"Sir?" Jaxom rose, half-startled by his unexpected inclusion in the main discussion.
"No, to be serious, R'mart, you may be quite correct," F'lar said, leaning forward across the table. "And we really don't know if the eruption made the ancients leave the Plateau immediately afterward."
"We won't know anything until we've entered one of those mounds and discovered what they left behind, if anything," N'ton said.
"Go carefully, Weyrleader," Master Nicat told N'ton, but his glance took in everyone. "Better still, I'll send a craftmaster and a few steady journeymen to direct the excavations."
"Show the tricks of your craft, eh. Master Nicat," R'mart said. "We'd better learn a thing or two about mining, right, Masterminer?"
Jaxom stifled a chuckle at the expression of puzzlement and then indignation on the Masterminer's face.
"Dragonriders mining?"
"Why not?" F'lar asked. "Thread will Pass. There'll be another Interval on us all too soon. I promise you one thing, with the Southern lands open, never again will the Weyrs be beholden to anyone during an Interval."
"Ah, yes, a very sound idea, Weyrleader, very sound," Master Nicat prudently agreed, though he would plainly need time to assimilate such a revolutionary idea.
The dragons lounging on the shore crooned a welcome to someone,.
N'ton suddenly rose. "I must join Wansor in our star-watch. That must be Path and Mirrim returning. My duty to you all."
"I'll light your way, N'ton," Jaxom said, grabbing a glow basket and unshielding it.
They were well out of hearing range of the others when N'ton turned to Jaxom. "This is more to your fancy, isn't it, Jaxom, than flying tamely in the queens' wing?"
"I didn't do it on purpose, N'ton," Jaxom said with a laugh. "I just wanted to see the mountain before anyone else did."
"No hunch this time?"
"Hunch?"
N'ton threw a companionable arm about his shoulders, chuckling. "No, I suppose it was inspired by the fire-lizards' images."
"The mountain?"
N'ton gave him a bit of a shake. "Good man!"
They saw the dark bulk of a dragon settling to the beach and then two gleaming circles as Lioth turned his head toward them.
"A white dragon has an advantage at night," N'ton said as he pointed to the visible hide of Ruth a little to one side of his bronze.
I'm glad you've come. I've an itch I cannot reach, said Ruth.
"He's in need of attention, N'ton."
"Leave the glows with me then, I'll pass them on to Mirrim so she can find her way to the point."
They separated as Jaxom moved aside to attend to Ruth. He heard N'ton greet Mirrim, their voices carrying on the quiet night air.
"Of course, Wansor's all right," Mirrim said, sounding peevish. "He's got his eyes glued to that tube of his. He never knew I came, never ate the food I brought, never knew I left. And further," she paused, taking a deep breath, "Path did not scare away the Southern fire-lizards."
"Why would she?"
"I'm not allowed to be on the Plateau when Jaxom and the others try to coax some sense out of the Southerners."
"Sense? Oh, yes, seeing if Ruth can focus the fire-lizards' images. Well, I shouldn't worry about it, Mirrim. There are so many other things you can do."
"At least my dragon is not an unsexed runt, good for nothing but consorting with fire-lizards!"
"Mirrim!"
Jaxom heard the coldness in N'ton's voice; it matched the sudden freezing in his own guts. Mirrim's petulant comment resounded over and over in his ears.
"You know what I mean, N'ton…"
Just like Mirrim, Jaxom thought, not to heed the warning in N'ton's voice.
"You ought to," she went on with the impetus of grievance. "Wasn't it you who told F'nor and Brekke that you doubted if Ruth would ever mate? Where are you going, N'ton? I thought you were going…"
"You don't think, Mirrim!"
"What's the matter, N'ton?" The sudden panic in her voice afforded Jaxom some consolation.
Don't stop, Ruth said. The itch is still there.
"Jaxom?" N'ton's call was not loud, meant to reassure, but the sound carried back.
"Jaxom?" Mirrim cried. "Oh, no!" Then Jaxom heard her running away, saw the glow basket jolting, heard her weeping. Just like the girl, speak first, think later and weep for days. She'd be repentant and hanging on about him, driving him between with her need to be forgiven her thoughtlessness.
"Jaxom!" N'ton was anxious.
"Yes, N'ton?" Jaxom dutifully continued to scratch Ruth's backbone, wondering why Mirrim's cruel remark did not rankle as it ought. Sexless runt! As he saw N'ton striding toward him, he was aware of a curious sense of relief, of relaxation deep inside him. The memory of those riders, waiting for the Fort green to mate, flashed through his mind. Yes, he'd been relieved then that Ruth had proved disinterested. He could somewhat regret that Ruth would be deprived of that experience; but he was relieved that he would never be called upon to endure it.
"You must have heard her." There was a tinge of hope in N'ton's voice that Jaxom hadn't.
"I heard. Sound carries near water."
"Blast the girl! Scorch the girl! We were going to explain… then you took the fire-head, and now this. The opportunity hasn't presented itself…" N'ton's explanations came out in a rush.
"I can live with it. Like Mirrim's Path, there are other things we can do."
N'ton's groan came from his guts. "Jaxom!" His fingers closed tightly on Jaxom's shoulder, trying in the contact to express his inarticulate regret.
"It's not your fault, N'ton."
"Does Ruth comprehend what was said?"
"Ruth comprehends that his back itches." Even as Jaxom said it, he found it curious that Ruth was not the least bit upset.
There, you have the exact spot. Harder now.
Jaxom could feel the slightly flaky dryness in the otherwise loose and soft hide.
"I think I guessed, N'ton," Jaxom went on, "that time at Fort Weyr, that something was wrong. I know K'nebel expected Ruth to rise for the green. I thought that Ruth, being born small, maybe would mature later than other dragons do."
"He's as mature as he'll ever be, Jaxom!"
Jaxom was rather touched by the genuine regret in the bronze rider's voice.
"So? He's my dragon and I'm his rider. We are together!"
"He's unique!" N'ton's verdict was fervent, and he stroked Ruth's hide with affectionate respect. "So, my young friend, are you!" He gripped Jaxom's shoulder again, letting the gesture stand for words unsaid. Lioth crooned in the darkness beyond them and Ruth, turning his head toward the bronze dragon, made a courteous response.
Lioth is a fine fellow. His rider is a kind man. They are good friends!
"We are ever your friends," N'ton said, giving Jaxom's shoulder a final, almost painful squeeze. "I must get to Wansor. You're sure you're all right?"
"Go along, N'ton. I'll just settle Ruth's itch!"..
The Fort Weyrleader hesitated one more moment before he pivoted and walked quickly toward his bronze.
"I think I'd better oil that patch, Ruth," Jaxom said. "I've been neglecting you lately."
Ruth's head came around, his eyes gleamed more brilliantly blue in the darkness. You never neglect me.
"I have too, or you wouldn't be patchy!"
There has been much for you to do!
"There's a fresh pot of oil in the kitchen. Hold tight."
His eyes accustomed to the tropic darkness, Jaxom made his way to the Hold, found the pot in the kitchen press and trotted back. He was conscious of a weariness, in mind and body. Mirrim was the most awkward person! If he'd let her and Path come… Well, he'd have learned the verdict on Ruth sooner or later. Why wasn't Ruth upset? Maybe if he had been completely willing for his dragon to experience that part of his personality, Ruth would have matured. Jaxom railed at the fact that they had always been kept from being full dragon and rider: brought up as they were in the Hold, instead of the Weyr where the mating of dragons was an understood and accepted fact of the weyr life. It wasn't as if Ruth were immune to sexual experience. He was always present when Jaxom had sex.