"You were worried!"
"Bloody right." She swooped and gathered up the pack, shrugging into her jacket and slapping her helmet on. "Incidentally I found the remains of a lean-to, near a stream back there," she said as she slung him the pack. Vaulting neatly to Ruth's back, she looked around for her fire-lizards that had disappeared. "Off again." She gave a call, and Jaxom instinctively ducked from the rush of wings about his head.
Menolly settled them down, Beauty and Poll on her shoulders, Rocky and Diver on Jaxom's, and they were ready.
When they emerged above Benden Weyr, Ruth caroled his name. Menolly's fire-lizards cheeped uncertainly.
"I wish I dared take you into the queen's weyr, but that wouldn't be smart. Off you go to Brekke!"
As they disappeared, the watchdragon let out an outraged roar, wings extended, neck arching, eyes flashing with angry red. Startled, Menolly and Jaxom turned to see a fair of fire-lizards arrowing toward them.
"They followed us from the South, Jaxom. Oh, tell them to go back!"
The fair winked out abruptly.
They only wanted to see where we came from, Ruth said to Jaxom in an aggrieved tone.
"At Ruatha Hold, yes. Here, no!"
They won't come again, Ruth said sadly. They got frightened.
By that time the watchdragon's alarm had stirred up the Weyr. With sinking spirits, Jaxom and Menolly saw Mnementh raise himself on his ledge. They could hear Ramoth's bellow and before they had landed in the Bowl, half the dragons were bellowing, too. The unmistakable figures of Lessa and F'lar appeared on the ledge by Mnementh.
"We're in for it now," Jaxom said.
"Not as bearers of good tidings, we're not. Concentrate on that."
"I'm too bloody tired to concentrate on anything," Jaxom replied with more feeling than he'd intended. His skin itched, probably the sand. Or too much sun, but he was uncomfortable.
I am very hungry, Ruth said, looking wistfully toward the fenced killing ground of the Weyr.
Jaxom groaned. "I can't let you hunt here, Ruth." He gave his friend an encouraging pat and, noticing F'lar and Lessa waiting for them, he hitched up his trousers, settled his tunic and gestured to Menolly that they'd better go.
They'd taken no more than three steps, during which time Mnementh had turned his wedge-shaped head to F'lar, when the Weyrleader had spoken to Lessa and the two Benden leaders started down the steps, F'lar gesturing to Jaxom to move Ruth on to the killing ground.
Mnementh is a kind friend, Ruth said. I may eat here. I am very very hungry.
"Let Ruth go, Jaxom," F'lar was calling across the intervening distance. "He's gray!"
Ruth did indeed look gray, Jaxom realized, which was the shade he himself felt, now that the exhilaration of their quest was ebbing. Relieved, he signaled the white dragon to proceed to the ground.
As he and Menolly walked toward the Weyrleaders, he felt his knees weaken unaccountably and he lurched against Menolly. She had her hand under his arm instantly.
"What's the matter with him, Menolly? Is he ill?" F'lar strode to her assistance.
"He jumped back twenty-five Turns to find D'ram. He's exhausted!"
The next few moments were a blank to Jaxom. He re-established contact with the here and now when someone held a rank-smelling vial under his nose, the fumes of which cleared his head and made him back away from the stink. He realized that he was sitting on the steps to the queen's weyr, his body braced between F'lar and Menolly, with Manora and Lessa in front of him, everyone looking extremely anxious.
A high-pitched squeal told him that Ruth bad killed and, curiously, he felt better immediately.
"Drink this slowly," Lessa ordered, curling his fingers about a warm cup. The soup was rich with meat juice, savory with herbs and just the right temperature for drinking. He took two long gulps and opened his mouth to speak when Lessa gestured him imperiously to keep drinking.
"Menolly's given us the salient points," the Weyrwoman said, pulling a disapproving grimace. "But you disappeared long enough to scare Menolly out of her harpered wits. How under the sun did you conclude he'd gone twenty-five Turns back? Don't answer that yet. Drink. You're transparent and I'd never hear the last of it from Lytol if you came to any harm over this numbwitted escapade." She glared at her weyr-mate. "Yes, I've been worried over D'ram but not to the point where I would risk a fingertip of Ruth's hide to find him if he's trying that hard to be lost. Nor am I very pleased to find fire-lizards involved." She was tapping one foot now and her glare was divided equally between Menolly and Jaxom. "I still think they're pests. Barging in where they're not wanted. I suppose that unmarked fair that popped in followed you up from the South? I won't sanction that."
"Well, I can't keep them from following Ruth," Jaxom said, too weary to be prudent. "Don't think I haven't tried!"
"I'm sure you have, Jaxom," Lessa said in a milder tone.
A series of frightened wherry whistles was plainly heard from the killing ground. They saw Ruth swoop to dispatch a second fowl.
"He certainly is neat," Lessa remarked approvingly. "Doesn't run a flock to bone making a choice. Can you stand, Jaxom? I think you'd best plan on spending the night here. Send one of those dratted fire-lizards of yours to Ruatha Hold, Menolly, and tell Lytol. It'll take Ruth time to digest anyhow and I won't permit this lad to risk between tired out of his mind and on a tired and sated dragon."
Jaxom got to his feet.
"I'm all right now, thank you."
"Not when you're leaning at that angle," F'lar said with a snort as he slipped one arm around Jaxom. "Up to the weyr."
"I'll bring a proper meal," Manora promised and tamed to go. "You can help me, Menolly. And send your message."
Menolly hesitated, obviously wanting to stay with Jaxom.
"I don't intend to eat him, girl," Lessa said, shooing Menolly off. "Much less scold him when he's reeling. I'll save that for later. Come up to the weyr when you've sent word to Ruatha."
Jaxom felt obliged to protest their assistance, but they were convinced he needed it and by the time they'd reached the top of the weyrsteps, he ruefully sagged against their support. Mnementh regarded him kindly as Lessa and F'lar guided him into the weyr.
This was not the first time Jaxom had been there, and, as they led him to the living corner, he wondered if he was always going to enter Ramoth's weyr consumed with guilt. Could Ramoth perceive his thoughts? Her jeweled eyes turned idly without a trace of agitation as he was solicitously settled in a chair, and a foot rest positioned. When Lessa was spreading a fur over him, muttering about watching for chills after exertion, she paused, staring at him. She put her hand under his chin and turned his head slightly, then traced the line of Threadscore with a light finger.
"Where did you acquire that, young Lord Jaxom?" she asked harshly, her eyes forcing him to look at her.
F'lar, alerted by the tone in her voice, returned to the table with the wine and cups he'd taken from the wall chest.
"Acquire what? Oh ho, the young man has trained his dragon to chew firestone but not to duck!"
"I thought it was decided that Jaxom was to remain in Holding at Ruatha."
"I thought you said you wouldn't scold him," F'lar replied as he winked at Jaxom.
"About timing it. But this…" she gestured angrily at Jaxom, "this is entirely different."
"Is it, Lessa?" F'lar asked in a tone that embarrassed Jaxom. They were momentarily unaware of him. "I seem to remember a girl wanting desperately to fly her queen."
"Flying was no danger. But Jaxom could be."
Jaxom has evidently learned a lesson. Haven't you? About ducking, that is."
"Yes, sir. N'ton's put me in with the weyrlings at Fort."
"Why wasn't I informed?" Lessa demanded.