing the other, of places they've been."
  "Men!" F'lar said thoughtfully. "They could mean men elsewhere in the
  South. It is a vast continent."
  "F'lar!" Lessa's voice was sharp and warning. "You are not exploring the
  Southern Continent. And, might I
  
  that being Benden's Weyrleader and First Dragonrider of Pern might not
  be as enviable a position as he'd
  previously assumed.
  So often lately he'd come to realize that things were not as they
  seemed. There were hidden facets to
  everything. You'd think you had what you wanted in your grasp and,
  when you looked closely, it wasn't what
  it had seemed to be from a distance. Like teaching your dragon to chew
  firestone-and getting caught at it, in
  one sense, as he had. Now he had to train earnestly with N'ton's
  weyrlings, which was fine as far as it went
  but it didn't go far enough to please Jaxom-flying high in a Fort Weyr
  wing so his holders wouldn't even know
  he was there!
  "The problem is, Jaxom, that we," F'lar indicated Lessa, himself and the
  entire Weyr, "have other plans for
  the South-before the Lord Holders start parceling it out to their younger
  sons." He brushed his hair back from
  his face. "We learned a lesson from the Oldtimers, a valuable one. And I
  know what happens to a Weyr in a.long Interval." F'lar grinned broadly at
  Jaxom. "We've been mighty busy protecting land by seeding the
  
  seem to be in need of any reassurance.
  "True, but I'd prefer it if the Weyrs no longer needed the bounty of the
  Holds. If we had land enough of our
  own..."
  "You want the South!"
  "Not all of it."
  "Just the best part of it," said Lessa firmly.
  CHAPTER XI
  Late Morning at Benden Weyr, Early Morning at Harpercraft Hall, Mid-
  day at Rdello's Hold, 15.7.5
  JAXOM AND RUTH SPENT the night in an empty weyr, but Ruth felt
  sufficiently uneasy in a full-sized
  dragon bed that Jaxom bundled his furs and curled up against his
  mount. Jaxom was conscious of having to
  pull himself out of a soft, black enfolding pit from which he was loath to
  move.
  "I know you must be flattened with fatigue, Jaxom, but you've got to
  wake up!" Menolly's voice penetrated
  the comfortable darkness. "Besides, you'll get a pain in your neck
  sleeping like that."
  
  Menolly winked solemnly at Jaxom, turning her shoulder to mask her
  action from Mirrim. Jaxom groaned
  because he was never going to keep straight in his mind who knew what
  was to be kept secret or who could
  be told. He groaned again because his neck was indeed stiff.
  Ruth opened his inner lid just a crack, regarding his rider with displeas-
  ure. I am tired. I need to sleep.
  "You can't sleep any longer now. Mnementh needs to speak to you."
  Why didn't he speak to me last night?
  "Because he probably wouldn't have remembered today."
  Ruth's head came up and he turned one eye fully on Jaxom. Mnementh
  would. He is the biggest dragon on
  all Pern.
  "Just because he let you gorge yourself on his killing ground, you like
  him. But he wants to speak to you so
  you'd better. Are you awake?"
  If I am able to speak to you, I am not dreaming. I am awake.."You are a
  bold fellow today," Jaxom said. In one massive heave, he pulled himself out
  of his impromptu
  bed. Dragging the furs about him, he half-fell toward the table where
  Menolly and Mirrim had politely
  
  himself in preparation for the day.
  "When did you get Threadscored, Jaxom?" Mirrim asked with her usual
  forthrightness. She leaned over and
  traced the scar with a light touch, flattening her lips together in patent
  disapproval of the disfigurement.
  "Teaching Ruth to chew firestone. At Fort Weyr," he added, after a mali-
  cious pause as he saw her gathering
  herself to scold him.
  "Does Lessa know?" Mirrim asked, emphasizing the last word.
  "Yes," Jaxom replied. Let Mirrim digest that truth. But Mirrim wouldn't let
  some matters alone.
  "I don't think much of N'ton's weyrlingmaster then," she said, sniffing
  disapproval, "letting you get scored that
  way."
  "Not his fault," Jaxom mumbled through half-chewed bread.
  "Wasn't Lytol furious? You shouldn't be risking yourself."
  Jaxom shook his head vigorously. He did wish Menolly hadn't brought
  Mirrim with her.
  "And I just don't see what good it's going to do you. You can't expect to
  fight Ruth."
  Jaxom choked. "I am too going to fight Ruth, Mirrim."
  
  Surprised, Jaxom looked at Mirrim, who was flushing deeply red.
  "Oh ho. Path's ready to be flown! That'll sort out some of your high-
  headed notions." He couldn't resist
  crowing at her dismay. "Has Path shown a preference? Ha! Look at her
  blush! Never thought I'd see the day
  you'd lose the use of your tongue! And you'll be losing something more
  soon. I hope it's the wildest flight
  they've had at Benden since Mnementh first flew Ramoth!"
  Mirrim exploded, her eyes narrowed with her anger, hands clenched into
  fists at her sides. "At least my Path
  will be flown! That's more than you'll ever do, with that white runt of
  yours!"
  "Mirrim!" Menolly's sharp voice made the girl wince, but not soon
  enough to erase the angry retort that sank
  coldly into Jaxom's mind. He stared at Mirrim, trying to reject her taunt.
  "You take too much on yourself,
  Mirrim," Menolly was saying. "I think you'd better leave."."You just bet I'll
  leave. And I don't care if you have to climb down from this weyr, Menolly.
  Indeed I don't."
  Mirrim ran from the room.
  
  extending wings and legs. Jaxom only hoped that the dragon had been
  too sleepy to attend to what they had
  been saying. He leaned toward Menolly.
  "Do you know anything about . . ." he jerked his head at Ruth, "that I
  don't know?"
  "About Path?" Menolly deliberately misconstrued his direction. "Well, if
  you've never seen a rider reaction to
  a proddy dragon, Mirrim's given you a classic example."
  Path is a well-grown dragon, Ruth said thoughtfully. Jaxom groaned,
  covering his face with one hand; he
  should have known that Ruth missed little.
  Menolly tapped his hand imperiously, her eyes demanding an explana-
  tion.
  "Would you like to fly Path?" Jaxom asked Ruth, his eyes meeting Me-
  nolly's.
  Why should I fly her? I have already outflown her in every race we flew
  at Telgar. She isn't as fast as I am in
  the air.
  Jaxom repeated to Menolly exactly what Ruth had said, trying to keep
  his voice as close to Ruth's puzzled
  tone as possible.
  
  Menolly's hand to bring her closer to him.
  "You heard him, Jaxom." Menolly's eyes were bright with amusement.
  "He's simply not interested in
  dragons, not that way yet."
  Jaxom gave her hand a hard squeeze.
  "Just think logically,, Jaxom," she said, leaning over to him. "Ruth's
  small, he's maturing more slowly than
  other dragons."
  "You mean, he may never mature enough to mate, don't you?"
  Menolly regarded him steadily and he searched her eyes for pity or eva-
  sion, and found neither. "Jaxom,
  aren't you enjoying Corana?"
  "Yes, I am."
  "You're upset. I don't think you need be. I have never heard a word to
  suggest you should worry. Only that
  Ruth is unusual.".I have told Mnementh what he wishes to know. They
  go now, Ruth said. Do you think I could take a bath in
  the lake?
  "Didn't you get enough bathing yesterday in the cove?" Jaxom was re-
  lieved to find himself answering his
  dragon calmly.
  
  pression.
  "Wants his back scrubbed."
  "I'll send my friends to you, Ruth, once you're at the lake. Lessa won't
  notice."
  Ruth paused in his progress to the weyr entrance, cocking his head,
  patently considering. Then he arched
  his neck and moved forward confidently. Yes, Mnementh has gone and
  Ramoth with him. They will not know
  that I will have a real bath with fire-lizards to scrub my ridges property.
  Jaxom couldn't help but laugh at the smug satisfaction in Ruth's tone as
  he left the weyr.
  "Sorry about inflicting Mirrim on you, Jaxom, but I couldn't get up to this
  level without Path. And her."
  Jaxom took a long sip of klah. "I suppose, if Path's proddy, she has to
  be excused."
  "Mirrim usually is, one way or another." Menolly's tone was acid.
  "Huh?"
  "Mirrim generally gets away with outrageous behavior."
  A sudden thought caused Jaxom to interrupt the harper girl abruptly.
  "You don't think Mirrim did sneak onto
  
  pressed Path? Well, no one came forward
  then to say they'd ever seen Mirrim sneaking onto the Ground and they
  would have! Mirrim can be
  managing, tactless, difficult and exasperating, but she's not devious.
  Weren't you at the Hatching? Oh, well,
  I was. Path came staggering over to the spot where Mirrim was sitting,
  crying her heart out and refusing
  every single candidate on the Ground until F'lar was forced to decide
  that Path wanted someone sitting
  among the spectators."
  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, des-
  tined to be as you and Ruth. Not at all
  like my acquisition of Poll. As if I needed another fire-lizard." She grim-
  aced 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 hid-
  ing? What is it that you know
  
  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 twin-
  kled. "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 compre-
  hension, she did not want him to
  
  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
  
  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 gath-
  ered 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.
  
  still nursing a bit of resentment as he slapped the arched neck affec-
  tionately. 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 Hail'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 spec-
  tacular 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 aston-
  ished to see Master Robinton grinning
  with smug pleasure, an expression quickly altered when he noticed
  Jaxom's regard.
  
  command a measure of your time after so long an
  absence?"
  Jaxom was gratified to see Menolly caught by uncertainty and confu-
  sion. 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
  
  "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?"
  
  "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 inter-
  esting, very interesting indeed.".The Harper began to pace, stroking Zair,
  who chittered reprovingly.
  Jaxom glanced out the window at Ruth, sunning himself in the court-
  yard, 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
  
  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. At
  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
  
  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. Mir-
  rim'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
  
  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
  
  mind at inconvenient times during his
  waking hours and had to be rigidly suppressed before a hint of his anxi-
  ety 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 maneu-
  ver. 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 real-
  ized that K'nebel was apparently
  wondering if Jaxom and Ruth were going to join those waiting for the
  green to launch herself.
  
  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 rid-
  ers half-ran, half-stumbled to the
  Lower Caverns and the chamber reserved there..Jaxom had never wit-
  nessed 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 Mir-
  rim's Path, which rider had...The touch
  on his shoulder made him Jump and cry out.
  
  green gets caught."
  Then Jaxom realized that the rest of the wing had dispersed. With a
  second encouraging clap on Jaxom's
  back, K'nebel walked off toward his bronze, agilely mounting and urging
  the beast up toward their weyr.
  Jaxom thought of the skyborne beasts. Unwillingly he thought of their
  riders in the inner room, linked to their
  dragons in an emotional struggle that was resolved in a strengthening
  and fusing of the links between
  dragons and riders. Jaxom thought of Mirrim. And of Corana.
  With a groan, he sprang on Ruth's neck, fleeing the emotional atmos-
  phere of Fort Weyr, trying to flee from
  his sudden realization of what he had probably always known about rid-
  ers but had only this very morning
  assimilated.
  He had intended to go to the lake to immerse himself in the cold waters
  and let that icy shock cure his body
  and chill the torment in his mind. But Ruth took him instead to the Pla-
  teau Hold.
  "Ruth! The lake. Take me to the lake!"
  
  Ruth achieved a landing on the narrow margin between grain and wall.
  Corana, recovering from surprise at
  his unexpected arrival, waved a welcome. Instead of rushing toward him
  as she usually did, she smoothed
  back her hair and blotted the perspiration beading her face.
  "Jaxom," she began as he strode toward her, the urgency in his loins in-
  creasing at the sight of her, "I wish
  you wouldn't-"
  He silenced her half-teasing scold with a kiss, felt something hard clout
  him along his side. Pinning her
  against him with his right arm, he found the offending hoe with his left
  hand. Wrenching it from her grasp, he
  spun it away from them. Corana wriggled to get free, as unprepared for
  this mood in him as he was. He held
  her closer, trying to temper the pressures rising within him until she
  could respond. She smelled of the earth
  and her own sweat. Her hair, covering his face as he kissed her throat
  and breast, also smelled of sun and
  sweat, and the odors excited him further. Somewhere in the back of his
  mind was a green dragon, shrieking
  
  just hoed soft under his elbows and knees. The sun was warm on his
  buttocks as he tried to erase the
  memory of those riders half-stumbling toward the inner room, and the
  mocking taunt of a green dragon in
  flight. He did not resist or deny Ruth's familiar beloved touch as his or-
  gasm released the turmoil of body and
  mind.
  Jaxom could not bring himself to go to weyrling practice the next morn-
  ing. Lytol and Brand were out early,
  riding to a distant holding with the fosterlings so no one questioned his
  presence. When he left the Hold in.the afternoon, he firmly directed Ruth to
  the lake and scrubbed and scrubbed his dragon until Ruth meekly
  asked what was the matter.
  "I love you, Ruth. You are mine. I love you," Jaxom said, wanting with all
  his heart to be able to add, with his
  former blithe confidence, that he would do anything in the world for his
  friend. "I love you!" he repeated
  through gritted teeth and dove from Ruth's back as deeply as he could
  into the ice-cold waters of the lake.
  Perhaps I am hungry, Ruth said as Jaxom fought the pressure of water
  and airlessness in his lungs.
  
  his foolishness the moment the deathly chill of between compounded
  the dampness about his neck. He'd
  surely contract a distressingly uncomfortable head cold from such stu-
  pidity.
  Ruth hunted with his usual dispatch. Fire-lizards, local by their band col-
  ors, arrived, apparently invited by the
  white dragon to share the feast. Jaxom watched, freer to think while
  Ruth was totally involved with hunting
  and eating. Jaxom was not pleased with himself. He was thoroughly
  disgusted and revolted by the way he
  had used Corana. The fact that she seemed to have matched what he
  had to admit was a violent lust
  dismayed him. Their relationship, once innocent pleasure, had some-
  how been sullied. He wasn't at all
  certain that he cared to continue as her lover, an attitude that posed an-
  other unpleasant burden of guilt. One
  point in his favor, he had helped her finish the hoeing his importunity
  had interrupted. That way she'd not be
  in trouble with Fidello for shorting her task. The young grain was impor-
  tant. But he ought not to have taken
  Corana like that. Doing so was inexcusable.
  
  Ruth was padding up from the field as he spoke, having disposed of two
  fat wherries without leaving much
  for the fire-lizards to pick over. Jaxom regarded his friend, the whirl of
  the jeweled eyes slowing as the red of
  hunger paled into dark violet and then the blue of contentment.
  "Do you like what you hear? Our lovemaking?"
  Jaxom asked, abruptly deciding to air his concern.
  Yes. You enjoy it so much. It is good for you. I like it to be good for you.
  Jaxom jumped to his feet, consumed by frustration and guilt. "But don't
  you want it for yourself? Why are you
  always worried about me? Why didn't you go fly that green?"
  Why does that worry you? Why should I fly the green?
  "Because you're a dragon."
  I am a white dragon. Blues and browns, and occasionally a bronze, fly
  greens.."You could have flown her. You could have flown her, Ruth!"
  I did not wish to. You are upset again. I have upset you. Ruth extended
  his neck, his nose gently touching
  Jaxom's face in apology.
  Jaxom threw his arms about Ruth's neck, burrowing his forehead
  against the smooth, spicy-smelling hide,
  
  "Yes," Jaxom said, wearily admitting defeat, "we are together."
  A chill shook Jaxom and he sneezed. Shells, if he was heard sneezing
  about the Hold, he'd be subjected to
  some of those noxious medicines Deelan foisted on everyone. He
  closed his jacket, folded the now dry
  bathing sheet about his neck and chest and mounting Ruth, suggested
  that they get back to the Hold as fast
  as possible.
  He escaped the dosing only because he kept out of Deelan's way by
  staying in his own quarters. He
  announced that he was occupied in a task for Robinton and did not care
  to interrupt it for the evening meal.
  He hoped that his sneezing would abate by evening. Lytol would be
  sure to visit him, which reminded Jaxom
  that if he didn't have something to show for his afternoon's occupation
  Lytol might be difficult. Actually,
  Jaxom had wanted to set down his observations about that beautiful
  cove, with the cone of the huge
  mountain center so neatly in its curve. Using the soft carbon stick that
  Master Bendarek had developed to
  
  the door broke his concentration. He
  sniffed mightily before calling permission to enter.
  His voice didn't seem too affected by the congestion in his head.
  Lytol entered, greeted Jaxom and approached the worktable, eyes
  courteously averted from the contents.
  "Ruth did eat today?" he asked, "because N'ton sent to remind you that
  Thread falls north and you could fly
  with the wing. Ruth will have sufficient time to digest, won't he?"
  "He'll be just fine," Jaxom replied, aware of both an excitement and a
  sense of inevitability at the prospect of
  fighting Thread from Ruth's back.
  "Have you then completed your training with the weyrlings?"
  So Lytol had noticed his morning's delinquency from the Weyr. Jaxom
  also heard the faint note of surprise in
  his guardian's voice.
  "Well, you might say that I've learned about all I'd need to know since
  I'm not to fly regularly with a fighting
  wing. I've done this sketch of D'ram's cove. That's where we found him.
  Isn't it beautiful?" He offered the leaf
  to Lytol.
  
  he could recall.
  "Forest extends to low hills, but we stayed on the beach, of course-"
  "Beautiful! One can appreciate why the Harper remembered the place
  so clearly."
  With a noticeable reluctance, Lytol replaced the leaf on Jaxom's table.
  "The drawing is a poor image of the real place," he said to his guardian,
  letting his voice end on an upward
  note. It wasn't the first time Jaxom regretted Lytol's aversion to riding on
  dragonback for any but the most
  vital excursions.
  Lytol favored Jaxom with a brief smile, shaking his head. "It is good
  enough to guide a dragon, I'm sure. But
  do remember to tell me when you've the notion to return there."
  With that Lytol bade him good evening, leaving Jaxom a trifle unsettled.
  Was Lytol giving him oblique
  permission to go back to the cove? Why? Critically, Jaxom examined
  the sketch, wondering if he really had
  drawn the trees correctly. It would be nice to go back there again. Say,
  after Threadfall, if flying didn't
  overtire Ruth ...
  
  have a definite objective, it would be very good. Neither F'lar nor Lessa
  had forbidden him to return to the
  cove. It was certainly far enough away from the Southern Hold to put
  him in no danger of compromising the
  Weyrleaders. Now if he could learn more about the men, he'd be doing
  Robinton a favor. He might even be
  able to find a clutch somewhere along that coastline. Maybe that's what
  Lytol had had in mind by giving him
  that oblique permission. Of course! Why hadn't Jaxom realized that be-
  fore?
  Threadfall was calculated to arrive the next morning at just past the
  ninth hour. Although Jaxom was not to
  ride out in his usual place with the flamethrower crews, he was never-
  theless awakened early by a drudge
  who brought him a tray of klah and sweetbread as well as a package of
  meatrolls for his lunch.
  Jaxom was conscious of a stuffiness in his head, a tightness in his
  throat and a general sense of unfitness.
  Under his breath he cursed himself for that moment's thoughtlessness
  that was going to make his first
  
  Holders were bustling about the courtyard, mounting runners, securing
  flamethrowers and equipment. The
  watchdragon and the hold fire-lizards were chewing firestone on the
  heights. Catching Lytol's eye where the
  Lord Warder stood on the top step of the Hold entrance, Jaxom ges-
  tured skyward, saw Lytol salute in reply
  before he continued giving orders for the day's emergency. Jaxom
  sneezed once more, an exhalation that
  rocked him back on his heels.
  Are you all right? Ruth's eyes whirled faster in concern.
  "For a damn fool who's caught a cold, yes, I'm all right. Let's get going.
  I'm boiling inside these furs.".Ruth complied and Jaxom was more comfort-
  able with wind cooling the sweat from his face. He had Ruth fly
  direct to the Weyr for they had plenty of time. He would never be foolish
  enough to go between again in a
  sweat. Maybe he'd better change to lighter flying gear once at the Fort.
  He'd be warm enough once they
  were fighting Thread. However, the Weyr was situated higher in the
  mountains than Ruatha Hold and he did
  not feel overheated once they landed.
  
  himself a large mug of steaming klah, hoping that would revive him. He
  felt miserable, his nose clogging
  repeatedly.
  Fortunately the noise of so many dragons chewing stone masked his fits
  of sneezing. If this wasn't to be his
  very first time to fight Ruth, Jaxom might have hesitated about continu-
  ing. Then he convinced himself that
  since the weyrlings would undoubtedly be flying in the wake of the other
  wings on the after-edge of
  Threadfall, he could probably keep from having to go between fre-
  quently, if at all, and so he would run little
  risk of aggravating the congestion. He didn't fancy sneezing just as Ruth
  had to duck between to avoid
  Thread.
  N'ton and Lioth appeared on the Star Stones, Lioth bugling for silence
  as the Weyrleader raised his arm.
  Fort's four queens flanked the big bronze, larger than he but, in Jaxom's
  eyes, only enhancing his
  magnificence with their brilliance. Dragons on all weyr ledges listened to
  Lioth's silent orders and then the
  
  His hesitation was noticed by the weyrlingmaster, who gave him a curt
  signal to take his assigned position.
  So Jaxom directed Ruth upward to the Star Stones. As Ruth landed
  neatly on the left-hand side of Selianth,
  the youngest Fort queen, Jaxom wondered if he looked as silly as he
  felt, dwarfed by the golden dragon.
  Lioth bugled again and the Weyrleaders took off from the Star Stones,
  dropping far enough for wing room
  before rising on strongly beating wings to the sky. Ruth needed no room
  at all for takeoff and hovered briefly
  before taking his position beside Selianth. Prilla, her rider, waved an en-
  couraging fist and then Ruth told
  Jaxom that Lioth was giving him the command to go between to meet
  Threadfall.
  When they emerged above the barren hills of northern Ruatha, Jaxom
  found himself responding to an
  exhilaration he had never before experienced on Ruth. The wings of the
  fighting dragons spread above and
  all around his lower level position in the queens' wing. The sky ap-
  peared to be full of dragons, all facing
  east, the highest wing the first to contact the imminent Fall of Thread.
  
  no further time for speculation as
  he, too, glimpsed the filming of the clear sky, that graying that heralded
  the advent of Thread..Selianth wants me to stay above her at all times so
  her flamethrower won't singe me, Ruth said, his mental
  tone muffled as he retained fire-breath. He altered his position and now
  all the wings began to move.
  The gray film visibly turned into the silver rain of Thread. Gouts of flame
  blossomed in the sky as the forward
  dragons seared their ancient mindless enemy into charred dust.
  Jaxom's excitement was tempered by the
  endless drills he had performed with the weyrlings, and by the cold logic
  of caution. He and Ruth would not
  return Threadscored today!
  The queens' wing nosed slightly earthward, to fly under the first wave of
  dragons, set to destroy whatever
  shred might have eluded the first flames. They flew through patches of
  fine dust, the residue of crisped
  Thread. Wheeling sharply, the queens' wing tamed back and now
  Jaxom did spy a silver strand. Urging an
  all too willing Ruth upward, Jaxom heard his white dragon warn others
  off as the novice team encountered
  
  From that moment onward, throughout the Fall, Jaxom had no time for
  further thought. He became aware of
  the rhythm to the queens' wing pattern. Margatta on her golden Luduth
  seemed to have an uncanny instinct
  for those heavier patches that could escape even the closest flying
  wing. Each time the queens would be
  under the silver rain, destroying it. It became apparent to Jaxom that his
  position in the queens' wing was
  neither sinecure nor protective. The golden dragons could cover more
  territory in the air, but they were not
  as maneuverable. Ruth was. Ever maintaining his upper position, the lit-
  tle white dragon could flit from one
  side of the queens' V formation to the other, assisting wherever he was
  needed.
  Abruptly, the Thread stopped falling. The upper reaches of the sky were
  clear of the graying mist. The
  highest wing began to circle down leisurely, to begin the final phase of
  the defense, the low-level sweep
  which assisted ground crews in locating any trace of viable Thread.
  The exhilaration of combat drained from Jaxom and his physical dis-
  comfort began to manifest itself. His
  
  made such an issue of flying with the fighting wings that he must com-
  plete the exercise. Dutifully he
  continued on above the queens.
  The big queen says we must go, Ruth said suddenly, before the ground
  crews see us.
  Jaxom glanced down at Margatta and saw her signal of dismissal. He
  could not suppress the sense of injury
  that gesture gave him. He hadn't expected a round of cheers but he did
  think that he and Ruth had acquitted
  themselves well enough to rate some indication of approval. Had they
  done something wrong? He could not
  think with his head hot and aching. But he obeyed, directing Ruth to
  change flight to the Hold when he saw
  Selianth rise toward him. Prilla gave her right fist the pumping motion
  that signaled well done and thanks.
  Her recognition reduced his grievance.
  We fought well and no Thread passed us, Ruth said in a hopeful tone. I
  was quite comfortable sustaining my
  flame.
  "You were marvelous, Ruth. You were such a clever dodger, we didn't
  have to go between once." Jaxom
  
  buoyed up by Ruth's ingenuous satisfaction.
  It was also obscurely comforting to find the Hold occupied by a few
  drudges only. The other Thread fighters
  were hours away from the rewards he could now enjoy. While Ruth
  drank long and deep at the courtyard
  well, Jaxom asked a drudge to bring him any warm food available and a
  mug of wine.
  As Jaxom entered his own quarters to change out of his stinking fighting
  gear, he passed his worktable and,
  seeing the cove sketch, remembered his promise of the previous even-
  ing. He thought longingly of the hot
  sun in that cove. It'd bake the cold out of his bones and dry the wetness
  in his head and chest.
  I would like to swim in the water, Ruth said.
  "You're not too tired, are you?"
  I am tired but I would like to swim in the cove and then lie in the sand. It
  would be good for you, too.
  "It'd suit me down to the shell," Jaxom said as he stripped off the fighting
  clothes. He was pulling on fresh
  riding furs when the drudge, tapping nervously on the half-open door,
  arrived with the food.
  
  groaned. The cove was halfway on the other side of the world, and the
  sun which he had wanted to bake the
  illness out of his body would be well down now on the cove's horizon.
  It will remain warm enough long enough, Ruth said. I really want to go
  there.
  "We'll go, we'll go!" Jaxom gulped down the last of the hot wine, and
  reached for the toasted bread and
  cheese. He didn't feel hungry. In fact the smell of the food made his
  stomach queasy. He rolled up one of his
  sleeping furs, to keep the sand off his skin, slung the small pack over his
  shoulder and started out of his
  quarters. He'd leave word with the drudge. No, that wasn't sufficient.
  Jaxom whirled back to his table, the
  pack banging against his ribs. He wrote a quick note to Lytol and left it
  propped up between mug and plate
  where it was clearly visible.
  When are we going? Ruth asked, plaintive now with his impatience to
  be clean and to wallow in the warm
  sands.
  "I'm coming. I'm coming!" Jaxom detoured through the kitchens, scoop-
  ing up some meatrolls and cheese.
  
  "Gone to dust, all of it. I'm away to wash the stink from both our
  hides.".The yellow tinge in Ruth's whirling eyes was reproachful but Jaxom
  paid that no heed as he scrambled to
  the dragon's neck, loosely fastening the fighting straps which would
  need to be soaked and sunned as well.
  They were airborne in such haste that Jaxom was glad he had the
  straps about him. Ruth achieved only the
  barest minimum of wing room before he transferred them between.
  CHAPTER XXXL
  A Cove in the Southern Continent, 15.7.7-15.8.7
  JAXOM ROUSED, felt something wet slip down from his forehead
  across his nose. He irritably brushed it
  aside.
  You are feeling better? Ruth's voice held a volume of wistful hope that
  astonished his rider.
  "Feel better?" Not quite awake, Jaxom attempted to lift himself up on
  one elbow but he couldn't move his
  head, which seemed to be wedged.
  Brekke says to lie still.
  "Lie still, Jaxom," Brekke ordered. He felt her hand on his chest pre-
  venting his movement.
  
  worried. I called Brekke. She is a
  healer. She heard me. I couldn't leave you. She came with F'nor on
  Canth. Then F'nor went for the other
  one.
  "Have I been sick a long time?" Jaxom was dismayed to think he'd
  needed two nurses. He hoped that the
  "other one" wasn't Deelan.
  "Several days," Brekke replied, but Ruth seemed to think a longer pe-
  riod of time. "You'll be all right now. The
  fever's finally broken."
  "Lytol knows where I am?" Jaxom opened his eyes then, found them
  covered by the compress and reached
  to pull it away. But spots danced in front of his eyes, even shielded by
  the fabric of the compress, and he
  groaned and closed his lids.
  "I told you to lie still. And don't open your eyes or try to remove the ban-
  dage," Brekke said, giving his hand a
  little slap. "Of course Lytol knows. F'nor took word to him immediately. I
  sent word when your fever had
  broken. Menolly's has too."
  "Menolly? How could she catch my cold? She was with Sebell."
  
  at the sun?"
  "That's it."
  Brekke patted his arm. "That's normal, isn't it, Sharra? How long do they
  generally last?"
  "As long as the headache. So keep your eyes covered, Jaxom." Sharra
  spoke slowly, almost slurring her
  words but her low voice had a rich lilt that made him wonder if she
  looked as good as her voice sounded. He
  doubted it. No one could. "Don't you dare look about. You've still got
  that headache, haven't you? Well, keep
  your eyes closed. We've got the place as dark as we can but you could
  do permanent damage to your eyes
  if you're not careful right now."
  Jaxom felt Brekke adjust the compress. "Menolly got sick, too?"
  "Yes, but Master Oldive sent word that she's responding to the medicine
  very well." Brekke hesitated. "Of
  course, she hadn't flown Thread or gone between, which aggravated the
  illness for you."
  Jaxom groaned. "I've gone between with a cold before and got no worse
  for it."
  
  The juice was cool in his mouth and so mild in taste that he couldn't fig-
  ure out from which fruit it came. But it
  was just what he wanted, not tart enough to irritate moisture-starved tis-
  sues in his mouth and throat, and not
  sweet enough to be nauseating to his empty stomach. He finished it and
  asked for more, but Brekke told him
  he'd had enough. He should try to sleep now.
  "Ruth? Are you all right?"
  Now that you are yourself again, I will eat. I will not go far. I don't need
  to.
  "Ruth?" Alarmed by the thought that his dragon had neglected himself,
  Jaxom injudiciously tried to raise his
  head. The pain was incredible.
  "Ruth is perfectly all right, Jaxom," Brekke said in a stern voice. Her
  hands had already pushed his
  shoulders flat to the bed. "Ruth's been covered with fire-lizards, and he's
  been bathed regularly morning and
  evening. He's never been more than two lengths from you. I've reas-
  sured him on every concern." Jaxom
  groaned, having completely forgotten that Brekke could speak to any
  dragon. "F'nor and Canth have hunted
  
  through distorted memories of being hot and cold. He distinctly remem-
  bered reaching the cove, staggering
  into the shade, collapsing at the base of a redfruit tree, struggling to
  reach the cluster of fruit, longing for the
  liquid to cool his parched mouth and throat. That must have been when
  Ruth realized he was ill..Jaxom could vaguely recall fevered glimpses of
  Brekke and F'nor, could remember pleading with them to
  bring Ruth to him. He supposed they had erected some kind of tempo-
  rary hold for shelter. Sharra had said
  something to that effect. He extended his left arm slowly, moved it up
  and down, without contacting more
  than the frame of the bed. He extended his right arm.
  "Jaxom?" He heard Sharra's soft voice. "And Ruth too fast asleep him-
  self to warn me. Are you thirsty?" She
  didn't sound contrite that she'd been asleep. She made a small sound of
  dismay as she touched the now dry
  compress. "Don't open your eyes."
  She removed the bandage and he heard her dipping it in liquid, wringing
  it out and then he shivered at its
  touch on his skin. He reached up, holding the bandage against his fore-
  head, lightly at first and then with
  
  head so you can't move.
  Remember?" She guided his hands to them, then moved the restraints
  aside. "Turn your head, just a little
  now, from side to side. If your skin is no longer sensitive, you may be
  over the worst of the fire-head."
  Gingerly he rotated his head, left and then right. He made a bolder mo-
  tion. "It doesn't hurt. It actually doesn't
  hurt."
  "Oh, no, you don't." Sharra grabbed his wrist as he reached for the
  compress. "I've a night light on. Wait till I
  shield it. The less light, the better."
  He heard her fumbling with a glow-basket shield. "All right now?"
  "I'm only permitting you to try," she stressed the last word as she cov-
  ered his hand on the bandage with
  hers, "because it's a moonless hour of night and you couldn't do any
  harm. If you see even the tiniest patch
  of glare, cover your eyes instantly."
  "It's that dangerous?"
  "It can be."
  Slowly she peeled the bandage back.
  "I don't see anything!"
  
  bled carefully into his eyes. He blinked furiously, complained
  loudly. "I told you to hush, you'll wake Brekke. She's worn out. Now,
  does that clear the sand?"
  "Yes, it's much better. I didn't mean to be so much trouble."
  "Oh? I thought you'd planned all this on purpose."
  Jaxom caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips, holding it as
  fast as his weakened condition
  permitted because she gasped at the kiss and withdrew her hand.
  "Thanks!"
  "I'm putting your bandage back on," she said, the reproach in her voice
  unmistakable.
  Jaxom chuckled, pleased to have disconcerted her. His only regret was
  the lack of light. He could see that
  she was slender. Her voice, despite her firmness, sounded young.
  Would her face be lovely enough to
  match that voice?
  "Please drink all this juice," she said, and he felt the straw against his
  lips. "Another good sleep now and
  you're over the worst of it."
  "You're a healer?" Jaxom was dismayed. Her voice had sounded so
  young. He'd assumed she was a
  
  his call. It didn't seem courteous to
  inquire where Sharra was. Nor could he ask Ruth since Brekke could
  hear the exchange. But Sharra had
  evidently told Brekke of his middle-of-the-night awakening because her
  voice sounded lighter, almost gay as
  she greeted him. To celebrate his recovery, she permitted him a cup of
  weak klah and a bowl of moistened
  sweetbread.
  Warning him to keep his eyes closed, she changed the bandage but the
  replacement was not as dense and
  when he opened his eyes, cautiously, he could distinguish light and dark
  areas about him.
  Midday he was allowed to sit up and eat the light meal Brekke provided,
  but even that slight activity
  exhausted him. Nonetheless he complained petulantly to Brekke when
  she offered him more juice to drink.
  "Fellis-laced? Am I expected to sleep my life away?"
  "Oh, you'll be making up for this lost time, I assure you," she replied, a
  cryptic remark that puzzled him as he
  drifted off to sleep again.
  
