The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [362]
“Maybe if I stand up they will recognize me as a man.” Slowly Jaxom got to his feet, gesturing cautiously to Menolly to rise as well. What the fire-lizards needed was the proper perspective.
You aren’t the men they remember, Ruth said as the fire-lizards, startled by the two figures rising from the sands, took wing. They circled once, at a safe distance, and then disappeared.
“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 remember 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.
“Ruth doesn’t think so. And besides, a dragon wouldn’t let his rider harm himself. D’ram can’t suicide with Tiroth alive. And Tiroth won’t if D’ram is still alive.”
“When?” Menolly sounded upset. “We still don’t know when.”
“No, we don’t. But if D’ram was here, long enough for the fire-lizards to remember him, if he planned to stay here as he must have, he would have had to build some sort of shelter for himself. There are rains in this 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 rightness colored his speculation. “I’d say Dram’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 moment in time to when he wished to jump: predawn, with the Red Star far east, a pale, malevolent pink, not yet ready to swoop down on an unsuspecting Pern. But Menolly had a final say. He felt a tail wrapping about his neck just as he told Ruth to transfer between time.
It seemed a long moment, suspended in that cold nothingness that was between. He could feel that chill inching its way through skin and bones warmed by a kind sun. He steeled himself for the ordeal. Then they were out in the cool dawn, the pink gleam of the Red Star low on the horizon.
“Can you sense Tiroth, Ruth?” Jaxom could see nothing in the crepuscular 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