The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [365]
F’lar, alerted by the tone in her voice, returned to the table with the wine and cups he’d taken from the wall chest.
“Acquire what? Oh ho, the young man has trained his dragon to chew firestone but not to duck!”
“I thought it was decided that Jaxom was to remain in Holding at Ruatha.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t scold him,” F’lar replied as he winked at Jaxom.
“About timing it. But this . . .” she gestured angrily at Jaxom, “this is entirely different.”
“Is it, Lessa?” F’lar asked in a tone that embarrassed Jaxom. They were momentarily unaware of him. “I seem to remember a girl wanting desperately to fly her queen.”
“Flying was no danger. But Jaxom could be—”
“Jaxom has evidently learned a lesson. Haven’t you? About ducking, that is.”
“Yes, sir. N’ton’s put me in with the weyrlings at Fort.”
“Why wasn’t I informed?” Lessa demanded.
“Jaxom’s training is Lytol’s responsibility and we’ve no complaints on that score. As far as Ruth is concerned, I’d say that he too falls under N’ton’s jurisdiction. How long has this been going on, Jaxom?”
“Not that long, sir. I asked N’ton because . . . well . . .” Here Jaxom’s conscience interfered with his glibness. Above all else, Lessa must not think he had any part in returning that blasted egg.
F’lar rescued him. “Because Ruth is a dragon, and dragons ought to fight Thread with firestone? Right?” He shrugged at Lessa. “What did you expect? He’s Ruathan-blooded; like yourself. Just keep your hide and Ruth’s intact.”
“We haven’t flown in a Threadfall yet,” Jaxom admitted, realizing as he spoke how much resentment showed in his voice.
F’lar gave him a friendly clout on the shoulder.
“He’s a sound lad, Lessa, stop glowering. If he’s singed himself once, he’s less likely to risk doing so again. Was Ruth hurt?”
“Yes!” The anguish of that experience was plain in Jaxom’s admission.
F’lar gave a laugh and waggled a finger at Lessa, who was still glaring at Jaxom. “There! That’s the best deterrent in the world. Ruth wasn’t badly hurt, was he? I can’t say I’ve seen you that often recently . . .” F’lar turned toward the killing ground as if conjuring up the white dragon.
“No,” Jaxom said quickly and F’lar grinned again at the relief in his reply. “It’s well healed. You can barely see the scar. On his left thigh.”
“I can’t say that I like all this,” Lessa said.
“We would have asked you, Weyrwoman,” Jaxom began, not entirely truthful, “but there was so much trouble just then . . .”
“Well . . .” she began.
“Well,” echoed F’lar, “it really isn’t up to you, Lessa, but you do understand, Jaxom, how awkward it would be for you to be seriously hurt right now. We can’t afford to have a major Hold in contention.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
“Nor, I’m afraid, is it wise to press your confirmation as Lord Holder—”
“I don’t want Lytol to have to step down, sir. Not ever.”
“Your loyalty does you credit but I really can understand and appreciate your ambiguous position. It’s never easy to be patient, my friend, but patience can be rewarding.”
Again Jaxom was embarrassed by the look that Lessa and F’lar exchanged.
“And,” the Weyrleader continued more briskly, as if he realized Jaxom’s discomfiture, “you’ve already proved your resourcefulness today, though, believe me, had I known you to be so thorough, I’d have been more explicit in my instructions.” F’lar’s expression was severe but Jaxom found himself grinning in relief. “Twenty-five Turns timing it . . .” The Weyrleader was both appalled and impressed.
Lessa gave a snort.
“It was your jumps, Lessa, that first gave me the notion,” Jaxom said, and when he saw her startled expression, explained: “Remember, you came forward in twenty-five Turn jumps when you brought the Oldtimers forward. So I thought it likely that D’ram would go back that interval. It left him time enough before the Pass started so he wouldn’t have to worry about Thread.”
F’lar nodded approvingly, and Lessa appeared somewhat mollified.
Ramoth turned her head toward the entrance.
“Your meal is coming,” Lessa said, smiling. “No more talk till you