The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [302]
“Everything! Nothing!”
Which? Ruth reasonably wanted to know and turned his head to gaze at his rider.
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 consideration. “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 abstract 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 others 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 morning. N’ton, who would be there to hear Wansor, was the only rider Jaxom felt would be likely to help him.
“Shells!” Jaxom kicked rebelliously at a stone, watching the ripples it caused when it skittered across the surface of the lake and finally sank.
Robinton had often used the ripple effect to demonstrate how a tiny action produced multiple reactions. Jaxom let out a snort, wondering how many ripples he’d caused this morning by storming out of the Hall. And just why had this morning 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.
“I hope so.” Anger was foreign to Jaxom and he resented the violence of his inner feelings and those who had driven him to such a point of fury. “Better swim. We’ve got to go on to the Smithcrafthall, you know.”
Ruth had no sooner spread his wings than a clutch of fire-lizards appeared in the air above him, wildly chittering and loudly broadcasting thoughts of smug satisfaction at their cleverness in finding him. One 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