Ruth surfaced, waves lapping against the bank at Jaxom’s feet. Jaxom idly stripped a branch of its thick needles and launched them one after another into the incoming ripples. Well, one wave of reaction to this morning’s outburst was the dispatch of firelizards to find him.
Another, the look of stunned amazement on Dorse’s face. That had been the first time Jaxom had ever rounded on his milk-brother, though, Shells, it was only the thought of Lytol’s displeasure at his loss of control that had kept Jaxom’s temper in check so long. Dorse loved nothing better than to taunt Jaxom about Ruth’s lack of stature, masking his malicious jibes in mock-brotherly quarrels, knowing all too well that Jaxom could not retaliate without a rebuke from Lytol for conduct unbecoming his rank and station. Jaxom had long outgrown the need for Deelan’s fussing but innate kindness and gratitude to her for the milk which had nourished him after his premature birth had long prevented Jaxom from asking Lytol to retire her.
So why, today, had all this suddenly come to a boil? Ruth’s head emerged from the waters again, the many-faceted eyes reflecting the bright morning sun in greens and brilliant clear blues. The firelizards attacked his back with rough tongues and talons, scrubbing off infinitesimal motes of dirt, splashing water over him with their wings, their own hides darkened by the wetting.
The green turned to batter her nose at one of the two blues and swatted the brown with her wing to make him work to her satisfaction. Despite himself, Jaxom laughed to see her scolding. She was Deelan’s green and so much in manner like his milkmother that he was reminded of the weyr axiom that a dragon was no better than his rider.
In that way, Lytol had done Jaxom no disservice. Ruth was the best dragon in all Pern. If-and now Jaxom recognized the underlying cause of his rebellion-Ruth was ever allowed to be. Immediately all the frustrated anger of the morning returned, disrupting what little objectivity he had gained at the peaceful lakeside. Neither he, Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha, nor Ruth, the white runt of Ramoth’s clutch, were allowed to be what they really were.
Jaxom was Lord Holder in name only, because Lytol administered the Hold, made all its decisions, spoke in Council for Ruatha. Jaxom had yet to be confirmed by the other Lord Holders as Lord of Ruatha. True, a matter of form only since there was no other male on Pern with Ruathan Blood. Besides, Lessa, the only living full-blooded Ruathan, had relinquished her blood right to Jaxom at the moment of his birth.
Jaxom knew he could never be a dragonrider because he had to be Lord Holder of Ruatha. Only he was not really a Lord Holder because he couldn’t go up to Lytol and just say: “I’m old enough to take over now! Thanks and good-bye!” Lytol had worked too hard and long to make Ruatha prosper to take second place to the bumblings of an untried youth. Lytol only lived for Ruatha. He’d lost so much else: first his own dragon, then his small family to Fax’s greed. All his life now centered about Ruathan fields and wheat, and runners, and how many wherry bucks…
No, in all fairness, he would simply have to wait until Lytol, who enjoyed vigorous health, died a natural death before he started Holding at Ruatha.
But, Jaxom continued his thoughts logically, if Lytol is active so that Ruatha Hold is not in dispute, why couldn’t he and Ruth occupy their time learning to be proper dragon and rider. Every fighting dragon was needed now, what with Thread falling from the Red Star at unexpected intervals. Why should he have to trudge about the countryside, lugging a clumsy flamethrower when he could more effectively fight Thread if Ruth were only allowed to chew firestone? Just because Ruth was half the size of the other dragons didn’t mean he wasn’t a proper dragon in all other respects.
Of course I am, Ruth said from the lake.
Jaxom grimaced. He’d been trying to think quietly.
I heard your feelings, not your thoughts, Ruth said calmly. You are confused and unhappy. He arched out of the water to shake his wings dry. He half-paddled, half-flew to the shore. I am a dragon. You are my rider. No man can change that. Be what you are. I am.