“You can’t see much,” Sharra told Jaxom, who had gone to stand by the open doorway.
“I’d see if Thread got into this greenery.”
“It won’t. We’ve clever riders.”
Jaxom felt the skin on his back begin to crawl and he gave a massive shudder.
“Don’t you dare catch a cold,” Sharra said. She collected a shirt from his room which she threw at him.
“I’m not cold. I’m just thinking of Thread and this forest.”
Sharra made a disparaging sound. “I forget. You’re Northern Hold-bred! Thread can’t do any more than tear or hole leaves which heal in Southern forests. It’s all grubbed. And, in case you’re interested, that’s the first thing F’nor and D’ram did-check to be sure the land here is well-grubbed. It is!”
We have met Thread, Ruth told him, sounding elated. I am flaming well. I am to do V-sweeps while Canth and Tiroth pass east and west. We are high. The firelizards flame well, too. Over there! Berd. You are closest! Meer, get it to your offside. Talla! Help him. I come, I come. Down. I come. I flame! I protect my friend!
Brekke caught Jaxom’s eyes, smiling at him. “He delivers a running comment so we all know how well he fights!” Her eyes lost their focus on him and then she blinked. “Sometimes I see the Fall through three sets of dragon eyes. I don’t know where I’m looking! It goes well!”
Later, Jaxom could not have said what he ate or drank. When Ruth’s monologue resumed, Jaxom paid strict attention to what his dragon said, looking now and again at Brekke whose face reflected the intense concentration of listening to three dragons and four firelizards. Suddenly Ruth’s commentary stopped and Jaxom gasped.
“It’s all right. They don’t pursue Thread through the Fall,” Brekke said. “Just enough to insure our safety. Benden flies Thread tomorrow evening over Nerat. F’nor and Canth ought not overtire themselves today.”
Jaxom rose so abruptly that his bench clattered to the floor. He mumbled an apology, righted it and then strode out the door in the direction of the beach. As he reached the sands, he kept peering westward and barely discerned the distant film of Thread. Another shudder gripped him and he had to smooth the hair down on the back of his neck. The cove before him, generally calm with leisurely waves, was roiled with the activity of fish diving, lifting their bodies above the surface and crashing awkwardly down again as if in the throes of pain.
“What’s the matter with them?” he asked Sharra, who had joined him.
“The fish are having a good feed off Thread. They generally manage to clean up the cove in time for our dragons to bathe when they return. There! There they all are! Just popped back!”
It was a good Fall! Ruth was jubilant, then rebellious. But we are not to follow it. Canth and Tiroth said that once across the big river there is nothing but stony waste and it is stupid to waste flame above what cannot be hurt by Thread. Ooooh!
Sharra and Jaxom laughed as the little white dragon emitted a trail of flame, almost singeing his muzzle because he was at the wrong flight angle. He corrected instantly, continuing his downward glide on the correct plane.
Even as the big dragons landed, the waters had calmed. Ruth was full of boast that he’d not needed to replenish his fire once, that he now knew how much to take to last the Fall. Canth turned his head toward the little white in an attitude of amused tolerance.
Tiroth snorted and, relieved of his firesack, nodded once toward D’ram then waded into the water. Abruptly the air was full of firelizards, hovering eagerly above Tiroth. The old bronze threw his head skyward, snorted again and, with a loud sigh, rolled over in the water. The firelizards descended, dropping mouthsful of sand on him before attacking his hide with all four feet. Tiroth’s eyes, lidded once against the water, gleamed just beneath the surface in an eerie submarine rainbow.
Canth bellowed and half the fair left Tiroth to minister to him as he splashed about. Ruth watched this pre-emption of his friends, blinked, gave himself a bit of a shake and meekly took to the water at some distance from the bronze and brown. Four firelizards, the banded ones, detached themselves from the big dragons and began to scrub the little white.