A nocturnal dragon?
Obviously Ruth would never grow to full size; new-hatched, he was more like a large fire lizard.
Ramoth rumbled from the heights, disturbed by her riders thoughts, and Lessa sent a hundred apologies to her.
Its no reflection on you, my darling, Lessa told her. Why, youve spawned more queens than any other three. And the largest of their broods is no better than the smallest of yours, love.
Ruth will prosper, Ramoth said.
Mnementh crooned from the ledge and Lessa stared up at them, their eyes glowing in the shadows over the glow-lit Bowl.
Did the dragons know something she didnt? They often seemed to these days, and yet, how could they? They never cared about tomorrow, or yesterday, living for the moment. Which was not a bad way to live, Lessa reflected, a trifle enviously. Her roving eyes fastened on the white blur of Ruth. Why had those two Impressed? Didnt she have troubles enough?
Why should I mind? Why should I? demanded Lytol suddenly in a loud, belligerent voice.
The Harper beamed up at him in an idiotish way. Thas what I say. Why should you?
I love the boy. I love him more than if he were flesh and blood of me, of me, Lytol of Ruatha Hold. Proved I love him, too. Proved I care for him. Ruathas rich. Rich as when the Ruathan Bloodline ruled it. Undid all Foxs harm. And did it all, not for me. My lifes spent. Ive been everything. Been a dragonrider. Oh, Larth, my beautiful Larth. Been a weaver so I know the Crafts. Know the Holds now, too. Know everything. Know how to take care of a white runt. Why shouldnt the boy keep his dragon? By the First Shell, no one else wanted him. No one else wanted to Impress him. Hes special. I tell you. Special!
Now, just a moment, Lord Lytol, Raid of Benden said, rising from his end of the table and stalking down to confront Lytol. Boys Impressed a dragon. That means he must stay in the Weyr.
Ruths not a proper dragon, Lytol said, neither speaking nor acting as drunk as he must be.
Not a proper dragon? Raids expression showed his shock at such blasphemy.
Never been a white dragon ever, Lytol said pontifically, drawing himself up to his full height. He wasnt much taller than the Lord Holder of Benden but he gave the impression of greater stature. Never! He appeared to feel that required a toast but found his cup empty. He managed to pour wine with creditable deftness for a man swaying on his feet. The Harper motioned wildly for his own glass to be filled but had trouble keeping it steady under the flow of wine.
Never a whi dragon, the Harper intoned and touched cups with Lytol.
May not live, Lytol added, taking a long gulp.
May not!
Therefore, and Lytol took a deep breath, the boy must remain in his Hold. Ruatha Hold.
Absolutely must! Robinton held his cup high, more or less daring Raid to contradict him. Raid favored him with a long inscrutable look.
He must remain in the Weyr, he said finally, though he didnt sound as definite.
No, he must come back to Ruatha Hold, said Lytol steadying himself with a firm grip on the table edge. When the dragon dies, the boy must be where obligations and responsibilities give him a hold on life. I know!
To that Raid could give no answer, but he glowered in disapproval Lessa held her breath and began to lean a little on the old Lord Holder.
I know how to help the boy, Lytol went on, sinking slowly back into his chair. I know what is best for him. I know what it is to lose a dragon. The difference in this case is that we know Ruths days are numbered.
Days are numbered, echoed the Harper and put his head down on the table suddenly. Lytol bent toward the man, curiously, almost paternally. He drew back, startled when the Harper began to snore gently.
Hey, dont go to sleep. We havent finished this bottle. When Robinton made no response, Lytol shrugged and drained his own cup. Then he seemed to collapse slowly until his head was on the table, too, his snores filling the pause between Robintons.