  "Lytol will be immensely relieved.
  But if you ever," N'ton's harsh voice reflected his anxieties, "attempt to
  fight Thread again when you're ill, I'll
  ... I'll . . . I'll throw you to Lessa's mercies."."I didn't think I'd more than a
  stuffed head, N'ton," Jaxom replied, nervously poking at grassy bumps in
  his
  bedbag. "And it was my first Fall on Ruth . . ."
  "I know, I know," N'ton said, his tone considerably less reproving. "You
  couldn't have known you were
  coming down with fire-head. You owe your life to Ruth, you know. F'nor
  says Ruth has more sense than
  most people. Half the dragons on Pern wouldn't have known what to do
  with their rider delirious; they would
  have been totally confused by the confusion in their riders' minds. No,
  you and Ruth are in very good odor at
  Benden. Very good! You just concentrate on getting your strength back.
  And when you're feeling stronger,
  D'ram said he'd be glad to bear you company and show you some of the
  interesting things he found while he
  was here."
  "He didn't mind me and Ruth following him?"
  
  shoulder for balance.
  "How's Menolly? Is she recovering? Tell Lytol that I'm very sorry to
  cause him worry!"
  "He knows that, Jaxom. And Menolly's much better. I've seen her, too.
  She had a lighter touch of fire-head
  than you did. Sebell recognized the symptoms almost immediately and
  called in Oldive. Don't be in a rush to
  get up, though."
  As glad as he'd been for N'ton's visit, Jaxom was relieved that it had
  been short. He felt limp and his head
  began to ache.
  "Brekke?" Could he be having a relapse?
  "She's with N'ton, Jaxom."
  "Sharra! My head is aching." He couldn't help the waver in his voice.
  Her cool hand touched his cheek. "No fever, Jaxom. You tire quickly,
  that's all. Sleep now."
  The reasonable words, spoken in her gentle rich voice lulled him and,
  though he wanted to remain awake,
  his eyes closed. Her fingers massaged his forehead, descended to his
  neck, gently smoothing the tension,
  all the while her voice encouraged him to rest, to sleep. And he did.
  
  tensing, just then aware that his eyes were no longer bandaged and his
  vision was unimpaired.
  "Jaxom?"
  Twisting around, he saw Sharra's tall figure swing from the hammock,
  noticed the length of dark hair
  streaming about her shoulders, obscuring her face.
  "Sharra!"."Your eyes, Jaxom?" she asked in a hushed worried tone and
  walked swiftly to his bed.
  "My eyes are just fine, Sharra," he replied, catching her hand in his,
  keeping her where he could see her
  face clearly in the dim light. "Oh, no, you don't," he said with a low laugh
  as she tried to break his hold. "I've
  been waiting to see what you looked like."
  With his free hand, he pushed aside the hair that covered her face.
  "And?" She drawled the word in proud defiance, unconsciously straight-
  ening her shoulders and tossing her
  hair back.
  Sharra was not pretty. He'd expected that. Her features were too ir-
  regular, in particular her nose was too
  long for her face, and though her chin well shaped it was a shade too
  firm for beauty. But her mouth had a
  
  "You've succeeded." He exerted pressure on her hand, pulling her still
  closer. It was immensely important to
  him to determine her age.
  She laughed softly, wriggling her fingers in his tight grasp. "Let me go
  now, Jaxom, be a good boy!"
  "I am not good and I am not a boy." He had spoken with a low intensity
  which drove the good-natured
  amusement from her expression. She returned his gaze steadily and
  then gave him a small smile.
  "No, you're neither good nor a boy. You've been a very sick man and it's
  my job," she stressed the word just
  slightly as he let her withdraw her hand from his, "to make you well
  again."
  "The sooner, the better." Jaxom lay back, smiling up at her. She'd be
  nearly his height when he stood, he
  thought. That they would be able to look eye to eye appealed to him.
  She gave him one long, slightly puzzled look and then, with a cryptic
  shrug, turned away from him, gathering
  her hair and twining it neatly about her head as she left the room.
  Although neither of them mentioned that dawn confidence, afterward
  Jaxom found it easier to accept the
  
  Some note in her voice bothered him, though. ". . . so incoherent, they
  make no sense?" He had babbled his
  head off, then. Not that he minded about Brekke if he had said some-
  thing about that dratted queen egg. But
  if Sharra had heard? She was from the Southern Hold. Would she be as
  quick to discount his ramblings
  about that double-blasted shard-shelled egg? He couldn't relax. What
  wretched luck to fall ill when you had a
  secret that must be kept! He worried over that until he fell asleep, and
  picked right up on the same train of
  thought the next morning, though he forced himself to be cheerful as he
  listened to Ruth bathing with the
  fire-lizards..He comes, Ruth said suddenly, sounding startled. And
  D'ram brings him.
  "D'ram brings whom?" Jaxom asked.
  "Sharra," Brekke called from the other room, "our guests have arrived.
  Would you escort them from the
  beach?" She came quickly into Jaxom's room, smoothing the light blan-
  ket and peering intently at his face.
  "Is your face clean? How are your hands?" "Who's coming that has you
  in a flurry? Ruth?" He's pleased to
  
  Abruptly, he turned toward the outside wall, harshly clearing his throat,
  stripping off helmet and gloves,
  unbelting his jacket, grunting in surprise when Brekke appeared at his
  elbow to relieve him of the gear. As
  she passed Jaxom's bed on her way out of the room, she gave him
  such an intense look that he couldn't
  fathom what she was trying to convey.
  She says that he is crying, Ruth told him. And that you are not to be
  surprised or embarrass him. Ruth
  paused. She is also thinking that Lytol is healed, too? Lytol hasn't been
  ill.
  Jaxom didn't have time to sort out that oblique reference because his
  guardian had already recovered his
  composure and turned.
  "Hot here after Ruatha," Jaxom said, struggling to break the silence.
  "You want a bit of sun, boy," Lytol said at the same moment.
  "I'm not allowed out of bed, yet."
  "The mountain is just as you sketched it."
  They spoke again simultaneously, answering each other's comments.
  It was too much for Jaxom, who burst out laughing, waving Lytol to sit
  beside him on the bed. Still laughing,
  
  liked him at all.
  "I thought I had lost you."
  "I'm harder to lose than you'd think, sir."
  Jaxom couldn't stop grinning foolishly because Lytol actually had a
  smile on his face: the first one Jaxom
  recalled.
  "You're nothing but bones and white skin," Lytol said in his customary
  gruff manner.
  "That'll pass. I'm allowed to eat all I want," Jaxom replied. "Care for
  something?"."I didn't come to eat. I came to see you. And I'll tell you this,
  young Lord Jaxom, I think you'd better go back
  to the Mastersmith for more drafting lessons: you did not accurately
  place the trees along the cove shore in
  that sketch of yours. Though the mountain is very well done."
  "I knew I had the trees wrong, sir, one of the things I planned to check
  out. Only when I got back here, it
  went clean out of my head."
  "So I understand," and Lytol gave a rusty laugh.
  "Give me the news of the Hold." Jaxom was suddenly eager for those
  minor details that had once bored him.
  
  tires easily."
  Lytol obediently rose, glancing anxiously at Jaxom.
  "Brekke, after Lytol has come all this distance, on dragonback, he must
  be allowed to .. ."
  "No, lad, I can return." Lytol's smile startled Brekke. "I'd rather not take a
  risk with him." He gave Brekke a
  second surprise then as he embraced Jaxom with awkward affection
  before striding from the room.
  Brekke stared at Jaxom, who shrugged to indicate she could put her
  own interpretation on his guardian's
  behavior. She quickly left to escort the visitors back to the beach.
  He was very glad to see you, Ruth said. He is smiling.
  Jaxom lay back, wriggling his shoulders into the rushes to get comfort-
  able. He closed his eyes, chuckling to
  himself. He had got Lytol to see his beautiful mountain.
  Lytol wasn't the only one to come to see the mountain, and Jaxom. Lord
  Groghe arrived the next afternoon,
  grunting and puffing from the heat, shouting at his little queen not to get
  lost with all those strangers, and not
  to get completely soaked because he didn't want a wet shoulder on the
  way back.
  
  Must have a look about me since I'm
  down here. Not that it took all that long to come. Hmmm. Yes, must
  have a look about." Groghe stuck his
  chin out at Jaxom, frowning again. "Did you? Before that sickness got
  hold of you?"
  Jaxom realized that Lord Groghe's totally unexpected visit might have
  several objectives: one, to assure the
  Lord Holders that the Lord of Ruatha was in the land of the living, all
  rumor to the contrary. The second
  purpose made Jaxom a little uneasy when he could so clearly recall
  Lessa's remark about wanting "the best
  part of it."
  When Brekke tactfully reminded the blustering and genial Lord Holder
  that he mustn't tire her patient, Jaxom
  nearly cheered.
  "Don't worry, lad. I'll be back again, never fear." Lord Groghe waved
  cheerfully to him from the doorway.
  "Beautiful spot. Envy you."."Does everyone in the North know where I
  am?" Jaxom asked when Brekke returned.
  "D'ram brought him," she said, sighing heavily and frowning.
  
  "He looked Jaxom over like a herdsman. Did you show him your teeth?"
  "Don't let Lord Groghe's manner fool you, Sharra," Jaxom said. "He's
  got a mind as sharp as Master
  Robinton's. And if D'ram brought him, then F'lar and Lessa must have
  known he was coming. I don't think
  they'll like him returning-or scouting around here."
  "If Lessa did permit Lord Groghe to come, she'll hear from me about it,
  you may be sure," Brekke replied,
  thinning her lips in disapproval. "He is not an easy visitor for a convales-
  cent. You might as well know now,
  Jaxom, that you were ill of that fever for sixteen days..."
  "What?" Jaxom sat upright in the bed, stunned.
  "But... but..."
  "Fire-head is a dangerous disease for an adult," Sharra said. She
  glanced at Brekke, who nodded, "You
  nearly died."
  "I did?" Appalled, Jaxom put his hand to his head.
  Brekke nodded again. "So, if we seem to be restricting you to a very
  slow recovery, you will agree that we
  have cause."
  "I nearly died?" Jaxom couldn't absorb that news.
  
  brief one, but Jaxom noticed that her expressive eyes were dark with
  remembered sorrow. "Who died of fire-head
  that saddens you, Sharra?"
  "No one you know, Jaxom, and no one I knew very well. It's just . . . just
  that no healer likes to lose a
  patient."
  He could tease no more from her on the subject and stopped trying to
  when he saw that she had felt that
  death so keenly.
  The next morning, cursing with embarrassment at the unreliability of his
  legs, Jaxom was assisted to the
  beach by Brekke and Sharra. Ruth came charging up the sands, almost
  dangerous in his delight at seeing
  his friend. Brekke sternly ordered Ruth to stand still lest he knock Jaxom
  off his unsteady feet. Ruth's eyes
  rolled with concern and he crooned with apology as he extended his
  head very carefully toward Jaxom,.almost afraid to muzzle him in greeting.
  Jaxom flung his arms about his dragon's neck, Ruth tightening his
  muscles to take the drag of his friend's body, almost thrumming with en-
  couragement. Tears flowed down his
  
  insisted that he had better sit down before he fell. They had arranged a
  matting of woven streamer fronds
  against a landward-leaning trunk, well back from the shore, to avoid full
  exposure to the sun. To this couch
  they assisted him. Ruth stretched out so that his head rested by
  Jaxom's side, the jeweled eyes whirling with
  the lavenders of stress.
  F'lar and Lessa arrived at midday, after Jaxom had had a short nap. He
  was surprised to find that Lessa, for
  all her abrasiveness on other occasions, made a soothing visitor, quiet
  and soft-voiced.
  "We had to let Lord Groghe come in person, Jaxom, though I'm sure
  you didn't appreciate the visit. Rumor
  had you dead and Ruth, too." Lessa shrugged expressively. "Bad news
  needs no harper."
  "Lord Groghe was more interested in where I was than how I was, was-
  n't he?" Jaxom asked pointedly.
  F'lar nodded and grinned at him. "That is why we had D'ram bring him.
  The Fort Hold watchdragon is too old
  to take a placement from Lord Groghe's mind."
  "He also had his fire-lizard with him," Jaxom said.
  
  on his own."
  "That isn't the real problem," F'lar grimaced. "He's now seen that
  mountain. And the scope of the land."
  "So, we put in our claim here first," Lessa replied decisively. "I don't care
  how many sons Groghe wants to
  settle, the dragonriders of Pern have first choice.
  "Jaxom can help-"
  "Jaxom has some time to go before he can do very much of anything,"
  Brekke said, breaking in so smoothly
  that Jaxom wondered if he'd misinterpreted the surprise on Lessa's
  face.
  "Don't worry, I'll think of some way to stall Lord Groghe's ambitions,"
  F'lar added.
  "If one gets in, the others will follow," Brekke said thoughtfully, "and I
  can hardly blame them. This part of the
  Southern Continent is so much more beautiful than our original settle-
  ment."
  "I have a yearning to get closer to that mountain," F'lar said, turning his
  head to the south. "Jaxom, I know
  you've not been very active yet, but how many of those fire-lizards about
  Ruth are Southerners?"
  
  "I wish you would," Lessa said. "And if there are any from the Southern
  Weyr . . ." She let her sentence trail
  off.
  "I think we ought to let Jaxom rest," Brekke said. F'lar chuckled, gestur-
  ing for Lessa to precede him.
  "Fine guests we are. Come to see the man and never let him talk."
  "I've done nothing lately to talk about," and Jaxom shot a fierce look at
  Brekke and Sharra. "When you come
  back, I will."
  "If anything interesting occurs, have Ruth bespeak Mnementh or
  Ramoth."
  Brekke and Sharra left with the Weyrleaders, and Jaxom was grateful
  for the respite. He could hear Ruth
  talking to the two Benden dragons and he chuckled when Ruth told
  Ramoth firmly that there were no fire-lizards
  from the Southern Weyr among his new friends. Jaxom wondered why it
  hadn't occurred to him
  sooner to ask Ruth's acquaintances about their men. He sighed. He
  hadn't been thinking about much lately
  except his extraordinary brush with death, and that occupied his mind
  too morbidly. Much better for him to
  
  He ought to have sent her some kind of word. She must have heard of
  his illness. Not but what this didn't
  make it easier for him to complete the break in their relationship. Now
  that he'd seen Sharra, he couldn't
  have continued with Corana. He must remember to ask Lytol.
  What had he said when he was fevered? How did a fever patient talk?
  In bits and snatches? Whole
  phrases? Maybe he needn't worry. Not about what he could have said in
  fever.
  He didn't like Lord Groghe just appearing like that, to check up on him.
  And, if he hadn't taken ill. Lord
  Groghe would never have known about this part of Southern. At least,
  until the dragonriders wanted him to
  know. And that mountain! Too unusual a feature to forget. Any dragon
  would be able to find it. Or would
  they? Unless the rider had a very clear picture, the dragon did not al-
  ways see vividly enough to jump
  between. And a secondhand vision? D'ram and Tiroth had done so from
  Master Robinton's description. But
  D'ram and Tiroth were experienced.
  
  Roused by Sharra's touch, he cried out and sat bolt upright, looking
  about him.
  "What's the matter, Jaxom?"."A dream! A nightmare!" He was sure
  something was wrong. Then he saw Ruth, stretched out, fast asleep,
  his muzzle only a handsbreadth from his feet, at least a dozen fire-
  lizards curled on and about him, twitching
  in their own dreams.
  "Well, you're awake now. What's wrong?"
  "That dream was so vivid . . . and yet it's all gone. I wanted so much to
  remember it."
  Sharra placed a cool hand on his forehead. He pushed it away.
  "I'm not fevered," he said, cranky.
  "No, you're not. Any headache? Spots?"
  Impatient and angry, he denied them, then sighed and smiled an apol-
  ogy at her. "Bad-tempered, aren't I?"
  "Rarely." She grinned, then eased to the sand beside him.
  "If I swim a little longer and further every day, how long will it take me to
  recover fully?"
  "What makes you so anxious?"
  Jaxom grinned, jerking his head back in the direction of the mountain. "I
  want to get there before Lord
  
  The appeal in her blue eyes was genuine, and Jaxom liked to think it
  was for him, Jaxom, not for him, the
  patient. Not taking his eyes from hers, he nodded slowly in acquies-
  cence and was rewarded by her slow
  smile.
  F'nor and D'ram arrived late that afternoon, in fighting gear, with full
  firestone sacks draped across their
  dragons.
  "Thread tomorrow," Sharra told Jaxom as she caught his look of inquiry.
  "Thread?"
  "It falls on all Pern, and has fallen here in this cove three times since
  you took ill. In fact, the day after you
  took ill!" She grinned at his openmouthed consternation. "It's been a
  rare treat to watch dragons in the sky.
  We'd only to keep the shelter area free. Grub takes care of the rest,"
  She chuckled. "Tiroth complains that
  he's not fighting full when he doesn't follow the Fall to its end. Just wait
  till you see Ruth in action. Oh, yes,
  nothing could keep him out of the sky. Brekke keeps her ear open for
  him and, of course, Tiroth and Canth
  are directing. He's so proud of himself, protecting you!"
  
  him away. "Master Oldive says that we humans have instincts, too, hid-
  den deep in our minds, to which we
  respond automatically. As you reacted to Threadfall, sick as you were.
  Ruth is such a dote. I made much of
  him after each Fall, I assure you, and I made sure that the fire-lizards
  got all firestone stink out of his hide."
  She waved a greeting to F'nor and D'ram as they strolled up the beach,
  loosening their fighting gear. Canth
  and Tiroth had already shrugged off the firestone sacks on the beach
  and, wings extended high, waddled
  with groans of pleasure into the soft warm water. Ruth came slithering
  through the water to join them. A
  great fair of fire-lizards chittered above the three dragons, overjoyed
  with such company.
  "You've more color, Jaxom, you look better!" F'nor said, grasping
  Jaxom's arm in greeting.
  D'ram nodded his head, agreeing with F'nor.
  Aware of his indebtedness to both riders, Jaxom stammered out his
  gratitude.
  "Tell you something, Jaxom," F'nor said, squatting on his haunches, "it's
  been a rare treat to watch your little
  
  wounded and not allowed to fly Thread.
  But now, your only responsibility to Hold and Weyr is to get fit. Fit
  enough to take a good look about this
  country! I envy you that chance, Jaxom. Indeed I do!" F'nor's grin was
  candidly envious. "Haven't had the
  time to fly far, even after Thread, down here. Forest extends a long way
  on either side." F'nor gestured
  broadly with one arm. "You'll see. Shall I bring you writing materials next
  trip down so you can make a
  Record? You may not fly Thread yet awhile, Jaxom, but you'll be work-
  ing hard enough to make that a treat!"
  "You're only saying that. . ." Jaxom broke off, surprised at the bitterness
  in his voice.
  "Yes, because you need something to look forward to since you can't do
  what you want most," F'nor said.
  He reached out and gripped Jaxom's arm. "I understand, Jaxom. Ruth's
  been giving Canth a full report.
  Sorry. Awkward for you, but Ruth worries when you're upset, or didn't
  you know that?" He chuckled.
  "I appreciate what you're trying to do, F'nor," Jaxom said.
  
  and F'nor, a peculiar expression on her face which she erased the mo-
  ment she realized that Jaxom was
  looking at her.
  "Drinks all round," she said in a brisk tone, handing a mug to D'ram as
  Brekke served F'nor.
  It was a pleasant evening and they ate on the beach, Jaxom managing
  to suppress his frustration in the face
  of the morning's Threadfall. The three dragons made nests in the still
  warm sands above the high-tide lines,
  their eyes glistening like jewels in the dark beyond the firelight.
  Brekke and Sharra sang one of Menolly's tunes while D'ram added a
  rough bass line. When Brekke noticed
  Jaxom's head lolling to one side, he didn't resist her ordering him back
  to the shelter. He drifted to sleep,
  face turned toward the fireglow, lulled by the singing voices..Ruth's ex-
  citement roused him and he blinked without comprehension as the dragon's
  voice penetrated his
  sleep. Thread! Ruth was going to fight Thread today with D'ram's Tiroth
  and F'nor's Canth. Jaxom threw
  aside the blanket, struggled into his trousers, and strode quickly from
  the shelter to the beach. Brekke and
  
  insignificance the other morning stars in the west. Jaxom frowned at
  their display. He hadn't realized how
  bright they were, how close they seemed. In Ruatha, they were duller,
  barely visible points on the
  southeastern horizon at dawn. He reminded himself to ask if F'nor could
  have the use of a long-distance
  viewer, and if Lytol would send down his star equations and maps. Then
  Jaxom noticed the absence of the
  fairs of Southern fire-lizards which haunted Ruth day and night.
  "Jaxom!" Brekke noticed him. The two riders waved a greeting and
  swung up on their beasts.
  Jaxom checked Ruth to be sure he had enough stone in his gullet, ca-
  ressing his friend and applauding his
  willingness to fly Thread though riderless.
  I remember all the drills we were taught at Fort Weyr. I have F'nor and
  Canth, and D'ram and Tiroth to help.
  Brekke always watches me, too. I have never listened to a woman be-
  fore. But Brekke is good! She is also
  sad but Canth says it is good for her to hear us. She knows that she is
  never alone.
  
  "Don't meet Thread alone, Ruth!" Jaxom cried.
  "He won't," Brekke said, her eyes twinkling. "He is young enough to
  want to be first. At that, he saves the
  older dragons a lot of effort. But we must go in."
  As one, the three paused for a last look at their defenders and then
  moved quickly inside the shelter.
  "You can't see much," Sharra told Jaxom, who had gone to stand by the
  open doorway.
  "I'd see if Thread got into this greenery."
  "It won't. We've clever riders."
  Jaxom felt the skin on his back begin to crawl and he gave a massive
  shudder.
  "Don't you dare catch a cold," Sharra said. She collected a shirt from his
  room which she threw at him.
  "I'm not cold. I'm just thinking of Thread and this forest."
  Sharra made a disparaging sound. "I forget. You're Northern Hold-bred!
  Thread can't do any more than tear
  or hole leaves which heal in Southern forests. It's all grubbed. And, in
  case you're interested, that's the first
  thing F'nor and D'ram did-check to be sure the land here is well-
  grubbed. It is!"
  
  fights!" Her eyes lost their focus on him and then she blinked. "Some-
  times I see the Fall through three sets
  of dragon eyes. I don't know where I'm looking! It goes well!"
  Later, Jaxom could not have said what he ate or drank. When Ruth's
  monologue resumed, Jaxom paid strict
  attention to what his dragon said, looking now and again at Brekke
  whose face reflected the intense
  concentration of listening to three dragons and four fire-lizards. Sud-
  denly Ruth's commentary stopped and
  Jaxom gasped.
  "It's all right. They don't pursue Thread through the Fall," Brekke said.
  "Just enough to insure our safety.
  Benden flies Thread tomorrow evening over Nerat. F'nor and Canth
  ought not overtire themselves today."
  Jaxom rose so abruptly that his bench clattered to the floor. He mum-
  bled an apology, righted it and then
  strode out the door in the direction of the beach. As he reached the
  sands, he kept peering westward and
  barely discerned the distant film of Thread. Another shudder gripped
  him and he had to smooth the hair
  
  dragons to bathe when they return. There! There they all are! Just
  popped back!"
  It was a good Fall! Ruth was jubilant, then rebellious. But we are not to
  follow it. Canth and Tiroth said that
  once across the big river there is nothing but stony waste and it is stupid
  to waste flame above what cannot
  be hurt by Thread. Ooooh!
  Sharra and Jaxom laughed as the little white dragon emitted a trail of
  flame, almost singeing his muzzle
  because he was at the wrong flight angle. He corrected instantly, con-
  tinuing his downward glide on the
  correct plane.
  Even as the big dragons landed, the waters had calmed. Ruth was full
  of boast that he'd not needed to
  replenish his fire once, that he now knew how much to take to last the
  Fall. Canth turned his head toward
  the little white in an attitude of amused tolerance.
  Tiroth snorted and, relieved of his firesack, nodded once toward D'ram
  then waded into the water. Abruptly
  the air was full of fire-lizards, hovering eagerly above Tiroth. The old
  bronze threw his head skyward,
  
  the water at some distance
  from the bronze and brown. Four fire-lizards, the banded ones, de-
  tached themselves from the big dragons
  and began to scrub the little white.
  "Here, I'll help you, Jaxom," Sharra said.
  Scrubbing a dragon's hide free of firestone stink is a tiring job under any
  circumstances and, although he
  only had to do one side of Ruth, Jaxom had to grit his teeth to finish.
  "I told you not to overdo, Jaxom," Sharra said, her voice sharp as she
  straightened from scrubbing the fork
  of Ruth's tail and noticed Jaxom leaning against the dragon's rump. She
  gestured imperiously toward the
  beach. "Get out! I'll bring you some food. You're whiter than he is!"."I'm
  never going to get myself fit if I don't try!"
  "Stop muttering at me under your breath ..."
  "And don't tell me you're doing it for my own good..."
  "No, for mine! I don't want to have to nurse you through a relapse!"
  She glared at him so fiercely that he gathered himself erect and stalked
  out of the water. Though it wasn't far
  to his informal bed under the trees, his legs were leaden as he dragged
  them through the water. He lay
  
  realized that it was midday. Ruth was asleep snoring, at his left. On the
  far right, he could see D'ram resting
  against Tiroth's front legs. There was no sign of F'nor or Canth.
  "You're probably hungry," Brekke said, holding out the plate of food and
  the mug she'd brought.
  "How long did I sleep?" Jaxom was disgusted with himself. He stretched
  his shoulders, feeling muscles stiff
  from the exercise of scrubbing a dragon.
  "Several hours. Did you good."
  "I dream an awful lot lately. Aftereffect of the fire-head?"
  Brekke blinked, then frowned thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I've been
  dreaming rather more than usual
  myself. Too much sun perhaps."
  At that point, Tiroth woke, bellowed, struggled to his feet, sprinkled his
  rider with sand. Brekke gasped and
  rose quickly, her eyes on the old bronze as he shook his body free of
  sand and extended his wings.
  "Brekke, I must go!" D'ram shouted. "Did you hear?"
  "Yes, I heard. Do go quickly!" she called back, raising her hand in fare-
  well.
  
  pointed disgust with his weakness. He'd
  hoped to be allowed to attend that mating flight. He'd wanted to cheer
  G'dened and Barnath on.
  "I'll know," Brekke said soothingly. "Canth will be there as well as Tiroth.
  They'll tell me all. Now, you eat!"
  As Jaxom obeyed, still cursing his unfortunate condition, he noticed that
  Brekke was staring at Ruth again.."What's the matter with Ruth?"
  "Ruth? Nothing. Poor dear, he was so proud to fly Thread for you, and
  he's too tired to care about any thing
  else right now."
  She rose and as she left him Berd and Grail landed on her shoulders,
  murmuring softly as she disappeared
  into the shady forest.
  CHAPTER XIV
  Early Morning at Harpercraft Hall, Midmorning at Ista Weyr, Midafter-
  noon at Jaxom's Cove, 15.8.28
  IN THE DARK of the early morning Robinton was awakened by Silvina.
  "Master Robinton, word has come from Ista Weyr. The bronzes are
  blooding their kill. Caylith will fly soon.
  You're wanted there."
  
  shoulder perch, squeaking softly as
  Robinton paced down the corridor.
  With a glow torch to cast some light in the dark lower hall, Silvina
  awaited him at the massive iron doors.
  She whirled the release wheel and the great bar lifted from ceiling and
  floor. He gave the yank required to
  open the huge door and wondered at the sudden stitch in his side. Then
  Silvina passed him his gitar, stoutly
  encased against the bitter cold of between.
  "I do hope Barnath flies Caylith," she said. "Look, here's Drenth now."
  The Harper saw the brown dragon backwinging to land and he ran down
  the hall steps. Drenth was excited,
  his eyes gleaming orange and red in the night. Robinton greeted the
  dragon's rider, paused to sling his gitar
  across his back and then, reaching for D'fio's hand, climbed to the
  brown's back.
  "How does the wagering stand?" he asked the rider.
  "Ah, now Harper; Barnath is a fine beast. He'll fly Caylith. Although," a
  certain element of doubt tinged the
  man's voice, "the four bronzes N'ton is permitting to try are good strong
  young beasts, and mighty eager for
  
  gamble.
  "I'm a dragonrider, Master Robinton," D'fio said gruffly, "not one of those
  faithless Southerners."
  "And I'm Master Harper of Pern," said Robinton. But he leaned into the
  man's back, pressing a two-mark
  piece into his hand. "Barnath, of course, and please let none be the
  wiser."."As you wish. Master Robinton," D'fio sounded pleased.
  They rose above the black shadow of the Fort Hold cliffs, the lighter
  darkness of night sky, moonless at this
  hour and season, just barely discernible. He felt the tension in D'fio's
  back, drew his own breath in sharply
  as they transferred between, and abruptly emerged with Drenth calling
  out his name to the Ista Weyr
  watchdragon.
  Robinton shielded his eyes from the brilliance of the sun slanting off the
  water. As he glanced below, he saw
  the dramatic half-peak of Ista Weyr, the black stone like giant jagged
  fingers pointing to the bright blue skies.
  Ista was the smallest of the Weyrs, some of its complement of dragons
  making weyrs in the forest that
  
  aerial display of excitement. Robinton
  noticed that the little creatures kept a distance from the dragons. At
  least the fire-lizards were appearing at
  Weyrs again.
  D'fio dismounted, too, and sent his brown for a swim in the warm waters
  of the bay below the Weyr plateau.
  Other dragons, uninvolved in this flight, were already taking advantage
  of the bathing at Ista Island.
  Caylith vaulted from the ground toward the herd of beasts in the Weyr's
  corral. Cosira half-followed, keeping
  a firm control on her young queen so that she wouldn't gorge the meat
  and be too heavy for this all-important
  mating flight. Robinton counted twenty-six bronzes ringing the killing
  ground, gleaming in the
  harsh sunlight, their eyes wheeling red in rut agitation, their wings halt-
  furled, their bodies at a crouch that
  would send them skyward the instant the queen ascended. They were
  all young, as F'lar had recommended,
  almost equal in size as they waited, never taking their glistening eyes
  from the object of their interest.
  
  undetected, he also realized that these were older beasts, muzzles
  graying, necks thickened. Southerners.
  Two of the Oldtmers' bronzes. That had to be T'kul with Salth, and
  probably B'zon with Ranilth. Robinton
  began to run toward the killing ground, toward the queen's prospective
  mates, for that was the obvious goal
  of the two bronzes sweeping in from the south.
  Their timing had been perfect, Robinton thought then saw two others
  making for the landing bronzes-the
  stocky figure of D'ram and F'lar's lean body. T'kul and B'zon jumped off
  their beasts. The dragons took one
  final leap to range themselves with the other bronzes who hissed and
  growled at the newcomers. Robinton
  prayed under his breath that none of the bronze riders would act first,
  think later. Most of them were so
  young they'd not recognize T'kul or B'zon. But D'ram and F'lar certainly
  had.
  Robinton felt his heart pounding in his chest and a totally unfamiliar
  ache that caused him to grimace and
  slow his trot momentarily. B'zon was facing him, a set smile on his face.
  The Oldtimer touched T'kul's arm
  
  greens to give the males relief. We must..."
  Caylith bugled as she left the blood-sucked corpse of the buck and half-
  flew, half-ran to scatter the herd, one
  sweeping forepaw impaling another victim on its flank and dragging it
  back to her.
  "D'ram, you declared this flight open, didn't you?"
  T'kul asked in a harsh voice, his features fine-drawn despite the tan of
  Southern suns. He looked from D'ram
  to F'lar.
  "I did, but your bronzes are too old, T'kul." He gestured toward the eager
  young dragons. The difference
  between them and the two older ones was pathetically obvious.
  "Salth's dying anyway. Let him go out flying. I made that choice, D'ram,
  when I brought him here." T'kul
  stared hard at F'lar, the bitterness and hatred so vivid that Robinton
  sucked in his breath. "Why did you take
  back the egg? How did you find it?" Desperation broke briefly through
  T'kul's cold pride and arrogance.
  "Had you come to us, we would have helped you," F'lar said quietly.
  "Or I," D'ram said, miserable before the plight of his one-time acquain-
  tance.
  
  pulse more golden than ever. Her eyes were whirling opalescence. With
  a fierce scream, she launched
  herself upward. Barnath was the first dragon off the ground after her,
  and, to Robinton's surprise, T'kul's
  Salth was not far behind the Istan bronze.
  T'kul swung back to F'lar, the triumph on his face an insult. Then he
  strode to Cosira's side. The
  Weyrwoman was swaying with the effort of staying in mental contact
  with her queen. She didn't notice that it
  was G'dened and T'kul who were leading her back to her quarters to
  await the outcome of the flight.
  "He'll kill Salth," D'ram was muttering, his face stricken.
  That odd pressure against his chest kept Robinton from reassuring the
  worried man.
  "And B'zon,, too!" D'ram grabbed F'lar's arm. "Is there nothing we can
  do to stop it? Two dragons?"
  "If they had come to us ..." F'lar began, placing his hand consolingly on
  D'ram's. "But those Oldtimer riders
  always took! That was they error at the outset!" His face hardened.
  "They're still taking," Robinton said, wanting to ease D'ram's distress.
  "They've taken what they wanted from
  
  know dragons as well as I thought I did."
  "The mating flight was open," F'lar replied, but Warbret was looking at
  D'ram's anxious face.."To old dragons? I thought you stipulated young ones
  that hadn't had a chance at a queen before! I don't
  see the point myself, in having another older Weyrleader. No offense
  intended, D'ram. Change upsets
  holders." He gazed at the sky. "How'll they keep up with the younger
  ones? That's a gruelling pace."
  "They have the right to try," F'lar said. "While we await the outcome,
  some wine, D'ram?"
  "Yes, yes, wine. Lord Warbret . . ." D'ram recovered his composure suf-
  ficiently to gesture the Lord Holder to
  accompany him toward the living cavern. He beckoned to the other
  guests to follow, but his step was heavy
  and slow.
  "Don't worry, D'ram. That other dragon might have been quick off the
  mark," Lord Warbret said as he
  thumped D'ram's shoulder encouragingly, "but I've all the faith in the
  world in G'dened and Barnath. Fine
  young man! Splendid dragon. Besides he's mated Caylith before, hasn't
  he? That always tells, doesn't it?"
  
  factor despite a queen's captiousness,
  but you never know."
  Robinton noticed that the weyrfolk appeared to be somewhat tense as
  they served the visitors. He wondered
  how many had indeed identified the Southerners. He hoped no one
  blurted out their suspicions in front of the
  Lord Holder.
  T'kul's Salth must have flown his queen dozens of times and won her.
  He'd be a canny old fellow, all right,
  but all his cleverness would be no good if he couldn't catch the queen in
  the first few minutes of flight. He
  simply wouldn't have the staying power of the younger dragons, and
  possibly not even the speed for the
  surge to catch her up. He flew against some fine beasts. Robinton knew
  how carefully N'ton had chosen the
  four bronze riders to present themselves from Fort. Each had been
  wing-seconds for Turns, men already
  proven in Falls as leaders with strong dragons. F'lar had also limited
  Benden's three contenders to men well
  able to lead a Weyr. Robinton could only assume that Telgar, Igen and
  High Reaches had honored D'ram's
  
  bret. Their obvious pleasure in seeing
  their former Weyrleader was a tonic for D'ram, and he responded with
  smiles and chatting. He looked tense
  but anyone would attribute that to understandable concern for the out-
  come of this flight.
  Robinton had a puzzle to chew over: T'kul's bitter words about the egg.
  "Why did you take back the egg?
  How did you find it?" Didn't T'kul realize that someone from Southern
  had returned the egg? Then the
  Harper stiffened. No Southerner had returned that egg, for surely T'kul
  would have discovered the culprit by
  now.
  Robinton began to hope fervently that neither of the two old dragons
  would die in their attempt to fly the
  young queen. Just like the Oldtimers to add a sour note to what ought to
  be a joyous occasion! Surely life in
  the Southern Weyr was not so unbearable that T'kul would cold-
  bloodedly allow his dragon to court death
  rather than continue there? Robinton knew the Weyr well; the setting in
  its own small valley was beautiful-a
  
  former High Reaches Weyrleader-and haired for an exile not of his
  choosing.
  The queens might be too old to rise, but that was only a recent occur-
  rence, Robinton thought, and the
  bronzes could not be in that hard a case. They were aging as well and
  the blood did not so easily quicken,
  so the old urgencies surely could be contained.
  There was also the point that T'kul need not have gone South with
  Mardra, T'ron and the other obstinate and
  inflexible Oldtime weyrfolk. He could have accepted the leadership of
  Benden, acknowledged that Craft and
  Hold had earned rights for themselves in the four hundred Turns since
  the last Pass and conducted himself
  and his Weyr affairs accordingly.
  Had any of the Southerners come forward, acting in honor, asking the
  assistance of the other Weyrs, he was
  certain such would have been forthcoming. He didn't doubt D'ram's sin-
  cerity, and he would have pressed for
  their requests himself, by the Shell he would have!
  Looking at the worst possible conclusion to the day's events, what
  would happen to T'kul if Salth did overfly
  
  mating flight. When a man's dragon died he could become insane, not
  know what he was doing. A vision of
  T'kul's hatred flashed vividly before the Harper's eyes. Robinton had
  many prerogatives but entering the
  chambers of a Weyrwoman whose dragon was mating was not one of
  them. Still...
  Robinton blinked. F'lar was no longer seated at the table. The Harper
  glanced about the cavern, but caught
  no glimpse of the tall figure of the Benden Weyrleader. He rose, strug-
  gling to keep his progress casual,
  managed to nod pleasantly to D'ram and Warbret as he sauntered to-
  ward the entrance. The Istan Harper
  intersected his path.
  "F'lar took two of our strongest riders with him, Master Robinton." The
  man nodded toward the
  Weyrwoman's quarters. "He's afraid of trouble."
  Robinton nodded, blowing out with relief, then halted.
  "How did he manage it? I saw no one using the steps."
  Baldor grinned. "This Weyr is full of odd tunnels and entrances. It
  wouldn't do to compound the problem," he
  added, gesturing toward the guests in the cavern, "now would it?"
  
  was it that happy occasions seemed to
  fly past and one like today dragged interminably?
  The watchdragon bugled, a fearful, unhappy sound. But not a keen! Not
  a death knell! Robinton felt the
  muscles in his chest relax. His relief was premature for there was a rus-
  tle of worried whispers sweeping
  through the living cavern. Several weyrfolk hurried out, looking up at the
  blue watchdragon, his wings
  extended. Zair crooned softly but Robinton sensed nothing definite from
  the creature. The little bronze
  merely repeated the dragon's muddled thoughts.."One of the bronzes
  must have faltered," D'ram said, swallowing nervously, his face tinged gray
  under his
  tan. He looked hard at Robinton.
  "One of those older ones, I'll wager," Warbret said, pleased at this justi-
  fication of his opinion.
  "You're likely right," Robinton said easily, "but the flight was declared
  open, so they had to be admitted."
  "Aren't they taking a long time of it?" Warbret asked, frowning out at the
  sky just visible from their table.
  
