She liked it very much. Ruth’s thought touched him so unexpectedly that Jaxom jerked straight.
“How could you possibly know?”
When you are with Corana, her emotions are also very strong and just like yours. So I can feel her, too. Only at that time. Otherwise I do not hear her. Acceptance rather than regret colored Ruth’s tone. Almost as if he were relieved that the contact was limited.
Ruth was padding up from the field as he spoke, having disposed of two fat wherries without leaving much for the firelizards to pick over. Jaxom regarded his friend, the whirl of the jeweled eyes slowing as the red of hunger paled into dark violet and then the blue of contentment.
“Do you like what you hear? Our lovemaking?”
Jaxom asked, abruptly deciding to air his concern.
Yes. You enjoy it so much. It is good for you. I like it to be good for you.
Jaxom jumped to his feet, consumed by frustration and guilt. “But don’t you want it for yourself? Why are you always worried about me? Why didn’t you go fly that green?”
Why does that worry you? Why should I fly the green?
“Because you’re a dragon.”
I am a white dragon. Blues and browns, and occasionally a bronze, fly greens.
“You could have flown her. You could have flown her, Ruth!”
I did not wish to. You are upset again. I have upset you. Ruth extended his neck, his nose gently touching Jaxom’s face in apology.
Jaxom threw his arms about Ruth’s neck, burrowing his forehead against the smooth, spicy-smelling hide, concentrating on how very much he loved his Ruth, his most unusual Ruth, the only white dragon on all Pern.
Yes, I am the only white dragon there has ever been on Pern, Ruth said encouragingly, moving his body so that he could gather Jaxom closer within the circle of his foreleg. I am the white dragon. You are my rider. We are together.
“Yes,” Jaxom said, wearily admitting defeat, “we are together.”
A chill shook Jaxom and he sneezed. Shells, if he was heard sneezing about the Hold, he’d be subjected to some of those noxious medicines Deelan foisted on everyone. He closed his jacket, folded the now dry bathing sheet about his neck and chest and mounting Ruth, suggested that they get back to the Hold as fast as possible.
He escaped the dosing only because he kept out of Deelan’s way by staying in his own quarters. He announced that he was occupied in a task for Robinton and did not care to interrupt it for the evening meal. He hoped that his sneezing would abate by evening. Lytol would be sure to visit him, which reminded Jaxom that if he didn’t have something to show for his afternoon’s occupation Lytol might be difficult. Actually, Jaxom had wanted to set down his observations about that beautiful cove, with the cone of the huge mountain center so neatly in its curve. Using the soft carbon stick that Master Bendarek had developed to use on his paper leaves, Jaxom became absorbed in the project. Much easier to work with these tools, he thought, than with sandtable. Errors, since his memory of the cove did not appear to be that precise, could be rubbed out with a blob of softwood tree sap as long as he was careful not to abrade the leaf’s surface too much.
He had achieved a respectable map of D’ram’s cove when a knock on the door broke his concentration. He sniffed mightily before calling permission to enter.
His voice didn’t seem too affected by the congestion in his head.
Lytol entered, greeted Jaxom and approached the worktable, eyes courteously averted from the contents.
“Ruth did eat today?” he asked, “because N’ton sent to remind you that Thread falls north and you could fly with the wing. Ruth will have sufficient time to digest, won’t he?”
“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.