“But not really. They won’t let us be what we are,” Jaxom cried. “They’re forcing me to be everything but a dragonrider.”
You are a dragonrider. You are also, and Ruth said this slowly as if trying to understand it all himself, a Lord Holder. You are a student with the Mastersmith and the Masterharper. You are a friend of Menolly, Mirrim, F’lessan and N’ton. Ramoth knows our name. So does Mnementh. And they know me. You have to be a lot of people. That is hard.
Jaxom stared at Ruth, who gave his wings a final flick and then folded them fastidiously across his back.
I am clean. I feel well, the dragon said as if this announcement should resolve all of Jaxom’s internal doubts.
“Ruth, whatever would I do without you?”
I don’t know. N’ton comes to see you. He went to Ruatha. The little brown who followed looks to N’ton.
Jaxom sucked in his breath nervously. Trust Ruth to know which was whose firelizard. He had assumed the brown looked to someone at Ruatha Hold.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Hurriedly Jaxom made to mount Ruth. He did most urgently want to see N’ton, and he wanted with equal intensity to keep in N’ton’s good favor. The Fort Weyrleader didn’t have that much free time to chat.
I wanted my swim, Ruth replied. We will be in time. Ruth rose from the ground when Jaxom had barely settled on his back. We will not keep N’ton waiting. Before Jaxom could remind Ruth that they weren’t supposed to go between time, they had.
“Ruth, what if N’ton finds out we’ve been timing it,” Jaxom said through chattering teeth as they broke out of between into the hot midmorning sun of Telgar over the Mastersmithcrafthall.
He will not ask.
Jaxom wished that Ruth wouldn’t sound so complacent. But then, the white dragon wouldn’t have to take N’ton’s tongue-lashing. Timing was bloody dangerous!
I always know when I’m going, Ruth replied, not at all perturbed. That’s something few other dragons can say.
They were barely in a landing circle above the Smithcrafthall complex before N’ton’s great bronze Lioth burst into the air above them.
“And how you know how to time it that close, I’ll never know,” Jaxom said.
Oh, Ruth said easily, I heard when the brown returned to N’ton and just came to that when.
Jaxom knew that dragons were not supposed to laugh but the feeling from Ruth was so close to laughter as to make no difference.
Lioth winged close enough to Jaxom and Ruth for the young Lord to see the bronze rider’s expression-a pleased grin. Jaxom thought Ruth had said N’ton had been at Ruatha first. Then Jaxom noticed that N’ton raised his hand and was holding what could only be Jaxom’s wherhide riding jacket.
As they circled downward, Jaxom saw that they were by no means the first arrivals. He counted five dragons, including F’lessan’s bronze Golanth and Mirrim’s green Path who warbled a greeting. Ruth landed lightly on the meadow before the Smithcrafthall with Lioth touching down the next moment. As N’ton slid down the bronze shoulder, his brown firelizard, Tris, appeared and settled impertinently on Ruth’s upper crest, chirping smugly.
“Deelan said you’d gone off without this,” N’ton said and tossed the jacket at Jaxom. “Well, I suppose you don’t feel the cold the way my old bones do. Or are you practicing survival tactics?”
“Ah, N’ton, not you, too!”
“Me, too, what, young fella?”
“You know…”
“No, I don’t know.” N’ton gave Jaxom a closer look. “Or did Deelan’s babbling this morning have real significance?”
“You didn’t see Lytol?”
“No. I just asked the first person in the Hold where you were. Deelan was weeping because you’d gone off without your jacket.” N’ton drolly pulled down his lower lip in a trembling imitation of Deelan. “Can’t stand weeping women-at least women that age-so I grabbed the jacket, promised on the shell of my dragon to force it about your frail body, sent Tris to see where Ruth was and here we are. Tell me, did something momentous happen this morning? Ruth looks fine.”
Embarrassed, Jaxom looked away from the quizzical regard of the Fort Weyrleader and gave himself a bit more time by shrugging into his jacket.