Jaxom sighed, his conscience nagging at him. Master Oldive had rated him fully recovered from the effects of firehead. So he could go between. He and Ruth could return to Ruatha Hold. He ought to return to Ruatha Hold. But he didn’t want to-and not just because of Sharra.
It wasn’t as if he were needed in Ruatha. Lytol would manage the Hold as he’d always done. Ruth was not required to fight Thread either at Ruatha or at Fort Weyr. Benden had been lenient but F’lar had made it plain that the white dragon and the young Lord of Ruatha were not to be at risk.
There had been no prohibition, had there, Jaxom suddenly realized, to his exploring. In fact no one had suggested that he ought to return to Ruatha now.
Jaxom took some comfort in that thought, if he took none at all in the knowledge that tomorrow F’lar would be sending in riders-riders whose dragons could fly considerably faster and farther than his Ruth, riders who’d be able to reach the mountain before him. Riders who might just discover those traces which Robinton hoped existed somewhere in the interior of the Southern Continent. Riders who might also see in Sharra the beauty and gentle warmth of spirit that attracted Jaxom.
He tried, turning on the rushes yet again, to find a comfortable position, to find sleep. Maybe Robinton’s plan for himself, Sharra, Menolly and Piemur would not undergo revision. As Piemur constantly reminded them all, dragons were great for flying over, but you still had to traverse the ground on foot to really know it. F’lar and Robinton might well want the dragonriders to spread out, cover as much territory as possible, and let the original explorers continue on to the mountain.
Jaxom then admitted to himself that he wanted to be first to the mountain! That serenely symmetrical cone had drawn him, sick and fevered, back to the Cove, had dominated his waking hours and intruded with nightmarish drama into his dreams. He wanted to be first to reach it, irrational as the notion might be.
Somewhere in the middle of these reflections, he did fall asleep. Again those overlapping scenes figured in his dreams: again the mountain erupted, one whole side shattering and spewing pulsingly red-orange flaming rocks and hot flows of molten lava down its side. Again Jaxom was both frightened refugee and dispassionate observer. Then the red wall began bearing down on him, so close to his heels that he could feel its hot breath on his feet…
He woke! The rising sun was slanting through the trees to caress his right foot which protruded from a rent in the light blanket. Rising sun!
Jaxom felt for Ruth. His dragon was still asleep in the clearing for the old shelter where a sandy wallow had been made to accommodate him.
Jaxom glanced across to Piemur, who slept in a neat ball, both hands resting under his right cheek. Slipping out of his bed, Jaxom noiselessly opened the door and, carrying his sandals, tiptoed out through the kitchen. Ruth stirred briefly, dislodging a firelizard or two from his back, as Jaxom passed him. Jaxom paused, struck by some puzzle. He stared at Ruth, then at the firelizards. None of those nestled against his friend were banded. He must ask Ruth when he woke if the Southern firelizards always slept with him. If they did, those dreams could be firelizard dreams-old memories triggered by the presence of men! That mountain! No, from this side a perfect cone appeared to the naked eye, unblemished by eruptive damage!
As soon as he reached the beach, Jaxom glanced up to see if he could sight the Dawn Sisters. But it was, unfortunately, already too late to catch their morning appearance.
The two viewers, Wansor’s carefully covered with wherhide against morning dew and Idarolan’s in its leather case, were still mounted on their frames. Grinning at the futility of his action, Jaxom nonetheless couldn’t resist uncovering Wansor’s viewer and peering skyward. He recovered the instrument carefully and stood looking southeast, toward the mountain.
In his dream the cone had blown out. And there were two sides to that mountain. Suddenly decisive, he removed the Seaman’s viewer from its case. Though he might get more definition from Wansor’s, he wouldn’t presume to alter that careful focus. Besides, Idarolan’s was strong enough for what he needed. Not that it could show the damage that Jaxom had half-hoped to see. Thoughtfully he lowered the instrument. He could go between now. Further, he was under Master Robinton’s orders to explore the Southlands. More important, he wanted to be first to that mountain!