The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [363]
“Well?”
Menolly was very pretty, Jaxom thought, with her eyes flashing like that, but she was daunting, too.
“D’ram was then. Twenty-five Turns back. I used the Red Star as a guide.”
“I’m glad you used something constant. Do you realize that you’ve been gone from this time for hours?”
“You knew I was all right. You sent Rocky with me.”
“That didn’t help! You went so far Beauty couldn’t touch him. We had no idea where you were!” She flung her arms wide with her exasperation. “You could’ve met up with those men the other fire-lizards saw. You could’ve miscalculated and never come back!”
“I’m sorry, Menolly, really I am.” Jaxom was genuinely contrite, if only to spare himself the sharp edge of her tongue. “But I couldn’t remember what time it was when we left, so I made sure we didn’t double up on ourselves coming back.”
She calmed down a trifle. “You didn’t need to be that cautious. I was about to send Beauty for F’lar.”
“You were worried!”
“Bloody right.” She swooped and gathered up the pack, shrugging into her jacket and slapping her helmet on. “Incidentally I found the remains of a lean-to, near a stream back there,” she said as she slung him the pack. Vaulting neatly to Ruth’s back, she looked around for her fire-lizards that had disappeared. “Off again.” She gave a call, and Jaxom instinctively ducked from the rush of wings about his head.
Menolly settled them down, Beauty and Poll on her shoulders, Rocky and Diver on Jaxom’s, and they were ready.
When they emerged above Benden Weyr, Ruth caroled his name. Menolly’s fire-lizards cheeped uncertainly.
“I wish I dared take you into the queen’s weyr, but that wouldn’t be smart. Off you go to Brekke!”
As they disappeared, the watchdragon let out an outraged roar, wings extended, neck arching, eyes flashing with angry red. Startled, Menolly and Jaxom turned to see a fair of fire-lizards arrowing toward them.
“They followed us from the South, Jaxom. Oh, tell them to go back!”
The fair winked out abruptly.
They only wanted to see where we came from, Ruth said to Jaxom in an aggrieved tone.
“At Ruatha Hold, yes. Here, no!”
They won’t come again, Ruth said sadly. They got frightened.
By that time the watchdragon’s alarm had stirred up the Weyr. With sinking spirits, Jaxom and Menolly saw Mnementh raise himself on his ledge. They could hear Ramoth’s bellow and before they had landed in the Bowl, half the dragons were bellowing, too. The unmistakable figures of Lessa and F’lar appeared on the ledge by Mnementh.
“We’re in for it now,” Jaxom said.
“Not as bearers of good tidings, we’re not. Concentrate on that.”
“I’m too bloody tired to concentrate on anything,” Jaxom replied with more feeling than he’d intended. His skin itched, probably the sand. Or too much sun, but he was uncomfortable.
I am very hungry, Ruth said, looking wistfully toward the fenced killing ground of the Weyr.
Jaxom groaned. “I can’t let you hunt here, Ruth.” He gave his friend an encouraging pat and, noticing F’lar and Lessa waiting for them, he hitched up his trousers, settled his tunic and gestured to Menolly that they’d better go.
They’d taken no more than three steps, during which time Mnementh had turned his wedge-shaped head to F’lar, when the Weyrleader had spoken to Lessa and the two Benden leaders started down the steps, F’lar gesturing to Jaxom to move Ruth on to the killing ground.
Mnementh is a kind friend, Ruth said. I may eat here. I am very very hungry.
“Let Ruth go, Jaxom,” F’lar was calling across the intervening distance. “He’s gray!”
Ruth did indeed look gray, Jaxom realized, which was the shade he himself felt, now that the exhilaration of their quest was ebbing. Relieved, he signaled the white dragon to proceed to the ground.
As he and Menolly walked toward the Weyrleaders,