Jaxom was shocked when he realized that he now was taller than Lessa, and she was cocking her head to look up at him. He'd always thought of Lessa as big. To be looking down on the Weyrwoman of Benden was somehow embarrassing.
«I'd say you've the advantage of F'lessan still, and he's getting longer every time I look,» she added.
Jaxom began to stammer an apology.
«Nonsense, Jaxom, stand up to your inches,» F'lar said, coming up beside his weyrmate. His attention was centered on Ruth, and the white dragon raised his head slightly to be at eye level with the tall Weyrleader. «You've made more hands of height, Ruth, than I'd have given you at your Hatching! You've done well by your friend. Lord Jaxom.» The Benden Weyrleader put a slight emphasis on the title as he turned his gaze from dragon to rider.
Jaxom winced, disliking the reminder of his equivocal position.
«However, I can't see that you'll ever reach the stature of our good Mastersmith, so I don't think you'll overburden Ruth in flight.» F'lar glanced at the others on the steps. «Ruth's a full head higher in the shoulder than runner beasts. Sturdier, too.»
«What's his wingspan now?» Lessa asked, her brows drawn in a thoughtful frown. «Jaxom, please ask him to extend?»
Lessa could easily have asked Ruth directly since she was able to speak to any dragon. Jaxom was considerably heartened to be accorded such a courtesy and he passed the request on to Ruth. Eyes whirling with excitement, the white dragon raised himself to his haunches and spread his wings, the muscles rippling through chest and shoulder with the clouded shades of all dragon colors.
«He's completely in proportion to himself,» F'lar said, dipping under the wing to inspect the upper side of the broad, transparent membrane. «Oh, thank you, Ruth,» he added as the white dragon obligingly tilted his wing. «I take it he's as eager to fly you as you are!»
«Yes, sir, because, sir, he is a dragon, and dragons all fly!»
The look F'lar shot him caused Jaxom to hold his breath, wondering if his quick answer had been too bold. When he heard Lessa laugh, he looked over at her. But she wasn't laughing at him, or at Ruth. Her eyes rested on her weyrmate. F'lar's right eyebrow arched as he grinned back at her. Jaxom felt they weren't aware of him or Ruth at all.
«Yes, dragons do fly, don't they, Lessa?» the Weyrleader said softly, and Jaxom realized they were sharing some private joke.
Then F'lar raised his head to the fire heights where golden Ramoth, bronze Mnementh, and the two browns, Canth and Wilth, maintained keen interest in the scene in the courtyard below.
«What does Ramoth say, Lessa?»
Lessa grimaced. «You know she's always said Ruth would do well.»
F'lar glanced first at N'ton, who grinned, and then at F'nor, who shrugged acquiescence. «It's unanimous, Jaxom. Mnementh doesn't understand why we're all making such a fuss. Mount then, lad.» F'lar stepped forward as if to give Jaxom a leg up to the neck of the white dragon.
Jaxom was torn between pleasure at having the Weyrleader of all Pern to assist him and indignation that F'lar thought him incapable of mounting unaided.
Ruth intervened by swinging his wings out of the way and bending his left knee. Jaxom stepped lightly on the proffered limb and swung to the proper position between the last two neck ridges. Those protuberances in a full dragon were sufficient to keep a man steady in ordinary flight, but Lytol had insisted that Jaxom use riding straps as a safety measure. As Jaxom secured the strap buckles to his belt's metal loops, he cast surreptitious glances at the crowd. But no one showed a trace of surprise or contempt for this precaution. When he was ready, that awful coldness of doubt rose once more in his belly. Supposing that Ruth couldn't…
He caught the confident grin on N'ton's face and saw Master Robinton and Menolly hold up their hands in salute. Then F'lar lifted his fist above his head in the traditional signal to rise.
Jaxom took a deep breath. «Let's fly, Ruth!»
He felt the bunching of muscle as Ruth assumed a semi crouch, felt the tension through the back, the shift of musculature under his calves as the huge wings lifted for the all important first downsweep. Ruth deepened his crouch slightly just as he kicked away from the ground with his powerful hind legs. Jaxom's head snapped on his neck. Instinctively he grabbed for the security of the straps, then hung on tightly as the little white dragon's powerful wing strokes lifted them upward, past the first rank of windows and the startled faces of the holders, up so quickly to the fire heights that Jaxom saw the other tiers of windows in a blur. Then the great dragons extended their wings, bugling encouragement to Ruth. Fire lizards swirled about them, adding their silvery voices. Jaxom just hoped they wouldn't startle Ruth or get in his way.
They are pleased to see us in the air together. Ramoth and Mnementh are very happy to see you on my back at last. I am very happy. Are you happier now?
The almost plaintive question caused a lump to lodge in Jaxom's throat. He opened his mouth to respond, only to have sound torn from his lips by the press of wind against his face.
«Of course, I'm happy. I'm always happy with you,» he said joyfully. «I'm flying with you, just like I wanted to. This'll show everyone that you're a right dragon!»
You're shouting!
«I'm happy. Why shouldn't I shout?»
I'm the only one to hear you and I hear you very well indeed.
«You ought to. You're the one I'm happiest for.»
They began a glide turn now and Jaxom leaned back away from the curve, holding his breath. Not that he hadn't flown on a dragon innumerable times before. But then he had been a passenger, usually crammed between two adult bodies. The intimacy of this flight was another sensation entirely, exhilarating, pleasantly scary and utterly marvelous.
Ramoth says you must grip more tightly with your legs as you do on runners.
«I didn't want to interfere with your breathing.» Jaxom pressed his legs tightly into the warmth of the silken neck, heartened by the security the grip gave him.
That's better. You can't hurt my neck. You can't hurt me. You're my rider. Ramoth says we must land. Ruth sounded rebellious.
«Land? We just got airborne!»
Ramoth says I must not strain. Flying you is no strain. It is what I want to do. She says we may fly a little farther every day. I like that idea.
Ruth corrected his descending plane so that they approached the court from the southeast. People on the roadway stopped to stare and then to wave. Jaxom thought he heard cheers but the wind rushed past, making it difficult to be sure. Those in the court turned to follow his path. Every window on the second and first tier of the Hold had its observers.
«They'll all have to admit you're a proper flying dragon now, Ruth!»
The only thing Jaxom regretted was that this flight was so brief. A little longer every day, huh? Not Fall, fire or fog would keep him from flying every single day, longer and farther away from Ruatha.
Abruptly he was thrown forward, bruising his chest on a neck ridge as Ruth backwinged to settle neatly on the spot he had so recently vacated.
Sorry about that, Ruth said contritely. I see that there are things I must learn now.
Savoring the triumph of the airborne experience, Jaxom sat for a moment, rubbing his chest and reassuring Ruth. Then he was aware of F'lar, F'nor and N'ton coming towards him with expressions of approval. But why was the Harper looking so thoughtful? And why was Lord Sangel frowning?
The dragonriders say we can fly. They are the ones who matter, Ruth told him.
Jaxom could discern no expression at all on the face of Lord Lytol. That dulled Jaxom's pride in their achievement. How he had hoped that today of all days he might receive some flicker of approval, some kindly response from his guardian.