Jaxom toyed with the idea of conquest. How would he set about reducing Nabol or-since Fort Hold was too big a bite-Tillek? Or Crom, perhaps, though he liked Lord Nessel’s oldest son, Kern, far too much to do him out of what was rightfully his. Shells, he was a fine one to talk of conquest, when he couldn’t even control the destiny of himself and his dragon!
Ruth, waddling with a full, bulging belly, belched happily as he made his way to his rider. He settled himself in the sun-warmed sweet grasses and began to lick his talons. He was always neat.
“Can you fly when you’re stuffed?” Jaxom asked when Ruth had finished tidying up.
Ruth turned his head, his eyes whirling in reproach. I can always fly. The dragon exhaled, his breath rather meaty and sweet. You are worried again.
“I want us to be proper dragon and rider, and fight Thread, me on your back, you flaming.”
Then we will do it, Ruth said with unshakable faith. I am a dragon, you are my rider. Why does this become a problem?
“Well, wherever we go the firelizards come.”
You told the thick man with the blue-Ruth’s identification of Brand-they were not to follow. They did not come here.
“Others did, and you know how firelizards chatter.” Then Jaxom recalled Menolly’s comments. “What are that lot thinking of now?”
Their full bellies. The wherries were juicy and tender. Very good eating. They do not remember better in many Turns.
“Would they go away if you told them to?”
Ruth snorted, his eyes whirling a bit, more with amusement than irritation. They would wonder why and come to see. I will tell them if you want me to. Maybe they would stay away long enough.
“Just like them: they’ve more curiosity than sense. Well, as Robinton is always saying, there’s a way to solve every problem. We’ll just have to find a way.”
On their return to Ruatha Hold, Ruth’s digestion was working noisily. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on a sun-warmed rock and sleep, and since the brown watchdragon was away from his usual post, Ruth settled there. Jaxom waited in the Great Courtyard until he saw Ruth safely ensconced, and then he sought Lytol.
If Brand had commented on Jaxom’s request to Lytol, the Lord Warder gave no sign, greeting Jaxom with his usual reserve and enjoining him to eat quickly as they had rather a long ride to make. Tordril and one of the other older fosterlings living under Lytol’s supervision would accompany them. Masterfarmer Andemon had sent a new seed he had developed for a high-yield, fast-growing wheat. Southern fields, grub-infested and planted with this wheat seed, had produced phenomenally healthy, blight-resistant crops, that were able to survive long dry spells. Andemon wondered how the wheat would fare in a rainier. Northern climate.
Many of the older small holders were stubborn about trying something new. “As hidebound as Oldtimers,” Lytol would mutter, but somehow or other he managed to prevail. For instance, Fidello, who owned the hold they were seeding, was only two Turns in the holding, the previous man having died of a fall while tracking wild wherries.
So, after a quick meal, the travelers set off on some of the specially bred runners that could pace a long summer’s day without thing. Though Jaxom used to find it tedious to take hours to cross country he could fly between on Ruth in a few breaths, he did enjoy an occasional runner ride. Today, with spring in the air and secure in the knowledge that he was still in Lytol’s good graces, he enjoyed the trip.
Fidello’s holding was in northeast Ruatha, on a plateau with the snowcapped mountains of Crom in the background. When they reached the plateau, the blue firelizard that rode on Tordril’s arm shrilled a greeting and took off to make an aerial circle of introduction to a brown that was probably looking to Fidello and set to watch for the visitors. Immediately the two firelizards winked between. Tordril and Jaxom exchanged glances, knowing that a welcoming cup of klah and sweetbreads would be waiting at the holding. Their ride had given them an appetite.