“And those are the ones that Norist has denied Morilton,” Lytol explained.
“He hasn’t denied Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold!”
“Nor D’ram,” the aged bronze rider said as firmly as the young Lord Holder.
Even Lytol grinned at that solution to Norist’s intransigence. “Microscopes require a very high quality glass, you know.”
“In any case, I don’t see that as a major difficulty,” D’ram said, glancing over to Jaxom. “Ruth and Tiroth won’t mind a little excursion, I’m sure.” Jaxom nodded obligingly. “You take Ista, and I’ll get some from Igen.”
“There’s nothing on the settlers’ map to indicate closer deposits, to reduce transportation time?” F’lar asked.
Robinton held up one finger. “We’ll ask.” And he pecked out the query with considerable speed on the keyboard of the unit in the room.
Immediately a list of locations scrolled out, with the type of sand to be found at each. Those sands that could be used for medical glass were starred, but Aivas recommended in particular the sands found at Paradise River and in an inland sandpit near the site of old Cardiff.
D’ram said he would go to the Cardiff site, as he knew that Jaxom would prefer a chance to see Jayge and Aramina, who were holding at Paradise River.
“Hmmm,” the Harper said, studying his screen. “Aivas reminds me that he wants more green and bronze riders for training.”
“Would he take a big brown or two?” F’lar asked. “I’ve several riders who’ve offered. Seems like Aivas is biased against the medium sizes.”
“I asked him about that,” D’ram said, “for I thought it odd that he’d want only the largest and the smallest. He says the operation requires them, but he won’t elaborate beyond stating that he must have enough candidates to allow him to pick the most likely to succeed in the venture and to have sufficient trained backup personnel.” D’ram shrugged at his inability to explain further.
“I
wish
,” Lessa said, “that occasionally he would be specific. Then we would have something to tell those we must disappoint. I don’t want any resentful dragonriders. Though, in general, I’d say that morale has improved in all the Weyrs. And,” she added, making a face, “all the Weyrs want to participate.”
“Aivas did remark that it was easier to teach the younger dragonriders,” D’ram went on, “since there were fewer set mental patterns. Of course, there are naturally some few exceptions,” he added smugly, rather pleased that he was one of them.
“Is that all right now?” Jaxom asked. “I’d better get back to Ruatha.” His grin was abashed. “I’ll bring in Paradise River sands tomorrow, but I’d better spend some time at home.”
“In danger of being disowned?” Piemur asked with an impudent grin.
Jaxom disdained to reply, while Jancis elbowed the young journeyman harper in the ribs.
“Go on, then,” F’lar said, with a bland sideways glance at Lessa.
“I’ll just ask Aivas to print out the location of the sandpit,” D’ram said, rising to leave with the young Lord Holder.
There was a slight frown on Lytol’s face as the two left.
“Don’t fret, Lytol,” Lessa said reassuringly. “Sharra’s got every right to be annoyed at the amount of time Jaxom’s spending here.”
“Especially when I’m sure she’s dying to take the healer lessons,” Jancis said. “But Piemur, have you noticed it, too? That whenever Jaxom misses a day, Aivas particularly asks why?”
“Hmm, yes, I had at that,” Piemur replied, momentarily thoughtful. Then he assumed a careless pose. “But Aivas sure works Jaxom harder than any of the rest of us, bar Mirrim and S’len.”
“S’len?” F’lar asked. “Isn’t he that young green rider from Fort?”
“That’s the one. And Aivas insisted on drilling Mirrim to bring her up to a level with the rest of us,” Piemur added.
“
Why
would the green dragons be so important to Aivas?” Lessa asked.
“They’re small, that’s why,” Piemur said.
“Small?”
“Well, that’s my hunch, and Ruth’s the smallest of them all,” Piemur went on. “There’s no doubt in my mind that those two will play a special part in Aivas’s Great Scheme.”
Lessa and Lytol both looked concerned.
“Oh, don’t worry about Jaxom,” Piemur said airily. “He’s the best of us all. Has a real grasp of all that navigational mathematics Aivas throws at us, and the spatial relationships.”
“Has he suggested
anything
yet?” Lessa asked Robinton and Lytol. Both men shook their heads.
Then Robinton grinned. “I get literary quotations, such as: ‘There’s a time for some things, and a time for all things: a time for great things, and a time for small things.’ I am forced to assume that this is the time for small things, like assimilating all those foundation courses from Aivas; while the time for great things is still four Turns, seven months, and however many days away from us.”