  his countenance bland.
  "Oh, yes, of course. I mean it would be quite an accomplishment for
  Barnath, wouldn't it? Having his queen
  lay a golden egg this flight?"
  "It would indeed. That is, if ... Barnath succeeds in flying her."
  "Really, Master Harper, of course he will. Where's your sense of jus-
  tice?"
  "Where it generally is, but I doubt that Caylith is attuned to justice right
  now."
  The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Zair, his eyes the
  bright yellow of distress, gave a
  frightened, gibbering squeak at the Harper. Mnementh erupted into the
  air just above the ground of the
  Bowl, bugling in alarm.
  Robinton was on his feet and running glancing about him for Baldor.
  The Istan Harper was equally alert to
  the danger. He and four large riders began pelting toward the Weyr.
  "What's the matter?" Warbret demanded.
  "Stay there," Robinton shouted.
  The air was suddenly full of dragons, bugling and keening, barely
  avoiding midair collisions as they swept
  
  most wanted-which dragon, which
  men! F'lar must be involved or Mnementh would not be here.
  The huge bronze was landing on the queen's weyr ledge, preventing
  Baldor's men from entering the weyr.
  They flattened themselves against the wall, trying to avoid the frantic
  sweeps of his wide wings.
  "Mnementh! Listen to me! Let us pass! We're going to aid F'lar. Listen to
  me!"
  Robinton charged right up the steps, past Baldor and his men, and
  grabbed one wing tip. He was all but
  hauled off his feet as Mnementh pulled it back, bending his head to hiss
  at the Harper. The great eyes
  whirled violently yellow.."Listen to me, Mnementh!" the Harper roared.
  "Let us pass!"
  Zair flew at the bronze dragon, screaming at the top of his lungs.
  I listen. Salth is no more. Help F'lar!
  The great bronze dragon folded his wings, lifted his head, and Robinton
  thankfully waved Baldor and his
  men to go ahead. He needed a moment to catch his breath.
  As Robinton turned to enter the passage, hand pressed against his side,
  Zair zipped in front of him, his cries
  
  two struggling bodies staggered out
  into the larger room. F'lar and T'kul! Baldor and two of his helpers were
  close behind, trying to separate the
  men. In the room beyond them, locked in the mating flight contact with
  their beasts, were the rest of the
  bronze riders and the Weyrwoman, oblivious to the combat. Someone
  had collapsed on the floor. B'zon,
  probably, he thought as the scene registered in his mind in one split
  second.
  What caught Robinton's horrified attention was the fact that F'lar had no
  knife in either hand. His left was
  closed about T'kul's right wrist, straining to keep the man's long knife-no
  short-bladed belt but a skinning
  tool-away from his collarbone. His fingers began digging into the ten-
  dons of T'kul's wrist, trying to force the
  fingers open, or to deaden the nerves. His right hand held T'kul's left
  arm down and out from their sides.
  T'kul writhed savagely; the maniacal gleam in his reddened eyes told
  Robinton that the man was beyond
  himself. As he must have intended, thought Robinton.
  
  of strength T'kul called up from the
  depths of his madness.
  F'lar saved his breath, the strain of holding on that knife showing in the
  cords that stood out in his neck, in
  the drag on his face muscles, the tension in his legs and thighs.
  "I'll kill you. I'll kill you as T'ron ought! I'll kill you, F'lar!"
  T'kul's voice now came in ragged gasps as the point of the knife inched
  toward its goal.
  Abruptly, F'lar kicked out with his left leg and, twining it about T'kul's left,
  yanked the foot out from under the
  crazed, overbalanced Oldtimer. With a yell, T'kul fell forward into F'lar,
  who neatly twisted him over and
  down, breaking T'kul's left-hand hold but keeping his own left hand
  firmly locked on T'kul's right wrist. The
  Oldtimer kicked out, caught F'lar viciously in the stomach. Although the
  bronze rider did not release the knife
  hand, he was doubled up, windless. A second kick from T'kul knocked
  his feet out from under him. F'lar fell
  heaving as T'kul wrenched his knife-hand free and scrambled to fall on
  the younger Weyrleader. But F'lar
  
  finish off his opponent. If he could..Robinton disliked having doubts about
  F'lar's skill as a fighter, but T'kul was no ordinary antagonist, driven
  as he was by the grief-madness of Salth's death. The man, older by
  some twenty Turns, had the reach of
  F'lar, and a longer, more deadly blade in his hand. F'lar would have to
  elude that slashing blade long enough
  to wear T'kul past the point of the mad energy that possessed the Old-
  timer.
  An exultant shout burst from the Weyrwoman's room and her piercing
  shriek followed. That was just enough
  to divert T'kul. F'lar was ready for that tiny break in concentration. He
  dove at T'kul, knife arm down and,
  before the man could parry and guard himself at the lower angle, F'lar's
  thrust went up and through the ribs
  to the heart. T'kul, eyes protruding, fell dead at his feet.
  F'lar sagged, dropping to one knee, gasping with his exertions. Wearily
  he scrubbed at his forehead with the
  back of his left hand, every line of his body emphasizing the dejection
  he was experiencing.
  "You could have done nothing else, F'lar," Robinton said softly, wishing
  he had the strength to move to
  
  to quiet Zair, who was chittering the wildest distress. The pain in his side
  had moved again to his chest, like
  a heavy rock sitting on him.
  "Baldor!"
  "Master Robinton!" The Istan Harper rushed to his side, his face ex-
  pressing horror and consternation as he
  assisted Robinton to the nearest bench. "You're gray. Your lips. They're
  blue. What's wrong with you?"
  "Gray is how I feel. My chest. Wine. I need wine!"
  The room began pressing in on the Harper. He couldn't breathe. He was
  aware of shouts, sensed panic in
  the air and tried to bestir himself to take control of the situation. Hands
  pushed him down, then flat, making it
  totally impossible to breathe. He struggled to sit up.
  "Let him. It will help his breathing."
  Dimly Robinton identified the voice as Lessa's. How did she come to be
  here? Then he was propped against
  someone and could breathe more easily. If only he could rest, could
  sleep.
  "Clear everyone from the weyr." Lessa was giving orders.
  
  speaking. The voices were deep,
  insistent, and he wasn't hearing them with his ears. The voices were in
  his mind where he couldn't ignore
  them. He wished they would leave him alone so that he could sleep. He
  was so very tired. T'kul had been
  too old to fly his dragon or win a fight. Yet he was older than T'kul, who
  now slept in death. If only the voices
  would let him sleep, too. He was so tired..You cannot sleep yet. Harper.
  We are with you. Do not leave us. Harper, you must live! We love you.
  Live? Of course, he would live. Silly voices. He was just tired. He
  wanted to sleep.
  Harper, Harper, do not leave us. Harper, we love you. Do not go.
  The voices were not loud, but they held on to him, in his mind. That was
  it. They were not letting his mind
  go.
  Someone else, outside him, was holding something to his lips.
  "Master Robinton, you must try to swallow the medicine. You must
  make the effort. It will ease the pain."
  That voice he recognized. Lessa. Distraught.
  Of course, she would be, with F'lar having to kill a rider, and all the trou-
  ble with the theft of the egg, and
  
  wine, not water. Water would have
  been undignified for the Harper of Pern. He could never have swallowed
  water with the pain in his chest.
  Something seemed to snap inside him. Ah, the pain in his chest. It was
  easing, as if the snap had been the
  loosening of the tight band that constricted his heart.
  He sighed at the relief. One didn't fully appreciate the absence of pain,
  he thought.
  "Take a sip of the wine, Master." He felt the cup at his lips again.
  Wine, yes, that would complete his cure. Wine always did revive him.
  Only he still wanted to sleep. He was
  so very tired.
  "And another!"
  You may sleep later. You must listen to us and stay. Harper, listen! We
  love you. You must stay.
  The Harper resented their insistence.
  "How long does it take the man to get here?" That was Lessa's voice,
  sounding fiercer than he'd ever heard
  her. Why did she also sound as if she were weeping? Lessa weeping?
  Lessa is weeping for you. You do not want her to weep. Stay with us,
  Harper. You cannot go. We will not let
  
  cleared his throat. This would never do.
  "Don't try to talk, Robinton," Lessa said, gulping back her sobs. "Just
  rest. You've got to rest. Oldive is
  coming. I told them to time it. Just rest. More wine?"."Have I ever re-
  fused wine?" Why was his voice so faint?
  "Never," and Lessa was laughing and crying at the same time.
  "Who's been nagging me? They wouldn't let me go. Make them let me
  rest, Lessa. I'm so tired!"
  "Oh, Master Robinton, please!"
  Please what?
  Harper, stay with us. Lessa will weep.
  "Oh, Master Oldive. Over here!" That was Lessa again, leaving his side.
  Robinton tried to reach for her.
  "Don't exert yourself!" She was holding him down, but she was staying
  beside him. Dear Lessa! Even when
  he was angry with her, he loved her nonetheless. Perhaps more, be-
  cause she was angry so often and anger
  intensified her beauty.
  "Ah, Master Robinton." Oldive's soothing voice made him open his eyes.
  "The chest pain again? Just nod.
  I'd rather you didn't make the effort to speak."
  
  moment. But the immediate danger is past. I want you to try to sleep.
  You are going to need a lot of rest, my
  good friend. A lot of rest."
  "Then tell them to be quiet and let me sleep."
  "Who's to be quiet?" Oldive's voice was soothing, and Robinton was
  vaguely annoyed because he
  suspected Oldive didn't believe he'd heard them keeping him awake.
  "Here, take this pill and a sip of wine. I
  know you've never refused wine."
  Robinton smiled weakly. How well they knew him, Oldive and Lessa.
  "It's Ramoth and Mnementh talking to him, Oldive. They said he had
  nearly gone ..." Lessa's voice broke on
  the last note.
  Nearly gone, was I? Is that what it feels like to be so close to death?
  Like being very tired?
  You will stay now. Harper. We can let you sleep. But we will be with you.
  We love you.
  Dragons talking to me? Dragons keeping me from death? How kind they
  are for I did not want to die yet.
  There is so much to be done. Problems to be solved. There'd been a
  problem on my mind .. . about
  
  Sleep, Master. We will listen.
  The Harper drew a deep breath into his lungs and relaxed gratefully into
  sleep.
  CHAPTER XV
  Evening at Jaxom's Cove and Late Evening at Ista Weyr, 15.8.28
  SHARRA WAS SHOWING Brekke and Jaxom how to play a children's
  game in the sand with pebbles and
  sticks when Ruth, sleeping just beyond them with the fire-lizards, woke
  up. He reared to a sitting position,
  stretching his neck and keening the long piercing note that marked a
  dragon's passing.
  "Oh no!" Brekke reacted just a shade faster than Jaxom. "Salth is gone!"
  "Salth?" Jaxom wondered who that was.
  "Salth!" Sharra's face drained of color. "Ask Ruth where!"
  "Canth says he was trying to fly Caylith and burst his heart!" Brekke an-
  swered the question, her shoulders
  sagging in new grief and a poignantly remembered tragedy. "The fool!
  He must have known that the younger
  dragons would be faster, stronger than poor old Salth!"
  "Serves T'kul right! And don't soar over me, Brekke." Sharra's eyes
  flashed as Brekke turned to reprimand
  
  Southerners are like. You don't!"
  "I knew there'd be real trouble sometime, exiling them like that," Brekke
  said slowly, "but..."
  "From what I've heard, Brekke," Jaxom said from a compulsion to erase
  the desolate look from her face,
  "that was the only way to handle them. They weren't honoring their re-
  sponsibilities to the people beholden to
  them. They were greedy, over and above proper timing. Further," and
  he brought out his strongest point, "I
  heard Lytol criticizing those dragonriders!"
  "I know, Jaxom. I know all that but they did come forward from their own
  time to save Pern . . ." Jaxom
  wondered if she realized she was wringing her hands till the knuckles
  showed white.
  "To save Pern, yes, and then they demanded that we remember that
  every time we drew breath in their
  presence," Jaxom went on, recalling all too clearly the arrogant and
  contemptuous manner with which T'ron
  had treated Lytol.
  "We ignore the Oldtimers," Sharra said, with a shrug. "We go about our
  business, keep our Hold green clear,
  
  dragons' fault, mind you. And I don't suppose that it's really the riders'
  either. I do think they should at least
  try to act what they are. To be sure, most of the Oldtimers stayed north.
  So just a few are giving dragonmen
  a poor reputation in Southern. Still ... if they'd met us halfway ... we
  would have helped."
  "I should go, I think," Brekke said, rising and facing west. "T'kul is half a
  man now. I know how that feels . . ."
  Her voice petered out and her face drained of all color as she stared to
  the west, her eyes getting larger until
  a cry of horror burst from her Ups. "Oh no!" Her hand went to her throat
  and she turned it palm outward as if
  warding off an attack.
  "Brekke, what is it?" Sharra leaped to her feet, her arms about the
  woman.
  Ruth whimpered and nudged against Jaxom for reassurance.
  She is very afraid. She is speaking to Canth. He is unhappy. It is terri-
  ble. Another dragon is very weak.
  Canth is with him. It is Mnementh who talks now. T'kul fights F'lar!
  "T'kul fights F'lar?" Jaxom reached out to Ruth's shoulder for balance.
  
  "Jaxom." Sharra turned to him, one hand raised, appealing for his reas-
  surance. "T'kul hates F'lar. I've heard
  him blame F'lar for everything that happens in Southern. If T'kul's drag-
  onless, he'd be insane. He'd kill F'lar!"
  Jaxom drew the girl close to him, wondering which of them needed
  comfort more. T'kul trying to kill F'lar? He
  asked Ruth to listen hard.
  I hear nothing. Canth is between. I only hear trouble. Ramoth is coming
  . . .
  "Here?"
  No, where they are! Ruth's eyes deepened to the dark purple of worry. I
  do not like this.
  "What, Ruth?"
  "Oh, please Jaxom, what's he saying? I'm scared."
  "He is, too. And so am I."
  Brekke came back through the woods, her flying gear in one hand, in
  the other her small pack of medicines,
  half-closed, and in danger of spilling its contents. She halted just before
  stepping onto the sands, blinked,
  frowning with impatience and dismay.
  
  no, not Robinton? How?"
  The Master Harper.
  "Not dead?" Sharra cried.
  The Master Harper is very ill. They will not let him go. He will have to
  stay. As you did.
  "I'll take you, Brekke. On Ruth. Just let me get my flying gear."
  Both women reached out to restrain him.
  "You can't fly yet, Jaxom. You can't go between!" The fear in Brekke's
  eyes was for him now.
  "You really can't, Jaxom," Sharra said, shaking her head and pleading
  with her eyes. "The cold of between
  ... you're just not well enough yet. Please!"
  They are afraid for you now, Ruth said, sounding confused. Very afraid.
  I do not know why it is wrong for you
  to ride me but it is!
  "He's right, Jaxom, it would be disastrous," Brekke said, her body
  slumping with defeat. Wearily she raised
  her hand to her head, and pulled off the now unnecessary helmet. "You
  mustn't attempt going between for at
  least another month or six sevendays. If you did, you'd risk headaches
  for the rest of your life and the
  
  mad with the pain in his head and . .
  . died. So did his dragon." Her voice caught, remembering that tragedy,
  and her eyes were misted with
  tears.
  Jaxom could only stare at her, stunned.
  "Why wasn't I told that before?"
  "No reason to," Sharra said, her eyes never leaving his, pleading with
  him for understanding. "You're getting
  stronger daily. By the time you realized the restriction existed, it might
  not have been necessary to warn you
  anymore."
  "Another four or six sevendays?" He ground the words out, conscious
  that he was working his fists and that
  his jaw muscles ached with the effort to control his temper.
  Sharra nodded slowly, her face expressionless.
  Jaxom took a deep breath, forcing emotion down. "That does make it
  awkward, doesn't it, because right now
  we need a dragonrider." He looked toward Brekke. Her head was turned
  slightly to the west. Jaxom could
  sense her longing to be where she was urgently needed, the restraint,
  that kept her from claiming Canth's
  
  question.
  He took her arm, hurrying her to Ruth's side. "You must go. If Master
  Robinton . . ." Jaxom choked on the
  rest of that sentence, panic at the thought closing his throat.
  "Oh, thank you, Jaxom, Thank you, Ruth." Brekke rumbled with the
  strap of her helmet. She struggled with
  her jacket before she could get her arm into the sleeve, and buckled the
  riding belt in place. When she was
  ready Ruth dipped his shoulder for Brekke to mount, then turned his
  head to be sure she was safely seated.
  "I'll send Ruth directly back, Jaxom. Oh, no, don't let him go! Don't let
  him sleep!" The last two sentences
  were directed to distant minds.
  We will not let him go, Ruth said. He briefly nosed Jaxom on the shoul-
  der and then sprang up, showering his
  friend and Sharra with dry sand. He was barely wing height above the
  waves before he winked out.
  "Jaxom?" Sharra's voice was so unsteady that he tamed to her in con-
  cern. "What can have happened? T'kul
  couldn't have been mad enough to attack the Harper, too?"
  
  lost!" She dropped her head against his shoulder, surrendering to her
  anxieties. Tenderly, he drew her
  against him.
  He lives! Ruth's reassurance rang faint but true in his head.
  "Ruth says he lives, Sharra."
  "He must continue to live, Jaxom. He must! He must!" Her fists beat on
  his chest to emphasize her
  determination.
  Jaxom caught her hands, holding them flat, and smiled into her wide,
  flashing eyes.
  "He will. I'm sure he will, if it's in our power to think him so."
  Jaxom was intensely aware, at this highly inappropriate moment, of
  Sharra's vibrant body pressing against
  his. He could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt, the long
  line of her thighs against his, the
  fragrance of her hair, scented with sun and a blossom she had tucked
  behind her ear. The startled look that
  crossed her face told him that she, too, was aware of the intimacy of
  their positions-aware and, for the first
  time since he had known her, confused.
  
  nursing. He'd thought of that possibility in himself and decided that she
  was wrong. He liked too many things
  about her, from the sound of her beautiful voice, to the sure touch of her
  hands: hands he was aching to
  have caress him. He'd learned a good deal about her in the past few
  days, but he was aware of a hungry
  curiosity in himself to know much, much more. Her reaction to the
  Southerners had surprised him; she often
  surprised him. Part of her attraction, he supposed, was that he never
  knew what she'd say or how she'd say
  it..Suddenly he broke their partial embrace and, circling her shoulders
  lightly with his arm, guided her to the
  mats where they'd been so blithely playing a child's game. He put both
  hands on her shoulders and gave her
  a gentle downward push.
  "We may have a long wait, Sharra, before we know for certain the
  Harper's all right."
  "I wish I knew what was wrong! If that T'kul has harmed our Harper . . ."
  "What about his harming F'lar?"
  "I don't know F'lar, although I'd naturally be very sorry if he were hurt by
  T'kul." She absently folded her legs
  
  F'lar's fate, "if the Benden Weyrleader gets killed! He is Pern!"
  "Really?" Sharra was willing to be converted. "I've never seen him . . ."
  There are many dragons here and many many people, Ruth told him,
  his tone still faint but clear. Sebell is
  coming. Menolly cannot.
  "Is Ruth talking to you?" Sharra asked anxiously, leaning forward and
  grasping his arm. He covered her
  fingers with his, silencing her in that gesture. She bit her underlip and
  studied his face. He tried to reassure
  her with emphatic nods.
  Her fire-lizards are here. The Harper sleeps. Master Oldive is with him,
  too. They wait outside. We will not let
  him go. Should I return to you now?
  "Who are they?" Jaxom asked though he was fairly sure of the identity.
  Lessa and F'lar. The man who attacked F'lar is dead.
  "T'kul's dead, and F'lar is not hurt?"
  No.
  "Ask him what is wrong with the Harper," Sharra whispered.
  Jaxom wanted to know, too, but there was a long pause before Ruth
  answered, and the little dragon
  sounded confused.
  
  heart. The Harper is not a young man and he does a great deal!" She
  looked about her for her fire-lizards. "I
  could send Meer..."
  "Ruth says there's an awful lot of people and dragons at Ista right now. I
  think we'd better wait."
  "I know," and Sharra gave a long sigh. She picked up a handful of sand
  and let it run through her fingers.
  Then she gave Jaxom a sad smile. "I know how to wait, but that doesn't
  mean I like to!"
  "We know he's alive, and F'lar . . ." Jaxom gave her a sly look.
  "I didn't mean any disrespect to your Weyrleader, Jaxom, I want you to
  know that..."
  Jaxom laughed, having managed to tease her. She let out an exclama-
  tion of annoyance and threw the
  handful of sand toward him, but he ducked and the sand went over his
  shoulder, some of it falling in the
  gentle waves that lapped up the shore.
  Brushed out of existence by the next wave, no ripples lasted in this wa-
  ter. There was a fallacy in the
  Harper's analogy then, Jaxom thought, amused by this irrelevant
  thought.
  
  Jaxom jumped to his feet, scanning the skies. "They wouldn't object to
  Ruth's return."
  "It must be someone they know!" The possibility was as improbable to
  Sharra as it was to Jaxom. "And he's
  not flying in!"
  They both heard the noises of something large moving through the for-
  est on the point. A muffled curse
  indicated the visitor was human but the first head that penetrated the
  screen of thick foliage was undeniably
  animal. The body that followed the head belonged to the smallest runner
  beast Jaxom had ever seen.
  The muffled curses resolved into intelligible words. "Stop snapping the
  branches back in my face, you ruddy,
  horn-nosed, flat-footed, slab-hided dragonbait! Well, Sharra, so this is
  where you got to! I was told, but I was
  beginning to doubt it! Hear you've been ill, Jaxom? You don't look it
  now!"
  "Piemur?" Although the appearance of the young harper was the unlike-
  liest of events, there was no
  mistaking the characteristic swagger in the short, compact figure that
  limped jauntily down the beach.
  
  Master Oldive would not have him moved even as far as Ista Hold. The
  Healer and Brekke were with him
  now in the inner room as he slept, propped up in the bed, Zair perched
  above him, his glowing eyes never
  leaving the face of his friend..Lessa held out her hand, needing her
  weyrmate's touch. He pulled a stool beside hers, gave her a quick kiss
  and poured himself a cup of wine.
  "D'ram has the Weyrfolk organized. He's sent the older bronzes to help
  Canth and F'nor bring Ranilth back.
  The poor old thing will live only a few more Turns ... if B'zon does."
  "Not another one today!"
  F'lar shook his head. "No, he's just dead asleep. We've got the disap-
  pointed bronze riders drunk as
  winemakers' apprentices, and from every indication Cosira and G'dened
  are ... so involved they haven't any
  notion of what else has been happening here in Ista."
  "That's as well," Lessa replied, grinning from ear to ear.
  F'lar stroked her cheek, grinning right back at her. "So when does
  Ramoth rise again, dear heart?"
  "I'll remember to let you know!" As she saw F'lar glance in the direction
  of the inner room, she added, "He'll
  
  had a special touch with dragons ever
  since she lost Wirenth!"
  "I can't quite see you offering her Ramoth under similar circumstances.
  Now don't soar over me, Lessa. That
  was a fine gesture of Jaxom's. Brekke told me that he hadn't realized till
  that moment that he couldn't fly
  between. It must have been a bitter discovery for him and it's greatly to
  his credit that he could respond so
  generously."
  "Yes, I see your point. It's a relief to have her here, too." Lessa glanced
  toward the curtain and sighed. "You
  know, I could almost get to like fire-lizards after today."
  "What brought about this change of heart?" F'lar stared at her in sur-
  prise.
  "I didn't say I had. I said I could almost-watching Brekke direct Grail and
  Berd to bring her things, and that
  little bronze of Robinton's. The creatures can get vicious when their
  friends are hurt but he just crouched
  there, watching Robinton's face and crooning till I thought he'd shake his
  bones loose. Not that I didn't feel
  
  Telgar Hold ..."
  "Lessa!" He gripped her fingers so tightly she winced. "T'ron's Fidranth
  was very much alive at Telgar Hold. I
  couldn't cause his death no matter what insult T'ron had given me. T'kul
  I could kill with pleasure. Though I
  admit, he nearly had me. Our Harper's not the only one who's Turning
  old."."So, thank goodness, are whoever's still left of the Oldtimers in South-
  ern. And now, what are we to do with
  them?"
  "I will go south and take charge of the Weyr," D'ram said. He'd entered,
  quiet with weariness, while they
  were talking. "I am, after all, an Oldtimer . . ." He gave a deep sigh.
  "They will accept from me what they
  would not endure from you, F'lar."
  The Benden Weyrleader hesitated, appealing as this offer was. "I know
  you're willing, D'ram, but if it's going
  to overset you ..."
  D'ram raised his hand to cut off the rest of the sentence. "I'm fitter than I
  thought. Those quiet days in the
  cove worked a miracle. I will need help ..."
  "Any help we can give . . ."
  
  "I know that. But it's time they did. That would give the dragons who re-
  main purpose and strength. It would
  give their riders hope and occupation." D'ram's face was stern. "I
  learned things from B'zon today that grieve
  me. I have been so blind ..."
  "The fault is not yours, D'ram. Mine was the decision to send them
  south."
  "I have honored that decision because it was the right one, F'lar. When .
  . . when Fanna died . . ."he got the
  words out in a rush, "I should have gone to the Southern Weyr. It would
  not have been disloyal to you if I
  had and it might have ..."
  "I doubt it," Lessa said, angry that D'ram was blaming himself. "Once
  T'kul plotted to steal a queen egg . . ."
  and she gestured her condemnation of the man.
  "If he had come to you..."
  Lessa's harsh expression did not alter. "I doubt that T'kul would have
  come," she said slowly. An expression
  of distaste crossed her mobile features and she made a sound of an-
  noyance before she looked at D'ram
  
  the point where I was willing to set dragon against dragon! That I can
  never forgive!"
  D'ram drew himself up. "Do you disagree, Weyrwoman, with my deci-
  sion to go south?"
  "Great Shells, no!" She was astonished, and then shook her head. "No,
  D'ram, I think you're wise and kind,
  more generous than I could ever be. Why, that idiot T'kul might have
  killed F'lar today! No, you must go.
  You're quite right about their accepting you. I don't think I ever realized
  what might be happening in the
  South. I didn't want to!" she added in candid acknowledgment of her
  own shortcomings.
  "Then I may invite additional riders to join me?" D'ram looked first at her
  and then at F'lar.
  "Ask anyone you want from Benden, except F'nor. It wouldn't be fair to
  ask Brekke to return to Southern
  D'ram nodded.."I think the other Weyrleaders will help. This matter
  touches the honor of all dragonriders. And..." F'lar broke
  off, clearing his throat, "and we do not want the Lord Holders precipi-
  tously taking charge in the South on the
  grounds that we cannot maintain order in the Weyrs."
  
  holder sons without hope of land in the
  North. All very quietly, so as not to alarm the Oldtimers." F'lar rose,
  restlessly pacing. "This isn't common
  knowledge ..."
  "I knew that there were traders north and south," said D'ram.
  "Yes, part of the problem. Traders talk, and word has passed back that
  there's a lot of land south. Granted
  some of this may be exaggeration but I've reason to believe that the
  Southern Continent is probably as large
  as this one-and one protected against Thread by thorough grubbing."
  He paused again, rubbing forefinger
  and thumb down the lines from nose to chin, scratching absently under
  his jaw. "This time, D'ram, the
  dragonriders will have first choice of land. In the next Interval, I do not
  intend that any dragonrider will be
  beholden to the generosity of Hold and Craft. We will have our own
  places, without prejudice. I, for one, will
  never beg wine or bread or meat from anyone!"
  D'ram had listened, at first with surprise and then with a gleam of delight
  in his tired eyes. He straightened
  
  only man to handle the situation.
  And I don't envy you!"
  D'ram chuckled at the Benden Weyrleader's admission and returned the
  arm grip firmly. Then his expression
  cleared.
  "I have grieved for my weyrmate as is proper. But I still live. I liked being
  in that cove, but it wasn't enough. I
  was relieved when you came after me, and kept me busy, F'lar. It does-
  n't answer to give up the only life I've
  known. I couldn't. Dragonmen must fly/When Threads are in the sky I"
  He sighed once more, inclined his
  head respectfully to Lessa and then, turning smartly on his heel, strode
  from the weyr, his step firm, his
  stance proud.
  "D'you think he can manage it, F'lar?"
  "He's more likely to pull it off than anyone ... except possibly F'nor. But I
  can't ask that of him. Or of Brekke!"
  "I should think not!" She spoke sharply and, with a little cry as if regret-
  ting her asperity, she ran to embrace
  him. He put his arms about her, absently stroking her hair.
  
  Telgar, when his wound had been slow to heal and he'd been sick with
  fever from foolishly going between.
  He'd learned a lesson then and had started delegating some of the
  strain of leadership to F'nor and T'gellan.in Benden, to N'ton and R'mart in
  Pern, and to Lessa herself! Keenly sensible of her deep need of him,
  Lessa embraced F'lar fiercely.
  He smiled down at her sudden demonstration, the tired lines smoothed
  away.
  "I'm with you, dear heart, don't worry!" He kissed her soundly enough to
  leave her no room for doubt of his
  vitality.
  The sound of boot heels thudding rapidly down the short corridor inter-
  rupted them and they moved apart.
  Sebell, face flushed from running, charged into the room, checking his
  pace when Lessa signaled him
  urgently to be quieter.
  "He's all right?"
  "He's asleep now, but see for yourself, Sebell," Lessa replied and ges-
  tured toward the curtained sleeping
  chamber.
  
  gone. "The other one's Menolly's. She
  wasn't allowed to come!" His grimace told both Weyrleaders how Me-
  nolly had reacted to that restriction.
  "Oh, tell them to come back. I don't eat fire-lizards!" Lessa said, curbing
  her irritation. She didn't know which
  annoyed her more, the fire-lizards themselves, or the way people
  cringed about her when the subject came
  up. "And that little bronze of Robinton's showed a commendable amount
  of common sense today. So tell
  Menolly's queen to come back. If the fire-lizard sees, she'll believe!"
  Smiling with intense relief, Sebell held up his arm. Two queens popped
  in, eyes huge and whirling madly in
  their perturbation. One of them, Lessa didn't know whose, since they all
  looked alike to her, chirped as if in
  thanks. Then Sebell, careful not to disrupt their balance and set them
  squeaking, walked with exaggerated
  care toward the sick man's quarters.
  "Sebell takes over the Harper Hall?" Lessa asked.
  "Well able for it, too."
  "If only the dear man had had the sense to delegate more to Sebell be-
  fore this ..."
  
  "And he'll drink many more skins limp," the quiet voice of Master Oldive
  said. He glided to the table, a
  curious figure with arms and legs apparently too long for his torso until
  his back was visible, with its hump.
  His handsome face was serene as he poured himself a cup of wine, re-
  garding the rich crimson color a.moment before he raised it, as Lessa had,
  and drank it down. "As you said, this helped keep him alive. It's
  seldom that a man's vice sustained life in his body!"
  "Master Robinton will be all right?"
  "Yes, with care and rest. He has rallied well. His pulse and heart are
  beating evenly again, if slowly. He
  cannot be fretted by any worries. I warned him repeatedly to reduce his
  activities. Not that I thought he'd
  listen! Sebell, Silvina and Menolly have done all they could to assist, but
  then Menolly took ill ... There is so
  much to be done for his Hall and for Pern!" Oldive smiled, his long face
  lighting gently as he took Lessa's
  hand and put it in F'lar's. "You can do no more here, Weyrleaders. Se-
  bell will wait to reassure Robinton
  when he rouses that all is well in his Hall. Brekke and I, and the good
  people of this Weyr, will nurse the
  
  All of us are with him, Mnementh said, his eyes slowly turning in quiet
  reassurance.
  CHAPTER XVI
  At the Cove Hold, 15.8.28-15.9.7
  WHEN JAXOM AND SHARRA blurted out to Piemur the events at Ista
  Weyr, including the news of the
  Harper's illness, the young journeyman treated them to a colorful de-
  scription of his Master's follies,
  shortcomings, stupid loyalties and altruistic hopes that quite stunned the
  listeners until they saw the tears
  leaking down Piemur's cheeks.
  At that moment, Ruth returned, scaring Piemur's runner beast into the
  forest. Piemur had to coax the animal,
  cheerfully called Stupid, to come out again.
  "He's really not stupid, you know," Piemur said, wiping sweat and tears
  from his face. "He knows that yon,"
  Piemur jerked his thumb surreptitiously in Ruth's direction, "like his sort
  for eating." He tested the knot on the
  rope with which he had secured Stupid to a tree trunk.
  I wouldn't eat him, Ruth replied. He's small and not very plump.
  
  supposed to be doing exactly what I've been doing. Most of all, I'm not
  supposed to be caught doing it."
  "Go on," Jaxom urged when Piemur stopped to assess the effect of his
  cryptic statement. "You wouldn't
  have told us this much if you didn't intend to say more. You did mention
  that you'd been looking for us?"
  Piemur grinned. "Among other things." He stretched out on the sand,
  grunting and making a show of settling
  himself. He took the cup of fruit juice Sharra handed him, quaffed the
  contents and held it out to be refilled.
  Jaxom regarded the young man patiently. He was used to Piemur's
  mannerisms from the days they had
  spent together in Master Fandarel's and the Harper Hall.
  "Did you never wonder why I left the classes, Jaxom?"
  "Menolly told me you'd been posted elsewhere."."And everywhere,"
  Piemur replied with a broad sweep of his arm, his fingers flicking southward
  in emphasis.
  "I'll wager that I've seen more of this planet than any living thing . . . in-
  cluding dragons!" He gave a decisive
  nod of his head to show the others they should be impressed. "I haven't
  quite . . ." he paused to stress the
  
  you, to stomp on it, through it, under it, around it. You know where
  you've been then!"
  "Does F'lar know?"
  "More or less," Piemur replied with a grin. "A little less than more, I'd
  wager. You see, about three Turns
  back, Toric started trading North with some fine samples of iron ore,
  copper and tin-all of which, as you
  might have heard Fandarel complain, Jaxom, are getting in short supply
  north. Robinton thought it prudent
  to investigate Toric's sources of supply. He was smart enough to send
  me over . . . You're sure he's going to
  be all right? You're not holding anything from me?" Piemur's anxiety cut
  through his brash manner.
  "You know as much as we know, as much as Ruth knows." Jaxom
  paused to inquire of his dragon. "And
  Ruth says he sleeps. He also says the dragons won't let him go."
  "The dragons won't let him go, huh? Don't that beat all!" Piemur shook
  his head from side to side. "Not that
  I'm surprised, mind you," he added with customary briskness. "The
  dragons know who're their friends. Now,
  
  Jaxom?"
  "I don't know what F'lar's plans might be but he's not the only one inter-
  ested in the South, I'd wager."
  "Truly spoken! But he's the only one that matters, don't you see?"
  "No, frankly I don't see," Sharra said. "My brother's Lord Holder . . . Well
  he is," she added with some heat
  when Piemur started to contradict her. "Or would be, if his Hold had
  been acknowledged by the Northern
  Lord Holders. He risked settling south with F'nor when he timed it back.
  No one else was willing to try. He's
  put up with the Oldtimers, and made a fine, big, Threadfree Hold. No
  one can gainsay his right to hold what
  he has . . ."
  "Nor do I!" Piemur assented quickly. "But ... for all Toric's attracted a lot
  of new people from the North, he
  can only Hold so much! He can only protect and work so much. And
  there is so much more of the Southern
  Continent than anyone realizes. Except me! I'll bet I've already walked
  the breadth of Pern from Tillek Head
  to Nerat Tip on this continent and not gone its length." Piemur's tone
  changed abruptly from derision to awe.
  
  have to turn back. Bat," he turned to his listeners, "you see, there's
  probably as much land beyond that bay
  as I'd already transversed from Toric's Hold and I'd still not come full cir-
  cle! Toric could not begin to hold the
  half of what I've seen. And that's only the western side. East now, it's
  taken me a full three sevendays to
  reach you from Toric's and we'd had to swim part of the way. Good
  swimmer, that Stupid of mine! As willing
  as a new day and never complains. When I think of how careful my fa-
  ther was to feed his runner stock on
  only the best fodder, and what Stupid makes do on with twice the work
  out of him . . ." Piemur broke off to
  shake his head at the inequity.."So," he returned briskly to his narrative,
  "I've been exploring as I was told to, and heading in your general
  direction, as I was told to, only I expected to be here long before this!
  My word, but I'm tired, and no one
  knows how much further I've got to travel before I get where I'm going."
  "I thought you were coming here."
  "Yes, but I've to go on ... eventually." He raised his left leg, the one
  which he'd been favoring, and squinched
  
  "I can't walk any farther on that, now can I, Sharra?"
  "No, I don't think you should, Piemur," Jaxom said, critically examining
  the healed wound. "Do you, Sharra?"
  She looked from one to the other and then began to shake her head,
  her eyes dancing.
  "No, positively not. It needs soaking in warm salt water, and plenty of
  sun, and you're a terrible rascal,
  Piemur. Just as well you're not a posted harper! You'd scandalize any
  sensible Holder!"
  "Have you kept any Records of your traveling?" Jaxom asked, keenly
  interested and just a shade jealous of
  Piemur's freedom.
  "Have I kept Records?" Piemur snorted derisively. "Most of what Stupid
  packs is Records! Why do you think
  I'm wearing rags? I haven't room to carry spare clothes." His voice low-
  ered and he leaned urgently toward
  Jaxom. "You don't just possibly happen to have any of Bendarek's
  leaves down here, do you?
  There are a couple of-"
  "Plenty of leaves. Drawing tools as well. C'mon!" Jaxom was on his feet,
  Piemur not a second behind him
  
  an oblique compliment to Jaxom's
  work. "You used Ruth as measure? Fair enough. I've taught my queen,
  Farli, to pace her flight. I count by
  the second, watch for her dip at the end of the run and record the dis-
  tance by seconds. I figure it up later
  when I'm charting. N'ton double-checked the measure when he worked
  with me, so I know it's reasonably
  accurate, as long as I allow enough for a wind factor." He whistled as
  his gaze fell on the tall stack of fresh
  sheets. "I might need 'em, I might, to map what I've traveled over. If
  you'd give me a hand..."
  "You do have to rest that leg, don't you?" Jaxom kept his face expres-
  sionless.
  Piemur caught his eye in surprise and then they both burst out laughing
  until Sharra, joining them, wanted to
  share the joke.
  The next few days passed most agreeably for the three, starting with
  Ruth's assurances about the Harper's
  continued improvement. The first morning, noticing that Stupid had
  cropped all the ground greens in the
  
