The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [376]
“He’ll be just fine,” Jaxom replied, aware of both an excitement and a sense of inevitability at the prospect of fighting Thread from Ruth’s back.
“Have you then completed your training with the weyrlings?”
So Lytol had noticed his morning’s delinquency from the Weyr. Jaxom also heard the faint note of surprise in his guardian’s voice.
“Well, you might say that I’ve learned about all I’d need to know since I’m not to fly regularly with a fighting wing. I’ve done this sketch of D’ram’s cove. That’s where we found him. Isn’t it beautiful?” He offered the leaf to Lytol.
To Jaxom’s satisfaction, Lytol’s expression changed to one of surprised interest as he peered intently at the sketch and diagram.
“Your rendering of the mountain is accurate? It must surely be the largest volcano on Pern! You’ve got the perspective correct? How magnificent! And this area?” Lytol’s hand washed across the space beyond the trees which Jaxom had carefully drawn in their variety and as accurately in position along the cove’s edge as he could recall.
“Forest extends to low hills, but we stayed on the beach, of course—”
“Beautiful! One can appreciate why the Harper remembered the place so clearly.”
With a noticeable reluctance, Lytol replaced the leaf on Jaxom’s table.
“The drawing is a poor image of the real place,” he said to his guardian, letting his voice end on an upward note. It wasn’t the first time Jaxom regretted Lytol’s aversion to riding on dragonback for any but the most vital excursions.
Lytol favored Jaxom with a brief smile, shaking his head. “It is good enough to guide a dragon, I’m sure. But do remember to tell me when you’ve the notion to return there.”
With that Lytol bade him good evening, leaving Jaxom a trifle unsettled. Was Lytol giving him oblique permission to go back to the cove? Why? Critically, Jaxom examined the sketch, wondering if he really had drawn the trees correctly. It would be nice to go back there again. Say, after Threadfall, if flying didn’t overtire Ruth . . .
I would like to swim off firestone stench in the cove waters, Ruth said sleepily.
By tilting his chair back, Jaxom could see the white bulk of Ruth on his couch, head facing Jaxom’s door, though both sets of the dragon’s eyelids were closed.
I would like that very much indeed.
“And maybe we could find out more about those men from the fire-lizards.” Yes, thought Jaxom, relieved to have a definite objective, it would be very good. Neither F’lar nor Lessa had forbidden him to return to the cove. It was certainly far enough away from the Southern Hold to put him in no danger of compromising the Weyrleaders. Now if he could learn more about the men, he’d be doing Robinton a favor. He might even be able to find a clutch somewhere along that coastline. Maybe that’s what Lytol had had in mind by giving him that oblique permission. Of course! Why hadn’t Jaxom realized that before?
Threadfall was calculated to arrive the next morning at just past the ninth hour. Although Jaxom was not to ride out in his usual place with the flamethrower crews, he was nevertheless awakened early by a drudge who brought him a tray of klah and sweetbread as well as a package of meatrolls for his lunch.
Jaxom was conscious of a stuffiness in his head, a tightness in his throat and a general sense of unfitness. Under his breath he cursed himself for that moment’s thoughtlessness that was going to make his first Threadfall mighty uncomfortable. What under the sun had possessed him to cavort in lustful exercise on damp, just-turned earth, dive into a chill-watered lake, then go between half-soaked? He sneezed several times as he dressed. That cleared his nose, but left his head aching. He put on his warmest underfur, heaviest tunic, pants and extra liners in his boots. He was sweltering when he and Ruth left their quarters. Holders were bustling about the courtyard, mounting runners, securing flamethrowers