“Literary quotations?” F’lar asked, surprised. His lessons with Aivas tended to the practical: tactics, mathematical projections of Threadfall, and draconic healing—though he practiced none of the latter, he kept himself informed of Aivas’s innovations.
“Oh, yes. And though Aivas admits he is choosing what he thinks might appeal to my tastes, our ancestors had fascinating and complex literatures from ever so many cultures that put ours to shame. Some of our epic sagas he has identified as paraphrases of Terran originals. Fascinating.”
“Indeed, my studies have been equally absorbing,” Lytol said, leaning forward on the table, his face lighting with his own enthusiasm. “I don’t think any of us realized that our present political structure was handed down from the very Charter our ancestors brought with them. That is historically very unusual, Aivas told me.”
“Why should it be?” F’lar asked, mildly surprised. “It allows Weyr, Hold, and Hall to function without interference.”
“Ah, but interference was a major factor in Terran politics,” Lytol replied. “Spurred by territorial imperatives and, all too often, sheer greed.”
Adroitly interrupting another of Lytol’s historical perorations, Lessa rose, nodding to Robinton and the two young journeymen. “We must get back to the Weyr now. Aivas gave me another healing compound to try on Lisath’s wing. It simply isn’t mending as it should.”
I told Aramina that we’re coming,
Ruth said as Jaxom mounted him.
She likes to know, you know,
he added in a confidential tone.
Jaxom rather wished that Ruth hadn’t committed them to paying a call on Aramina and Jayge. He really ought to get right back to Ruatha, and go to Paradise River in the morning, as he had said he would.
“Well, we won’t stay long, mind,” Jaxom said, giving Ruth an indulgent slap.
The white dragon was very fond of the young woman who, as a girl, had heard dragons so easily—and so incessantly—that she had inveigled Jayge of the Lilcamp Traders to take her as far away from dragons as he could to preserve her sanity. Shipwrecked on their way to the Southern Continent, they had been rescued by shipfish and set ashore. There they had discovered and restored ancient buildings, not realizing the significance of their find. Located by Piemur on his coastline survey, they had been officially named as Holders of Paradise River and had increased their numbers to a sizable Hold, including a Fisher Hall. The former trader had been immensely surprised when Piemur and Jancis told him that a paternal ancestor named Lilienkamp had been instrumental in saving so much useful material in the Catherine Caves.
Following Aivas’s directions, Jaxom and Ruth emerged over rather anonymous grassland. It wasn’t until they had overflown the alleged site several times that Jaxom noticed the declivity well overgrown with grass and shrubs, with the suspicion of white glinting through the vegetation. They landed, and by kicking and gouging, Jaxom peeled back the obscuring greenery and lifted a handful of sand so fine it was nearly powder. Working up quite a sweat, he filled the large sacks he had brought with him. Finally, hot and tired, he remounted his dragon.
He had cooled off by the time Ruth glided to a gentle, faultless halt in front of the gracious ancient residence of the Paradise River Hold.
“And a good day to you, Lord Jaxom and Ruth!” Jayge said, coming down the stairs from the wide porch. “Ara started squeezing fresh juice the moment Ruth told her you were coming. And I’m glad you did, because something’s come up!”
I’m going swimming. The fire-lizards said they’ll scrub my back,
Ruth told Jaxom, his eyes whirling with green delight. At Jaxom’s approval, the white dragon hop-glided right into the river, several full fairs of fire-lizards, both wild and banded, circling ecstatically above him.
“Off for a scrub, is he?” Jayge asked. He was of medium height, his bare chest burned a fine deep brown, his legs not quite as dark. His oddly flecked green eyes stood out in a tanned face that reflected a hint of a strong personality and a basic tranquility, even though a slight frown crossed his face as he led Jaxom up to the coolness of the porch. “I’m glad you stopped by, Jaxom. How did you work up such a sweat in
between?
”
“Stealing sand.”
“Indeed?” Jayge regarded him thoughtfully. “Now what would you need Paradise River sand for? As I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.” He gestured for Jaxom to take the hammock while he leaned against the porch banister, arms folded across his chest.
“The settlers had a sandpit back in that scrubland of yours. They thought highly of Paradise River sands—for glass making.”
“There’s enough certainly. Did Piemur and Jancis find those whatchamacallums . . .”
“Chips?” Jaxom supplied with a grin.