  He is Piemur's friend. Piemur is my friend. I do not eat the friends of
  friends.
  Jaxom couldn't resist repeating this rationalization to Piemur, who
  howled with laughter and thumped Ruth
  with the same rough affection he used on Stupid.
  They packed half a dozen heavy sheaves of grass on Ruth and were
  airborne when Piemur asked Jaxom if
  he'd been to the peak yet.
  "Can't fly between." Jaxom didn't bother hiding his frustration from Pie-
  mur.
  "Too bloody right you can't. Not with fire-head!"
  Jaxom blinked at Piemur's unequivocal agreement.
  "Don't worry! You'll get there soon enough." Piemur squinted at the
  symmetrical peak, shading his eyes with
  one hand. "May look near, but it's several, four-five maybe, days' travel.
  Rough country, I'd guess. You've . .
  ." he paused to give Jaxom an unexpected blow in the midriff which
  robbed him of breath, "got to get fit first!
  I heard you puffing, hacking down that grass. Huh!"
  "Wouldn't it be easier to bring Stupid here and let him graze? There
  aren't any dragons about, except Ruth.
  
  rough dun-colored neck.
  "Not as smart as Farli, but not really stupid. Limited is a fairer assess-
  ment of his scope. Within those
  limitations, he's pretty bright."
  "For instance?" asked Jaxom. He'd never thought much of runner
  beasts.
  "Well, for instance, I can send Farli ahead, telling her to fly so many
  hours in the direction I've pointed, land
  and pick up anything lying on the ground. Generally she brings back
  grasses or bush twigs, and sometimes
  stone and sand. I can send her to look for water. That's what fooled me
  about the Big Bay. She'd found
  water, all right, so Stupid and I humped after her. I didn't specify drinking
  water." Piemur shrugged and
  laughed. "But Stupid and I have to go on foot, and he's right smart about
  ground. Kept me from sinking in
  mud and those shifting sands time and again. He's clever about finding
  the easiest route over rough going.
  He's also good at finding water . . . drinking-type water. So I should
  have listened to him when he didn't want
  
  where. ... In case someone wants some.
  You know if green fire-lizards weren't as stupid as they are, we'd be up
  to our ears in little green ones. And
  they're downright useless.".Sharra grinned. "I remember the day I found
  my first clutch in the sands. I didn't know the difference
  between green and gold nests. Oh, how I watched that clutch ... for
  days. Never told a soul. I was going to
  Impress all of them ..."
  "Four or five?" Piemur asked with a laugh.
  "Six, in fact. Only I didn't realize that a sand snake had got the lot from
  beneath long before I found the
  nest."
  "How is it, then, that sand snakes don't get a queen's eggs?" Jaxom
  asked.
  "She's never far from her clutch," Sharra said. "She'd spot a snake tun-
  nel right away and kill it." She gave a
  shudder. "I hate snakes worse than I hate Thread."
  "Much the same thing, isn't it?" Piemur asked, "except for the direction
  of attack." He gestured with both
  hands, one coming down, the other coming up on an imaginary victim.
  
  nest, all nicely hardened to within a day
  or two of Hatching. Their approach had sent the wild fire-lizard queen to
  cover so they were able to excavate
  the eggs, packing them carefully in the carrier they had strapped to Stu-
  pid's back. Jaxom asked Ruth to alert
  Canth that they had fire-lizard eggs.
  Canth says that they are coming tomorrow anyway, Ruth replied. The
  Harper ate well.
  Ruth gave them such snippets of information about Master Robinton pe-
  riodically. It was as good as being in
  the same Hall with the invalid, without having to hear him complain,
  Piemur observed.
  They returned to the shelter cove through the forest. The fruit trees near
  the clearing had been picked clean
  and if F'nor were coming, he'd surely appreciate some fresh fruit to take
  back to Benden Weyr.
  "Should you be around when F'nor comes?" Jaxom asked the young
  harper.
  "Why not? He knows what I've been doing. You know, Jaxom, when you
  see how beautiful this continent is,
  you wonder why our ancestors went north . . ."
  
  why! Though if there were half as many earthshakes then as there are
  now, I can't fault them for common
  sense. When I was on the way to Big Bay, I bloody near got killed in a
  shake. Nearly lost Stupid from fright.
  If it hadn't been for Farli keeping her eye on him, I never would have
  caught up with the stupid idiot!"
  "Earth-shakes happen in the North," Jaxom said, "in Crom and High
  Reaches and sometimes Igen and the
  Telgar Plain."
  "Not the kind I've been through," Piemur said, shaking his head at the
  memory. "Not where the earth drops
  beneath your feet and two paces beyond you lifts above your head half
  a dragonlength."."When did that happen? Three, four months ago?"
  "That's when!"
  "Earth only trembled at Southern, but that's scary enough!"
  "Ever seen a volcano pop up out of the ocean and spew fiery rock and
  ash about?" asked Piemur.
  "No, and I'm not sure you have, either, Piemur," Sharra said, eyeing him
  suspiciously.
  "I have, and N'ton was with me, so I've a witness."
  "Don't think I won't ask him."
  
  he added and, leaping in the air,
  grabbed the lowest branch and swung himself neatly up. He began to
  sever the stems that held the redfruit,
  dropping them carefully into the waiting hands of Jaxom and Sharra.
  It had taken them only two hours to walk to the fire-lizards' clutch along
  the beach. But it took them almost
  three times as long to hack a narrow path back to the shelter through
  the thick undergrowth. Jaxom began to
  appreciate the arduousness of Piemur's journey as he slashed valiantly
  away at the sticky-sapped bushes.
  His shoulders ached and he'd branch-spiked shins and skinned toes by
  the time they emerged near the
  shelter. Jaxom had lost all sense of direction. But Piemur had an un-
  canny sense and with Ruth and three
  fire-lizards, had kept them on a direct line to their goal.
  Once there, only Jaxom's pride kept him from collapsing on his bed and
  sleeping off his exertions. Piemur
  was all for a swim to wash off the sweat and Sharra thought that broiled
  fish would make a good supper, so
  Jaxom struggled to keep going.
  
  the lip of the mountain threatened to engulf him and he couldn't make
  his legs move fast enough.
  "Jaxom!" Piemur shook him awake. "You're dreaming! You'll wake
  Sharra." Piemur paused, and in the dim
  twilight of predawn, the sound of Sharra's moaning was clearly audible.
  "Maybe I should. She sounds like
  she's having a bad dream, too."
  Piemur started to crawl out of his sleeping furs when they heard Sharra
  sigh deeply, and fall into a quieter
  sleep.
  "I shouldn't have talked about that volcano. I relived that eruption. At
  least, I think that's what I was
  dreaming." Piemur sounded confused. "Probably too much fish and fruit!
  I made up for lost meals tonight."
  He sighed and made himself comfortable again.
  "Thanks, Piemur!"."For what?" Piemur asked in the middle of a yawn.
  Jaxom turned over, found a good position and dropped easily back into
  a dreamless sleep.
  Ruth's bugle woke all three the next morning.
  "F'nor's coming," Jaxom said, having heard Ruth's message.
  F'nor brings others, Ruth added.
  
  Canth deposited his rider on the sand. Roaring a command at the other
  dragons, he waddled happily into
  the water where Ruth was quick to join him.
  "Well met, Piemur," F'nor cried, unloosening his flying gear as he
  walked toward the others. "Began to
  wonder if you'd gotten lost!"
  "Lost?" Piemur looked outraged. "That's the trouble with you dragon-
  fliers. You've no respect for ground
  distances! You've got it too easy. Up, up and away! Wink out and you're
  where you want to be. No effort at
  all involved." He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "Now I know
  where I've been, every bloody finger's
  length of it!"
  F'nor grinned at the young harper and pummeled his back with such
  vigor Jaxom was surprised to see
  Piemur unmoved. "You'll amuse your Master then, with the full and
  properly embroidered tale of your
  travels..."
  "You're to bring me to Master Robinton?"
  "Not yet. He's coming to you!" F'nor pointed to the ground.
  "What?"
  
  "How'll he get here?" Jaxom asked. "He surely wouldn't be allowed to fly
  between." He couldn't help the
  edge of resentment in his voice. F'nor cocked an eyebrow at him.
  "Master Idarolan has put his fastest, largest vessel at the Master
  Harper's disposal. Menolly and Brekke are
  accompanying him. On a sea voyage there is nothing that can disturb or
  worry the Harper."
  "He gets seasick," remarked Jaxom.."Only in small boats." F'nor looked
  at them with a very solemn expression. "So. We'll set to work at once.
  I've brought tools and extra help," and he gestured toward the three
  Weyrlings who had joined them. "We'll
  enlarge that shelter to a proper small hold," he said as he glanced down
  at the leaf. "I'll want every bit of that
  underbrush cleared off . .."
  "Then you'll fry the Harper in the sun which is unpleasant," Sharra
  pointed out.
  "I beg your pardon ..."
  Sharra took the leaf from him, frowning critically at it. "Small hold? This
  is a bloody hall," she said, "and not
  the least bit suitable to this continent. Furthermore," and she dropped to
  the sand, picking up a long shell
  
  sevenday or so, but the plant heals itself. Meanwhile, you're coming into
  the hot season and, believe me,
  you'll want as much green about you as possible to keep cool. You want
  to build off the ground, on pilings.
  There's plenty of reef rock for foundations. You want wide windows, not
  these tiny slits, to catch every
  breeze. All right, you can shutter them if you want to but I've lived south
  all my life, so I know how you should
  build here. You want windows, and corridors straight through the interior
  for breezeways . . ." As she spoke,
  she was delineating the revised hold with strokes that were strong
  enough to stay in the hot dry sand. "And
  you want an outdoor hearth for so many. Brekke and I did most of our
  baking here in stone pits," she pointed
  to the spot on the cove, "and you don't really need a bathing room with
  the cove a few steps from the door."
  "You don't object to piped water, do you?"
  "No, that would be handier than lugging it from the stream. Only put an-
  other tap in the cooking area as well
  as one in the house. Perhaps even a tank by the hearth so we can have
  heated water, too .. ."
  
  "So's Master Robinton," Piemur said. "Sharra's right about the heat and
  the building down here. We can
  always cut forest down, F'nor, but you can't build it back up so easily."
  "A point. Now you three, B'refli, K'van and M'tok, loose your dragons.
  They can swim and sun with Ruth and
  Canth. They won't be needed until we've cut some wood. K'van, let me
  have your sack. You've got the axes,
  haven't you?" F'nor passed out the tools, ignoring Piemur's mutterings
  about slogging through days of
  forests only to end up cutting one down. "Sharra, take us to your pre-
  ferred site. We'll clear some of those
  trees and use 'em for supports."
  "They're stout enough," Sharra agreed and led the way.
  Sharra was correct about the trees: F'nor marked off the proposed site
  of the hall and the trees to be cut.
  This was a lot easier said than done. The axes didn't seem to bite the
  wood, rather bounced off. F'nor was
  surprised, muttering about dull axes and brought out his sharpening
  stone. Having achieved a suitably sharp
  
  "Not for lack of trying, is it?" F'nor said, mopping the sweat from his
  forehead. "Well, let's see what Sharra's
  got for us to eat. Something smells good."
  They had time for a swim before Sharra's meal was ready, the salt wa-
  ter stinging in their blisters which
  Sharra slathered with numbweed. When they'd eaten the broiled fish
  and baked roots, F'nor set them to
  sharpening their axes. They spent the rest of the afternoon lopping off
  branches before they asked the
  dragons to haul the timbers to one side. Sharra cleared underbrush and,
  with Ruth's help, brought black reef
  rock to mark out the piles of the foundation.
  As soon as F'nor took his recruits back to the Weyr for the night, Jaxom
  and Piemur collapsed on the sand,
  rousing only long enough to eat the dinner Sharra served them.
  "I'd sooner tramp around the Big Bay," Piemur muttered, wincing as he
  stretched his shoulders this way and
  that.
  "It's for Master Robinton," Sharra said.
  Jaxom regarded his blisters thoughtfully. "At the rate we're going it'd
  better take him months to get here!"
  
  no way he could consolidate his hold on her attentions with a third party
  about.
  There was even less opportunity by the following morning. Sharra woke
  them to announce that F'nor had
  arrived, with more helpers.
  Jaxom should have been more suspicious of her bland expression, and
  the calls and orders that he beard
  outside the shelter. But he was totally unprepared for the sight that met
  his eyes when he and Piemur,
  moving stiffly, emerged from the shelter.
  The cove, the clearing, the sky-all were full of dragons and men. As
  soon as a dragon was unloaded, he
  took off to allow another to land. The waters of the cove were full of
  splashing, playing dragons. Ruth was
  standing on the eastern tip of the cove, head turned skyward, bugling
  welcome after welcome. A full fair of
  fire-lizards chattered at one another on the roof of the shelter.
  "Sear and scorch it, will you look at that?" Piemur called at Jaxom's
  side. Then he chuckled and rubbed his
  hands. "One thing for sure, no chopping today!"
  
  the sheets on the small table-Brekke's original drawing and the altera-
  tions suggested by Sharra. The brown
  rider retrieved the sheets and showed them to the Craftmasters. "Now,
  here, Fandarel, Bendarek, this is our
  idea .. .".Acting as one, the two men lifted the sheets from F'nor's hands
  and scrutinized first one then the other. Both
  shook their heads slowly from side to side in disapproval.
  "Not very efficient, F'nor, but well meant," the huge Smith said.
  "Weyrleader R'mart allowed me sufficient riders to bring in well-
  seasoned hardwoods for the frame,"
  Bendarek told the Smith.
  "I have piping for water and other conveniences, metals for a proper
  hearth and fitments, kitchen
  implements, windows . .."
  "Lord Asgenar insisted that I bring stonesmiths. Proper foundations and
  flooring must be well laid . .."
  "First we must correct this design. Master Bendarek ..."
  "I quite agree. This is a nice enough little cot but not at all suitable ac-
  commodation for the Masterharper of
  Pern."
  
  lines, to draw what he had in mind. The Smith, taking a sheet of his
  own, began to delineate his ideas.
  "Honest, Jaxom," F'nor said, his eyes crinkling with amusement, "all I
  did was ask F'lar and Lessa if I could
  draft a few more helpers. Lessa gave me a stern look; F'lar said I was to
  recruit as many free riders as I
  needed and, at dawn, the rim of the Weyr was packed solid with drag-
  ons and half the Craftmasters of Pern!
  Lessa must have bespoken Ramoth, who evidently told everyone in
  Pern . .."
  "You gave them the excuse they needed, F'nor," Piemur said, surveying
  the traffic on the once-quiet beach,
  the throngs of riders and craftsmen piling dragonloads on the already
  crowded perimeters.
  "Yes, I know, but I hadn't expected such a response. And how could I
  tell 'em they couldn't come?"
  "I think," said Sharra, who had joined them, "that this is quite a tribute to
  the Masterharper." Her eyes caught
  Jaxom's and he knew that she was aware of his ambivalent feelings
  about this invasion of their private,
  peaceful cove.
  
  The fire-lizard looked over her left shoulder and chirped, and Piemur
  strode off in that direction without a
  backward glance.
  "That young man's been alone too long," F'nor said.
  "Yes!"
  "You know how he feels?" F'nor asked, grinning at Jaxom's terse reply.
  He clapped him on the shoulder. "I
  wouldn't let it get to me, if I were you, Jaxom. With the amount of help
  we've got, the hold will be up in next
  to no time. You'll have your peace and quiet back."."Idiots!" Sharra ex-
  claimed suddenly.
  Jaxom, avoiding F'nor's quizzical expression, looked at her. She'd been
  half-listening to the conversation
  between the two Masters.
  "Now I have to have it out with them!" Her fists were clenched with ex-
  asperation as she strode purposefully
  up to the two Craftsmen. "Masters, I must point out something you have
  clearly overlooked. This is hot
  country You're both used to cold winters and freezing rains. If you build
  this hold on those lines, people will
  
  F'nor made a clicking noise against his teeth. "She sounds like Brekke.
  And if she acts at all like my
  weyrmate when she's in that sort of mood, I'd rather be elsewhere.
  You," F'nor poked Jaxom in the chest,
  "can show us where to hunt. Food was brought along but since you're in
  effect the resident Lord Holder, it's
  up to you to play host with some roasting meat..."
  "I'll just get my flying gear," Jaxom said with such a tone of relief that the
  three dragonriders laughed.
  Jaxom quickly slipped long trousers over the short pants he'd been
  wearing for sunning and swimming,
  threw his jacket over his shoulder and joined the three riders by the
  doorway.
  "I think we can mount on the left-hand arm of the cove, near Ruth," said
  F'nor.
  Something whizzed by Jaxom's ear and instinctively ducking, he looked
  back as Meer came to a hover,
  clutching a piece of black reef rock in his front paws. Jaxom heard
  Sharra thanking her fire-lizard for his
  prompt return.
  
  fied men from every Weyr except
  Telgar-which was expecting Thread that day-and representatives of
  every craft in Pern, mostly journeyman
  rank and higher. Isolated as he'd been for so many sevendays, it hadn't
  occurred to Jaxom that his illness
  might have been a subject of widespread interest through Weyr, Craft,
  and Hold. He was embarrassed as
  well as gratified, but that did not ease his sense of being overwhelmed,
  or this violation, however well-intentioned,
  of the privacy and peace of his cove.
  What had F'nor called him? Resident Lord Holder?
  He gave himself a shake just as Ruth, dripping wet, landed lightly be-
  side him.
  So many people. So many dragons! This is fun!
  Ruth's eyes were whirling with excitement and pleasure. The white
  dragon, now dwarfed by two huge
  bronzes and a nearly as large brown dragon, was so delighted with all
  this excitement that Jaxom could not
  remain disgruntled.
  Laughing, he thumped Ruth affectionately on the shoulder and sprang
  to his neck. The other riders were
  
  the water and the cool mud. There
  would also be sufficient open space for the bigger dragons to maneuver
  and permit their riders good casts.
  Sure enough, herd and flock were wandering about the river meadows,
  where the land sloped from the trees
  to the flood edges of the river in a series of banks where successive
  rainy seasons had made it impossible
  for trees to root. Grass abounded now, about to turn sere as the hotter
  weather burned it relentlessly to hay.
  We are to hunt singly. F'nor asks that we get a large wherry. They will
  try for a buck apiece. That should be
  enough for today.
  "If it isn't," Jaxom replied, "we can always go after one of the big fish."
  In fact, Jaxom quite looked forward to the opportunity. He had never had
  occasion to use a spear-headed
  rope but ... He spotted a wherry, a fine big one, fanning its tail spines as
  it stalked majestically after the
  wherry-fens. Jaxom tightened his legs on Ruth's neck, tested the
  weighted loop end of the rope in his hands.
  He pictured the wherry-male to Ruth, who turned his head obediently to
  point. Then Ruth dove, his wings
  
  almost from the sockets. Ruth took
  some of the strain as he caught the rope with his forepaw.
  - F'nor says good catch. He hopes he can do as well!
  Jaxom guided Ruth to the edge of the meadow furthest from the other
  hunters. Then, letting the carcass
  down lightly, Ruth landed and Jaxom began to secure the snatch across
  Ruth's back. They were airborne
  again in time to see T'gellan valiantly pursuing the buck he'd missed on
  his first throw. F'nor and N'ton had
  their beasts neatly dangling. F'nor pumped his arm in triumph as he and
  N'ton circled back to the cove. As
  Ruth followed, Jaxom saw T'gellan succeed in his second throw; none
  too soon for they'd had to soar to
  miss the edge of the forest and nearly entangled the depending buck in
  the trees. A good quick hunt,
  though, which meant the quarry would forget quickly the small excite-
  ment. Undoubtedly they'd have to hunt
  again tomorrow. Jaxom couldn't see even that enormous work force
  finishing the Harper's new hold in a day!
  Maybe tomorrow they could go after the big fish.
  
  and he neared the site, Jaxom saw that pillars of black reef rock were in
  place and several crossbeams of
  the treated, seasoned hardwoods Master Bendarek had brought were
  being secured in position. A wide
  avenue in a graceful curve had also been cleared and sand dumped
  from firestone sacks transported on
  dragonback. Other workmen on the edges of the clearing were involved
  in a variety of tasks-sawing, planing,
  nailing, fitting-while another file of men carried black reef rock from piles
  on the cove edge.
  On the eastern tip, Jaxom could see that pits had been dug for roasting,
  metal spits erected and fires
  started. Tables had been placed in the shade on which Jaxom could see
  the piled mounds of red, orange
  and green fruits.
  Ruth hovered over the clearing, gently landing. Two men by the fire-pits
  leaped to Jaxom's assistance as he
  offloaded the wherry. Ruth immediately vaulted out of the way so that
  Jaxom could guide the other
  
  gripped Jaxom by the shoulder. "Yes, they'll make the transition easily."
  "Transition?"
  F'nor clearly didn't mean the present building frenzy.
  "Dragonfolk going back to the land, the hold. How much exploring have
  you been able to do around here?"
  "The coves, as far back as those river meadows, and some of the im-
  mediate interior the day before
  yesterday with Piemur."
  As one, the two men turned toward the cone of the volcano that lay,
  cloud clad, in the distance.
  "Yes, it does sort of draw your eye, doesn't it?" F'nor grinned. "You'll get
  there first, Jaxom. In fact, I'd prefer
  it if you and Piemur began some serious explorations with that as your
  goal. Yes, that pleases you, doesn't
  it? Better for you, too, and Piemur. Now, before I forget it again, where's
  that fire-lizard clutch you reported?"
  "There're twenty-one eggs and I'd like to have five of them, if I may ..."
  "Of course!"
  "To be taken to Ruatha!"
  "By evening."
  
  Sister, 15.10.1-15.10.2
  WHEN THE THREE fire-lizards had made the first overtures of greeting,
  the three men, grinning at the
  enthusiasm shown by their friends, made themselves comfortable
  around the table in the small room at Fort
  Hold where Lord Groghe held his private meetings. Sebell had been
  there frequently, but never as
  spokesman for his Crafthall and never when Lord Groghe had sum-
  moned the Fort Weyrleader as well, in
  what was obviously a matter of some importance.
  "Not sure how to begin," Lord Groghe said as he poured the wine. Se-
  bell thought that was a very good way
  to begin, especially since the Lord Holder had honored them with Ben-
  den wine. "Might as well plunge.
  Problem's this ... I backed F'lar when he fought T'ron," Groghe nodded
  at the current Fort Weyrleader,
  "because I knew he was right. Right to exile those misfits where they'd
  do no one any harm. While the
  Oldtimers were in the Southern Weyr, made sense to leave them alone,
  just as long as they left us alone-which
  
  representative, is bringing in dragonfolk from other Weyrs, to make it a
  proper Weyr again, fighting Thread
  and all that! I approve!" He favored the Harpercraftmaster and then the
  Weyrleader with long meaningful
  glances. "Hmmm. Well, that's all to the good, isn't it? Protecting the
  South against Thread! Thing of it is, with
  the Southern Weyr working again, as it were, that Southern land is safe.
  Now I know there's a hold
  established there. Young Toric. Wouldn't want to interfere with his
  Holding. No way! He's earned it. But a
  working Weyr can protect more than one small hold, now, can't it?" He
  pinned his gimlet stare on N'ton, who
  contrived to maintain an attitude of courteous interest, forcing Lord
  Groghe to continue without any help.
  "Well, hmmm. Trouble is, you bring up a fair of young 'uns to know how
  to hold proper and that's what they
  want to do. Hold! Terrible fights they get into. Terrible quarrels. Foster-
  ing 'em don't help much. Just got to
  foster others and they quarrel and fight. Scorch it! They all need holds of
  their own." Lord Groghe banged his
  
  command anymore. D'ram is and he's F'lar's man and he'll make it a
  proper Weyr so there could be more
  holdings, couldn't there?"
  Lord Groghe glanced from Harper to Weyrleader, daring them to con-
  tradict him. "There's plenty of un-held
  land in the South, isn't there? No one really knows how much. But I
  heard Masterfisherman Idarolan say one
  of his ships cruised for days along a coastline. Hmmm yes, well." Then
  he started to chuckle, a mirth that
  increased into a wheeze that shook the large well-fleshed frame of the
  Lord Holder. He was reduced to
  speechlessness and impotently pointed his thick forefinger first at one
  and then the other, trying to indicate
  something by gesture which his laughter kept him from explaining by
  word.
  Helplessly, N'ton and Sebell exchanged grins and shrugs, unable to
  perceive what amused Lord Groghe or
  what he wanted to convey to them. The monumental mirth subsided,
  leaving Lord Groghe weak to the point
  of wiping tears from his eyes.
  
  think," Lord Groghe stabbed at his chest with his thumb, "he'd better be
  prepared . . . soon. Trouble is,
  everyone in Pern knows that the Masterharper is going south to get well.
  Everyone wishes Master Robinton
  the best of luck. Yet everyone is beginning to wonder about that South-
  ern Continent now it's not closed
  anymore."
  "Southern is too big to be adequately protected against Thread which
  still falls there," N'ton said.
  Lord Groghe nodded, mumbling that he was aware of that. "Point is,
  people know you can live without hold
  and survive Threadfall!" The Lord Holder's eyes narrowed as he glanced
  at Sebell. "That Menolly girl of
  yours did it! Hear tell Toric in Southern got little help from those Old-
  timers during Falls."
  "Tell me, Lord Groghe," Sebell asked in his quiet way, "have you ever
  been out in Fall?"
  Lord Groghe shuddered a bit. "Once. Ohhh, well, yes, I take your point,
  Harper. I take your point. Still, one
  way to separate boys from men!" He gave a sharp nod of his head.
  "That's my notion. Separate boys from
  
  "Can't ask fairer than that! What news, Master Sebell, of Master Robin-
  ton?"
  Sebell's eyes lit with amusement. "He's four days out of Ista Hold, rest-
  ing comfortably."
  "Ha!" Lord Groghe begged to disbelieve that.
  "Well, I'm told he's comfortable," Sebell replied. "Whether he is of the
  same opinion or not."
  "Going to that pretty place where young Jaxom's trapped, huh?"
  "Trapped?" Sebell regarded Lord Groghe with mock horror. "He's not
  trapped, only restricted from flying
  between for a while longer."
  "Been at that cove. Beautiful. Whereabouts is it exactly?"
  "In the South," Sebell answered.
  "Humph. All right, you won't tell? You won't tell! Don't blame you. Beau-
  tiful place. Now, off with the pair of
  you and tell F'lar what I've said. Don't think I'll be the last but it'd be a
  help to be the first. Help to him. Help to
  me! Dratted sons of mine drive me to drinking!" The Lord Holder rose
  and so did the two younger men. "Tell
  your Master I was asking for him when you see him next, Sebell."
  "I will, sir!"
  
  worked."
  "What worked?"
  "The Lord Holder's asking the Weyrleaders' permission to go south!"
  "Why shouldn't they?" N'ton seemed perplexed.
  Sebell grinned broadly at his friend. "By the Shell, it worked with you,
  too! Do you have time to take me to
  Benden Weyr? Lord Groghe's right. He might be the first though I doubt
  it, knowing Lord Corman's ways, but
  he won't be the last."
  "What worked with me, Sebell?"
  Sebell's grin deepened and his brown eyes danced. "Now I'm well
  trained not to give away craft secrets, my
  friend.".N'ton made a noise of disgusted impatience and stopped in the
  middle of the dusty pavement. "Explain or
  you don't go."
  "It should be so obvious, N'ton. Do think on it. While you take me to
  Benden. If you haven't figured out what I
  mean, I'll tell you there. I'll have to inform F'lar what's been done any-
  how."
  "Lord Groghe, too, eh?" F'lar regarded the two younger men thought-
  fully.
  
  down on the table.
  "I apologize for barging in when you must wish to rest, Weyrleader," Se-
  bell said, "but if Lord Groghe has
  thought of those empty lands to the south, others have, too. He sug-
  gested that you'd better be warned."
  "Warned, huh?" F'lar brushed the forelock out of his eyes and grimly
  poured a cup of wine for himself.
  Recalling courtesy, he poured wine for N'ton and Sebell.
  "Sir, the matter's not yet out of hand."
  "Hordes of holdless men wanting to swarm south, and it's not out of
  hand?"
  "They have to ask Benden's permission first!"
  F'lar was in the act of swallowing wine and nearly choked in surprise.
  "Ask Benden's permission? How does that come about?"
  "Master Robinton's doing," N'ton said, grinning from ear to ear.
  "Excuse me, I don't seem to be following you," F'lar said, sitting down.
  He dabbed the splattered wine from
  his lips. "What has Master Robinton, who is, I trust, safely at sea, to do
  with Groghe, Corman and who
  knows who else wanting Southern lands for their many sons?"
  
  ward to Sebell.
  "Go on. This is very interesting."
  "Benden Weyr only could appreciate the changes that had occurred to
  Hold and Craft during the Long
  Interval, because only Benden had changed with the Turns. You, as
  Benden Weyrleader, saved Pern from
  Thread when no one else felt Thread would ever fall again. You also
  protected your Time from the excesses
  of those Oldtimers, who could not accept the gradual changes of Hold
  and Craft. You upheld the rights of
  Hold and Craft against your own kind and exiled those who would not
  look to you for leadership.
  "Hmm. I hadn't ever heard it put quite like that," F'lar said..To N'ton's
  amusement, Benden's Weyrleader squirmed, partly embarrassed but
  mostly gratified by the
  summation.
  "And so the South became closed off!"
  "Not precisely closed off," F'lar said. "Toric's people always came and
  went." He grimaced at the present
  repercussions of that liberty.
  
  "And Master Robinton construed that to mean Benden gives all orders
  regarding Southern?"
  "More or less." Sebell made that admission cautiously.
  "But not in so many words, eh, Sebell?" F'lar asked, appreciating afresh
  the devious mind of the Harper.
  "Yes, sir. It seemed the course to take, sir, considering your own wish to
  secure some part of the Southern
  Continent for the dragonfolk during the next Interval."
  "I'd no idea that Master Robinton had taken a chance remark of mine so
  much to heart."
  "Master Robinton has always had the best interests of the Weyrs clearly
  in mind."
  Grimly F'lar thought of the painful estrangement when the Harper had
  intervened on the day the egg had
  been stolen. But again, though it hadn't seemed so at the moment, the
  Harper had acted in the best
  interests of Pern. If Lessa had carried out her intention of setting the
  Northern dragons against the poor old
  beasts at Southern .. .
  "We owe the Masterharper much."
  
  and Canth tried to go to the Red
  Star. The notion is Dragonmen must fly/When Threads are in the sky."
  "Isn't it current knowledge now," F'lar tried to keep the contempt from his
  tone, "that the Southerners rarely
  stirred themselves to fly Thread in the South?"
  "That is, as you believe, now known. But, sir, I think you fail to appreci-
  ate that it is one thing to think about
  being holdless in the Fall, and quite another matter to endure it."
  "You have?" F'lar asked.
  "I have." Sebell's expression was solemn. "I would prefer above all else
  to be within a Hold." He shrugged
  his shoulders. "I know that it's a question of changing the habits of my
  early years, but I definitely prefer to
  be sheltered during Fall. And to me that will always imply protection by
  dragons!"."So, in the final analysis, I've got the problem of Southern right
  back in my lap?"
  "What's the problem with Southern now?" Lessa asked, entering the
  weyr just then. "I thought it was
  understood that we have first rights in Southern!"
  "That," F'lar chuckled, "does not appear to be in contention. Not at all.
  Thanks to good Master Robinton."
  
  interfere with the Oldtimers again." Lessa loosened her riding belt, and
  sighed. "I wish I knew more. Has
  Jaxom done nothing with his time down at the cove?"
  Sebell extracted a bulky packet from his tunic. "He has, among others.
  Perhaps this will ease your mind,
  Lessa." With an air of quiet triumph, Sebell unfolded the carefully joined
  leaves of a large chart, portions of
  which remained white. A clearly defined coastline was occasionally ex-
  panded inland with colored and
  shaded areas. In the margins were dates and the names of those who
  had surveyed the various sections.
  The thumb of land pointing at Nerat Tip was completely filled in and fa-
  miliar to the Weyrleader as Southern
  Weyr and Hold. On either side of that landmark was an incredible sweep
  of continent, bounded on the west
  by the delineation of a great sandy waste on two sides of a huge bay.
  On the east, ever further from the
  thumb of Southern, a longer coastline stretched, dipping sharply south,
  punctuated at its most easterly point
  by the drawing of a high, symmetrical mountain and a small, starred
  cove.
  
