Later, he was awakened by the scratch of a fire-lizard claw on his cheek. It was Meer, his sense of smell told him-and a Meer who was worried and puzzled.
Jaxom! Ruth's anxious tone reinforced Meer's warning. There is someone in the hall by your door. Meer senses danger. I'm coming!
For the love of the egg that hatched you, keep him quiet right now, Jaxom told Ruth. And be as quiet as you can.
You know how quietly I can move, Ruth replied, slightly aggrieved.
I want this one alive-and identifiable!
Carefully, so as not to disturb Sharra or alert the intruder, Jaxom rolled out of the bed and went for his belt and the knife sheathed there. In the darkness, Meer blinked orange-red eyes that were whirling in a gradually increasing speed, but the little bronze made no move.
An alteration in the shadows of the room told Jaxom that the door was being stealthily opened. He stayed where he was crouched, muscles relaxed but every fiber of him ready to move.
The door shadows separated into a crouching figure, knife holding hand raised in a strike position as the intruder crept toward the bed-then paused. Realizing that the man had discerned that only Sharra lay in the bed, Jaxom sprang, encircling the figure with his arms.
"Oh no you don't!" he cried in a hoarse whisper, still not wanting to wake Sharra. But there was no hope of that.
Meer, swooping at the man's face while Jaxom struggled to hold him, bugled with no regard for sleeping folk. Outside, Ruth bellowed, and half the fire-lizard population of the Cove tried to fly in through the open window.
Though the man struggled, breathing hoarsely in his desperation, Jaxom was the victor of far too many wrestling matches to have his hold broken easily. But he didn't quite avoid the slashing blade, which scored his bare shoulder. Cursing, Jaxom grabbed the dagger hand and, twisting it in a move F'lessan had taught him, broke the man's wrist. The attacker crumpled, crying aloud in pain just as F'lar, Piemur, Lytol, and D'ram came bursting into the room. Someone behind them was carrying an open glowbasket, and light spilled past the reinforcements to fall on the face of the man Jaxom had downed.
"G'lanar!" Jaxom fell back in surprise and shock.
The old bronze rider snarled up at him, batting at the shrieking fire-lizards who were still swooping at him, claws extended.
"G'lanar?" D'ram grabbed the man by the arm and, with F'lar's help, hauled him to his feet.
Jaxom told Ruth to call the fire-lizards off and, still screaming their challenge, the fair swooped back out the window.
Sharra stared from the bed as Jancis and Lessa crowded into the room, each holding a bright basket.
"What did you intend, G'lanar?" F'lar demanded, his voice coldly implacable.
"He's to blame..." G'lanar cried, spitting in his fury, cradling his broken wrist to his chest.
Jaxom stared down at the old rider. "Blame?"
"You! I know who it was now! It was you-and that white runt that ought to have died the moment it was born!" Outside, Ruth roared exception to the insult, then thrust his head through the window. "If it hadn't been for you, we 'd've had our own fertile queen! We'd've had a chance!"
Jaxom shook his head slightly, trying to understand the accusation. So few knew that he and Ruth had recovered the abducted queen egg from Benden Weyr. How had G'lanar learned?
"So it was you who cut the riding straps?" Jaxom demanded.
"Yes, yes, I did, and I'd've got you. I'd've kept trying till I did. Nor wept if your woman had died that morning. Save Pern from more like you and that abortion!"
"And you, a dragonrider, would seek the death of another?" D'ram's scorn and horror made G'lanar flinch-but only briefly.
"Yes, yes, yes!" His voice climbed in fury and frustration. "Yes! Unnatural man, unnatural dragon! Abominations as vile as that Aivas thing you worship." G'lanar's eyes glittered; his features were contorted.
"That's enough of that," F'lar said, stepping forward purposefully.
"It is! Enough!" Before either Jaxom, who had stepped back from the man, or F'lar, who was moving toward him, could act, G'lanar plunged his dagger into his own breast.
His action shocked everyone to immobility.
"Oh, no!" Jaxom breathed, dropping to the man's side and feeling for the throat pulse. With the rider dead, the dragon would suicide. Had G'lanar's thrust been true? His heart quailed, waiting for the keen all dragonriders dreaded to hear.
Ruth had pulled his head from the window, and Jaxom could see him, rearing back on his haunches and stretching to his full height, wings spread to balance him. The sound he uttered was muted, an oddly strangled noise. There were other sounds in the night, and then Ramoth and Mnementh landed outside the room, deepening the shadows.
Lamoth dies. In shame. Ruth sank back to the ground, wings limp against his back, his head low. They were mistaken to steal Ramoth's egg. We only set matters right. I am not an abomination or unnatural. And you are a very natural man, Jaxom. How can Aivas be wrong when he does everything to help us?
Lessa moved to Jaxom and lifted him up from the dead man; her eyes watered with tears and her expression was dreadful, but her hands were gentle. Sharra, wrapping the sheet around herself, ran to him and put her arms around him, draping a corner of the sheet over his nudity.
"I don't understand this," D'ram said, running trembling fingers through his thick, gray hair. "How could he so corrupt the truth? How could he seek the life of another dragonrider?"
"There have been moments," Lessa said in a broken voice, "when I wonder what good I did bringing the five Weyrs forward."
"No, Lessa." D'ram. recovered from regret to touch her shoulder supportively. "You did what was necessary. So did Jaxom, though I never realized it was he who saved that situation." He shot an approving look at the young Lord Holder.
"Why did no one realize that G'lanar harbored such a grievance?" F'lar demanded.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Lessa said resolutely. "I'd thought the Weyrs were united in this project! Surely even Oldtimers are! They've fought two lives' worth of Thread..."
D'ram was scrubbing at his face, shaking his head, his shoulders hunched against the night's treachery. "Every Oldtimer I've spoken to-and there are few enough of us old ones now, and all the younger riders are definitely in accord with Benden. Everyone sees the help, the training, the promise Aivas holds out as the culmination of the Weyr objective since the first egg hatched. The project has given us all hope at this critical point in a Pass."
"Ramoth has started speaking to the other queens," Lessa said, her voice strained. "We'll know by morning if there are any other disaffected riders in any Weyr."
"I'll take care of this," F'lar said, gesturing to Piemur and Jaxom to help him with G'lanar's body.
"No, I will," D'ram said, stepping over the corpse to heave it over his shoulders. His face was devoid of expression, but his cheeks were tearstained. "He was a good rider before he went South with Mardra and T'ton."
The others stepped back so he could pass with his sad burden. Sharra handed Jaxom his long-tailed riding shirt, and as he slipped into it gratefully, she hurriedly pulled on a tunic. The night breeze was chilly. She went past Jaxom to the door.
"A cup of hot wine is indicated," she said, and Jancis followed her to the kitchen.
Sharra had added something to the wine, Jaxom decided when he woke and found morning well started. She was still asleep beside him, so he assumed that she had taken her own medicine. A boon for him, since he had no intention of delaying that day's plan. He eased out of the bed, scooped up his clothing, and went to dress in the head. When he entered the main room, he found Lessa cradling a cup of klah in her hands while F'lar, a set expression on his face, was spooning cereal into his mouth. Without a word, the Weyrwoman rose and filled a cup and a bowl for Jaxom.