The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [254]
“Grubs are grubs,” Lessa mumbled.
“Landbeasts raised in the mountains are different from landbeasts raised on the plains,” N’ton said. “Fellis trees grown south are larger with better fruit than Nerat’s best.”
“You know too much,” Lessa replied, grinning to take the sting from her words.
N’ton grinned. “I’m a bronze rider, Weyrwoman.”
“You’d best be off. No, wait Are you sure Fort is not going to need you and Lioth for Thread?” F’lar asked, wanting to be rid of this very healthy youngster who only emphasized his illness.
“Not for a while, sir. It’s full night there still.”
That underscored his youthfulness and F’lar waved him out, trying to suppress jealousy with gratitude. The moment he’d gone, F’lar let out a sudden exasperated oath that brought Lessa, all consideration, to his side.
“I’ll get well, I’ll get well,” he fumed. He held her hand against his cheek, grateful, too, for the cool of her fingers as they curved to fit against his face.
“Of course you’ll get well. You’re never sick,” she murmured softly, stroking his forehead with her free hand. Then her voice took on a teasing note. “You’re just stupid. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone between, let cold into a wound, and developed fever.”
F’lar, reassured as much by her caustic jibe as her cool and loving caresses, lay back and willed himself to sleep, to health.
CHAPTER XIV
Early Morning at Ruatha Hold
Midday at Benden Weyr
When word came that the Hatching was likely to occur that bright spring day, Jaxom didn’t know whether he was glad or not. Ever since the two queens had killed each other ten days before, Lytol had been sunk in such a deep gloom that Jaxom had tiptoed around the Hold. His guardian had always been a somber man, never given to joking or teasing, but this new silence unnerved the entire Hold. Even the new baby didn’t cry.
It was bad, very bad, to lose one queen, Jaxom knew, but to lose two, in such a horrible way! It was almost as if things were pointing toward even direr events. Jaxom was scared, a deep voiceless feeling in his bones. He almost dreaded seeing Felessan. He had never shaken off his sense of blasphemy for invading the Hatching Ground, and wondered if this were his punishment. But he was a logical boy and the death of the two queens had not occurred at Ruatha, not over Fort Weyr to which Ruatha Hold was bound. He’d never met Kylara or Brekke. He did know F’nor and felt sorry for him if half what he’d heard was true—that F’nor had taken Brekke into his weyr and had abandoned his duties as a Wing-second to care for her. She was very sick. Funny, everyone was sorry for Brekke but no one mentioned Kylara, and she’d lost a queen, too.
Jaxom wondered about that but knew he couldn’t ask. Just as he couldn’t ask if he and Lytol were really going to the Hatching. Why else would the Weyrleader send them word? And wasn’t Talina a Ruathan candidate for the queen egg? Ruatha ought to be represented at the Hatching. Benden Weyr always had open Impressions, even when the other Weyrs didn’t. And he hadn’t seen Felessan in ages. Not that anyone had done much more than Thread-watch since the wedding at Telgar.
Jaxom sighed. That had been some day. He shivered, remembered how sick, cold and—yes—how scared he’d been. (Lytol said a man wasn’t afraid to admit to fear.) All the time he’d watched F’lar fighting T’ron, he’d been scared. He shuddered again, his spine rippling with reaction to that memory. Everything was going wrong on Pern. Dragon queens killing each other, Weyrleaders dueling in public, Thread falling here and there, with no rhyme or reason. Order had slipped away from life; the constants that made his routine were dissolving, and he was powerless to stop the inexorable slide. It wasn’t fair. Everything had been going so well. Everyone had been saying how Ruatha Hold had