  "So that's what happened to him when his voice changed," Lessa said
  in surprise.
  "By the scale of this map," F'lar said slowly, "you could fit the North of
  Pern in the western half of the Bay."
  Sebell laid his left thumb on the protuberance of Southern and planted
  the rest of his hand, fingers splayed
  on the western section of the map. "This area could easily occupy the
  Lord Holders." He heard Lessa's
  sharp intake of breath and smiled at her, spreading his right hand over
  the eastern portion. "But this, Piemur
  tells me, is the best part of the South!"
  "Near that mountain?" Lessa asked.
  "Near that mountain!"
  Piemur, leading Stupid while Farli circled above him, reappeared from
  the forest just as full dark was falling
  on the cove. He swung a plaited string of ripe fruit to the ground in front
  of Sharra.
  "There! That's to make up for cutting out this morning," he said, a tenta-
  tive grin on his face as he squatted
  on his haunches. "Stupid wasn't the only one scared of that mob this
  morning." He made a show of wiping
  
  Piemur nodded. "Funny thing that, not wanting to be among people. Felt
  as if I couldn't breathe with so
  many using the same air supply. And that's downright foolish." He
  looked about him, at the black bulks of
  supplies lining the cove. "We're not stuffed in a Hold, with fans going!"
  He shook his head. "Me, Piemur,
  harper, a social fellow. And I turn and run from people . . . faster than
  Stupid did!" He gave a snort of
  laughter.
  "If it'll make you two feel any better, I was a bit overwhelmed myself,"
  Sharra said. "Thank you for the fruit,
  Piemur. That . . . that horde ate all we had. I think there's some roast
  wherry left, and a few rib bones from
  the buck."
  "I could eat Stupid, only he'd be too tough." Piemur breathed a sigh of
  relief and eased himself down to the
  sand.
  Sharra chuckled as she went to get him something to eat.
  "I don't like to think of a lot of people here," Jaxom told Piemur.
  "Know what you mean." The young harper grinned. "Jaxom, do you re-
  alize that I've been places no man has
  
  down here and much higher in the sky.
  See, those three very bright points! Many's the time I've used them as
  guides!"
  Jaxom could scarcely miss the three stars, gleaming in an almost con-
  stant light. He wondered that he hadn't
  noticed them before now.
  "They'll fade soon," Piemur said, "unless one of the moons is out. Then
  you see them again just before
  dawn. Must ask Wansor about that when I see him. They don't act like
  proper stars. The Starsmith's not
  scheduled to come down and help build the Harper's hold, is he?"
  "He's about the only one who isn't," Jaxom replied. "Cheer up, Piemur.
  The way they worked today, it won't
  take long to finish that hold. And what do you mean about the Dawn
  Sisters?"
  "They just don't act like proper stars. Didn't you ever notice?"
  "No. But we've been in most evenings and certainly every dawn."
  Piemur pointed with several stabs of his right arm at the Dawn Sisters.
  "Most stars change position. They
  never do."
  "Sure they do. In Ruatha they're almost invisible on the horizon ..."
  
  ing with a tray piled high with food
  and a wineskin slung over her shoulder. Giving Piemur the food, she
  filled cups all around.
  Piemur guffawed as he reached for a buck rib. "Well, I'm going to send a
  message to Wansor. I say it's
  bloody peculiar behavior for stars!"
  A change in the breeze awakened the Master Harper. Zair chirped
  softly, curled on the pillows above
  Robinton's ear. A sunscreen had been rigged above the Harper's head
  but it was the airless heat that
  roused him.
  For a change, no one was seated in watch over him. The respite of sur-
  veillance pleased him. He had been
  touched by the concern of everyone, though at times the attention bade
  fair to smother him. He'd curbed his
  impatience. He had no choice. Too weak and tired to resist the ministra-
  tions. Today must be another small
  indication of his general improvement: leaving him alone. He reveled in
  the solitude. Before him, the jib
  sheet flapped idly and he could hear the mainsail, behind him-aft, he
  corrected himself abruptly-rumbling
  
  their southeasterly course now that they had picked up the Great South
  Current.
  The Master Fisherman was as pleased with this expedition as everyone
  else connected with it. Robinton
  snorted to himself with amusement. Everyone else apparently was prof-
  iting by his illness.
  Now, now, Robinton chided himself, don't be sour. Why did you spend
  so much time training Sebell if not to
  take over when it became necessary? Only, Robinton thought, he hadn't
  ever expected that to happen. He
  wondered fleetingly if Menolly was faithfully reporting the daily mes-
  sages from Sebell. She and Brekke could
  well be conspiring to keep any worrying problem from him.
  Zair stroked his cheek with his soft head. Zair was the best humor-vane
  a man could have. The fire-lizard
  knew, with an instinct that outshone his own reliable sense of atmos-
  phere, the emotional climate of those
  about Robinton.
  He wished he could throw off this languor and use the journey time to
  good effect-catching up on Craft
  
  this evening. There was something odd about those Dawn Sisters. They
  were visible, higher up than they
  ought to be, in the sky at dusk as well as dawn. Not that he'd been al-
  lowed to be awake at dawn to check.
  But they were mostly in the sky at sunset. He didn't think that stars
  should act that way. He must remember
  to write Wansor a note.
  He felt Zair stir, heard him chirp a pleasant greeting before he heard the
  soft step behind him. Zair's mind
  imagined Menolly.
  "Don't creep up on me," he said with more testiness than he intended.
  "I thought you were asleep!"
  "I was. What else do I do all day?" He smiled at her to take the petu-
  lance from his words..Surprisingly, she grinned and offered him a cup of
  fruit juice, lightly laced with wine. They knew better now
  than to offer him plain juice.
  "You sound better."
  "Sound better? I'm as peevish as an old uncle! You must be heartily
  tired of my sulks by now!"
  She dropped beside him, her hand on his forearm.
  
  the girl.
  "Menolly, I'm fine. I'll be up and about any day now, Brekke says." The
  Harper permitted himself to stroke
  her hair. "Don't cry. Not now!"
  "Silly of me, I know. Because you are getting well, and we'll see to it that
  you never strain yourself again . . ."
  Menolly wiped her eyes impatiently with the back of her hand and snif-
  fled.
  It was an endearingly childlike action. Her face, now blotchy from crying,
  was suddenly so vulnerable that
  Robinton felt his heart give a startling thump. He smiled tenderly at her,
  stroked tendrils of her hair back from
  her face. Tilting her chin up, he kissed her cheek. He felt her hand
  tighten convulsively on his arm, felt her
  lean into his kiss with an appeal that set both fire-lizards humming.
  Perhaps it was that response from their friends, or the fact that he was
  so startled that caused him to stiffen,
  but Menolly swiveled away from him.
  "I'm sorry," she said, her head bent, her shoulders sagging.
  "So, my dear Menolly, am I," the Harper said as gently as he could. In
  that instant, he regretted his age, her
  
  few as at Impression, he thought, and
  as lasting. He supposed he had always known the dangerous ambiva-
  lence of his feelings for the young
  SeaHold-bred girl whose rare talent he had developed. Ironic that he
  should be weak enough to admit it, to
  himself and to her, at such an awkward moment. Obtuse of him not to
  have recognized the intensity and
  quality of Menolly's feelings for him. Yet, she'd seemed content enough
  with Sebell. Certainly they enjoyed a
  deep emotional and physical attachment. Robinton had done everything
  in his subtle power to insure that.
  Sebell was the son he had never had. Better that!
  "Sebell . . ." he began, and stopped when he felt her fingers tentatively
  closing over his.
  "I loved you first. Master."
  "You've been a dear child to me," he said, willing himself to believe that.
  He squeezed her fingers in a brisk
  grip which he broke and, elbowing himself off the pillows, retrieved the
  cup he had set down and took a long
  drink..He was able, then, to smile up at her, despite the lingering ache in
  his throat for what could never have
  
  "Oho, the eye is by no means dimmed, good Master Robinton. I've al-
  ready sent word back to Master
  Wansor on that account. I confess that I have never sailed so far east-
  erly in these Southern waters so I'd
  never observed the phenomenon before, but I do believe that there is
  something peculiar about the
  positioning of those three stars."
  "If I'm allowed to stay up past dusk this evening," the Harper glared sig-
  nificantly at Menolly, "may I have the
  loan of your distance-viewer?"
  "You certainly may. Master Robinton. I'd appreciate your observations. I
  know you've had a good deal more
  time to study Master Wansor's equations. Perhaps we can figure out
  between us this erratic behavior."
  "I'd like nothing better. In the meantime, let us complete that game we
  started this morning. Menolly, have
  you the board handy?"
  CHAPTER XVIII
  At the Cove Hold the Day of Master Robinton's Arrival, 15.10.14
  WITH so MANY eager hands and skilled craftsmen, Cove Hold took
  only eleven days to complete, though
  
  Sharra's voice began to take on a tone that mixed suffering and pride.
  She'd spent the day unpacking,
  washing and arranging things. "What did you fall into?" she asked Pie-
  mur, noticing newly acquired scratches
  on his face and hands.
  "Doing things his way," Jaxom replied, though he'd a few marks on his
  neck and forehead as well.
  With so many to build the Hold, N'ton, F'nor, and F'lar, when he could
  arrange the time, had joined Piemur
  and Jaxom to increase their knowledge of the lands immediately adja-
  cent to the Cove.
  Piemur rather arrogantly told F'lar that dragons had to be to a place first
  to get there again between--or else
  get a sharp enough visualization from someone who had. But he, with
  his two feet and Stupid's four, had to
  be first so that mere dragonriders could then follow. The dragonriders
  ignored the somewhat disparaging
  remarks, but Piemur's attitude was beginning to get on Jaxom's nerves.
  No matter the method of accomplishment, temporary camps at a good
  day's flight by dragon from Cove Hold
  
  would soon be in Cove Hold to check
  Robinton's recovery, Jaxom wouldn't have long to wait.
  "And, if I can go between, so can Menolly," Jaxom said.
  "Why would you have to wait until Menolly can go between?" Sharra
  asked, with an edge to her voice that
  Jaxom hoped might be a twinge of jealousy.
  "She and Master Robinton found this Cove first, you know." He wasn't
  glancing in the direction of the Cove
  when he spoke, but toward the omnipresent mountain.
  "By sea," Piemur said with some disgust for such a mode of transport.
  "I have to admit, Piemur," Sharra said after regarding him for a long
  moment, "that feet were used before
  wings and sail. I, for one, am thankful that there are other ways of get-
  ting from one place to another. And it's
  no disgrace to use them."
  She then turned and walked off, leaving Piemur to stare after her in sur-
  prise.
  The incident cleared the air and Jaxom was relieved to note that Piemur
  ceased his snide remarks about
  flying and riding.
  
  welcoming committee.
  Oldive and Brekke had forbidden a large reception and party. There was
  no point in undoing all the benefit
  of the long, restful voyage with the strain and fatigue of a feast. So
  Master Fandarel represented the
  hundreds of craftsmen and masters who had produced the beautiful
  Cove Hold. Lessa stood for all the
  Weyrs whose dragons had transported men and material, and Jaxom
  was the logical spokesman for the
  Lord Holders who had contributed the men and supplies.
  These last moments, as the graceful three-masted ship headed up the
  Cove toward the stubby stone pier,
  seemed the hardest to endure. Jaxom strained his eyes as the ship
  glided closer and closer on the calm
  waters, and let out a jubilant whoop that made the fire-lizards squeak in
  surprise when he discerned the
  figure of the Harper standing in the prow, waving to those on shore. The
  fire-lizards executed aerial dances
  of great intricacy above the ship.
  "Look, he's almost black with sun," Lessa cried, clutching Jaxom's arm
  in her excitement.
  
  hand. The ship creaked as her timbers resisted the sudden halt. Bound
  bolsters were run over the side to
  prevent the ship rubbing against stone.
  Then a plank was dropped from an opening in the ship's rail to the pier.
  "I've brought him safely to you, Benden, Mastersmith, Lord Holder,"
  boomed the voice of the Master
  Seaman as he jumped to the cabin housing..A spontaneous cheer burst
  from Jaxom's throat, echoed by a roar from Fandarel and a cry from Lessa.
  Jaxom and Fandarel stood on either side of the springy plank to grip
  Robinton's hands as he all but slid
  ashore.
  Ramoth and Ruth bugled overhead, startling the fire-lizards into wilder
  extravagances of motion. Lessa
  embraced the Harper by standing on tiptoe and imperiously pulling his
  head down so she could kiss him
  soundly. Tears sparkled on her cheeks and, to Jaxom's surprise, he re-
  alized his own eyes were wet, too. He
  stood politely back while Fandarel gently thumped the Harper off bal-
  ance, sticking out a hamlike hand to
  steady his friend. Then he turned to assist Brekke and Menolly down the
  bouncing plank. Everyone began
  
  Brekke began to walk up the shore toward the old shelter when Fan-
  darel, laughing hugely in anticipation,
  placed his big hand on her back and gently propelled her toward the
  sanded path that led to the new Cove
  Hold. When Brekke began to protest, Lessa hushed her and pointed de-
  cisively at the path, taking her arm
  and half-pulling her along.
  "I'm sure the shelter was that way..."
  "It was," replied Master Fandarel, striding along beside the Harper. "We
  found a better site, more suitable for
  our Harper!"
  "More efficient, my friend?" Robinton asked, laughing as he clapped his
  hand on the Smith's bulging
  shoulder.
  "Much more efficient. Much!" The Smith nearly choked with his laughter.
  Brekke had reached the bend of the path and stared incredulously at the
  sight of the new Hold. "I don't
  believe it!" She glanced quickly from Lessa to the Smith to Jaxom.
  "What have you done? How have you
  done it? It just isn't possible!"
  
  him toward the wide porch steps.
  "Just you wait until you see what's inside," Lessa said with a crow of
  satisfaction.
  "Everyone on Pern helped, either sending craftsmen or material," Jaxom
  told Brekke, taking her limp arm
  and escorting her on. He beckoned Menolly to hurry and join them.
  Menolly glanced about and saw only the peaceful cove, carefully raked
  sand, trees and flowering shrubs
  which bordered the beach looking as unscathed as the day she and
  Jaxom had arrived. Only the bulk of the
  Hold, with its peripheral path of sand and shells, gave evidence of any
  change. "I just don't believe it."
  "I know, Menolly. They took pains to keep it lovely. And just wait till you
  see inside Cove Hold . . ."
  "It's already been named?" That seemed to irritate her, but Jaxom could
  appreciate her reaction.."Well, it is a hold in a cove, so 'Cove Hold.'"
  "It's all so beautiful," Brekke said, turning her head this way and that to
  see everything. "Menolly, don't be
  annoyed. It's such a marvelous surprise. When I think what I thought we
  were coming to . . ." She laughed, a
  happy sound. "I must say, this is much more the suitable thing!"
  
  within. The Harper's voice was raised in delight and amazement as he
  moved about the main room. As
  Jaxom, Brekke and Menolly entered, Robinton had been peering into
  the room set aside as his study, and
  his expression was dazed as he realized that Silvina had sent down
  everything from his crowded workroom
  in the Harper Hall. Zair echoed his confusion, chittering high and excit-
  edly from his perch On a crossbeam.
  Beauty and Berd flew to join him, and suddenly, Meer, Talla and Farli
  appeared. They all seemed to be
  comparing notes, Jaxom thought.
  "That's Farli! I thought I'd heard that Piemur was here. But where is he?"
  The Harper sounded surprised and
  a trifle hurt.
  "Sharra and he are tending the spits," Jaxom said.
  "We didn't want too many people about, tiring you . . ." Lessa added in a
  soothing tone.
  "Tiring me? Tiring me! I need a little tiring! PIEMUR!"
  If his tanned and relaxed face had not been proof enough of his return
  to health, the bellow he let loose, as
  vigorous and deafening as ever, left no further doubts of his vitality.
  
  "Momentary disability?" Fandarel's eyes protruded in amazement. "My
  dear Robinton-"
  "Master Robinton?" Menolly took a cup from the crowded cabinet, a
  beautiful glass goblet, its base stained
  harper blue, its cup incised with the Master's name and a harp. "Have
  you seen this?" She held it out to
  him, her eyes round with approval.
  "My word, harper blue!" Robinton took and examined the beautiful thing.
  "From my crafthall," Fandarel said, beaming. "Mermal thought to tint the
  entire glass blue but I argued that
  you would prefer to see the red of Benden wine in a clear cup."
  Robinton's eyes gleamed with appreciation and gratitude as he exam-
  ined the cup carefully. Then his long
  face fell into a sorrowful expression.
  "But it's empty," he said in a plaintive, mournful tone..At that moment a
  commotion started in the kitchen corner of the Hold. The curtain was flung
  roughly aside
  as Piemur, all but losing his balance in an effort not to careen into
  Brekke, lurched into the room.
  "Master?" he gasped.
  
  Piemur blinked again and then shook his head slowly and said to the
  room at large, "There's nothing wrong
  with him anymore! And if that roast wherry bums . . ." He gave the
  Harper a thoroughly disgusted look,
  turned on his heel, whipped aside the curtain and could be heard noisily
  opening doors.
  Jaxom caught Menolly's eye and she winked at him. Piemur's gruff
  manner and cracking voice had not
  disguised his emotion to those who knew him. He stamped back into the
  main hall, swinging a wineskin, with
  Benden wax on its stopper.
  "Don't swing it, lad," the Harper cried, holding up a restraining hand at
  such sacrilegious treatment. "Wine
  must be handled with respect . . ." He took the skin from Piemur and
  peered at the seal. "Hmmm, One of the
  better vintages! Tsk, tsk, Piemur, have you learned nothing from me of
  how to treat wine?" He made a
  grimace as he expertly cracked the seal and sighed with relief as he
  saw the condition of the stopper's end.
  He passed it under his nose, sniffing delicately. "Ah! Yes! Beautiful!
  Took no harm from its travel! There's a
  
  everyone.
  "I am truly overwhelmed by all this," the Harper said, giving strength to
  his claim by taking only a small sip of
  the excellent wine. He looked from one to another of his friends, nod-
  ding his head and then shaking it. "Truly
  overwhelmed!"
  "You haven't seen everything yet, Robinton," Lessa said and took him
  by the hand. "Brekke, you come see,
  too. Piemur, Jaxom, bring the bundles."
  "Not so fast, Lessa. I'll spill the wine!" The Harper watched his glass as
  Lessa pulled him behind her.
  He was guided through the sliding panel into the small corridor that
  separated the main Hall from the
  sleeping quarters. Brekke followed, her face alight with keen interest
  and curiosity.
  The Harper's sleeping room was the largest, occupying the comer op-
  posite his workroom. Four more
  sleeping rooms had been furnished to accommodate two guests in each
  but, as Lessa pointed out, the
  porch itself could comfortably sleep half a Hold of guests. Not that
  Robinton was to be allowed that many.
  
  term.."Try your chair," Fandarel said, striding to the armed chair when they
  returned to the main room. He turned it
  about for the Harper to see. "Bendarek made it exactly to your measure.
  See if it suits? Bendarek will be
  anxious to hear."
  The Harper took time to examine the beautifully carved, high-backed
  chair, covered with wherhide dyed a
  deep harper blue. He sat down, put his hands along the armrests, found
  they were precisely the length of his
  forearm, and that the seat of the chair admirably fit his long legs and
  torso.
  "It is beautiful, tell Master Bendarek. And a perfect size. How consider-
  ate Bendarek is. How overwhelmed I
  am by this and every other single item in this Hold. It is ... magnificent.
  That's the only word for it. I'm
  speechless. Rendered completely speechless. Never in my wildest
  flights of fancy did I expect such luxury in
  unexplored wilds, such beauty, such thoughtfulness, such comfort."
  "If you're speechless, Robinton, spare us your eloquence," came a dry
  voice. All turned to see the
  Masterfisherman standing in the open main door.
  
  "Master Robinton! Look here!" Menolly's voice was high with surprise.
  She was looking inside one of the
  cabinets that lined the walls between windows. "I'd swear it's Dermen-
  tly's hand! And every single Traditional
  song and ballad, newly written on leaves and bound in blue wherhide!
  Just what you've been wanting to
  have Arnor do for you."
  The Harper exclaimed with surprise and nothing would do but he had to
  open each folder and appreciate the
  craftsmanship and collection. Then he began to investigate all the cup-
  boards and presses of Cove Hold until
  the midafternoon heat drove everyone to the beach to swim and cool
  off. Brekke fretted that the Harper
  should rest, quietly by himself, but Fandarel dismissed the notion, ges-
  turing to Robinton, who was sporting
  in the water with the others.
  "He is indulging in another type of rest right now. Leave him. Night's
  soon enough for sleeping!" .
  The evening breezes sprang up as the sun dipped closer to the western
  horizon. Rugs and woven mats as
  
  At that moment Sharra and the ship's cook-a thin man because that's
  the only sort, he told her, who could fit
  in the closet-sized excuse for a galley on the Dawn Sister-proclaimed
  that the feast was ready and were
  nearly run down by the hungry guests.
  When no one could eat another morsel and even the Harper was re-
  duced to small sips of wine, the guests
  settled into smaller groups: Jaxom, Piemur, Menolly and Sharra in one,
  the seamen in the largest, and the
  dragonriders and craftsmen in the third.
  "I wonder what they're plotting for us to do now," Piemur said in a sour
  mutter after staring at the intense
  expressions of the third group..Menolly laughed. "More of the same, I
  expect. Robinton's been going over those charts and reports of yours
  on shipboard until I thought he'd wear the ink out from looking." She
  pulled her knees up under her chin, a
  shy smile lighting her eyes. "Sebell's coming tomorrow with N'ton and
  Master Oldive." She went on quickly,
  before anyone could comment: "As I understand it, Sebell, N'ton and
  F'lar are overseeing Toric's people and
  
  water and swim him across. The fishes
  nearly made us their lunch."
  "And the rest of us," Menolly continued, "with F'nor and the Harper, will
  explore this side."
  "Inland, I hope?" Piemur asked sharply.
  She nodded. "I understand," and she glanced over her shoulder at the
  Weyrleaders and Craftmasters, "that
  Idarolan may sail the coast..."
  "More power to him. I've walked far enough!"
  "Oh, hush, Piemur. No one forced you to ..."
  "Oh?"
  "Enough, Piemur," Jaxom said, impatiently. "So we're to go inland?"
  Menolly nodded.
  As one they looked over their shoulders toward the mountain, invisible
  though it was from their recumbent
  position.
  Jaxom grinned at Menolly. "And Master Oldive'll be here tomorrow so I'll
  be able to go between again!"
  "Lot of good that'll do you," Piemur said with a snort. "You still have to
  fly the route straight first."
  "That doesn't put me out one little bit."
  
  "I doubt it. They come and go. I suspect some of them are in the trees,
  fussing because they don't dare
  come near Ruth."
  "Did you ever find out more about their men?"
  Jaxom was chagrined to say that he hadn't even tried. "There's been too
  much else happening."
  "I'd have thought you'd have given it one go." Menolly sounded irritated.
  "What? And deprive you of the pleasure?" Jaxom affected surprised
  hurt. "I wouldn't dream of it . . ." He
  stopped abruptly, remembering those very peculiar dreams, as if he'd
  been seeing something out of
  hundreds of eyes. He also recalled what Brekke had said, the first day
  Ruth had flown Thread: "It was
  difficult to see the same scene through three pairs of eyes." Had he in
  fact been seeing, in his dreams, a
  scene from many fire-lizard eyes?."What's wrong, Jaxom?"
  "Maybe I did dream of it, after all," he said, with a hesitant laugh. "Look,
  Menolly, if you dream tonight,
  remember it, huh?"
  "Dream?" Sharra asked, curious. "What kind of dreams?"
  
  other song!"
  "Oh, do be quiet!" Menolly regarded him with impatience. "All that lone
  traveling has changed you, Piemur,
  and I for one don't like the change."
  "No one says you have to," Piemur snapped at her and, with a fluid mo-
  tion, was on his feet and striding into
  the forest, angrily batting the underbrush out of his way.
  "How long has he been so touchy?" Menolly asked Jaxom and Sharra.
  "Since he arrived here," Jaxom said, shrugging to indicate that they
  hadn't been able to change him.
  "Remember, he's been very worried about Master Robinton," Sharra
  said slowly.
  "We've all been worried about Master Robinton," Menolly said, "but
  that's no reason to change one's
  temperament!"
  There was an awkward silence. Sharra unfolded her legs and rose
  abruptly.
  "I wonder if anyone remembered to feed Stupid this evening!" She
  walked off, not quite in the same direction
  as Piemur.
  
  "Oh? Really?"
  "Oh! Really!"
  She rose then, cup in hand, and strode across to the wineskin hanging
  from a tree branch.
  Was she warning him? Not that it made any difference. His adventure
  had served a purpose at the time.
  Now that the Southern Weyr was being integrated into the others, there
  was less need than ever to admit his
  part in the affair..Menolly wandered over to collect her gitar from the ta-
  ble and then seated herself at the bench, strumming
  softly to herself. A new song, about dream eyes, Jaxom wondered.
  Then he looked off in the direction
  Sharra had gone. Had he any legitimate reason for following her? He
  sighed. He liked Piemur, despite his
  acid tongue. He'd been glad to see the young Harper, grateful for his
  company and assistance. He just
  wished that Piemur had taken a day longer, even half a day longer, to
  reach the Cove. Since his arrival,
  Jaxom had had no time at all alone with Sharra. Was she avoiding him?
  Or was it just the circumstances of
  
  them that the Harper had risen at the first light of day, taken a bracing
  swim, made himself a breakfast and
  been long in his study, muttering over the charts and making copious
  notes. He now wished to have a few
  words with Jaxom and Piemur, if they didn't mind.
  Master Robinton acknowledged their entry with a sympathetic grin for
  their deliberate and slow movements,
  the aftereffects of a very convivial evening. He then began asking for
  explanations of their latest additions to
  the main chart. When he had satisfied himself on that point, he asked
  how they had arrived at their
  conclusions. When they'd told him, he leaned back from the desk, fid-
  dling with his drawing stick with such an
  unreadable expression on his face that Jaxom began to worry about
  what the Harper might be planning.
  "Have either of you happened to notice the trio of stars we have been
  calling-erroneously, I might add -the
  Dawn Sisters?"
  Jaxom and Piemur exchanged glances.
  "Do you have a far-viewer with you, sir?" Jaxom asked.
  
  days. Why, might I ask, are you two
  grinning as if you'd eaten all the bubbly pies at a gather?"
  Piemur's grin deepened at this reference to his apprentice pastime.
  "I don't think anyone on Pern would refuse to come here, given the
  whisper of an invitation," he said.
  "Does Master Wansor have his new far-viewer finished?" Jaxom asked.
  "I certainly hope that he does ..."
  "Master Robinton . . ." Brekke stood in the doorway, a curious expres-
  sion on her face.
  "Brekke," the Harper held up a warning hand, "if you have come to tell
  me that I have to rest, or drink a
  potion of your making, I beg you, don't! I have far too much to do."."All I
  have is a message which Kimi has just brought from Sebell," she said,
  handing him the small tube.
  "Oh!"
  "As to your resting, I've only to watch Zair to know when that's neces-
  sary!" Her glance, as she turned to
  leave the study, fell on Jaxom and Piemur. There was no doubt in
  Jaxom's mind that he and Piemur were
  under tacit orders not to overstrain the Harper's strength.
  
  knowledge of Toric and his Hold's
  accommodations.
  "Once you can go between, Jaxom," Robinton continued, "our investi-
  gation can proceed more rapidly. I've in
  mind to set you and the girls out as teams."
  "Harper and Holder?" Jaxom asked, seizing the opportunity he'd been
  waiting for.
  "Harper and holder? Oh, yes, of course. Piemur, you and Menolly have
  worked well together, I know. So
  Sharra can go with Jaxom. Now . . ." Oblivious to the sharp look Piemur
  gave Jaxom, the man went on.
  "One sees things from the air in a perspective not always possible at
  ground level. The reverse, of course,
  applies. So any exploration should involve both methods. Jaxom, Pie-
  mur knows what I'm looking for . . ."
  "Sir?"
  "Traces of the original habitation of this continent. I can't for the life of
  me imagine why our long-dead
  ancestors left this fruitful and beautiful continent for the colder, duller
  North, but I assume that they had good
  
  deteriorated past deciphering, much less coherence.
  "Well, then Toric discovered an iron mine, worked in the open fashion.
  And N'ton and I sighted unnatural
  formations set in a mountainside which, when we had finally reached
  the spot on foot, were clearly mine
  shafts.
  "If the ancients had been long enough in the Southern Continent to dis-
  cover ore and mine it, there must be
  other traces of their habitation somewhere here in the South."
  "In hot weather and rainy forest, nothing survives very long," Jaxom
  said. "D'ram built a shelter here a scant
  twenty-five Turns back and not much remains of it. And what F'lessan
  and I stumbled on in Benden Weyr
  had been sealed up, protected from weather."
  "Nothing," Piemur said emphatically, "could dent, scratch or mar the pit
  supports we found in that mine. And
  not even the best stoneman can carve through solid rock like cheese.
  Yet the ancients did."
  "We have found some traces. There must be more."
  Jaxom had never heard the Harper so adamant, but he couldn't sup-
  press a sigh as he glanced at the size of
  
  accompany him, if she wishes, or can wait for Jaxom to take her and
  Sharra on Ruth to the secondary
  camp. While the girls survey the immediate vicinity, which I understand
  has not been done, you, Jaxom, can
  fly ahead with Ruth to set up another camp to which you can fly be-
  tween the next day. And so on.
  "I think you must have been drilled at Fort Weyr," the Harper said, look-
  ing at Jaxom, "to be able to observe
  and distinguish ground formations from the air? However, I want to im-
  press on you both that though this is a
  joint effort, Piemur is far more experienced, Jaxom, and you will please
  bear this in mind when problems
  occur. And send me your reports for this . . ." he tapped the chart,
  "every evening! Off with you both, now,
  and organize your equipment and supplies. And your partners!"
  Though explaining the situation to Menolly and Sharra and organizing
  their supplies and equipment took
  very little time, the explorers did not leave Cove Hold that day.
  Master Oldive arrived on Lioth with N'ton and was lavishly welcomed by
  the Harper, more sedately by
  
  fingertip is he fooling the Healer."
  "That's a relief," Jaxom said. "Otherwise the Harper'll be coming with
  us."
  "Not between, he won't."
  "No, he'd ride Stupid."
  Sharra laughed, but her amusement ended as they both watched the
  Healer firmly steer the Harper into his
  sleeping quarters and quietly close the door.
  "No," Sharra said, shaking her head slowly, "Master Robinton wasn't
  fooling Master Oldive!"
  Jaxom was very glad he didn't have to try to fool the Master Healer
  when it came his turn to be examined.
  The ordeal for him was brief-a few questions, Master Oldive's inspection
  of his eyes, tapping on his chest,
  listening to his heart and the pleased smile on the Healer's mobile face
  gave Jaxom the favorable verdict.
  "Master Robinton will be all right, too, won't he, Master Oldive?" Jaxom
  couldn't resist asking.
  When the Harper had emerged from his room, he had been too quiet,
  rather thoughtful, and the bounce had
  
  strong legs and stouter hearts,
  without seeming to curtail his activities."
  "Indeed we will. In fact, we do!"
  "Good. Continue and he will soon be completely recovered. If he keeps
  in mind the lesson he learned from
  this seizure." Master Oldive glanced through the open window, mopping
  his forehead a little. "This beautiful
  place was a grand idea." He favored Jaxom with a sly smile. "The heat
  makes the Harper drowsy midday.and forces him to rest. The prospects on
  all sides delight the eyes, and the scent of the air pleases the nose.
  How I envy you this spot, Lord Jaxom."
  The beauties of Cove Hold had evidently worked their charm on the
  Masterharper as well, for he had
  recovered his good spirits even before the arrival of Master Fandarel
  and Master Wansor from Telgar.
  Robinton's delight was doubled when Fandarel and Wansor proudly ex-
  hibited the new distance-viewer that
  had occupied the Starsmith's time for the past half-Turn. The instru-
  ment, a tube as long as Fandarel's arm,
  and thick enough so that he needed two hands to surround it, was
  carefully encased in leather, with a
  
  principles employed here were somewhat similar.
  "That is neither here nor there but we are very pleased to use the new
  far-viewer in Cove Hold," Wansor
  went on, mopping his brow for he'd been so busy explaining his new
  device that he'd not bothered to
  remove his wherhide flying clothes.
  Master Robinton winked at Menolly and Sharra and the two girls di-
  vested the lecturing Starsmith of his outer
  garments while he explained, almost oblivious to their assistance, that
  this was his first visit to the Southern
  Continent and yes, he had of course heard of the aberrant behavior of
  the three stars known as the Dawn
  Sisters. Until recently he had put the anomaly down to the inexperience
  of the observers. But, with Master
  Robinton himself noting their peculiarities, Wansor felt justified in bring-
  ing his precious instrument to the
  South to investigate the matter himself. Stars did not remain in fixed po-
  sitions in the sky. All his equations,
  not to mention such experienced observers such as N'ton and Lord
  Larad, had verified this characteristic.
  
  placed on the slight elevation of the stony
  eastern tip of Cove Hold, beyond the spot where the roasting and bak-
  ing pits had been dug. Master
  Fandarel drafted Piemur and Jaxom to help him erect a frame on which
  he placed a swivel to mount the new
  viewer. Wansor, naturally, supervised this project until he was so in the
  Smith's way that the good man sat
  his Craftmaster on the edge of the promontory, near the trees, where he
  had a full view of all the activities
  but was no longer in his way. By the time the frame had been com-
  pleted, Master Wansor was fast asleep,
  his head cushioned on his hands, snoring in a soft rhythm. Finger
  against his lips to indicate the little man
  was not to be disturbed, Fandarel led Jaxom and Piemur back to the
  main beach. They all took a refreshing
  swim before joining the others in the afternoon rest. Rather than miss a
  single moment of the dusky display
  of the Sisters, everyone ate on the promontory. Master Idarolan brought
  out his ship's viewer, and the Smith
  quickly constructed a second frame from the materials left over from
  making Wansor's.
  
  perched on their friends' shoulders.
  The sun finally went down, spreading its brilliant aftercolors across the
  western horizon. As the eastern sky
  darkened, Wansor put his eye to his instrument, let out a startled cry
  and nearly fell backward off his bench.
  "It can't be. There is no possible logical explanation for such an ar-
  rangement." He righted himself and looked
  once again through, the viewer, making delicate adjustments to the fo-
  cus. ".Master Idarolan had his eye pressed to his own viewer. "I see only
  the Dawn Sisters in their usual alignment.
  Just as they have always been."
  "But they can't be. They are close together. Stars do not congregate so
  closely. They are always far distant."
  "Here, let me have a look, man." The Smith was almost dancing in ea-
  gerness to have a glimpse through the
  instrument. Wansor reluctantly gave way to him, repeating the impossi-
  bility of what he had just seen.
  "N'ton, your eyes are younger!" The Seaman passed his viewer to the
  bronze rider, who quickly accepted it.
  "I see three round objects!" Fandarel announced in a booming voice.
  "Round metallic objects. Manmade
  
  "Your observation is eminently correct," the Harper said in such a curi-
  ously muffled tone Jaxom wasn't
  certain if the man was suppressing laughter or anger, "but not at all
  what I had in mind and you know it!"
  Everyone was given a chance to peer through Wansor's device, since
  Master Idarolan's was not powerful
  enough. Everyone concurred with Fandarel's verdict: the so-called
  Dawn Sisters were not stars. Equally
  indisputable was that they were round, metallic objects that apparently
  hung in a stationary position in the
  sky. Even the moons had been observed to turn a different side to Pern
  in the course of their regular cycles.
  F'lar and Lessa as well as F'nor were asked to come with all urgency
  before the nightly appearance of the
  Dawn Sisters was over. Lessa's irritation at such a summons evapo-
  rated when she saw the phenomenon.
  F'lar and F'nor monopolized the instrument for the short space of time
  that the peculiar objects remained
  visible in the slowly darkening sky.
  When Wansor was seen trying to work equations in the Sand, Jaxom
  and Piemur hurriedly brought out a
  
  over Pern all the time. As if they were
  following the planet."
  "That would prove, would it not," Robinton said, unperturbed, "that they
  are manmade."
  "My conclusion precisely," but Wansor did not appear to be reassured.
  "They were made to stay where they
  are all the time."
  "And we can't get from here to there," F'nor said in a regretful murmur.
  "Don't you dare, F'nor," Brekke said with such fervor that F'lar and the
  Harper chuckled.
  "They were made to stay there," Piemur began, "but they couldn't have
  been made here, could they, Master
  Fandarel?"."I doubt it. The Records give us hints of many marvelous
  things made by men but no mention was ever
  made of stationary stars."
  "But the Records say that men came to Pern . . ." Piemur looked at the
  Harper for confirmation. "Perhaps
  they used those things to travel from some other place, some other
  world, to get here. To Pern!"
  "With all the worlds in the heavens to choose from," Brekke began,
  breaking the thoughtful silence that
  
  Piemur suddenly realized the
  tactlessness of his remark.
  "This is a most amazing development," Robinton said, his eyes sweep-
  ing the night sky as if more mysteries
  were to be revealed. "To see the very vehicles that brought our ances-
  tors to this world."
  "A good topic for some quiet reflections, eh, Master Robinton?" Oldive
  asked, with a sly grin on his face and
  an emphasis on the quiet.
  The Harper made an impatient dismissal of that suggestion.
  "Well, sir, you could hardly go there," the Healer said.
  "I cannot," Master Robinton agreed. Then startling everyone, he sud-
  denly thrust his right arm in the direction
  of the Three Sisters. "Zair, the round objects in the sky? Can you go
  there?"
  Jaxom held his breath, felt the rigidity of Menolly's body beside him and
  knew she wasn't breathing either.
  He heard Brekke's sharp, quickly muffled cry. Everyone watched Zair.
  The little bronze stretched his head toward Robinton's lips and made a
  soft quizzical noise in his throat.
  