“Chips, then, useful after all?”
“Well, we managed to salvage the usable transistors and capacitors, but they haven’t actually been put onto a board yet.”
Jayge gave him a long, hard, suspicious look before grinning. “As you say!”
Just then young Readis, clad only in a clout, came out onto the porch, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He eyed Jaxom steadily. “Ruth?”
Jaxom pointed to where the white dragon, surrounded by industrious fire-lizards, was wallowing in the shallow water.
“He’s enough of a guardian, isn’t he?” Readis asked his father, tilting his head back in a stance that reminded Jaxom of Jayge.
“Ruth’s bathing right now, and besides, I’d like you to tell Jaxom what happened to you and Alemi the other day,” Jayge said.
“Did you come just to hear?” There was a certain element of vanity in young Readis’s grin. Jaxom was suddenly aware of how much he missed his own son, Jarrol, an engaging two Turns old.
“Well, that was one reason,” Jaxom replied mendaciously. “So what did happen to you and Alemi the other day?”
Aramina emerged from the house, carrying her squirming daughter under one arm and a tray in her free hand. Jayge sprang quickly to relieve her of the tray, but she gave him two-Turn-old Aranya instead and served Jaxom a tall, cool drink and some freshly baked sweet biscuits. It took a few more minutes until Readis had been sat in a chair, his small glass and two biscuits to hand. As Aramina settled herself, Readis looked to his father for his cue to begin.
“Uncle Alemi took me fishing three days ago in the skiff. The big reds were schooling out there.” Readis’s brown arm indicated a general northerly direction. “We was to have a beach meal ‘cos it was Swacky’s nameday and we needed big ‘uns to grill. There was only little squids on the edges of the school. Then, all o’ sudden, a big one got Uncle’s hook and it dragged us, boat and all”—Readis’s eyes were shining with remembered excitement—“right into the current. But Uncle Alemi, he wrestled it aboard and it was this”—he held his arms as wide as they could go—“big. No funning!” He glared briefly at his father, who was hiding his laughter in his hand. “It was big! You ask Alemi! But he hung on, and I helped him gaff it aboard. Then my reel started spinning, and Uncle Alemi and I had to put our backs into landing that one. That’s why we didn’t notice the squall coming up.”
Jaxom glanced anxiously at Jayge and Aramina. Alemi knew his Craft, and he would never endanger anyone.
“It was some squall, I can tell you,” Readis said, jerking his chin to emphasize the details, in the manner of any good storyteller. “We got tossed and spun about ‘cos there was no way the sail would have lasted in a blow like that. And then a big wave overturned the skiff and I came up coughing and sputtering, Uncle Alemi hanging on to my arm fit to break it.” The little brown face regarded Jaxom seriously. “I’m not afraid to admit I was some scared. The sky around us was black and the rain coming down so heavy we couldn’t see the shore. But I’m a good swimmer and I can see now why Uncle Alemi always makes me wear my deep-water vest even if it is hot most times and rubs my back. See?” He swiveled his torso, raising one arm over his head, to show Jaxom where the underarm skin had been abraded. “Then it happened!”
“What happened?” Jaxom asked as if on cue.
“I had my arms out, trying to keep my head up, when suddenly something came smack-dab into my right hand.
And
started pulling me. Uncle Alemi yelled at me that it was all right. We were safe. I was to hang on tight, just as he was doing.”
“Shipfish?” Jaxom asked with an incredulous glance at Readis’s parents. He knew that Jayge and Aramina owed their lives to shipfish; even Master Idarolan swore that the sleek big sea creatures would rescue humans in stormy areas.
“A whole pod of ’em,” Readis said proudly. “And every time my hand slipped off, there was another one right behind to hang on to. Uncle Alemi says there must have been twenty or thirty. They pulled us far enough in for us to see the beach and reach safety on our own.
And
,” he added, pausing to give emphasis to his final words, “the next morning the skiff was found beached up by the Fishhold, like they knew exactly where it belonged.”
“That is some tale, young Readis. You’re a harper born. An amazing rescue. Truly amazing,” Jaxom said with genuine feeling. He glanced at Jayge, who nodded supportively. “The redfish weren’t by any chance returned with the skiff?” he asked.
“Nah.” Readis dismissed that with a flick of his wrist. “They drownded. So we had to eat ol’ stringy wherry ‘stead of good juicy redfish steaks. And you know something else?”