“Dragons don’t remember things. You know that. But Ruth’s different, I’ve noticed …”
“Very different…”
Menolly caught the sour note in his voice. “What’s got your back up today? Or has Lord Groghe been to see Lytol?”
“Lord Groghe? What for?”
Menolly’s eyes glinted with devilment and she beckoned him closer, as if anyone were near enough to hear what they’d been saying. “I think Lord Groghe fancies you for that beast-bosomed third daughter of his.”
Jaxom groaned in horror.
“Don’t worry, Jaxom. Robinton squashed the idea. He wouldn’t do you a disservice there. Of course,” Menolly glanced at him from the comers of her laughing eyes, “if you have anyone else in mind, now’s the time to say so.”
Jaxom was furious, not with Menolly but with her news, and it was hard to dissociate tidings and bearer. “The one thing I don’t want just now is a wife.”
“Oh? Got yourself taken care of?”
“Menolly!”
“Don’t look so shocked. We Harpers understand the frailties of human flesh. And you’re tall, and nice looking, Jaxom. Lytol’s supposed to be giving you instruction in all the arts . ..”
“Menolly!”
“Jaxom!” She mimicked his tone perfectly. “Doesn’t Lytol ever let you off to have some fun on your own? Or do you just think about it? Honestly, Jaxom,” her tone became acerbic and her expression registered impatience with him, “between Robinton, though I love the man, and Lytol, F’lar, Lessa and Fandarel, I think they’ve turned you into a pale echo of themselves. Where is Jaxom?”
Before he could sort out a suitable answer for her impertinence, she gave him a piercing look through slightly narrowed eyes. “They do say the dragon is the man. Maybe that’s why Ruth is so different!”
On that cryptic remark she rose and made her way back to the others.
Jaxom had half a mind to call Ruth and leave if all he was going to get were insults and slights.
“Like a sulky boy!” N’ton’s words came back to him. Sighing, he settled back to the grass. No, he would not depart hastily from an awkward scene for the second time that morning. He would not act in an immature fashion. He would not give Menolly the satisfaction of knowing that her provocative comments bothered him at all.
He stared down the river where his dear companion played, and wondered. Why is Ruth different? Is the dragon the man? To be sure, if Ruth were different, he shared it. His birth had been as bizarre as Ruth’s Hatching-he from a dead mother’s body, Ruth from an eggshell too hard for the half-sized beak to break. Ruth was a dragon, but not weyrbred. He was Lord Holder, but not confirmed so.
Well then, to prove one would be to prove the other and hail the difference!
Don’t let anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone! N’ton had said.
Wellaway, that would be his first goal!
CHAPTER IV
Ruatha Hold, Fidello’s Hold, and Various Points Between. 15.5.10-15.5.16
OVER THE NEXT few days, Jaxom realized that it was one thing to form the resolution to teach Ruth to chew firestone, and quite another to find the time to do so. It was impossible to contrive a free hour. Jaxom entertained the unworthy thought that perhaps N’ton had tipped his plan to Lytol so that the Warder had consciously found activities to fill his days. As quickly, Jaxom discarded the notion. N’ton was not a treacherous or sly man. On sober examination, Jaxom had to admit that his days had always been full: with Ruth’s care first, then lessons. Hold duties and, in past Turns, meetings at other Holders which Lytol felt he must attend-as a silent observer-to extend his knowledge of Hold management Jaxom simply hadn’t realized the extent of his involvement until now, when he desperately wanted time to himself which did not have to be explained or arranged in advance.
The other problem which he hadn’t seriously considered was that no matter where he and Ruth went, a firelizard was sure to appear. Menolly was correct in calling them gossips and be had no wish for them to oversee his unauthorized instruction. He experimented by popping Ruth up to a mountain ledge in the High Reaches which had been a practice ground when he was teaching Ruth to fly between. The area was deserted, barren, without so much as mountain weed peeping up from under the late hard snow. He’d given Ruth directions while they were airborne and, at that particular moment, unaccompanied by firelizards. He’d counted no more than twenty-two breaths before Deelan’s green and the Hold steward’s blue arrived over Ruth’s head. They squeaked in astonishment and then began to complain about the location.