The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [313]
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 altered that arrangement.”
“Since when am I Lord Jaxom to you, Brand?”
The steward’s lips actually twitched. “Since the other morning . . . Lord Jaxom.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Brand.”
Brand inclined his head slightly, forestalling further apology. “As Lord Lytol remarked, you are well old enough to be confirmed in your rank, Lord Jaxom, and we—” Brand 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 of a lecher like Meron or that young fool of Lord Laudey’s, whom Lytol had sent back to his home Hold with some cover excuse that no one really believed. It was all right for the Lord Holder to beget a few halfbloods, quite another to dilute Holder Blood with other lines. Nonetheless, he would have to find a pleasant girl to give him the alibi he needed, and then take the time for more important things.
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 evidences 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 business.
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 fall across the spring-planted fields in the southwest and they had a long ride ahead.
I should have spoken out months ago, Jaxom thought as he entered his own quarters.
It had been established that Jaxom was not to be disturbed when he was caring for Ruth; a privacy that he was only now beginning to appreciate. Generally, Jaxom attended his dragon, oiling his skin and grooming him in the early morning or late evening. He hunted with Ruth every fourth day since the white