“Don’t worry, I’ll think of some way to stall Lord Groghe’s ambitions,” F’lar added.
“If one gets in, the others will follow,” Brekke said thoughtfully, “and I can hardly blame them. This part of the Southern Continent is so much more beautiful than our original settlement.”
“I have a yearning to get closer to that mountain,” F’lar said, turning his head to the south. “Jaxom, I know you’ve not been very active yet, but how many of those firelizards about Ruth are Southerners?”
“They’re not from the Southern Weyr, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sharra said.
“How can you tell?” Lessa asked.
Sharra shrugged. “They won’t be handled. They go between if anyone gets close to them. It’s Ruth that fascinates them. Not us.”
“We are not their men,” Jaxom said. “Now that I can get to Ruth, I’ll see what I can find out about them from him.”
“I wish you would,” Lessa said. “And if there are any from the Southern Weyr …” She let her sentence trail off.
“I think we ought to let Jaxom rest,” Brekke said. F’lar chuckled, gesturing for Lessa to precede him.
“Fine guests we are. Come to see the man and never let him talk.”
“I’ve done nothing lately to talk about,” and Jaxom shot a fierce look at Brekke and Sharra. “When you come back, I will.”
“If anything interesting occurs, have Ruth bespeak Mnementh or Ramoth.”
Brekke and Sharra left with the Weyrleaders, and Jaxom was grateful for the respite. He could hear Ruth talking to the two Benden dragons and he chuckled when Ruth told Ramoth firmly that there were no firelizards from the Southern Weyr among his new friends. Jaxom wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him sooner to ask Ruth’s acquaintances about their men. He sighed. He hadn’t been thinking about much lately except his extraordinary brush with death, and that occupied his mind too morbidly. Much better for him to explore a living puzzle.
He had several. The most worrisome was still what he might have said in his delirium. Brekke’s rejoinder had been no real assurance. He tried to force his thought back to that time but all he remembered was heat and cold, vivid but vague nightmares.
He thought about his guardian’s visit. So Lytol did like him! Shells! He’d forgotten to ask Lytol about Corana. He ought to have sent her some kind of word. She must have heard of his illness. Not but what this didn’t make it easier for him to complete the break in their relationship. Now that he’d seen Sharra, he couldn’t have continued with Corana. He must remember to ask Lytol.
What had he said when he was fevered? How did a fever patient talk? In bits and snatches? Whole phrases? Maybe he needn’t worry. Not about what he could have said in fever.
He didn’t like Lord Groghe just appearing like that, to check up on him. And, if he hadn’t taken ill. Lord Groghe would never have known about this part of Southern. At least, until the dragonriders wanted him to know. And that mountain! Too unusual a feature to forget. Any dragon would be able to find it. Or would they? Unless the rider had a very clear picture, the dragon did not always see vividly enough to jump between. And a secondhand vision? D’ram and Tiroth had done so from Master Robinton’s description. But D’ram and Tiroth were experienced.
Jaxom wanted to be well. He wanted to get closer to that mountain. He wanted to be first. How long would it take him to recover?
He was allowed to swim a bit the next day, an exercise which Brekke said would tone his muscles but which succeeded in proving he had none left. Exhausted, he was no sooner on his beachside couch than he fell deeply asleep.
Roused by Sharra’s touch, he cried out and sat bolt upright, looking about him.
“What’s the matter, Jaxom?”
“A dream! A nightmare!” He was sure something was wrong. Then he saw Ruth, stretched out, fast asleep, his muzzle only a handsbreadth from his feet, at least a dozen firelizards curled on and about him, twitching in their own dreams.