  "That does seem to answer both questions," F'lar said.
  "What does Ruth say?" Menolly whispered in Jaxom's ear.
  "About the Dawn Sisters? Or Zair?"
  "Either."
  "He's been asleep," Jaxom replied after consulting his dragon.
  "He would be!"."So? What did Beauty image before she winked out?"
  "Nothing!"
  Despite an evening of earnest debate and discussion, the humans
  solved nothing either. Robinton and
  Wansor would probably have kept the conversation up all night if Master
  Oldive hadn't slipped something
  into Robinton's wine. No one had actually seen him, but one moment
  Master Robinton was arguing forcefully
  with Wansor, the next he had wilted at the table. No sooner was his
  head down than he began to snore.
  "He cannot neglect his health for talking's sake," Master Oldive re-
  marked, signaling to the dragonriders to
  help him carry the Harper to his bed.
  That effectively ended the evening. The dragonriders returned to their
  Weyrs, Oldive and Fandarel to their
  
  construe those harmless objects to be a danger, much as the Red Star
  was.
  "Danger?" Fandarel had exclaimed. "Were there any danger from those
  things, we should have known it
  many Turns past."
  To that, F'lar agreed readily enough but, with everyone conditioned to
  believe that disaster fell from
  skyborne things, it was better to be discreet.
  F'lar did agree to send anyone who could be spared from Benden to
  help search. It was, the Weyrleader felt,
  more important than ever to discover just what this land contained.
  As Jaxom pushed his legs into his sleeping blanket, he tried not to be
  annoyed with the thought of another
  invasion in Cove Hold, just when he thought he and Sharra would be left
  alone for a while.
  Had she been avoiding him? Or was it simply that circumstances had
  intervened? Such as Piemur's
  premature arrival in Cove Hold? The worry over Master Robinton, the
  need to explore which left them too
  tired to do more than crawl into their furs, the arrival of half of Pern to
  complete the Hold for the Harper, then
  
  not of the Cove. If the place
  belonged to anyone, it was Master Robinton's and Menolly's by virtue of
  their being storm-swept into it.
  Jaxom sighed, his conscience nagging at him. Master Oldive had rated
  him fully recovered from the effects
  of fire-head. So he could go between. He and Ruth could return to
  Ruatha Hold. He ought to return to
  Ruatha Hold. But he didn't want to-and not just because of Sharra.
  It wasn't as if he were needed in Ruatha. Lytol would manage the Hold
  as he'd always done. Ruth was not
  required to fight Thread either at Ruatha or at Fort Weyr. Benden had
  been lenient but F'lar had made it
  plain that the white dragon and the young Lord of Ruatha were not to be
  at risk.
  There had been no prohibition, had there, Jaxom suddenly realized, to
  his exploring. In fact no one had
  suggested that he ought to return to Ruatha now.
  Jaxom took some comfort in that thought, if he took none at all in the
  knowledge that tomorrow F'lar would
  
  for himself, Sharra, Menolly and Piemur would not undergo revision. As
  Piemur constantly reminded them
  all, dragons were great for flying over, but you still had to traverse the
  ground on foot to really know it. F'lar
  and Robinton might well want the dragonriders to spread out, cover as
  much territory as possible, and let the
  original explorers continue on to the mountain.
  Jaxom then admitted to himself that he wanted to be first to the moun-
  tain! That serenely symmetrical cone
  had drawn him, sick and fevered, back to the Cove, had dominated his
  waking hours and intruded with
  nightmarish drama into his dreams. He wanted to be first to reach it, ir-
  rational as the notion might be.
  Somewhere in the middle of these reflections, he did fall asleep. Again
  those overlapping scenes figured in
  his dreams: again the mountain erupted, one whole side shattering and
  spewing pulsingly red-orange
  flaming rocks and hot flows of molten lava down its side. Again Jaxom
  was both frightened refugee and
  dispassionate observer. Then the red wall began bearing down on him,
  so close to his heels that he could
  
  resting under his right cheek. Slipping
  out of his bed, Jaxom noiselessly opened the door and, carrying his
  sandals, tiptoed out through the kitchen.
  Ruth stirred briefly, dislodging a fire-lizard or two from his back, as
  Jaxom passed him. Jaxom paused,
  struck by some puzzle. He stared at Ruth, then at the fire-lizards. None
  of those nestled against his friend
  were banded. He must ask Ruth when he woke if the Southern fire-
  lizards always slept with him. If they did,
  those dreams could be fire-lizard dreams-old memories triggered by the
  presence of men! That mountain!
  No, from this side a perfect cone appeared to the naked eye, unblem-
  ished by eruptive damage!
  As soon as he reached the beach, Jaxom glanced up to see if he could
  sight the Dawn Sisters. But it was,
  unfortunately, already too late to catch their morning appearance.
  The two viewers, Wansor's carefully covered with wherhide against
  morning dew and Idarolan's in its leather
  case, were still mounted on their frames. Grinning at the futility of his
  action, Jaxom nonetheless couldn't
  
  strong enough for what he needed. Not
  that it could show the damage that Jaxom had half-hoped to see.
  Thoughtfully he lowered the instrument.
  He could go between now. Further, he was under Master Robinton's or-
  ders to explore the Southlands. More
  important, he wanted to be first to that mountain!
  He laughed. This venture was scarcely as dangerous as the return of
  the egg. He and Ruth could go
  between and return before anyone in Cove Hold was aware of their in-
  tention. He took the viewer from its
  mounting. He'd need this with him. Once he and Ruth were airborne,
  he'd have to get a good long look at
  the mountain to find a point to which Ruth could move safely between.
  He pivoted on his heel and lurched backward in surprise. Piemur,
  Sharra and Menolly were standing in a
  row, watching him.."Do tell. Lord Jaxom, what you saw in the Seaman's
  viewer? A mountain, perhaps?" Piemur asked, showing
  all his teeth in that smug grin.
  On Menolly's shoulder. Beauty chirped.
  "Did he see enough?" Menolly asked Piemur, ignoring Jaxom.
  "I'd say he had!"
  
  think it really is best if you have some
  help on this venture." She drawled the last two words significantly.
  "This venture?" Piemur echoed the words, alert as ever to nuances of
  speech.
  Jaxom clenched his teeth, glaring at her. "You're sure you could carry
  four?" he asked Ruth.
  The dragon emerged on the beach, his eyes glowing with excitement.
  I have had to fly straight for many days now. That has made me very
  strong. None of you are heavy. The
  distance is not great. We are going to see the mountain?
  "Ruth is obviously willing," Menolly said, "but if we don't make a move
  soon . . ." She gestured toward Cove
  Hold. "C'mon, Sharra, we'll get the flying gear."
  "I'll have to rig flying straps for four."
  "Then do it." Menolly and Sharra raced off down the sand.
  Hunting ropes were handiest and Jaxom and Piemur had them in posi-
  tion when the girls returned with
  jackets and helmets. Jaxom hefted the Seaman's viewer and mentally
  promised that they'd be back so
  quickly that the man wouldn't have had time to notice its disappearance.
  
  could. And took them between before
  Jaxom could have second thoughts on this venture. Abruptly, they were
  above the ridge, gasping.
  Breathless because of the incredible shock of cold between after
  months of baking in tropical suns, and
  because of the spectacular panorama before them..As Piemur had once
  said, distance was deceptive. The mountain rose on the shoulders of a high
  plateau
  already thousands of dragonlengths above the sea. Far below them a
  broad sparkling inlet cut high cliffs:
  grassy on the mountain's side, densely forested on theirs. To the south,
  a towering range of mountains,
  snow-capped and misty in the distance, lay as a barrier east and west.
  The mountain, still a good distance from them, dominated the scene.
  "Look." Sharra suddenly pointed to their left, seaward. "More volcanoes.
  Some are smoking!"
  Studding the open sea, a long chain of peak tops bent northeast, some
  with substantial islands at their feet,
  others mere cones poking from the water.
  "A loan of the viewer, Jaxom?" Piemur took the instrument and peered.
  "Yes," he replied casually after a
  
  the viewer back to Jaxom and stared ahead at the mountain.
  "That is the most beautiful sight," Sharra said on a long sigh.
  "Must be the other side that blew out," Jaxom said, more to himself than
  to the others.
  "The other side?" Sharra and Menolly spoke at once. And Jaxom could
  feel Piemur stiffening behind him.
  "Did you dream, too, last night?" Jaxom asked.
  "What on earth did you think had awakened us in time to hear you
  creeping out?" Menolly asked, a bit
  sharply.
  "Well, let's go see the other," Piemur said as if he were merely sug-
  gesting a swim.
  "Why not?" Sharra replied with the same carelessness.
  I would like to see the place of my dreaming, Ruth said and, without any
  warning, he dropped from the ridge
  height.
  Jaxom heard Menolly and Sharra exclaim in surprise and he was glad
  that he'd rigged flying straps for them.
  Ruth expressed apologies which Jaxom had no time to relay as the
  white dragon swooped into a current of
  
  further north, beating strongly in a wide arc toward the eastern face of
  the mountain.
  Momentarily they were all blinded by the full brilliance of the rising sun
  which had been occluded by the
  mountain's bulk. Ruth shifted to a southerly heading. Before them lay
  the most incredible sweep of land that
  Jaxom had ever seen-far broader, and deeper than Telgar's flatlands, or
  the desert of Igen. His eyes were
  drawn quickly from that spectacular vista to the mountain.
  The view was suddenly all too familiar to Jaxom, the product of so many
  uneasy nights and unfocused
  dreams. The eastern lip of the mountain was gone! The gaping mouth
  seemed to snarl, its left-hand comer
  pulled down. Jaxom's eyes followed that line and he saw, crouching on
  the southeastern flank, three more
  volcano mouths, like malevolent offspring of the larger. The lava flowed
  down, south, toward the rolling
  plains..Ruth continued to glide instinctively away from the mountain, to-
  ward the kinder valley.
  As much as Jaxom had admired and feasted his eyes on the northern
  aspect of that volcano, now he turned
  
  shoulder and pointing frantically to a
  spot below Ruth's left foreleg. The early sun threw the outlines in bold
  relief. Regular outlines, mounds, and
  then straight lines dissecting, forming curious squares where no such
  regular formations should be.
  "That's what Master Robinton is looking for!" He grinned back over his
  shoulder at Piemur, who had turned
  to attract the girls' attention to the ground.
  Then Jaxom gasped, pressuring Ruth with his legs to turn northeast. He
  felt Piemur clutch at his shoulders
  as the Harper, too, saw what he'd seen. Where the haze from the dis-
  tant smoking volcanoes in the sea was
  joined by a gray haze from the skies-Thread!
  "Thread!"
  Thread! Before Jaxom could direct him, Ruth had taken them smartly
  between. In the next instant they were
  hovering above the Cove, its beaches accommodating the bulks of five
  dragons. Master Idarolan's
  fishermen were scurrying from shore to ship, placing slates on a frame
  rigged to protect the wooden decks
  from Threadfall!
  
  at his face and though I don't say
  it's his viewer he's angry about..."
  "I'll brave the storm in Cove Hold," Sharra told Jaxom, grinning at him
  and gripping his arm in reassurance.
  "Don't look so depressed! I know I wouldn't have missed this morning's
  jaunt. Not even if I get scolded by
  Lessa."
  We have been exploring south as we were told to do by the Harper!
  Ruth announced suddenly, lifting his
  head and staring in the direction of the other dragons. We are back here
  in time to fight Thread. We have
  done nothing wrong.
  Jaxom flinched, surprised at the determination in Ruth's tone, particu-
  larly since Jaxom was certain the white
  dragon was answering Canth since the brown dragon was looking in
  their direction and his eyes were
  whirling. Jaxom saw Lioth next to Canth, Monarth and two other Benden
  browns whom he did not know on
  sight.
  Yes, I will fly across your pattern, Ruth said, again responding to words
  Jaxom didn't hear. As I have done
  
  not to fly to the mountain today. I am glad we did. I will not be bothered
  with dreams now that I have seen
  the place. Then Ruth added with some surprise:
  Brekke does not think you are strong enough to fly Thread the first day
  you are allowed between. You are to
  tell me if you tire!
  Nothing would have induced Jaxom to admit fatigue after that, had they
  flown the entire four-hour Fall. As it
  was, they met Thread three coves east. Met and destroyed it, Ruth and
  Jaxom weaving over, under, through
  the other five who set the triangle pattern east and west. Jaxom hoped
  that Piemur had got Stupid to safety.
  After a moment, Ruth replied that Farli said the beast was on the porch
  of Cove Hold. She was ready to
  flame any Thread that attacked the Hold.
  Jaxom noticed, as they wheeled above the Cove itself, that the tall
  masts of the Dawn Sister seemed to
  have sprouted fire and then realized that it must be the other fire-lizards
  protecting the ship. There seemed
  to be rather a lot of them flaming! Had the Southerners joined forces
  with the banded ones? Had they
  
  He slid from Ruth's back, thumping the sweat-dampened neck, sneez-
  ing when the reek of firestone blew in
  his face. Ruth gave a little cough.
  I am getting better and better at chewing. No flame left. He raised his
  head then, looking toward Canth, who
  had landed near them. Why is F'nor annoyed? We have flown well. No
  Thread escaped us. Ruth craned his
  neck back at his rider, his eyes beginning to whirl faster, flicks of yellow
  appearing. I do not understand. He
  snorted once, the firestone fumes making Jaxom cough.
  "Jaxom! I want a word with you!"
  F'nor strode across the sand to him, unbelting his jacket and stripping
  off his helmet in sharp angry gestures.
  "Yes?"
  "Where were the lot of you this morning? Why did you leave with no
  word to anyone? What have you to say
  for yourself arriving so close to Thread? Did you forget Thread was due
  today?"
  Jaxom regarded F'nor. The brown rider's face was suffused with anger
  and fatigue. The same cold rage that
  
  was to protect Cove Hold. I did. My pleasure and privilege was to fly
  with Benden." He gave a slight bow and
  had the satisfaction of seeing the anger in F'nor's face give way to sur-
  prise. "I'm sure the others have by
  now reported to Master Robinton what we discovered this morning. Into
  the water with you, Ruth. I'll be glad
  to answer all your questions, F'nor, when I've cleaned Ruth up." He
  gave F'nor, who was staring at him in
  honest amazement, a second bow and then stripped off hot and sweaty
  flying gear, leaving on only the
  shortened trousers that were more suitable to the heat..F'nor was still
  staring at him when he ran and dove neatly into the water, coming up be-
  side his wallowing
  white friend.
  Ruth twisted, blowing water in a fountain above his head, his half-lidded
  eyes gleaming greenly just under
  the surface.
  Canth says that F'nor is confused. What did you say that confuses a
  brown rider?
  "What he didn't expect to hear from a white rider. I can't wash you when
  you're rolling over all the time."
  
  Thread with you, and without you. If
  I'm old enough to do that, I don't need to account for any of my move-
  ments to any one for any reason."
  I forgot that Thread would fall today!
  Jaxom couldn't help but laugh at Ruth's humble admission.
  "So did I. But don't you ever let on to anyone."
  Fire-lizards descended now to assist, needing a bit of scrub themselves
  to judge by the reek their wet hides
  exuded. They scolded Ruth much more unkindly than Jaxom did if he
  wallowed too deeply in the waves
  when they wanted to rinse him. Among the fair were Meer, Talla and
  Farli. Jaxom bent to his task. He was
  tired but he decided that as long as he kept himself going, he'd be able
  to finish bathing Ruth. Then he'd
  have all afternoon to rest.
  He didn't. He also didn't have to bathe Ruth all by himself because
  Sharra joined him.
  "Would you like me to take the other side again?" she asked as she
  waded up to him.
  "I'd appreciate it no end," he said with a grin and sigh.
  
  "Menolly's still answering questions." Sharra regarded him over Ruth's
  recumbent body, her eyes dancing,
  her smile full of mischief. "She talked so fast he couldn't interrupt, and
  she was still talking when I left. I didn't
  realize anyone could outtalk the Master Harper. Anyway, he stopped
  fuming very early on. Did you get
  scorched by F'nor?"
  "We exchanged ... opinions."."I'll just bet you did the way Brekke was
  carrying on. I told her that you'd got pretty fit while she was away.
  She acted as if you'd risen from your deathbed to ride Fall!" Sharra
  made a scornful sound.
  Jaxom leaned over Ruth's back, grinning at her, thinking how pretty she
  was with the mischief in her eyes,
  and beads of water on her face where Ruth had splashed her. She
  glanced up at him, raising one eye in
  query.
  "Did we really see what I thought we saw this morning, Sharra?"
  "We surely did!" She pointed her brush at him, her expression severe.
  "And you're very lucky that we were
  along to vouch because I don't think anyone would have believed just
  you." She paused, the twinkle back in
  
  "There now, you see?" Sharra said, slapping his hand with the bristles.
  "You're neglecting Ruth in a
  shocking fashion."
  "How'd you know Ruth was speaking to me?"
  "Your face always gives you away."
  "Say, where's the Dawn Sister going?" Jaxom asked, noticing the ship,
  her sails billowing out in the breeze,
  standing out to sea.
  "Fishing, of course. Threadfall always brings out schools. And our esca-
  pade this morning is going to bring
  people down here in droves. We'll need the fish to feed 'em."
  Jaxom groaned, closing his eyes and shaking his head in dismay.
  "That . . ." Sharra paused for emphasis, "is our punishment for the un-
  authorized jaunt this morning."
  They were both dumped into the water as Ruth unexpectedly lunged
  out.
  "Ruth!"
  My friends are coming! The white dragon bugled happily as Jaxom saw,
  bleary-eyed from the ducking, a
  half-wing of dragons appearing in the sky.
  There is Ramoth and Mnementh, Tiroth, Gyamath, Branth, Orth ...
  
  over the Cove.
  "He may not be clean," Sharra said with some acerbity as she began to
  wring her long hair dry, "but I am."
  I am clean enough. My friends will want to swim, too.
  "Don't count on another swim, Ruth. It's going to be a busy day!"
  "Jaxom, did you get a chance to eat anything yet?" Sharra asked. When
  he shook his head, she grabbed his
  hand. "C'mon, quickly, the back way, before someone catches us."
  He paused long enough on the shore to collect his flying gear, then they
  both ran up the old path to the
  kitchen entrance of Cove Hold. Sharra breathed an exaggerated sigh of
  relief to discover the place empty.
  Ordering him to sit, she poured a cup of klah, and served him slices of
  fruit and warm cereal from the pot on
  the back of the warming hearth.
  They both heard the calls and exclamations from the new arrivals,
  Robinton's deep baritone dominating as
  he called greetings from the porch.
  Jaxom half-rose from his bench, gulping down another mouthful, but
  Sharra pushed him back.
  "They'll find you soon enough. Eat!"
  
  bowl, cramming it into his mouth. He had to rise, catching the overflow
  at the comers of his mouth as Lytol
  came striding in.
  "Sorry, sir," Jaxom mumbled through his food. "Had no breakfast!"
  Lytol stood, his eyes so intent that Jaxom grinned in nervous embar-
  rassment. He wondered if Lytol could
  already know of his excursion that morning.
  "You look a great deal better than when I last saw you, lad. Good day to
  you, Sharra." His greeting was
  absent-minded courtesy as he crossed the remaining distance to clasp
  Jaxom's arm strongly in his. A smile
  pulled at his lips before he stepped back. "You're tanned, you look fit.
  Now what is this trouble you created
  today?"
  "Create it? Me? No, sir." Jaxom couldn't help grinning now. Lytol was
  delighted, not annoyed. "That
  mountain's been there a long time. I didn't create it. But I did want to see
  it, close up, first!"
  "Jaxom!" The Harper's bellow was impossible to ignore.."Sir?"
  "Come here, Jaxom!"
  
  visitors, and a rough, small-scale map of this section of Southern. From
  the almost rhythmic way Menolly
  described their jaunt, Jaxom decided she had already repeated the ac-
  count many times.
  What Jaxom remembered most of that session was feeling sorry that
  the Master Harper was unable to see
  the mountain first hand. But, if Jaxom had waited until Master Oldive
  permitted the Harper to fly between. ..
  "I know you've just flown Fall, Jaxom, but if you'd just give Mnementh
  the visualization . . ." F'lar began.
  N'ton burst out laughing, pointing to Jaxom. "The look on your face, lad.
  F'lar, he's got to lead us! Give him
  that!"
  So Jaxom got back into slightly damp flying gear and roused Ruth from
  his sandy baking. Ruth was pleased
  enough with the honor of leading the bronzes of Pern, but Jaxom could
  barely contain behind a composed
  expression the thrill he was experiencing. Jaxom and the white dragon,
  leading the most important people
  on Pern.
  
  Range, glistening in the sun, ragged
  white teeth on the horizon. He gestured seaward where neither morning
  mists nor Thread now obscured the
  tail of volcanoes snaking northeasterly out into the sea, smoke just
  curling from the curve of the world in that
  direction.
  At his request, Ruth soared across the inlet as he had done before,
  climbing high before he gave the
  coordinates of the next jump between. They came out above the broad
  expanse of the southeastern side of
  Two-Face, as dramatic an approach as anyone could have wished.
  Mnementh suddenly surged into the fore and, as Ruth relayed to Jaxom,
  said that they should land. Politely,
  Ruth and Jaxom circled as the great bronze settled near the intersection
  of some of the regular lines, as far
  as possible from the three secondary cones. One by one the great
  bronze dragons of Pern settled in the
  grassy sward, their riders and passengers striding through the tall wav-
  ing grasses to join F'lar, who had
  hunkered down to dig with his belt knife into the edge of one of those
  curious lines.
  
  Sunlight was blotted out and a
  chittering, fluttering mass swooped down, almost touching Mnementh's
  head before the hundred fire-lizards
  lifted up again.
  Amid shouts of consternation and surprise, Jaxom heard Ruth's an-
  nouncement..They are happy. Men have returned to them!
  "Ask them about the three mountains, Ruth? Do they remember the
  mountains blowing up?"
  There was no doubt they did. Suddenly there wasn't an unbanded fire-
  lizard in the sky.
  They remember the mountains, Ruth said. They remember fire in the air
  and fire crawling on the ground.
  They are afraid of the mountains. Men were afraid of the mountains.
  Menolly came running up to Jaxom, her face contorted with concern.
  "Did Ruth ask those fire-lizards about
  the mountains? Beauty and the others just had a fit. About those blasted
  mountains."
  F'lar came striding up to them. "Menolly? What was all that fuss with the
  fire-lizards? I didn't see any banded
  ones. Were they all Southern ones?"
  
  "Two points, F'lar," Menolly said, boldly contradicting the Benden
  Weyrleader, "no fire-lizard in this time
  knew the Red Star, but they were, nonetheless, all afraid of it. They also
  . . ." Menolly paused, and Jaxom
  was certain she had been about to bring up the fire-lizard dreams about
  Ramoth's egg. He hastily
  interrupted.
  "Fire-lizards must be able to remember, F'lar. Ever since I've been in the
  Cove, I've been troubled with
  dreams. At first I thought it was leftovers from firehead fever. The other
  night I found out that Sharra and
  Piemur have had similar nightmares . . . about the mountain. This side
  of it, not the one facing the Cove."
  "Ruth always sleeps with fire-lizards at night, F'lar," Menolly said,
  pressing their case. "He could be relaying
  those dreams to Jaxom! And our fire-lizards to us!"
  F'lar nodded, as if granting them this possibility.
  "And last night your dreams were more vivid than ever?"
  "Yes, sir!"
  F'lar began to chuckle, looking from Menolly to Jaxom. "So this morning
  you decided to see if there was any
  
  up to them. His face was aglow with
  perspiration, his hands grass and dirtstained. "We must dig beneath the
  grass and soil. We must find out
  how they managed to make lines straight as rules that last Turn after
  Turn. Why did they build in mounds, if
  that's what those things are. Dig, that's what we must do" He pivoted
  slowly, staring about him at the
  desultory digging efforts of some of the dragonriders. "Fascinating. Ut-
  terly fascinating!" The Smith beamed.
  "With your permission, I will ask Masterminer Nicat for some of his
  craftmasters. We will need skilled
  diggers. Also I promised Robinton that I would return immediately and
  tell him what I have seen with my own
  eyes."."I'd like to go back, too, F'lar," Menolly said. "Master Robinton is
  in a swivet. Zair's been here twice. He must
  be impatient."
  "I'll take them back, F'lar," Jaxom said. Suddenly he was as possessed
  by an irrational desire to leave as he
  had been eager to come that morning.
  F'lar would not permit Ruth to carry weight again, not after the morning's
  excursion and Threadfall. He sent
  
  atmosphere of the Plateau, was like
  an enveloping blanket, enervating Jaxom. He took advantage of his un-
  remarked return and let Ruth take
  them to his clearing. It was cooler there and, when Ruth had settled
  himself, Jaxom gratefully curled up in
  the dragon's forearms. He was asleep in two breaths.
  A touch on his shoulder roused him. His flying jacket had fallen from his
  shoulder and he felt chilly.
  "I said I'd wake him, Mirrim," he heard Sharra say, her tone one of an-
  noyance.
  "Does it matter? Here, Jaxom, I've brought you some klah! Master
  Robinton wants to talk to you. You've
  slept all afternoon. We couldn't figure out where you'd got to."
  Jaxom muttered under his breath, wishing with all his heart that Mirrim
  would go away. He resented her
  implication that he hadn't any right to sleep in the afternoon.
  "Come on, Jaxom. I know you're awake."
  "You're wrong. I'm half asleep." Jaxom indulged in a massive yawn be-
  fore he opened his eyes. "Go away,
  Mirrim. Tell Master Robinton I'll be in directly."
  "He wants you now!"
  
  lid twitching.
  "I know what you're going to ask . . ." Jaxom said with a laugh, holding
  up a hand to forestall her words. "No,
  nary a dream."
  "Nary a fire-lizard either." She smiled at him, shaking her head and re-
  tying her hair thong. "You were smart
  to come here and rest. There's none up at the Hall. Fire-lizards popping
  in and out, from Cove to the
  plateau, nearly hysterical! No one can make any sense out of what ours
  say or the Southern ones tell them.
  And it's not as if some of the Southern ones hadn't known we were
  here."
  "And Master Robinton thinks Ruth can sort it all out?"
  "He just might." She regarded the sleeping white dragon thoughtfully.
  "Poor darling, he's exhausted with all
  he's done today." Her rich voice was a tender croon and Jaxom could
  have wished her words included him.
  She saw him looking at her and flushed a little. "I'm so glad we got there
  first!"."So'm I!"
  "Jaxom!"
  At Mirrim's shout, she moved back hastily.
  
  Piemur was occupied in sketching
  something; Menolly was looking at whatever absorbed the Harper, and
  Mirrim stood at one side, bored and
  irritated. Fire-lizards peered down from the crossbeams. Every now and
  then, one would flick out of the
  room and another would swoop in the window to take its place. An
  aroma of roasting fish filled the air as a
  sea breeze began to clear away the day's heat.
  "Brekke's going to be furious with us," Jaxom said to Sharra.
  "With us? Why? We're keeping him completely occupied at a sedentary
  task."
  "Stop mumbling, Sharra. Jaxom, come over here and add your mark to
  what the others have told me,"
  Robinton said, skewing his body about to frown at them.
  "Sir, Piemur, Menolly and Sharra have done a lot more exploring than I
  have."
  "Yes, but they don't have Ruth and his way with fire-lizards. Can he help
  us sort out their conflicting and
  confusing images?"
  "I'm certainly willing to help. Master Robinton," Jaxom said, "but I think
  you might be asking more of Ruth
  
  "And lucky at that. If I'd asked about men first, we'd never have got an
  answer," Jaxom replied with a grin.
  "There was scarcely more detail to go on in your first venture."
  "Sir?" Jaxom stared in stunned amazement because the Harper's drawl
  had been so deceptively mild, with
  just a slight emphasis on "first," yet the implication had been unmistak-
  able; somehow the Harper knew
  Jaxom had rescued the egg. Jaxom shot an accusing glance at Menolly,
  whose expression was slightly
  perplexed as if the Harper's subtle reference surprised her, too.
  "Come to think of it, I had much the same information from Zair," Master
  Robinton continued smoothly, "but
  not the wit to interpret it as cleverly as you did. My compliments, how-
  ever belated," he inclined his head and
  went on as swiftly as if this were just some passing matter, "on the way
  you handled the feat. Now, if you.and Ruth can turn your fine perceptions
  to today's problem, we can save ourselves endless hours of vain
  effort. As before, Jaxom, time is against us. This Plateau," Robinton
  tapped the sketches before him,
  "cannot remain a secret. It is the heritage of everyone on Pern-"
  
  how they are about ..." and he pointed skyward. "They're nearly as in-
  coherent about the eruption."
  "As Sharra put it, the dream eye is unfocused," Menolly said, grinning at
  her friend.
  "My point exactly," the Harper said, bringing the flat of his hand down
  hard on the table. "If Jaxom, through
  Ruth, can sharpen the focus, maybe those of us with fire-lizards can get
  distinct and helpful images from
  their minds, instead of this confusion of perspective."
  "Why?" Jaxom asked. "We know the mountain erupted. We know the
  settlement had to be abandoned, that
  the survivors came north ..."
  "There's a lot we don't know, and we might find some answers, perhaps
  even some equipment left behind,
  just as the enlarging viewer was left in those deserted rooms at Benden
  Weyr. Look how that instrument has
  improved our understanding of our world and the heavens above us.
  Maybe even some models of those
  fascinating machines the old Records mention." He pulled the sketches
  over the map. "There are a lot of
  
  we have."
  "That doesn't mean they left anything in the mounds when they left the
  Plateau," Mirrim said, frankly
  dubious.
  "The dreams have been consistent in some details," Robinton said with
  more patience for Mirrim's
  obstructionism than Jaxom would have accorded him. "The fiery moun-
  tain, the molten rock and lava raining
  down. People running . . ." He paused, looking expectantly at the others.
  "People in a panic!" Sharra said. "They wouldn't have had time to take
  anything with them. Or very little!"
  "They could have come back after the worst of the eruption was over,"
  Menolly said. "Remember that time in
  western Tillek-"
  "That's precisely what I had in mind," the Harper said, nodding approval.
  "But, Master," Menolly went on, confused, "the ash spewed out of that
  volcano for weeks. The valley was
  eventually level with ash," she made a flat gesture with her hand, "and
  you could see nothing of what had
  been there for the debris."
  
  in a stationary position for who
  knows how many Turns ought to be wise enough to identify an active
  volcano. My surmise is that the
  eruption was spontaneous, totally unexpected. The people were caught
  going about their daily tasks in cot,
  hold, crafthall. If you can get Ruth to focus those disparate views, per-
  haps we could identify which of the
  mounds were important from the numbers of people coming from it, or
  them.
  "I am not able to get to the Plateau to do my own exploring, but nothing
  prevents my brain from suggesting
  possibilities of what I'd do if I were there."
  "We'll be your hands and legs," Jaxom offered.
  "They'll be your eyes," Menolly added, gesturing to the fire-lizards on the
  crossbeams.
  "I thought you'd see it my way," the Harper said, beaming fondly on
  them all.
  "When would you like us to try?" Jaxom asked.
  "Would tomorrow be too soon?" the Harper asked plaintively.
  "All right by me. Piemur, Menolly, Sharra, I'll need you and your fire-
  lizards!"
  
  "He's right, Mirrim. Look out in the Cove right now. Not a single fire-
  lizard that isn't banded," Menolly said.
  "They all disappear the minute they see any Other dragon but Ruth."
  "It's ridiculous. I have three of the best-trained fire-lizards in Pern..."
  "I must agree with Jaxom," the Harper said, smiling with sincere apology
  to the Benden dragongirl. "And,
  though I quite agree that yours are undoubtedly the best-trained fire-
  lizards in Pern, we don't have time for
  the Southern ones to get used to Path."
  "Path needn't be in evidence-"
  "Mirrim, the decision has been made," Robinton said firmly, with no
  trace of a smile now.
  "Well, that's plain enough. Since I'm not needed here .. ." She stalked
  out of the hall.
  Jaxom noticed the Harper's gaze following her, and he felt acutely em-
  barrassed by her display of
  temperament. He could see that Menolly was also disturbed.
  "Is her Path proddy today?" the Harper asked Menolly quietly.
  "I don't think so. Master Robinton."
  Zair chittered on the Harper's shoulder and his expression changed to
  chagrin. "Brekke's come back. I was
  
  "He wasn't exerting himself," Piemur pointed out. "This sort of thing is
  bread and meat to him. He was going
  out of his skull with boredom and with Brekke fussing over him when
  you weren't. It isn't as if he was up on
  the Plateau, digging about..."
  "I told you, Brekke," F'nor said, his voice carrying from the porch as he
  and his weyrmate mounted the last
  step, "you worried for no reason at all."
  "Menolly, how long has Master Robinton been resting?" Brekke asked,
  coming right up to the table.
  "Half a skinful," Piemur replied, grinning as he pointed to the wine on the
  back of the chair, "and he went
  without a protest."
  Brekke gave the young harper a long and searching look. "I wouldn't
  trust you for a moment, Harper
  Piemur." Then she looked at Jaxom. "Have you been here all afternoon,
  too?"
  "Me? No indeed. Ruth and I slept until Mirrim woke us."
  "Where is Mirrim?" F'nor asked, glancing about.
  "She's outside somewhere," replied Menolly in a voice so devoid of tone
  that Brekke glanced at her
  
  stretching his arms until his joints
  cracked. "I want a swim, to wash the sweat from my brow, and the ink
  from my fingers. Anyone coming?"
  Jaxom's acceptance was as enthusiastic as the two girls' and, with
  F'nor's jocular complaint about being
  deserted ringing in their ears, they all made for the beach. Jaxom man-
  aged to grab Menolly by the hand as
  Sharra and Piemur pelted around the bend.
  "Menolly, how did Master Robinton know?"
  She'd been laughing as they raced down the path, but now her eyes
  darkened.
  "I didn't tell him, Jaxom. I didn't have to. I don't know when he figured it
  out. But the facts all point to you."
  "How?"
  She ticked off reasons on her fingers. "To start with, a dragon had to
  return the egg. Only way. Preferably a
  dragon who was totally familiar with Benden Hatching Ground. The
  dragon had to be ridden by someone
  who wanted earnestly to return that egg, and who could find it!" The last
  qualification seemed to be the most
  important. "More people will figure out it was you now."."Why now?"
  
  "Hey, Jaxom, Menolly, c'mon!" Piemur's roar distracted them.
  "Race you?" Menolly said, turning and dashing for the beach.
  They weren't to have much time for their swim. Master Idarolan's ship
  reappeared, the blue full-catch
  pennant flying from its foremast. Brekke called them to help gut enough
  fish for the evening's meal. She
  wasn't certain how many of those now at the Plateau would return to
  Cove Hold for dinner but cooked fish
  could be served in rolls the next day, she said, cheerfully ignoring the
  protests. She sent Mirrim off with
  supplies for Master Wansor and N'ton, who planned to make an evening
  of star-watching or, as Piemur said
  irreverently, the Dusk-Dawn and Midnight Sisters.
  "And what do you bet Mirrim tries to stay there the night, too, to see if
  Path does keep away the Southern
  fire-lizards?" Piemur asked, a slightly malicious grin on his face.
  "Mirrim does have well-trained fire-lizards," Menolly said.
  "And they sound just like her when they scold everyone else's friends,"
  Piemur added.
  "Now that's not fair," Menolly said. "Mirrim's a good friend of mine ..."
  
  Jaxom was grateful for his afternoon's nap, for he wouldn't have missed
  that evening. All seven Weyrleaders
  were there, D'ram with some private news for F'lar's ears about the af-
  fairs in the Southern Weyr, and N'ton,
  who stayed only part of the evening since he was sky-watching with
  Wansor. There were also
  Mastercraftsmen Nicat, Fandarel, Idarolan, Robinton, and Lord Lytol.
  To Jaxom's surprise, the three Oldtimer Weyrleaders, G'narish of Igen,
  R'mart of Telgar and D'ram now of
  Southern, were less interested in what might lie hidden in the settlement
  than N'ton, T'bor, G'dened and
  F'lar. The Oldtimers were far more eager to explore the broad lands and
  the distant range than dig to
  unearth their past.
  "That is past," R'mart of Telgar said. "Past, dead, and very much buried.
  We have to live in the present, a
  trick, mind you, F'lar, that you taught us." He grinned to remove any
  sting from what he said. "Besides,
  wasn't it you, F'lar, who suggested that it's useless to muddle our brains
  thinking how the ancients did things
  
  ter.."Undamaged instruments would be invaluable," Fandarel said, very
  solemn.
  "We might just find you some. Master Robinton," Nicat said thoughtfully,
  "because only one section of that
  settlement sustained much damage." He had everyone's attention.
  "Look," he drew out a sketch of the
  general site, "the flow of lava is to the south. Here, here, and here, the
  cones of the mountains broke, and
  the flow followed the slope of the land, away from much of the settle-
  ment. The prevailing wind also carried
  the ash away from the place. From the little digging I did today, I found
  only a thin layer of volcanic debris."
  "Is there only this one settlement? When they had a whole world to oc-
  cupy?" asked R'mart.
  "We'll find the others tomorrow," the Harper assured them, "won't you,
  Jaxom?"
  "Sir?" Jaxom rose, half-startled by his unexpected inclusion in the main
  discussion.
  "No, to be serious, R'mart, you may be quite correct," F'lar said, leaning
  forward across the table. "And we
  
  "Show the tricks of your craft, eh. Master Nicat," R'mart said. "We'd
  better learn a thing or two about mining,
  right, Masterminer?"
  Jaxom stifled a chuckle at the expression of puzzlement and then indig-
  nation on the Masterminer's face.
  "Dragonriders mining?"
  "Why not?" F'lar asked. "Thread will Pass. There'll be another Interval
  on us all too soon. I promise you one
  thing, with the Southern lands open, never again will the Weyrs be be-
  holden to anyone during an Interval."
  "Ah, yes, a very sound idea, Weyrleader, very sound," Master Nicat
  prudently agreed, though he would
  plainly need time to assimilate such a revolutionary idea.
  The dragons lounging on the shore crooned a welcome to someone,.
  N'ton suddenly rose. "I must join Wansor in our star-watch. That must
  be Path and Mirrim returning. My duty
  to you all."
  "I'll light your way, N'ton," Jaxom said, grabbing a glow basket and un-
  shielding it.
  They were well out of hearing range of the others when N'ton turned to
  Jaxom. "This is more to your fancy,
  
  images."."The mountain?"
  N'ton gave him a bit of a shake. "Good man!"
  They saw the dark bulk of a dragon settling to the beach and then two
  gleaming circles as Lioth turned his
  head toward them.
  "A white dragon has an advantage at night," N'ton said as he pointed to
  the visible hide of Ruth a little to one
  side of his bronze.
  I'm glad you've come. I've an itch I cannot reach, said Ruth.
  "He's in need of attention, N'ton."
  "Leave the glows with me then, I'll pass them on to Mirrim so she can
  find her way to the point."
  They separated as Jaxom moved aside to attend to Ruth. He heard
  N'ton greet Mirrim, their voices carrying
  on the quiet night air.
  "Of course, Wansor's all right," Mirrim said, sounding peevish. "He's got
  his eyes glued to that tube of his.
  He never knew I came, never ate the food I brought, never knew I left.
  And further," she paused, taking a
  deep breath, "Path did not scare away the Southern fire-lizards."
  "Why would she?"
  
  "Mirrim!"
  Jaxom heard the coldness in N'ton's voice; it matched the sudden
  freezing in his own guts. Mirrim's petulant
  comment resounded over and over in his ears.
  "You know what I mean, N'ton . . ."
  Just like Mirrim, Jaxom thought, not to heed the warning in N'ton's voice.
  "You ought to," she went on with the impetus of grievance. "Wasn't it
  you who told F'nor and Brekke that you
  doubted if Ruth would ever mate? Where are you going, N'ton? I
  thought you were going ..."
  "You don't think, Mirrim!"
  "What's the matter, N'ton?" The sudden panic in her voice afforded
  Jaxom some consolation.
  Don't stop, Ruth said. The itch is still there.
  "Jaxom?" N'ton's call was not loud, meant to reassure, but the sound
  carried back.."Jaxom?" Mirrim cried. "Oh, no!" Then Jaxom heard her run-
  ning away, saw the glow basket jolting, heard
  her weeping. Just like the girl, speak first, think later and weep for days.
  She'd be repentant and hanging on
  about him, driving him between with her need to be forgiven her
  thoughtlessness.
  
  proved disinterested. He could
  somewhat regret that Ruth would be deprived of that experience; but he
  was relieved that he would never be
  called upon to endure it.
  "You must have heard her." There was a tinge of hope in N'ton's voice
  that Jaxom hadn't.
  "I heard. Sound carries near water."
  "Blast the girl! Scorch the girl! We were going to explain . . . then you
  took the fire-head, and now this. The
  opportunity hasn't presented itself . . ." N'ton's explanations came out in
  a rush.
  "I can live with it. Like Mirrim's Path, there are other things we can do."
  N'ton's groan came from his guts. "Jaxom!" His fingers closed tightly on
  Jaxom's shoulder, trying in the
  contact to express his inarticulate regret.
  "It's not your fault, N'ton."
  "Does Ruth comprehend what was said?"
  "Ruth comprehends that his back itches." Even as Jaxom said it, he
  found it curious that Ruth was not the
  least bit upset.
  There, you have the exact spot. Harder now.
  
  Jaxom was rather touched by the genuine regret in the bronze rider's
  voice.
  "So? He's my dragon and I'm his rider. We are together!"
  "He's unique!" N'ton's verdict was fervent, and he stroked Ruth's hide
  with affectionate respect. "So, my
  young friend, are you!" He gripped Jaxom's shoulder again, letting the
  gesture stand for words unsaid. Lioth
  crooned in the darkness beyond them and Ruth, turning his head toward
  the bronze dragon, made a
  courteous response.
  Lioth is a fine fellow. His rider is a kind man. They are good friends!
  "We are ever your friends," N'ton said, giving Jaxom's shoulder a final,
  almost painful squeeze. "I must get to
  Wansor. You're sure you're all right?"."Go along, N'ton. I'll just settle
  Ruth's itch!"..
  The Fort Weyrleader hesitated one more moment before he pivoted and
  walked quickly toward his bronze.
  "I think I'd better oil that patch, Ruth," Jaxom said. "I've been neglecting
  you lately."
  Ruth's head came around, his eyes gleamed more brilliantly blue in the
  darkness. You never neglect me.
  
  verdict on Ruth sooner or later. Why
  wasn't Ruth upset? Maybe if he had been completely willing for his
  dragon to experience that part of his
  personality, Ruth would have matured. Jaxom railed at the fact that they
  had always been kept from being
  full dragon and rider: brought up as they were in the Hold, instead of the
  Weyr where the mating of dragons
  was an understood and accepted fact of the weyr life. It wasn't as if
  Ruth were immune to sexual
  experience. He was always present when Jaxom had sex.
  I love with you and I love you. But my back itches fiercely.
  That was clear enough, Jaxom thought as he hurried through the forest
  to his dragon.
  Someone was with Ruth, scratching his back for him. If it was Mirrim ...
  Jaxom strode forward angrily.
  Sharra is with me, Ruth told him calmly.
  "Sharra?" Swallowing an irrational surge of anger, he acknowledged her
  presence. "I've got the oil. Ruth's
  got a bad flaky patch. I've been neglecting him."
  "You've never neglected Ruth," she said so emphatically that Jaxom
  had to smile in surprise.
  
