"When are you and Menolly doing a turn?"

Sebell winked. "Whenever the good Lord Ranrel asks us to!"

"A new song?"

"What else for a Lording!"

Jaxom took heart from Sebell's merriment. No use borrowing trouble. It had probably just been talk. But he would keep his eyes open.

Jaxom was feeling decidedly better by the time he and Sharra reluctantly retired from the dancing square. But duty called: Threadfall was scheduled to begin over water but creep forward over the southern border of Ruatha Hold. Jaxom never missed flying against Thread, no matter how involved he was with Aivas at Landing, and obligingly joined the wings of T'gellan's Eastern Weyr when Thread fell there. It wasn't simply a point of honor with Jaxom; both he and Ruth were stimulated by the implicit danger of Fall and reveled in being part of a fighting Weyr.

"Look, Jaxom," Sharra said as they readied themselves to leave the Hold. She pointed upward, to the mass of dragon bellies just visible in the glow of the myriad lights that had blossomed at sundown on every wall, hold, cot, and ship. "I'll bet that's all of Fort Weyr going home!"

Jaxom was trying to adjust the riding straps so as not to damage Sharra's gown and spared only a glance. "You'd be right about that."

"Don't worry about my skirts, Jax, not after all the dust they've picked up from the dance square."

Jaxom humphed and felt Sharra's hand ruffling his hair. Then he grinned. He had worried that she had worn herself out with the dancing, but if she was still so playful, she wasn't too tired. They would get back to Ruatha in good time. Ruth?

I'll time it for you for good reason, but that isn't.

Oh, and isn't it? Jaxom swung up on the white dragon with a huge smile on his face. Sharra smiled back as she wrapped both arms tightly about him, trying to work her fingers up under his flying jacket to his bare skin.

You've time enough in hand. And Ruth sprang lightly from the ground, his wings making that crucial downward sweep.

"It's so beautiful!" Sharra shouted in Jaxom's ear. "Ask Ruth to hover. We'll never see Tillek look so beautiful again."

Ruth considerately began to glide in a wide slow circle, head down so that he, too, could enjoy the sight. Jaxom could see that the white dragon's eyes were sparklingly blue; each of the many facets of his eyes reflected tiny points of the bright lights of Tillek. The Hold, all the cots, and every ship in the harbor were outlined in radiance. There couldn't be a glowbasket left indoors.

Jaxom felt Ruth's sigh through his buttocks and, replacing this with a vision of Ruatha's unadorned heights, told Ruth to take them there.

It was not easy to climb out of bed the next morning, even though Sharra had already left it to comfort young Shawan, who had cried fretfully about dawn. Fall was not due until early afternoon, so Jaxom allowed himself a few more moments to savor the first morning cup of klah. Sharra came in with Shawan, once more a cheerful child. Jarrol appeared the moment he heard his father's voice and bounced across the bed, demanding a tickle, his cheeks still rosy with sleep and his curly hair mashed on one side of his head. The tickle duly administered, Jarrol followed his father as he washed and dressed. By then, breakfast was ready in the main room of their apartment.

Jaxom sent Jarrol to request Brand's company. Now was a good time to clear up any urgent Hold business that might have come up in the past seven days of his latest absence from Ruatha. With Sharra and Jarrol planning to accompany him back to Landing the next day, there were other details to be arranged, as well.

It was while Sharra took the boys off on her own rounds that Jaxom remembered the strange conversation in the Tillek head.

"Tell me, Brand, what's young Pell, Barla and Dowell's son, doing with himself these days?"

"Learning his Craft from his father, but he'd rather be in Landing."

"Like half the Northern youngsters," Jaxom replied, leaning back in the fine wooden chair that Dowell had carved for him. "Has he any ability as a joiner?"

"He's capable enough when he gets into a task." Brand shrugged carelessly. "Why do you ask?"

"In the head at Tillek, I heard a rather odd conversation. It could be no more than disgruntled supporters spouting disappointment with the decision, I suppose. Pell would have a good claim to Ruatha, wouldn't he?"

Brand sat up, a look of consternation on his face. "What are you talking about, Jaxom?" he scolded, in the tone he had used to scold the erring boy that Jaxom had once been. "There's not a thing wrong with you, and you've two fine sons and probably more to come." He scowled. "What exactly was said? Have you told Lytol?"

"No, and you're not to either. This is between us, Holder to Steward, as well as friend to friend, Brand. I want that understood."

"Yes, of course," Brand hastily assured him, then waggled a finger. "But only if you tell me what you heard."

It was a relief to unburden himself, for Jaxom trusted Brand completely. He had hoped that, in the telling, the sentences would lose their burden of dread, but Brand took the implications quite seriously.

"Could anyone plan an accident for you or Ruth up there?" Brand asked.

Jaxom gave a snort. "I assure you that from now on, I intend to pick my companions carefully. But I don't think an accident could be easily contrived."

"The two trips you've already made were not without dangers."

Jaxom shook his head vigorously. "Not with Ruth so close at hand. Not with Aivas in constant communication with me. Piemur, and Farli and Trig, as well, were with us the first time. Sharra's to go up tomorrow-you knew that? Good. Mirrim and S'len are scheduled for the day after. None of them would conspire against me. Besides which, Ruth wouldn't let anything happen to me."

You may be very sure of that!

Jaxom grinned, and Brand, recognizing the signs of a Ruth-Jaxom exchange, began to relax and even allowed himself a slight smile.

"Clearly they underestimate both you and Ruth, and now that you're forewarned..." Brand frowned, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I'll have a word or two with young Pell. And young he is, proud of his heritage but not so foolish as to wish to become Holder by way of your demise. Besides you and your sons, there're also those three lads of F'lessan's. Their claim to Ruatha is direct through Lessa, even if she did defer to you at your birth. I can't see the older Lord Holders denying their claim because F'lessan's a dragonrider. The Bloodline would be the important aspect, so I don't think Pell would have a chance. At least not with the present composition of the Council. Not that the circumstance will ever arrive!" Brand's conviction did much to assuage the niggling anxiety in Jaxom's mind.

Then Brand squared his shoulders the way he always did when he was about to change the topic. "That was quite an inauguration," he commented. As Chief Steward of Ruatha, he had also attended the festivities at Tillek Hold. "Can't say as how Tillek Hold ever looked as inviting. We'll see some grand changes now Ranrel's Lord Holder. Good for you to have another Holder nearer your age."

Jaxom grimaced. "Yes, maybe then I can speak now and again at these Councils."

Brand smiled broadly. "I heard that Toric finally got your message."

"Hmm, yes, even if it was Groghe who delivered it. Now, what have you for me? I've Fall after the noon meal."

"More or less minor details to be discussed, Lord Jaxom. Let's see." Brand lifted the top sheet from the pile he had brought with him.

As Jaxom and Ruth circled down to Fort Weyr, Jaxom once again wondered what it had been like for the first dragonriders who had inhabited the old crater. Had they ranged themselves in preparation for their leader's commands as this century's dragons did, along the rim from the Star Stones to where Fort Weyr's bowl had crumbled in an ancient landslide? How many dragonriders had there been before they had needed to expand into Benden Weyr? There was no way of knowing-and Jaxom felt a pang of regret for the lost history, a regret made all the more bittersweet for the history they had been able to reclaim through Aivas. Still, whatever the glory of the past, the sight of the Weyr displayed was as breathtaking as ever. And Fort was right now at full strength, with this Turn's young riders taking their places in the wings. Green, blue, brown ranked in their wings beyond the bronze Wingseconds, every hide glistening with health in the midday sun.