The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [303]
“Analyze,” Lytol was fond of directing him. “Think objectively. You can’t govern others until you can control yourself and see the broader, forward-looking view.”
Jaxom took a couple of deep breaths, the kind Lytol recommended he take before speaking, to organize what he was going to say.
Ruth had winged over the deep-blue waters of the little lake now, fire-lizards outlining his graceful figure. He 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 milkbrother, 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 Jaxom could not retaliate without a rebuke from Lytol for conduct unbecoming his rank and station. Jaxom had long outgrown the need for Deelan’s fussing but innate kindness and gratitude to her for the milk which had nourished him after his premature birth had long prevented Jaxom from asking Lytol to retire her.
So why, today, had all this suddenly come to a boil?
Ruth’s head emerged from the waters again, the many-faceted 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 was Lord Holder in name only, because Lytol administered the Hold, made all its decisions, spoke in Council for Ruatha. Jaxom had yet to be confirmed by the other Lord Holders as Lord of Ruatha. True, a matter of form only since there was no other male on Pern with Ruathan Blood. Besides, Lessa, the only living full-blooded Ruathan, had relinquished her blood right to Jaxom at the moment of his birth.
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,