  "And you were sent to me?" He found he didn't mind Sharra: her pres-
  ence was, in fact, a boon.
  "Not sent . . ." Sharra faltered. "I was ... I was called!" She finished her
  sentence in a rush.
  "Called?" Jaxom left off rubbing oil into Ruth's back and looked at her.
  Her face was a pale blur with dark
  spots for her eyes and mouth.
  "Yes, called. Ruth called me. He said Mirrim . . ."
  "He said?" Jaxom interrupted her as her words finally sank in. "You can
  hear Ruth?"
  She needed to hear me when you were sick, Jaxom, Ruth said at the
  same moment Sharra was saying out
  loud, "I've been able to hear him ever since you were so ill."."Ruth, why
  did you call Sharra?"
  She is good for you. You need her. What Mirrim said, even what N'ton
  said but he was kinder, has made you
  close up. I do not like it when I cannot hear your mind. Sharra will open
  it for us.
  "Will you do that for us, Sharra?"
  This time Jaxom didn't hesitate. He took Sharra's hands, oily as they
  were, and drew her to him, inordinately
  
  that had to do with Sharra's lithe body against his, the scent of her long
  heavy hair in his nostrils as he
  kissed her, the pressure of her arms on the skin of his back. And her
  hands, flat against his waist, were not
  the hands of a healer, but the hands of a lover.
  They made love in the soft warm darkness, delighting in each other and
  fully responsive to the moment of
  ecstasy that came, totally aware that Ruth loved with them.
  CHAPTER XX
  At the Mountain and at Ruatha Hold, 15.10.18-15.10.20
  JAXOM COULD NOT FEEL easy looking at the eastern face of the
  mountain. He arranged himself, Sharra
  and Ruth so that they did not have to see it. The other five made them-
  selves comfortable in a loose
  semicircle about Ruth.
  The seventeen banded fire-lizards-for at the last moment, Sebell and
  Brekke asked to be included in the
  group-settled on Ruth's back. The more trained fire-lizards, the better,
  reasoned Master Robinton, which, he
  went on to say, gave him the chance to include Zair.
  
  Ruth who crooned a greeting as Jaxom had suggested he do.
  They are pleased to see me, Ruth told Jaxom. And happy that men
  come to this place again.
  "Ask them about the first time they saw men."
  Jaxom caught an instant image from Ruth of many dragons arriving over
  the shoulder of the mountain.
  "That's not what I meant."
  I know, Ruth acknowledged with regret. I will ask again. Not the time
  with the dragons, but a long time ago,
  before the mountain blew up.
  The reaction of the fire-lizards was predictable and discouraging. They
  flew up from their perches on and
  about Ruth and did wild sky-dances, cluttering and bugling in dis-
  may..Disappointed, Jaxom turned to see Brekke's hand raised, a look of
  intense concentration on her face. He
  relaxed against Ruth, wondering what arrested her attention. Menolly
  also held up her hand. She was sitting
  near enough to Jaxom so that he saw her eyes were totally unfocused.
  On her shoulder, Beauty had
  assumed a rigid position, her eyes wheeling violently red. Above their
  circle, the fire-lizards chattered and
  
  ward . . . toward us? Ruth looked about
  him as if he half-expected to be overrun, so vivid were the fire-lizard im-
  ages.
  "Toward us, and then where?"
  Down to the water? Ruth wasn't sure himself, and turned to look toward
  the distant, invisible sea.
  They are afraid again. They don't like remembering the mountain.
  "Any more than they like remembering the Red Star," Jaxom said im-
  prudently. Every fire-lizard disappeared,
  including the banded ones.
  "That did it, Jaxom," Piemur said in deep disgust. "You can't mention
  that bloody Red Star in front of fire-lizards.
  Flaming mountains, but not red stars."
  "Undeniably," Sebell said in his deep quiet voice, "there are moments
  that are branded in the minds of our
  little friends. When they start remembering, everything else is excluded."
  "It is association," Brekke said.
  "What we need then," Piemur said, "is another spot that strikes less dis-
  tressing memories in them.
  Memories . . . useful ... to us ..."
  
  in my images. The big mountain is too much higher than the one I'm
  sure I saw."
  "Yes, yes," Menolly said, excited. "The angle is important. The fire-
  lizards couldn't see that high! Remember
  they're much, much smaller. And see, the angle. It's right!" She was on
  her feet, gesturing to illustrate her
  points. "People came from there, running this way, away from the
  smallest volcano! They came from those
  mounds. The largest ones!"
  "That's the way I saw it," Brekke agreed. "Those mounds there!"
  "So do we start with these?" F'lar asked, the next morning, sighing at
  the task of unearthing a small hill.
  Lessa stood beside him, surveying the silent mounds, with the Master
  Smith, Masterminer Nicat, F'nor and
  N'ton. Jaxom, Piemur, Sharra and Menolly remained discreetly to one
  side. "This large one?" he asked, but
  his eyes swept down the parallel ranks, squinting with resignation.."We
  could be digging until the Pass is done," Lessa said, slapping her riding
  gloves against her thigh as she,
  too, did a slow thoughtful survey of the sprawl of anonymous earthen
  lumps.
  
  "I doubt we could exclude him if we wished, and it would be unwise to
  try," F'lar remarked in a droll tone.
  "True," she replied and then smiled at her weyrmate. "I rather like him,"
  she added, surprised at her own
  verdict.
  "My brother makes himself likable," Sharra said quietly to Jaxom, a curi-
  ous smile on her lips. "But to trust
  him?" She shook her head slowly, watching Jaxom's face. "He is a very
  ambitious man!"
  "He's taking a good look, isn't he?" N'ton remarked, watching the circling
  dragon's lazy downward glide.
  "It's worth looking at," F'nor replied, scanning the broad, mounded ex-
  panse.
  "Is that Toric aloft?" Master Nicat asked, digging his boot toe into the
  large mound. "Glad he's here. He sent
  for me when he found those mine shafts in the Western Range."
  "I'd forgot he's already had some experience with the ancients' handi-
  work," F'lar said.
  "He's also got experienced men to help us without having to go back to
  the Lord Holders," N'ton said with a
  knowing grin.
  
  Fandarel in build and height. His hair was sun-streaked, his skin a deep
  brown and, while his smile was
  broad, there was a certain arrogant self-possession in the very way he
  strode that suggested he felt himself
  the equal of any awaiting him. Jaxom wondered just how that attitude
  would strike the Benden Weyrleaders.
  "You certainly have discovered the Southern Continent, haven't you,
  Benden?" he said, gripping F'lar's arm
  in greeting and bowing as he smiled at Lessa. He nodded and mur-
  mured the name of the other leaders and
  masters present, glancing beyond them with a raking look at the
  younger people. When Toric's eyes came
  back to his face, just briefly, Jaxom knew he'd been identified. Resent-
  ing the way Toric's glance slid from
  him, as if he were negligible, he stiffened. Then he felt Sharra's hand
  lightly on his arm.
  "He does that to irritate," she said in a very soft voice, with a ripple of
  her rich laughter in it. "Most of the time
  it's effective."
  "It puts me in mind of the way my milk-brother used to tease me in front
  of Lytol, when he knew I couldn't
  
  pulled up the rails for
  their ore carts, and' the brackets where they must have hung lights. One
  place had a largish shelter at the
  mouth," he gestured toward the smallest nearby mound, "about that
  size, carefully shut against the weather
  and totally bare inside. Again, you could see where things had been
  bolted to the floor. They'd prized the
  bolts out, too."
  "If this thriftiness applies here," Fandarel said, "then if anything is likely
  to be found, it will be in those
  mounds." He pointed to a smaller cluster on the edge of the settlement
  nearest the lava flow. "They would
  have been too hot or too dangerous to approach for a long time."
  "And if too hot to approach, what makes you think anything survived the
  heat?" Toric demanded.
  "Because the mound has survived to this time," Fandarel replied as if he
  were only being logical.
  Toric regarded him for a moment and then clouted the Smith on the
  shoulder. He was oblivious to the
  startled look awarded him by Fandarel, whom men tended to treat with
  distant respect.
  
  one nearest him.
  "There're hands enough and . . ." Toric took three long strides to the pile
  of digging implements, "plenty of
  shovels and picks for everyone to take a dig at the mound of his
  choice." He picked up a long-handled
  shovel and tossed it to the Mastersmith, who caught it in a reflex action
  as he stared, bemused, at the big
  Southerner. Toric shouldered another shovel, selected two picks and
  with no more discussion strode toward
  the cluster of mounds that were the Smith's choice.
  "Presuming Toric's theory is correct, is it worth digging here?" F'lar
  asked his weyrmate.
  "What we found in that long-forgotten room at Benden Weyr was obvi-
  ously a discard of the ancients. And
  after all, mining equipment they could have used elsewhere. Besides, I
  want to see what's inside." Lessa
  said that with such determination that F'lar laughed.
  "I guess I do, too. And I do wonder what they'd do in this size place! It's
  big enough to weyr a dragon or two!"
  "We'll help you, Lessa," Sharra said, urging Jaxom to pick a tool.
  
  the right of it. But we'll spread the effort. And try those." He pointed with
  sudden decision toward the sea
  side of the Plateau, where six smallish mounds made a loose circle.
  It was not work to which any of them were accustomed despite the fact
  that Master Nicat had begun as an
  apprentice miner in the pits, and Master Fandarel still took long turns at
  the forges when he worked on
  something particularly intricate..Jaxom, sweat pouring from his face and
  body, had the distinct feeling that he was under surveillance. But
  when he leaned on the pick for an occasional breather, or lifted colonies
  of grubs safely to one side, he
  could see no one looking in his direction. The sensation bothered him.
  The big one watches you, Ruth said suddenly.
  Jaxom shot a glance under his arm at the mound where Toric and
  Master Fandarel were working and, sure
  enough, Toric was looking in his direction. Beside him, Lessa groaned
  suddenly, jamming her shovel blade
  into the rough-rooted grass of the mound. She examined her hands,
  reddened and beginning to blister.
  "It's a long time since these have worked so hard," she said.
  "Use your flying gloves?" Sharra suggested.
  
  soil. She rubbed particles between her thumbs and forefinger. "Like ash.
  Gritty. Never thought I'd be
  dealing in ashes again. Did I ever tell you, Jaxom, that I was cleaning
  the fireplace in Ruatha Hold the day
  your mother arrived?"
  "No," Jaxom said, surprised at this unexpected confidence. "But then,
  few people ever mention my parents
  to me."
  Lessa's expression became severe. "Now I wonder why I called Fax to
  mind . . ." she said, glancing in
  Toric's direction and adding, more to herself than to Jaxom and Sharra,
  "except he was ambitious, too. But
  Fax made mistakes."
  "Such as taking Ruatha Hold from its rightful Bloodline," Jaxom said,
  grunting as he swung the pick.
  "That was his worst mistake," Lessa said with intense satisfaction. Then
  she noticed Sharra staring at her
  and smiled. "Which I rectified. Oh, Jaxom, leave off a moment. Your
  enthusiasm exhausts me." She mopped
  at the perspiration on her forehead. "Yes, I think some strong backs will
  have to be drafted. At least for my
  
  each other as if they didn't understand
  what their friend was doing. They dropped lightly to the spot where
  Sharra had just planted her shovel and,
  with tremendous energy, they began to dig, their strong forepaws lifting
  the dirt to either side, their
  hindquarters pushing it farther out of the way. They had tunneled almost
  an arm's length while Lessa, Sharra
  and Jaxom watched in amazement.
  "Ruth? Would you lend us your aid?" Jaxom called.
  The white dragon obediently rose from his sunny perch and glided over
  to his friend, his eyes beginning to
  whirl more quickly with curiosity.
  "Would you mind digging holes for us, Ruth?"
  Where? Here? Ruth indicated a spot to the left of the fire-lizards who
  had not stopped their efforts.
  "I don't think it matters where, we just want to see what the grass cov-
  ers!".No sooner had the other dragonriders seen what Ruth was doing than
  they called on theirs. Even Ramoth
  felt inclined to lend her aid, with Lessa giving her every encouragement.
  "I wouldn't have believed it," Sharra said to Jaxom. "Dragons digging?"
  "Lessa wasn't too proud to dig, was she?"
  
  I'd wondered where they were."
  A trio of fire-lizards, a golden queen and two bronzes, were circling lazily
  above Jaxom and Sharra.
  "So? I'll just speak to Master Robinton to mediate..."
  "Toric has other plans for me ..."
  "Am I not included in your plans?" Jaxom asked, experiencing sudden
  shock.
  "You know you are, which is why ... we loved each other. I wanted you
  while I could." Sharra's eyes were
  troubled.
  "Why should he interfere then? My rank is . . ." Jaxom took both her
  hands in his and retained them when
  she tried to pull away.
  "He doesn't think much of the young Northern men, Jaxom. Not after
  coping with fairs of younger sons in the
  past three Turns who are really," Sharra sounded exasperated, "enough
  to try the patience of a harper. I
  know you're not like them, but Toric . . ."
  "I'll prove myself to Toric, never fear." Jaxom brought her hands to his
  lips, holding her eyes with his,
  
  exchange.
  Jaxom felt Sharra's hands struggle but, having decided to confront Toric
  in all his arrogance, Jaxom was not
  about to defer before Lessa. He kept a tight hold on Sharra as they
  turned toward the Weyrwoman.
  "Come and see. Ramoth has struck something solid. And it doesn't look
  like rock ..."
  Jaxom pulled Sharra up the slight incline to Lessa's side of the mound.
  Ramoth was sitting back on her
  haunches, peering over Lessa to look into the trench her forepaws had
  scored.
  "Move your head slightly, Ramoth. You're in my light," Lessa said.
  "Here, take my shovel, Jaxom, and see
  what you think. Clear out a bit more dirt.".Jaxom jumped into a trench
  which reached to mid-thigh. "Feels solid enough," he said, pressing his
  weight
  down before he tapped with the shovel. "Sounds like stone?" But it did-
  n't. The shovel thunked echoingly.
  Scrapping clear a long swath, Jaxom stepped aside for all to see.
  "F'lar, come here! We've reached something!"
  "So have we!" came the Weyrleader's triumphant reply.
  
  Toric. "It is not funny," the Smith said at his most serious. "We will con-
  centrate on Lessa's mound since it is
  smaller. Then we will work on Master Nicat's and then . . ."He pointed to
  his own choice as Toric interrupted.
  "All in one day?" he asked, again with a tone of supercilious derision
  that irritated Jaxom.
  "We will do as much as we can, certainly, so let us begin!"
  Jaxom decided that the Smith chose to ignore Toric's attitude, an exam-
  ple for him to follow.
  It also proved inefficient to have more than two dragons working on
  Lessa's small mound since it was
  scarcely longer than a dragon. So F'lar and N'ton urged their bronzes to
  help Master Nicat.
  By midafternoon the curving sides of Lessa's mound had been un-
  earthed to the original floor of the valley.
  Six panels, three on an arc of the curved roof, tantalized, but their sur-
  face, once undoubtedly transparent,
  was now badly scored and darkened. Attempts to see through to the
  interior were vain. Disappointing, but
  no openings were found on the long sides so one end was promptly dug
  out. The dragons, despite the gray-black
  
  strained by the Smith's hand.
  "Wait! The air inside is sick with age! Smell! Let fresh air in first. The
  place has been shut who knows how
  many Turns!"
  The Smith, Toric and N'ton, set their shoulders to the door and forced it
  fully open. The air that flooded out
  was fetid, and Lessa stepped back, sneezing and coughing. Dim rec-
  tangles of tan light fell on a dusty floor,
  touched cracked and water-stained walls. As Lessa and F'lar, followed
  by the others, made their way into
  the small building, dust swirled under their boots.
  "What was it for?" Lessa asked in a hushed voice.
  Toric, unnecessarily ducking his head, for the top of the doorway
  cleared even his height by another hand's
  breadth, pointed to a far comer, to the now-visible remnants of a wide,
  wooden frame.
  "Someone could have slept on that!" He turned to the other corner, and
  then with a sudden movement that
  made Lessa gasp, he stooped and came up with an object which he
  then made a show of presenting to her.
  "A treasure from the past!"
  
  Overcoming a sense of awe at being inside such an ancient place, eve-
  ryone began to examine the interior,
  Shelves and cabinets had once hung on the walls, for marks of paint left
  outlines. The structure had once
  been partitioned into sections and there were distinct gouges in the
  tough material of the floor to indicate
  that large permanent objects had rested here and there. In one comer,
  Fandarel discovered circular outlets,
  leading down. When he checked the exterior, he had to assume that the
  piping went through the wall and
  underground. One, he maintained, was undoubtedly for water. But the
  other four puzzled him.
  "Surely they can't all be empty!" Lessa said in a wistful tone, trying to
  hide a disappointment that everyone,
  Jaxom thought, was experiencing.
  "One can assume," Fandarel said in a brisk voice when they had all left
  Lessa's building, "that many of these
  of the same shape were also living quarters for the ancients. They
  would, I feel, take all their personal things
  with them. I think we ought then to devote more effort to the larger or the
  much smaller places."
  
  tracks to open it more than a crack. They were barely able to make out
  some sort of decorations on the
  walls. No one had thought to bring glow baskets with them and this sec-
  ond disappointment drained the last
  of their energy so that no one even suggested sending fire-lizards for
  glows.
  Leaning against the half-open panel, Lessa gave a tired laugh and
  looked down at her muddied condition.
  "Ramoth says she's tired and dirty and wants a bath."
  "She's not the only one," F'lar promptly agreed. He made a vain effort to
  close the door, then laughed. "I
  don't suppose anything will happen overnight. Back to Cove Hold."
  "You'll join us, Toric?" Lessa asked, cocking her head to look up at the
  big Southerner.
  "I think not this evening, Lessa. I've a Hold to manage and cannot al-
  ways please myself," he said. Jaxom
  saw the Southerner's eyes on him, the implication obvious to Jaxom.
  "All things being equal, I'll return
  tomorrow for a time to see if Fandarel's mound proves more profitable.
  Shall I bring more strong hands and
  spare your dragons?"
  
  "I'd like to bring Benelek with me tomorrow, F'lar," said the Master
  Smith, rubbing his gray-mudded hands
  together and flicking off the dried pellets off his clothes. "And two other
  lads with good imaginations . . ."
  "Imagination? Yes, you'll need a lot of that here to make sense out of
  what the ancients have left for you,"
  Toric said, the faintest hint of scorn in his tone. "When you're ready,
  D'ram?"
  For some reason Toric's manner toward the old Weyrleader was more
  respectful than to anyone else. At
  least to Jaxom's sensitive ears. He was inwardly seething over Toric's
  insinuation that he did not manage his.own Hold but pleased himself. He
  seethed because it was a valid accusation. Yet why, Jaxom sought to
  console himself, would anyone have expected him to return tamely to
  Ruatha, which prospered under Lytol's
  expert management, when all the excitement in the world was happen-
  ing here? He felt Sharra's fingers curl
  around his arm, and he reminded himself of his own analogy between
  Toric and Dorse.
  "I'll have a job getting Ruth clean," he said with a rueful sigh as he undid
  Sharra's fingers from his arm and
  
  It was an altogether deflated group that sat about the fire that evening.
  "There's no guarantee, is there," the Harper said, "that even if we had
  the energy to excavate all those
  hundreds of mounds, we'd find anything of value left behind."
  Lessa held up her spoon with a laugh. "No intrinsic value, but it does
  give me a tremendous thrill to hold
  something my hundred-times ancestress might have used!"
  "Efficiently made, too," Fandarel said, politely taking the small object
  and examining it again. "The substance
  fascinates me." He bent toward the flames to scrutinize it. "If I could just
  . . ." and he reached for his belt
  knife.
  "Oh, no you don't, Fandarel," Lessa said in alarm and retrieved her arti-
  fact. "There were other bits and
  pieces of the same stuff discarded in my building. Experiment on them."
  "Is that all we are to have of the ancients, their bits and pieces?"
  "I remind you, F'lar," Fandarel said, "their discards have already proved
  invaluable." The Smith then
  indicated the spot where Wansor's distance-viewer had been sited.
  "What men have once learned to do, can
  be relearned. It will take time and experimentation but..."
  
  them?" F'lar asked.
  "That's irrelevant," Nicat said, dismissing Toric's contentions. "The bed,
  for instance, was unneeded because
  they knew they could obtain wood wherever they went. The little spoon
  for another, because they could
  make more. There may be other pieces, useless to them, which might
  very well form the missing elements
  of the Records which did come down to us, in whatever mutilated fash-
  ion. Just think, my friends," Nicat held
  up one finger along his nose, closing an eye conspiratorially, "the sheer
  quantity they had to take from those
  buildings after the eruption. Oh, we'll find things, never fear!"
  "Yes, they had to take great loads from those buildings after the erup-
  tion," Fandarel murmured, frowning as
  he lowered his chin to his chest in deep thought. "Where did they take
  their possessions? Certainly, not
  immediately to establish Fort Hold!"
  "Yes, where did they go?" F'lar asked, puzzled.
  "As far as we could tell from the fire-lizard images, they headed toward
  the sea," Jaxom said.."And the sea wouldn't have been safe," Menolly said.
  
  "I thought you'd started to reopen the shafts Toric found in the Western
  Range?"
  "We've been examining them, to be sure, but my Hall hasn't reached a
  miner's agreement with Toric yet."
  "With Toric? Does he hold those lands? They're far to the southwest,
  well beyond Southern Hold," F'lar said,
  abruptly intent.
  "It was an exploring party of Toric's which located the shafts," Nicat said,
  his eyes shifting from the Benden
  Weyrleader's to the Harper's and then to the Smith's.
  "I told you my brother was ambitious," Sharra said softly to Jaxom.
  "An exploring party?" F'lar seemed to relax again. "That doesn't make it
  a Holding then. At all events, mines
  come under your jurisdiction, Master Nicat. Benden supports your deci-
  sion. I'll just have a word with Toric
  tomorrow."
  "I think we should," Lessa said, holding her hand out to F'lar to assist
  her from the sands.
  "I was hopeful you'd support my Hall," the Miner said with a bow of
  gratitude, his shrewd eyes glinting in the
  firelight.
  
  Jaxom asked when the others had
  dispersed.
  "Well, if not all, as much as he can," Sharra replied with a laugh. "I'm not
  being disloyal to him telling you
  this, Jaxom. You have your own Hold. You don't want Southern lands.
  Or do you?"
  Jaxom considered that.
  "You don't, do you?" Sharra sounded anxious and put her hand on his
  arm.
  "No, I don't," he said. "No, much as I love this Cove, I don't want it. To-
  day on the Plateau, I'd have given
  anything for a cool breeze from Ruatha's mountain, or a plunge in my
  lake. Ruth and I will take you there-it's
  such a beautiful place. Only a dragon can get to it easily." He picked up
  a flat pebble and skated it across
  the quiet swells that lapped the white sands of the beach. "No, I don't
  want a Southern Hold, Sharra. I was
  born in Ruatha, bred to Ruatha. Lessa obliquely reminded me of that
  this afternoon. She reminded me, too,
  of the price of my Holding and of all she's done to insure that I remain
  Lord of Ruatha. You do realize, don't
  
  brother reminded me ..."
  "But you're needed here, with Ruth. He's the only one who can make
  sense out of fire-lizard images . . ."
  "And with Ruth, I can handle both responsibilities. Manage my Hold and
  please myself. You'll see!" He drew
  her closer to kiss her, but suddenly she broke away from him, pointing
  over his shoulder, her face mirroring
  hurt and anger. "What's the matter? What have I done, Sharra?"
  She pointed to the tree where two fire-lizards were intently watching.
  "Those are Toric's. He's watching me. Us!"
  "Great! Let him have no mistake about my intentions toward you!" He
  kissed her until he felt her taut body
  responding to his, till the angry set of her lips dissolved into willingness.
  "I'd give him more to see but I want
  to get back to Ruatha Hold this evening!" He rapidly drew on his riding
  gear and called to Ruth. "I'll be back
  in the morning, Sharra. Tell the others, will you?"
  Do we have to leave? Ruth asked even as he bent his foreleg for Jaxom
  to mount.
  "We'll be back in no time, Ruth!" Jaxom waved to Sharra, thinking how
  forlorn she looked standing there in
  
  been heightened by Lessa's odd nostalgia at the mound. But it had also
  occurred to him, at the fireside, that
  a man of Lytol's vitality and experience might find the Plateau's myster-
  ies a challenge sufficient to replace
  Ruatha. His return to his birthplace had the same inexorable quality of
  his decision to rescue the egg.
  He asked Ruth to take them to Ruatha. The sharp bitter cold of between
  was instantly replaced by a damp
  moist cold as they entered Ruatha's skies, leaden and showering a fine
  light snow that must have been in
  progress for some time to have piled drifts in the southeast corners of
  the courts.
  I used to like snow, Ruth said as if encouraging himself to accept the
  return.
  Wilth trumpeted from the fire-heights in surprised welcome. Half the fire-
  lizards of the Hold exploded into the
  air about them, giving raucous greetings and spurts of cluttering com-
  plaint about the snow.
  "We won't stay long, my friend," Jaxom reassured Ruth, and shuddered
  with the damp cold even in his warm
  flying gear. How had he forgot the season here?
  
  yelling for drudges to bring coal fires,
  while Lytol and Finder hurriedly ushered Jaxom up the steps. Ruth obe-
  diently followed the steward.
  "You'll take a chill changing climates like this," Lytol was saying. "Why
  didn't you check? What brings you
  back?"
  "Isn't it about time I did return?" Jaxom asked, striding to the fireplace as
  he stripped off his flying gloves and
  let his hands take warmth from the blaze. Then he burst out laughing as
  the other men joined him there.
  "Yes, at this fireplace!"
  "What? At this fireplace?" Lytol asked, pouring wine for his ward.
  "This morning, in the hot sun of the Plateau, while we were digging up
  one of the mounds the ancients left to
  puzzle us, Lessa told me that she had been taking ashes out of this fire-
  place the day my unlamented sire,
  Fax, escorted my lady mother Gemma to this Hold!" He raised his cup in
  a toast to the memory of the
  mother he had never known.
  "Which obliquely reminded you that you are Lord of Ruatha now?" Lytol
  inquired, a slight lift to the comer of
  
  cushions bore the recent imprint of
  buttocks and thighs.
  "I suspect you're about to take more than that, Lord Jaxom."
  "Not without due courtesy," Jaxom said, dragging a small footstool be-
  side the chair for his own use. "And a
  challenge in its place." He was relieved at Lytol's placid reaction. "Am I,
  sir, ready to be Lord of Ruatha Hold
  now?"
  "Are you trained, do you mean?"
  "That, too, but I had in mind the circumstances which have made it
  wiser to leave Ruatha in your charge."
  "Ay, yes."
  Jaxom keenly watched Lytol to see if there was any constraint in his
  manner as he answered.
  "The circumstances have indeed altered over the past two seasons,"
  Lytol almost laughed, "thanks to you, in
  great part."
  "To me? Oh, that wretched illness. So, there is now no real bar to my
  confirmation as Lord Holder?"
  "I see none."
  
  "A sister to Toric of the Southern Hold, isn't she?" Lytol pursued the
  subject, testing the suitability of the
  match.
  "Yes, and tell me, Lytol, has there been any move to confirm Toric as a
  major Lord Holder?"
  "No, nor any rumor that he's asked to be." Lytol scowled as he reflected
  on that circumstance. "What's your
  opinion of Toric, Lord Lytol?"
  "Why do you ask? Certainly the match is suitable, even if he hasn't rank
  to match yours."
  "He doesn't need the rank. He has the ambition," Jaxom said with suffi-
  cient rancor to attract the undivided
  attention of both guardian and harper.
  "Ever since D'ram became Southern Weyrleader," Finder remarked in
  the silence that ensued, "I've heard it
  said that no holdless man is turned away."
  "Does he promise them the right to hold what they can?" Jaxom asked,
  turning so quickly on Finder that the
  harper blinked in surprise.
  "I'm not sure..."
  
  didn't imagine you would object.
  Brand? What was promised him?"
  "I think he was told he could have as much land as he wanted. I don't
  believe that the term hold came into
  the discussion. But then, the offer was made through one of the South-
  ern traders, not directly from Toric."
  "Still, if a man offered you land, you'd be grateful to him, and support
  him against those who had denied you
  land, wouldn't you?" Jaxom asked.
  "Yes, gratitude would be reasonably expressed in loyalty," Lytol moved
  restlessly, considering another
  aspect of the situation. "However, it was clearly stated that the best land
  was too far from the protection of
  the Weyr. I gave Dorse one of our older flamethrowers, in good repair of
  course, with spare nozzles and
  hose," Lytol added.
  "I'd give anything to watch Dorse in the open in Threadfall without a
  dragonrider in sight," Jaxom said.
  "If Toric is as shrewd as he appears to be," Lytol said, "that may be the
  final consideration as to who may
  hold."
  
  warmth of the starlight night, Jaxom
  was more certain than ever that Lytol would not find the change hard to
  make. Even as Ruth circled to land,
  Jaxom felt himself relaxing in the warm air. He'd been very tense at
  Ruatha-tense not to rush Lytol and still
  achieve his own ends, and worried by the report of Toric's clever machi-
  nations.
  He slid down Ruth's shoulder to the soft sand, at just the spot where he
  had so recently kissed Sharra.
  Thoughts of her were comforting. He waited until Ruth had curled into
  the still warm sand and then he made
  for the Hall, tiptoeing in, surprised to see even the Harper's room dark. It
  must be later than be thought in
  this part of the world.
  He crept into his bed, heard Piemur mutter in his sleep. Farli, curled be-
  side her friend, opened one lid to
  peer at him, before going back to sound sleep. Jaxom pulled the light
  blanket over him, thinking of the
  snows in Ruatha, and went gratefully to sleep.
  He woke, abruptly, thinking that someone had called his name. Piemur
  and Farli were motionless in the
  
  back was uncomfortably warm from
  the sun on that Plateau. It was too early to be up. He tried to court sleep
  but the discomforts of his muscles
  and skin were sufficient to keep him wakeful. He rose quietly so as not
  to disturb Piemur or be heard by
  Sharra. A swim would ease his muscles and soothe his bum. He paused
  by Ruth and found the white
  dragon waking, eager to join him for Ruth felt certain that all the mud
  had not been washed from his hide the
  evening before.
  The Dawn Sisters were clearly sparkling in a sun which was not yet visi-
  ble over the far horizon. Could his
  ancestors have gone back to them for refuge after the eruption? And
  how?
  Wading out to his waist in the quiet Cove, Jaxom dove and swam under
  water, mysteriously dark without the
  sun to lighten its depths. Then he shot himself to the surface. No, there
  must have been some other
  sanctuary between the settlement and the sea. The flight had been
  channeled in one direction.
  
  touching the clear cloudless sky with
  yellow and gilding the benign face of the distant cone mountain.
  Ruth took them between and then, at Jaxom's suggestion, circled wide
  and lazily above the Plateau. They'd
  made new mounds of their own, Jaxom noticed with amusement, from
  the debris which the dragons had
  clawed from the two ancient buildings. He lined Ruth up in the direction
  of the sea. That goal would have
  been a long day's march for terrified people. He decided against calling
  the fire-lizards at this point; they'd
  only overexcite themselves repeating memories of the eruption. He had
  to get them to a spot where their
  associative memories tapped a less frantic moment. Surely they would
  have something to recall of their men
  in whatever refuge the fleeing people had set out to reach.
  Had there perhaps been stables for beasts and wherries built at some
  distance from the settlement?
  Considering the scale on which the ancients operated, such a stable
  would have been large enough to
  
  gle. They glided out over a long scar of
  grassland, several dragonlengths wide and several hundred long. Trees
  and bushes were sparse on either
  side, as if struggling to find soil for their roots. Ribbons of water glinted
  at the far end of the curious scar, like
  shallow interconnected pools.
  Just then the sun rose above the rim of the Plateau, and turning his
  head to the left to escape that brilliance,
  Jaxom saw the three shadows lengthening across the top end of the
  grassy scar. Excitedly, he urged Ruth
  to the spot, circling until he was certain that these hills couldn't be hills
  and certainly were unlike the shape of
  the ancients' other buildings. For one thing, their placement was as un-
  natural as their shape. One was
  seven dragonlengths or more in advance of the other two, and there'd
  be ten or more dragonlengths
  between them.
  He had Ruth fly past and noticed the curious conformation: a larger
  mass was discernible at one end, while
  the other tapered slightly downward, a difference visible despite grass,
  earth and the small bushes that
  
  "What are they saying, Ruth? Let's try to keep them calm enough to
  make sense. Do they have any images
  about these hills?"
  Too many. Ruth raised his head, crooning softly to the fire-lizards. They
  were dipping and darting about so
  erratically that Jaxom gave up trying to see if any were banded. They
  are happy. They are glad you are
  come back. It has been so long.
  "When was I first here?" Jaxom asked Ruth, having learned not to con-
  fuse the fire-lizards with generations.
  "Can they remember?"
  When you came out of the sky in long gray things?
  Ruth sounded bewildered even as he relayed the answer.
  Jaxom leaned against Ruth, scarcely crediting the reply. "Show me!"
  Brilliant and conflicting images stunned him as he saw vistas, unfocused
  at first, then resolving into a clear
  picture as Ruth sorted out the myriad impressions into one single co-
  herent view.
  The cylinders were grayish, with stubby wings that were poor imitations
  of the graceful pinions of the
  
  fire-lizards dissolved into chaos-as if each separate fire-lizard had fol-
  lowed one person and each was trying
  to give Ruth his individual image rather than a group view of the landing
  and ensuing events.
  There was no doubt in Jaxom's mind that here was where the ancients
  had taken refuge from the volcano's
  havoc, the ships that had brought them from the Dawn Sisters to Pern.
  And the ships were still here
  because for some reason they couldn't go back to the trio of stars..The
  opening into the vessel had been a third of the way from the tube end?
  With ecstatic fire-lizards doing
  acrobatics about his head, Jaxom paced the grass covering the cylinder
  until he thought he'd reached the
  appropriate spot.
  They say that you have found it, Ruth advised him, nudging Jaxom for-
  ward. His great eyes were spinning
  with yellow fire.
  To support their verdict, scores of fire-lizards settled on the bush-
  covered place and began to tug at the
  vegetation.
  "I should go back to the Hold and tell them," Jaxom muttered to himself.
  
  the approximate area he wanted them to unearth to reach the door to
  the vessel. Then it was only a
  question of supervising Ruth and the sometimes obstructive assistance
  of the fire-lizards. They stripped the
  tough grass from the earth, first, the fire-lizards depositing it in the
  bushes beyond the scar. Fortunately the
  covering was firmly packed dirt blown over the landing site in the course
  of thousands of Turns. Even so,
  rain and sun had hardened a thick covering. When his shoulders began
  to ache, Jaxom eased his pace. He
  munched on a breadroll, occasionally urging squabbling fire-lizards back
  to work.
  Ruth's claws scrabbled on something. It isn't rock! Jaxom jumped to the
  spot, slamming his shovel through
  the loose dirt. The edge hit a hard, unyielding surface. Jaxom let out a
  wild yell that set all the fire-lizards
  gyrating in midair.
  Brushing away the last of the covering dirt with his hands, he stared at
  what he had unearthed. With
  cautious fingers, he touched the curious surface. Not metal, not the stuff
  of the mounds, rather like-improbable
  
  explain what he'd found. The Harper had to silence the babble with a
  huge bellow that stunned every fire-lizard
  into between. Having obtained silence, the Harper took a deep breath.
  "Who could think or hear in such noise? Now, Menolly, get us some
  food! Piemur, get drawing materials.
  Zair, come here, my beautiful rascal. You've to take a message to Ben-
  den. You are to bite Mnementh's nose
  if necessary to wake him. Yes, I know you're brave enough to fight the
  big one. Don't fight! Wake! High time
  those lazy louts at Benden were up anyway!" The Harper was in great
  spirits, his head high, his eyes
  sparkling, his gestures broad. "By Shard and Shell, Jaxom, you've
  started a dull day with a bright promise. I
  was laggard in bed because there was nothing to rise for but more dis-
  appointment!"
  "They may be as empty ..."."You said the fire-lizards imaged the land-
  ing? People emerging? Those cylinders could be as empty as
  grudging forgiveness but they'd still be worth seeing. The actual ships
  which brought our ancestors from the
  Dawn Sisters to Pern!" The Harper expelled his breath slowly, his eyes
  brilliant with excitement.
  
  real need is over. In fact," the
  Harper said, "I'm surprised to find you here and not at Ruatha still."
  Robinton's eyebrows arched as an
  invitation to explain.
  "I should have been back in my Hold some time ago, Master Robinton,"
  Jaxom admitted in a contrite tone,
  then he shrugged at his reluctance to leave the Cove. "Furthermore, it
  was snowing when I got there. Lord
  Lytol and I had a long talk ..."
  "There'd be no opposition to you taking Hold now," the Harper said with
  a laugh, "and no more hedging and
  hawing about lands and you being a dragon's rider." The Harper's eyes
  twinkled as he mimicked Lord
  Sangel's pinched tones. Then his face altered and he put his hand on
  Jaxom's shoulder. "How did Lytol
  react?"
  "He wasn't surprised," Jaxom said, allowing his relief and wonder to
  color his voice. "And I've been thinking,
  sir, that if Nicat continues to excavate the Plateau buildings, someone
  with Lytol's gift for organizing ..."
  
  up the beach toward them. Zair had
  given him the most confused images, which had excited Berd, Grail and
  every fire-lizard in Benden Weyr to
  the point where Lessa had told Ramoth to banish the whole lot. In proof
  of which, the air above the Cove
  was filled with fair upon fair of fire-lizards, making a tremendous clamor.
  "Ruth, settle them down," Jaxom asked his dragon. "We'll not be able to
  see or hear for fire-lizards."
  Ruth gave such a bellow he startled himself and drew an awed whirl of
  Canth's eyes. The ensuing silence
  was broken by a frightened lone chirp. And the sky emptied of fire-
  lizards as they rapidly found perches on
  the tree-ringed beach.
  They obeyed me. Ruth sounded amazed, and smug. The display of
  control put F'nor in a considerably better
  frame of mind.
  "Now, tell me what you've been up to so early in the morning, Jaxom?"
  F'nor asked, loosening his flying belt
  and helmet. "It's getting so Benden can't turn around without Ruatha's
  assistance."
  
