“Do try to keep out of the Weyrleaders’ sight. They’d know at a glance what that was,” Lytol said. “No sense advertising your folly.”
Jaxom privately thought the scar gave him a more mature appearance but he promised Lytol he’d stay well away from Lessa and F’lar.
Jaxom rather enjoyed Hatchings, more so when Lytol was not present. He felt guilty about that but he knew that, at each Hatching, painful memories of Lytol’s beloved Larth tortured the man.
News of the imminent Hatching came to Fort Weyr while Jaxom was flying wing tip in weyrling Fall practice. He finished the maneuver, begged the weyrlingmaster’s pardon and took Ruth between to Ruatha so that he could change into proper clothing. Lytol along with Menolly’s Rocky reached him at the same moment and requested that he collect Menolly, since Robinton was already at Ista Weyr with the Harperhall’s dragon and rider.
Jaxom put a good face on the request since he could think of no excuse to refuse. Well, he’d hurry her out of the Hall and into the Weyr so quickly that she wouldn’t have time to ask any questions.
When he and Ruth arrived at the Harpercrafthall, Ruth bellowing his name to the watchdragon on the fire-heights, Jaxom became furious. Why, there were enough Fort Weyr dragons on the meadow to take half the Hall. Why hadn’t she asked one of them? He was determined that she wouldn’t have a chance to nag at him and asked Ruth peremptorily to tell her firelizards that he was here and waiting in the meadow. He had barely formed the words in his mind when Menolly came dashing out of the archway toward him, Beauty, Rocky and Diver chittering in circles above her head. She began shrugging into her riding jacket, awkwardly juggling something from one hand to the other.
“Get down, Jaxom,” she ordered imperiously. “I can’t do it when your back’s to me.”
“Do what?”
“This!” She held up one hand to show him a small pot. “Get down.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be dense. You’re wasting time. This is to cover that scar. You don’t want Lessa and F’lar to see it, do you, and ask awkward questions? Come down! Or we’ll be late. And you’re not supposed to time it, are you?” She added the last comment as he still hesitated, not altogether reassured by her altruism.
“I’ve got my hair brushed over-”
“You’ll forget and push it back,” she said, gesturing him to do so now as she unscrewed the pot lid. “I got Oldive to make some without scent. There. Only takes a dab.” She had applied it to his face and then brushed the residue on the skin of his wrist above his glove. “See? It blends in.” She stared critically at him. “Yes, that does the trick. No one would ever know you’ve been scored.” Then she chuckled. “What does Corana think of your scar?”
“Corana?”
“Don’t glare at me. Get up on Ruth. We’ll be late.
Very clever of you, Jaxom, to cultivate Corana. You’dve made a good harper with your wits.”
Jaxom mounted his dragon, furious with her but determined not to rise to her lure. It was just like her to find out such things, hoping to aggravate him. Well, she wasn’t going to succeed.
“Thanks for thinking of the salve, Menolly,” he said when he got his voice under control. “It certainly wouldn’t do to annoy Lessa right now, and I do have to be at this Hatching.”
“Indeed you do.”
Her tone was loaded but he’d no time to figure out what she meant as Ruth took them up and, with no further direction, between to Benden Weyr. No, he wouldn’t let her rouse him. But she was bloody clever, this Harper girl.
Ruth came out of between midsyllable. “… uth. I’m Ruth. I’m Ruth.”
Which reminded Jaxom and he twisted his head about to look at Menolly’s left shoulder.
“Don’t worry. They’re safely in Brekke’s weyr.”
“All of them?”
“Shells, no, Jaxom. Only Beauty and the three bronzes. She may be mating soon and the boys won’t leave her alone for a moment.” Menolly chuckled again.
“Are all that clutch spoken for?”