  Jaxom hard enough on the shoulder to make
  him lose balance.
  "Well said, Ruatha, well said! So, what did you discover today?"
  With no little satisfaction, Jaxom recounted his morning's labor, and
  F'nor's eyes widened with excitement.
  "The ships they landed in? Let's go!" He tightened his belt, fastened his
  helmet and gestured for Jaxom to
  speed up his dressing. "We've Thread tomorrow at Benden, but, if this is
  as you say ..."
  "I'm coming, too," the Harper announced.
  Not even the boldest fire-lizard chirped in the silence that followed that
  remark.
  "I'm coming, too," Master Robinton repeated in a firm reasonable tone to
  override the protest he saw in
  every face. "I've missed too much. The suspense is very bad for me!"
  He placed his hand dramatically on his
  chest. "My heart pounds harder and harder with every passing moment
  that I'm forced to wait until you
  decide to send me dribbles and drabbles of tantalizing details." He held
  up his hand as Menolly recovered
  
  F'nor covered his eyes with one hand and shook his head at the
  Harper's base tactics. "Give the man a
  finger and he'll take a length." Then he looked up and shook his finger at
  Robinton. "If you move a muscle,
  pick up a pinch of dirt, I'll... I'll. . ."
  "I'll sit on him," Menolly finished, giving her Master such a fierce glare
  that he pretended to ward off her
  glance.
  "Get my flying gear, Menolly, there's a dear child." The Harper, with a
  cajoling expression, gave her a gentle
  push toward the Hold. "And my writing case from the worktable in my
  study. I really will behave myself,
  F'nor, and I'm certain I wouldn't come to harm in such a short journey
  between. Menolly," he raised his voice
  to a carrying roar, "don't forget the half-sack of wine on my chair! It was
  bad enough yesterday being unable
  to see the Plateau buildings!"
  As soon as Menolly returned with his requirements, the wine sack
  bouncing on her back, there was no more
  discussion. F'nor mounted the Harper and Piemur on Canth, leaving
  Jaxom to settle Menolly behind him on
  
  Jaxom grinned with delight at the response to his discovery. Menolly's
  arms gripped him more tightly and
  she cried out an intricate arpeggio in her excitement. He could see the
  Harper gesticulating wildly, and
  hoped he had a good grip on F'nor's belt. Canth, never taking his eyes
  from the hole in the hill, veered to
  land as close to it as possible. They settled the Harper in the nearest
  spot of shade and had Jaxom ask Ruth
  to get the local fire-lizards to image things for himself and Zair while he
  admired their labors.
  To the chirping conversation of fire-lizards, the others began to dig, Ruth
  standing to one side since Canth
  could move far more earth than he and there was only room for one
  dragon. Jaxom was keenly aware of an
  internal excitement that had been utterly lacking at the Plateau..They
  dug perpendicularly now, for Jaxom had unearthed the top of the vehicle.
  Canth's enthusiasm often
  showered the Harper with clods of dirt as they worked down to the door
  area, but they'd been digging only a
  short time before the seam of the doorway, a fine crack in the otherwise
  smooth surface, came to light. F'nor
  
  rately what their ancestors had seen.
  Once you could get them to remember, of course.
  When the whole doorway had been cleared, the workers stood aside for
  the Harper to approach and
  examine it.
  "I think we really had better contact Lessa and F'lar now. And it would
  be unkind in the extreme to exclude
  Master Fandarel. He might even be able to tell us what they constructed
  this ship of."
  "That's enough people to know of this," F'nor said before the Harper
  could include any other names. "I'll go
  for the Master Smith myself. It'll spare time and prevent gossip. Canth
  will tell Ramoth." He rubbed sweat
  from his face and neck and the worst of the mud stains from his hands
  before he shrugged into his flying
  gear. "Don't any of you do anything while I'm gone!" he added, glaring at
  each one in turn and most fiercely
  at the Harper.
  "I wouldn't know what to do," the Harper said in a reproving tone. "We
  shall take refreshment," he said,
  reaching for the wineskin, and gesturing the others to sit around him.
  
  explosion?"
  "A very good point."
  "Well?"
  "Perhaps Fandarel can answer, for I certainly can't," Robinton said
  truthfully, regarding the door with some
  chagrin.
  "Maybe they'd need to take off from a height, the way a lazy dragon
  does," Menolly said, casting a sly
  glance at Jaxom.
  "How long does it take F'nor to go between?" the Harper asked with a
  wistful sigh, squinting up at the bright
  sky for any sign of returning dragons.
  "Takes longer to take off and land."
  The Benden Weyrleaders arrived first, Canth with F'nor and Fandarel
  only a few seconds behind them so
  that all three dragons landed together. The Smith was first off Canth,
  rushing to the new wonder to run
  reverent hands over the curious surface, murmuring under his breath.
  F'lar and Lessa came striding through
  the long grasses, picking their way past dragon-strewn dirt; neither took
  their eyes from the softly shining
  
  several colored circles.
  Everyone crowded about him as his big fingers wiggled preparatorily
  and then hovered first over the upper
  rank of green circles. The bottom ones were red.
  "Red has always meant danger, a convention we undoubtedly learned
  from the ancients," he said. "Green
  we will therefore try first!" His thick forefinger hesitated a moment longer
  and then stabbed at the green
  button.
  At first nothing happened. Jaxom felt a clenching, like a cold hand on his
  guts, the prelude to intense
  disappointment.
  "No, look, it's opening!" Piemur's keen eyes caught the first barely per-
  ceptible widening of the crack.
  "It's old," the Smith said reverently. "A very old mechanism," he added
  as they all heard the faint protest of
  movement.
  Slowly the door moved inward and then, astonishingly, it moved side-
  ways, into the hull of the ship. A
  whoosh of rank air sent them reeling and gasping backward. When they
  looked again, the door was fully
  
  as he raced to Ruth. He never did bother to belt up and the frigid mo-
  ment of between was a shocking cooler
  after the exertions of digging. He got as many glow baskets as he could
  carry. On his return, he realized no
  one seemed to have moved in his brief absence. Awe of the unknown
  beyond that great entrance had
  restrained them. Awe and perhaps, Jaxom decided, a reluctance to re-
  peat the disappointment of the
  Plateau.
  "Well, we will never know anything standing out here like numbwits,"
  Robinton said, taking a glow basket
  from Jaxom and unshielding it as he strode forward into the ship.
  It was mete, Jaxom thought, as he passed out the other baskets, that
  the Master Harper should have the
  honor of entering first. Fandarel, F'lar, F'nor and Lessa walked abreast
  through the opening. Jaxom grinned
  at Piemur and Menolly as they fell in behind.
  Another great door, with circular wheel for locking thick bars ceiling and
  floor, lay open and inviting. Master
  Fandarel was making inarticulate noises of praise and awe as he
  touched the walls and peered at what
  
  making muffled noises on the
  nonmetallic floor.."More of the substance they used for pit supports, I
  think," Fandarel said, kneeling and pressing his fingers
  against the floor. "Ha, what was in these?" he asked, fingering brackets
  which were empty now.
  "Fascinating. And no dust."
  "No air or wind to carry it in here for who knows how long," F'lar re-
  marked in a quiet tone. "As in those rooms
  we discovered in Benden Weyr."
  They moved along a corridor of doors, some open, some closed. None
  locked, for Piemur and Jaxom were
  able to peer into the emptied cubicles. Holes in the flooring and on the
  inside walls proved that there had
  been fittings.
  "All of you, come here!" came the excited voice of the Harper, who had
  prowled ahead.
  "No, here!" F'nor called from further beyond the Harper. "Here's where
  they must have controlled the ship!"
  "No, F'nor, this is important to us!"
  And F'lar seconded the Harper's vibrant claim.
  
  with his forefinger the coast which he
  had so arduously tramped, but which was only a small portion of the to-
  tal shoreline.
  "Look, Master Idarolan can sail almost to the Eastern Barrier Range . . .
  and it's not the same range I saw in
  the west. And ..."
  "Now what would this map represent?" F'nor asked, interrupting Pie-
  mur's excited comments. He was
  standing to one side, his glow basket lighting another chart of Pern. The
  outlines were the same, but the
  bands of different colors covered the familiar contours in puzzling con-
  figurations. The seas were depicted
  with varying shades of blue.
  "That would indicate the depth of the water," Menolly said, running her
  fingers along what she knew was the
  Nerat Deep, here colored a deep blue. "Look, here are arrows to indi-
  cate the Great South Current. And
  here's the Western Stream,"
  "If that is so," the Harper said slowly, "then this ought to indicate the
  height of the land? No. For here where
  
  wall itself.
  "Here's one for Master Wansor's eyes," Fandarel said, apparently so
  engrossed in the section he was
  studying that he hadn't attended Robinton's words.
  Piemur and Jaxom turned their glows toward the Smith.
  "A star map!" the young Harper cried.
  "Not quite," the Smith said.
  "Is it a map of our stars?" Jaxom asked..The Smith's big finger touched
  the largest circle, a brilliant orange with licking flames jagging out from its
  circumference.
  "This is our sun. This must be the Red Star." His finger described the
  orbit about the sun which had been
  designated for the wanderer. He now touched the third, very small,
  round world. "This is our Pern!" He
  grinned at the others, for the humble size of their world.
  "What's this then?" Piemur asked, putting his finger on a dark-colored
  world on the other side of the sun,
  away from the other planets and their described lines of orbit.
  "I don't know. It ought to be on this side of the sun, as the other planets
  are!"
  
  "Ah, yes, I take your point," he said as
  he watched her hand cover the western section. Then he laughed. "Yes,
  I quite agree, Lessa. Very
  instructive."
  "How can that be?" Piemur asked with some scorn. "It's not accurate.
  Look," he pointed, "there's no sea
  volcanoes beyond the Plateau cliffs. And there's far too much shore in
  this section of the South. And no
  Great Bay. It doesn't go like that. I know. I've walked it."
  "No, the map isn't accurate anymore," the Harper said before Lessa
  could level a criticism at Piemur. "Notice
  Tillek. There's a good deal more of the northern peninsula than there
  should be. And no mark for the
  volcano on the south shore." Then he added with a deep smile, "But I
  suspect the map was accurate, when
  it was drawn!"
  "Of course," Lessa said in a cry of triumph. "All the Passes, each one
  stressing our poor world, caused
  upheaval and destruction ..."
  "See, this spur of land, where the Dragon Stones are now?" Menolly
  cried. "My great-grandsire remembers
  
  oration. Is that what it means, perhaps?
  Places where people could settle?"
  "But they settled the Plateau first of all, and it's not that same brown,"
  Piemur said, disgruntled. "We must
  seek Master Wansor's opinion. And Master Nicat's."
  "I'd like to see Benelek look over the controls by the doors and perhaps
  investigate the rear of the ship,"
  F'nor said.
  "My dear brown rider," the Smith said, "Benelek is very clever with me-
  chanical things but these . . ." His
  broad gesture indicated that the highly advanced technology on the ship
  was well beyond his apprentice's
  skill.."Perhaps one day, we will know enough to fathom all the ships'
  mysteries," F'lar said, smiling with intense
  pleasure as he tapped the maps. "But these ... are current and exceed-
  ingly valuable to us, and Pern." He
  paused to grin at Master Robinton, who nodded his head in comprehen-
  sion, and Lessa, who continued to
  smile, her eyes dancing with a mischief only the three seemed to share.
  "And, for the time being, no mention
  
  proved your discretion and abilities, Jaxom." F'lar's glance, direct and
  intense, caused Jaxom an inner pang
  because he was certain then that the Benden Weyrleader did know of
  his episode with the dratted egg.
  "There's going to be quite enough to confuse Hold, Craft and Weyr on
  that Plateau without adding these
  riddles." His eyes went back to the broad expanse of the Southern Con-
  tinent and, as he shook his head
  slowly, his smile and those of the Harper and Lessa increased. Sud-
  denly a shocked expression crossed his
  face, and he looked up. "Toric! He said he'd be here today, to help ex-
  cavate."
  "Yes, and N'ton was to collect me," Fandarel said, "but not for an hour
  yet or more. I was dragged from my
  couch by F'nor . . ."
  "And Southern is in Telgar's time area. Good! However, I want a copy of
  this map. Which of you three can
  we best spare today?" he asked.
  "Jaxom!" the Harper said quickly. "He copies neatly and when the rider
  came for Sharra last evening, Jaxom
  
  exertions had tired Ruth, he was
  quite willing to curl up in the sun and sleep. The others departed to
  Cove Hold and Jaxom began to copy this
  peculiarly significant map.
  As he worked, he tried to figure out why it had so pleased the
  Weyrleaders and Master Robinton. To be
  sure, it was a gift to know the extent of Southern without having to walk
  it all.
  Was that it? Of course. Toric didn't know how large the Southern Conti-
  nent was! And now the Weyrleaders
  did. Jaxom regarded the Hold peninsula, estimating how much Toric
  and his holdless men had managed to
  explore. Never could Toric, even with his Hold swollen by younger sons
  from every Hold and cothold in
  Northern Pern, explore this vast continent. Why, even if he tried to Hold
  as far as the Western Range in the
  south, to the Great Bay in the west . . . Jaxom smiled, so pleased with
  his deduction that he nearly smeared
  the line he was drawing. Should he mark in the Great Bay as they now
  knew it, or copy the old map
  
  sat drinking klah at Cove Hold.
  "To Hold what he had acquired when the Oldtimers left the Southern
  Weyr," F'lar amended. "The purist
  would argue that, as the Oldtimers have not indeed all passed between,
  Toric may continue to extend his
  Holding."
  "Or secure the loyalty of others in Holding?" Robinton remarked..Lessa
  stared at him, absorbing his meaning. "Was that why he was amenable to
  settling so many holdless
  men?" She looked indignant for a moment and then laughed. "Toric is a
  man we shall have to watch these
  next Turns. I'd no idea he'd prove so ambitious."
  "Farsighted, too," Robinton said in a dry tone. "He achieves as much by
  gratitude as by possession."
  "Gratitude has a tendency to sour," F'lar said.
  "He's not fool enough to rely on that alone," Lessa said with a rueful ex-
  pression then looked about her,
  puzzled. "Did I see Sharra at all this morning?"
  "No, a rider collected her last evening. There's illness at-oh!" The
  Harper's eyes widened to emphasize his
  
  the mention of gratitude.
  Robinton laughed. "Brekke feels, and so does Menolly, that the attach-
  ment is sincere on both sides. I'm
  delighted you agree. I've been daily hoping he would ask me to officiate.
  Especially in view of today's
  reflections. By the way, only it isn't exactly by the way but to our point,
  Jaxom went back to Ruatha Hold last
  evening. He approached Lytol on the subject of his confirmation as Lord
  Holder."
  "Did he?" F'lar was as pleased as his weyrmate. "Prompted by Sharra?
  Or by Toric's not-too-subtle jibing
  yesterday?"
  "I missed far too much not being permitted to go to the Plateau yester-
  day," the Harper said irritably. "What
  jibing?"
  The bugling of Ramoth and Mnementh outside effectively prevented
  further discussion.
  "N'ton's here, with Master Nicat and Wansor," F'lar said. He turned to
  Robinton and Lessa as he rose. "Shall
  we just let matters proceed naturally?"
  "That's usually best," Robinton said.
  
  ters paraded as design across the far
  end, and rather fascinating animals, large and small and bearing no re-
  semblance to anything walking Pern's
  surface, marched across the two long walls.
  "A harper's room, for the very young learning first Teaching Songs and
  Ballads," the Harper said, not nearly
  as disappointed as the others since the building applied to his Craft.
  "Well, then," Benelek added and, turning on his heel, pointed to the
  mound immediately on the left. "This is
  where the advanced students would be. If, of course," he sounded dubi-
  ous, "the ancients followed a logical
  sequence and progressed to the right in any circular formation." He
  executed a curt bow to the Weyrleaders
  and the three Craftmasters and, gesturing to one of the apprentices,
  marched decisively out, picked a shovel
  from the pile and proceeded to cut the grass from the inner end of the
  chosen mound..Lessa, waiting until Benelek was out of hearing, gave way
  to laughter. "And if the ancients disappoint him,
  will he bother with any more mysteries?"
  "It's time to unearth my large mound today," F'lar said, trying to imitate
  Benelek's decisiveness as he
  
  said. It opened on hinges that were
  not of metal, a fact which delighted and puzzled Masters Nicat and Fan-
  darel. Just as they opened the small
  door, Jaxom and Ruth arrived. No sooner had they landed on the
  mound's top, than three more dragons
  burst into the air.
  "D'ram," Lessa said, "and two Benden browns that went south to help."
  "Sorry to take so long, Master Robinton," Jaxom said, handing the
  Harper a neat roll as if it were of no
  moment. "Good morning, Lessa. What was in Nicat's building?"
  The Harper tucked the roll carefully in his belt pouch, pleased with
  Jaxom's dissembling. "A children's hall.
  Go take a look."
  "Could I have a word with you, Master Robinton? Unless ..." Jaxom
  waved his hands toward the mound and
  the little door hanging so invitingly open.
  "I can wait until the air is cleared out," Robinton said, having noticed the
  tense look in Jaxom's eyes and his
  air of polite entreaty. He moved with the young man to one side of the
  others. "Yes?"
  
  useless!" There was a dangerous glint in Jaxom's eyes and a sternness
  to his features which, for the first
  time since Robinton had known the lad, gave him the look of his father.
  Fax, a resemblance which afforded
  Robinton some small pleasure.
  "Some of the lordlings undoubtedly are," Robinton replied, amused.
  "What have you in mind, Jaxom?" he
  added, for there was no answering response to his drollery in the grim-
  faced young man. Somehow, the
  Harper had failed to appreciate the maturing that had occurred in
  Ruatha's Lord Holder during the past
  eventful two seasons.
  "I intend to get her back," Jaxom said in a quiet firm tone, and gestured
  to Ruth. "Toric forgot to reckon with
  Ruth."
  "You'd fly into Southern and just carry her off?" Robinton asked, trying to
  keep his expression straight,
  though Jaxom's romantic manner made it difficult.
  "Why not?" Suddenly the glint of humor was restored to Jaxom's eyes. "I
  doubt if Toric expects me to take
  direct action. I'm one of those useless Northern lordlings!"
  
  "Harper!" he said, coming to a halt with a courteous nod for Robinton
  before he looked at Jaxom.
  To Robinton's pleasure, Ruatha's Lord did not so much as straighten his
  shoulders or turn to face Toric.
  "Holder Toric," Jaxom said over his shoulder in a cool indifferent greet-
  ing. The title, which was certainly
  proper as Toric had never been invited to take full rank by the other Lord
  Holders of Pern, brought the
  Southerner up short. His eyes narrowed as he looked keenly at Jaxom.
  "Lord Jaxom." Toric's drawl made an insult of that title, implying that it
  was not fully Jaxom's as yet.
  Jaxom turned slowly toward him. "Sharra tells me," he said, noting as
  Robinton did the surprise twitch of
  Toric's eye muscles, and a quick darting glance at the fire-lizards about
  Ruth, "that you do not favor an
  alliance with Ruatha."
  "No, lordling. I do not!" Toric flicked a glance at the Harper, a broad
  smile on his face. "She can do better
  than a table-sized Hold in the North." The last word held contemptuous
  emphasis.
  
  the Weyrwoman continued to smile.
  "That would be most unwise, considering my pride in my Bloodline and
  in the present Holder of that title,"
  she said in the most casual tone.
  "Surely, you might reconsider the matter, Toric," Robinton said, as affa-
  ble as ever despite the palpable
  warning he conveyed that the Southerner was on very dangerous
  ground. "Such an alliance, so much
  desired by the two young people, would have considerable advantages
  for you, I think, aligning yourself with
  one of the most prestigious Holds on Pern."
  "And be in favor with Benden," Lessa said, smiling so sweetly that
  Robinton almost chuckled at the man's
  predicament.
  Toric stood there, absently rubbing the back of his neck, his smile
  slightly diminished.
  "We should discuss the matter. At some length, I think." Lessa tucked
  her arm in Toric's and turned him
  about. "Master Robinton, will you join us? I think that little cot of mine
  would be an admirable spot in which to
  talk undisturbed."
  
  over his shoulder to Jaxom but the
  young man was looking at his dragon.
  "Yes, with so many ambitious holdless men pouring into Southern," F'lar
  said smoothly, "we've been remiss
  in making certain you'll have the lands you want, Toric. I don't fancy
  blood feuds in the South. Unnecessary,
  too, when there's space enough for this generation and several more."
  Toric's answer was a full-bodied laugh and although he had adjusted his
  stride to match Lessa's, he still
  gave Robinton the impression of invulnerable self-assurance.
  "And since there's so much space, why should I not be ambitious for my
  sister?"
  "You've more than one, and we're not talking of Jaxom and Sharra just
  now," Lessa added with a hint of
  irritability as she dismissed the irrelevant. "F'lar and I had intended to ar-
  range a more formal occasion to set
  your Holding," she went on, gesturing to the ancient, empty structure in
  which they now stood, "but there's
  Master Nicat wanting to formalize Minecrafthall affairs, and Lord Groghe
  is anxious that his two sons do not
  
  the South?" F'lar said, idly digging dirt
  from under his thumbnail with his knife point. He had lightly emphasized
  the one.
  "And? Our original agreement was that I could Hold all the lands I had
  acquired by the time the Oldtimers
  had passed on."
  "Which, in truth, they haven't," Robinton said.
  Toric agreed to that. "I shan't insist on waiting," he admitted with a slight
  inclination of his head, "since the
  original circumstances have altered. And, since my Hold is thoroughly
  disorganized by the indigent and
  hopeful lordlings, and holdless men and boys, I am reliably informed
  that others have eschewed our help
  and landed wherever their ships can be beached."
  "All the more reason to be sure you are not deprived of one length of
  your just Hold," F'lar said. "I know that
  you have sent out exploring teams. How far have they actually pene-
  trated?"
  "With the help of D'ram's dragonriders," Toric said as Robinton noticed
  how keenly he watched F'lar's face to
  
  vast Southern Continent.
  "And, of course, Piemur reached the Great Desert Bay to the west,"
  Toric was saying.
  "My dear Toric, how can you possibly Hold all that?" F'lar seemed po-
  litely concerned.
  "I've small cotholders with burgeoning families along most of the habit-
  able shoreline, and at strategic points
  in the interior. The men you sent me these past few Turns proved most
  industrious." Toric's smile was more
  assured.."I suspect they have pledged loyalty to you in return for your
  original generosity?" F'lar asked with a sigh.
  "Naturally."
  Lessa laughed. "I thought when we met at Benden that you were a
  shrewd and independent man."
  "There's more land, my dear Weyrwoman, for any man who can hold it.
  Some small holds could turn out to
  be far more valuable than larger spreads, in the eyes of those who truly
  appreciate their worth."
  "I'd say then," Lessa went on, pointedly ignoring Toric's allusion to
  Ruatha's size, "that you'll have more than
  
  my Hold, but if I've your leave..."
  He had taken one stride to the door when Ramoth's bugle halted him.
  And as Mnementh chimed in, F'lar
  moved swiftly to block his way.
  "It's already too late, Toric."
  As Jaxom watched the Benden Weyrleaders and the Harper walk to-
  ward the excavated house with Toric, he
  expelled with a deep breath the anger he had contained for Toric's belit-
  tling manner.
  " 'Ruatha a table-sized Hold?' " Indeed! Ruatha, the second oldest and
  certainly one of the most prosperous
  Holds on Pern. If Lessa hadn't come then, he'd have shown-
  Jaxom took another breath. Toric had the height and reach of him. He'd
  have been slaughtered by the
  Southerner if Lessa hadn't interfered and saved him from sheer folly. It
  had never occurred to Jaxom that
  Toric might not be honored by an alliance with Ruatha. He'd been
  stunned when Ruth had informed him of
  Sharra's contact-that she had been lured back to Southern-and told that
  Toric would not countenance a
  
  moved to Ruth. "Fly into Southern and
  carry her off," the Harper had said in jest, but that was exactly what
  Jaxom intended.
  "Ruth," he asked in his mind as he closed the distance between them,
  "are there any fire-lizards of Toric's
  about you?"
  No! We are going to rescue Sharra? Where shall I tell her to meet us?
  We've only been to the Hatching
  Grounds in Southern. Shall I ask Ramoth?
  "I'd prefer not to involve the Benden dragons in this. We'll go to the
  Hatching Ground. That egg is coming in
  useful to us after all," he added, appreciating the irony of the situation as
  he vaulted to Ruth's back. "Give
  her the picture, Ruth. Ask her if she can reach the place?"
  She says yes.
  "Let's get there then!".Jaxom began laughing openly as Ruth took them
  between.
  They came in low from the east, just as they had not quite a Turn be-
  fore. Now, however, the ring of warm
  sand was unoccupied. Only briefly, for fire-lizards swooped down in
  cheerful greeting.
  
  her expression anxious, and she almost tripped on an edge of her blan-
  ket as she looked back over her
  shoulder.
  She says two of Toric's men are after her. Ruth half-sprang, half-glided
  toward Sharra, while Jaxom leaned
  down, holding his hands out to catch her and swing her onto Ruth's
  neck. Two men, swords drawn, came
  tearing onto the Ground. But Ruth launched himself, leaving the two
  men swearing helplessly at them as the
  Ground dropped away. The watchdragon of the Southern Weyr called
  out to Ruth, who replied in a greeting
  as he beat upward on the warm air.
  "I think your brother has miscalculated, Sharra."
  "Take me away from here, Jaxom. Take me to Ruatha! I've never been
  so furious in all my life. I never want
  to see that brother of mine again. Of all the devious, misguided . . ."
  "We have to see your brother again, for I'm not hiding from him. We'll
  have it out in the open today!"
  "Jaxom!" There was real concern in Sharra's voice now. She clutched
  him tightly about the waist. "He'd kill
  you in a fight."
  
  with chill. Jaxom leaned over to rub warmth into them. "And there's
  Toric. With Lessa, F'lar and Robinton!"
  "And the largest of the Benden dragons!"
  "Jaxom!"
  "Your brother does things his way, I do them in mine! In mine!"
  "Jaxom!" There was surprise as well as respect in her voice and her
  arms tightened again about his waist.
  Ruth landed and when they had dismounted, he walked to Jaxom's left
  as the two young lovers went to
  meet the others. Toric no longer wore his customary smile.
  "Toric, you cannot contain Sharra anywhere on Pern where Ruth and I
  cannot find her!" Jaxom said after the
  barest of nods to the Benden Weyrleaders and the Harper. There was
  no hint of compromise in Toric's hard
  expression. Nor did he expect it. "Place and time are no barriers to
  Ruth. Sharra and I can go anywhere,
  anywhen on Pern.".A piteously crying queen fire-lizard attempted to land
  on Toric's shoulder, but the man brushed her away.
  "Further, fire-lizards obey Ruth! Don't they, my friend?" Jaxom rested his
  hand on Ruth's headknob.
  "Tell every fire-lizard here on the Plateau to go away!"
  
  accuse Lessa and F'lar of complicity.
  "Your informant erred," Jaxom said, wondering if it had been Dorse.
  "Today is not the first time I've retrieved
  something from the Southern Weyr which belongs to the North." He laid
  his arm possessively about Sharra's
  shoulders.
  Toric's composure deserted him. "You!" He extended his arm, pointing
  at Jaxom; his face was a mixture of
  anger, indignant outrage, disappointment, frustration and, lastly, a
  grudging respect. "You took the egg back!
  You and that . . . but the fire-lizards' images were black!"
  "I'd be stupid not to darken a white hide if I make a night pass, wouldn't
  I?" Jaxom asked with
  understandable scorn.
  "I knew it wasn't one of T'ron's riders," Toric cried, his fists clenching
  and unclenching. "But for you to ... Well
  now," and Toric's whole attitude changed radically. He began to smile
  again, a trifle sourly as he looked at
  the Benden Weyrleaders and then the Harper. Then he started to laugh,
  losing anger and frustration in that
  
  gaze on his face was proud.
  "Not that it matters now," Jaxom said. "What does matter is, do I now
  have your permission to marry Sharra
  and make her lady of Ruatha now?"
  "I don't see how I can stop you." Toric's broad gesture of frustration took
  in the people and the dragons.
  "Indeed you couldn't, for Jaxom's boast about Ruth s abilities is valid,"
  F'lar said. "One must never
  underestimate a dragonrider, Toric." Then he grinned without softening
  the implicit warning. "Especially a
  Northern dragonrider."
  "I shall bear that firmly in mind," Toric said, the intensity of his big voice
  indicating his chagrin. The amenable
  grin reappeared on his face. "Especially in our present discussion. Be-
  fore these impetuous youngsters
  interrupted us, we were discussing the extent of my Hold, were we not?"
  He turned his back on Sharra and Jaxom, and gestured to the others to
  return to their temporary hall.
  AFTERWORD
  SPRING HAD COME again to Northern Pern and Ruatha Hold. Once
  the winter's damages had been
  
  night before to garland the fire-heights. The broad meadows below the
  Hold proper were covered with tents
  and divided into fields for the runner beasts of the guests. Dragons be-
  gan to arrive, greeted by the old brown
  watchdragon, Wilth, who would surely be hoarse from bugling welcome
  before the ceremonies began.
  Fire-lizards were everywhere and had to be constantly called to order by
  dragon and friend. But the
  atmosphere was so relaxed, so jubilant, that pranks and antics, human
  or creature, were amicably tolerated.
  To cater to so many guests, half Pern north and south it seemed. Fort
  Hold and Weyr, as well as Benden,
  had joined kitchen staffs with Ruatha. Toric had obligingly sent from
  Southern meadows dragonloads of
  fresh fruit, fish, wild bucks and wherries whose flesh was prized for its
  tender gamey taste, so distinct from
  Northern meats. Great roasting, baking and steaming pits had been in
  operation since the previous evening,
  the aromas commingling to set mouths watering.
  There had been festivities the night before, dancing and singing until
  early morning, for traders had arrived
  
  Jaxom and Sharra, in the main room of their ground-level apartment,
  heard his joyous bugle of welcome,
  just as if he hadn't said goodnight to the Harper in the early hours of that
  morning.
  Lioth says for you to wait here. Harper and N'ton want to speak to you
  without other ears.
  Jaxom turned to Sharra in surprise.
  "Oh, it can't be anything untoward, Jaxom," she said, smiling. "Master
  Robinton would have told us last
  night. I still think that tunic is too tight across your chest."
  "All the spring digging at Ship Meadow, my love," Jaxom said, inhaling
  so that the fabric of his brown tunic
  strained at the seams.
  "If you split this new material, you'll have to wear it mended!" She smiled
  as she spoke her scold then kissed
  him.
  Sharra's kisses were to be enjoyed whenever possible, so he held her
  tightly.
  "Jaxom! I will not go mussed to your Confirmation."
  Ramoth and Mnementh are here! Ruth rose on his haunches to bugle a
  sufficiently honorable greeting.
  
  had hoped, had found himself
  tremendously involved in the excavations, spending more and more
  time with the Harper at Cove Hold. With.his Confirmation now a certainty,
  Jaxom had been admitted to the inner councils of the Lord Holders, as
  much because of his association with Toric as his own rank. Jaxom
  doubted that Toric would tolerate much
  more of the conservatism that dominated the Lord Holders' attitudes to
  anything. Larad of Telgar Hold,
  Asgenar of Lemos, Begamon and Sigomel seemed more of Toric's
  mind, and Jaxom found himself willing to
  be ranked with them rather than side with Groghe, Sangel and some of
  the older men. Some of the old Lord
  Holders simply didn't understand the needs of today-nor the call of the
  vast Southern lands with their infinite
  variety and challenge.
  Today's formalities were token and excuse for a gathering of Weyr,
  Craft and Hold, a festival of the end of
  the cold months of the Turn, a happy day when no Thread fell on any
  part of Pern.
  Lioth landed in the small kitchen courtyard, Ruth backing into his quar-
  ters to give the great bronze dragon
  
  watched with growing impatience as first golden Ramoth and then
  bronze Mnementh discharged their
  passengers and ascended to the fire-heights to join Lioth.
  "Well, Harper, Mnementh says you're bursting with news," F'lar said,
  handing Jaxom his flying gear as
  Sharra assisted Lessa.
  "Indeed I am, Benden," and the Harper exaggerated each syllable,
  brandishing his roll in emphasis.
  "So, what have you here?" Lessa asked.
  "Nothing but the key to that colored map in the ship!" the Harper said,
  grinning at their response. "Piemur
  figured it out, working with Nicat, because we had the feeling it had
  something to do with the lay of the land.
  It does! The rock underneath the land, to be precise." He was unrolling
  the map with Lessa and F'lar holding
  comers. "These dark-brown patches indicate very old rock, in places
  that have never known earthquake or
  volcanic action. Never changed from this map to our present ones. The
  Plateau, shaded here as yellow,
  obviously had to be abandoned because of the eruption. See, here and
  here on the south and in Tillek, we
  
  ered metals, black water and black
  stone. The deposits are clearly marked both North and South! We've al-
  ready worked many of the Northern
  mines."
  "More in the South?" F'lar asked, deeply interested. "Show me!"
  Robinton pointed to half a dozen small markings. "How rich the deposits
  are is not yet known but I'm sure
  Nicat will tell us soon enough. He and Piemur make a potent team."
  "How many mines are in Toric's Hold?" F'lar asked.
  N'ton chuckled. "No more than he's already discovered and produced.
  There're far more to be worked in
  dragonrider country," he said, tapping the southeast. "When this Pass is
  over, I think I'll turn miner!"."When this Pass is over . . ." F'lar echoed the
  words, his eyes catching the Harper's, suddenly aware that
  neither of them were likely to see that moment.
  "When this Pass is over," Jaxom said eagerly, his eyes scanning the
  map, "people can begin to concentrate
  on what we've found at the Plateau, too, and in those ships. We can re-
  discover the South! Maybe even
  solve the mystery of the ships-and how we can get dragons to cross that
  airless void to the Dawn Sisters . .
  
  we've caught up on what men used to know."
  "Don't belittle your accomplishments, F'lar," Robinton said sternly.
  "You've kept Pern Threadfree and united
  ... in spite of itself!"
  "Why, if it hadn't been for you," Lessa said, looking about her, eyes
  flashing angrily for F'lar's self-denigration,
  "none of this would have happened!" Her gesture meant Ruatha ban-
  nered for a happy day and
  secure in the knowledge that no Thread would mar the occasion any-
  where.
  "LORD JAXOM!" Lytol's bellow rang clearly from an upper window of
  Ruatha Hold.
  "Sir?"
  "Benden? Fort? The other Weyrleaders and all the Lord Holders of
  Pern, North and South, have gathered!"
  Jaxom waved his hand in acknowledgment of the summons. F'lar rolled
  up the map and handed it back to
  Robinton with a bow.
  "I'll examine it more closely later, Robinton." Jaxom offered his arm to
  his Lady Sharra and would have
  gestured for the Master Harper and the dragonriders to precede them.
  
  "It's your day, too, Lessa," he said, taking her hand to his lips. "A day
  your determination and spirit made
  possible!" He turned her into his arms and made her look up at him.
  "Ruathan Blood Holds Ruatha lands
  today!"
  "Which proves," she said, pretending to be haughty though her body
  was pliant against his, "that if you try hard enough, and work long enough,
  you can achieve anything you desire!"
  "I hope you're right," F'lar said, unerringly turning his gaze toward the
  Red Star. "One day dragonriders will conquer that Star!"
  "BENDEN!" The Harper's roar startled their private moment of triumph.
  Grinning like errant children, Lessa and F'lar crossed the kitchen court-
  yard and raced up the steps to the Great Hall. The dragons on the fire-
  heights rose to their haunches, bugling their jubilation on this happy day
  while fire-lizards executed dizzy patterns in the Thread-free sky!.
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Vault2.0.-.Fiction-and-audiobooks/Books/M/Mccaffrey, Anne/Anne McCaffrey - Pern 05 - The White Dragon.pdf