"Deelan said you'd gone off without this," N'ton said and tossed the jacket at Jaxom. "Well, I suppose you don't feel the cold the way my old bones do. Or are you practicing survival tactics?"

"Ah, N'ton, not you, too!"

"Me, too, what, young fella?"

"You know…"

"No, I don't know." N'ton gave Jaxom a closer look. "Or did Deelan's babbling this morning have real significance?"

"You didn't see Lytol?"

"No. I just asked the first person in the Hold where you were. Deelan was weeping because you'd gone off without your jacket." N'ton drolly pulled down his lower lip in a trembling imitation of Deelan. "Can't stand weeping women-at least women that age-so I grabbed the jacket, promised on the shell of my dragon to force it about your frail body, sent Tris to see where Ruth was and here we are. Tell me, did something momentous happen this morning? Ruth looks fine."

Embarrassed, Jaxom looked away from the quizzical regard of the Fort Weyrleader and gave himself a bit more time by shrugging into his jacket.

"I told the entire Hold off this morning."

"I told Lytol it wouldn't be long now."

"What?"

"What tipped the scales? Deelan's blubbering?"

"Ruth is a dragon!"

"Of course he is," N'ton replied with such emphasis that Lioth turned his head to regard them. "Who says he's not?"

"They do. At Ruatha. Everywhere! They say he's nothing but an overgrown fire-lizard. And you know that's been said."

Lioth hissed. Tris took wing in surprise, but Ruth warbled complacently and the others settled.

"I know it's been said," N'ton replied, taking hold of Jaxom's shoulders. "But there isn't a dragonrider I know who hasn't corrected the speaker-somewhat forcefully on occasion."

"If you consider him a dragon, why can't he act like one?"

"He does!" N'ton gave Ruth a long look as if the creature had somehow changed in the last moment.

"I mean like other full fighting dragons."

"Oh." N'ton grimaced. "So that's it. Look, lad…"

"It's Lytol, isn't it? He's told you not to let me fight Thread on Ruth. That's why you'll never let me teach Ruth how to chew firestone."

"It's not that, Jaxom . .."

"Then what is it? There isn't a place on Pern we can't get to, first time, right on. Ruth's small but he's faster, turns quicker midair, less mass to move-"

"It's not a question of ability, Jaxom," N'ton said, raising his voice slightly to make Jaxom hear what he had to say, "it's a matter of what is advisable."

"More evasions."

"No!" N'ton's firm negative cut through Jaxom's resentment. "Flying with a fighting wing during Threadfall is bloody dangerous, lad. I'm not impugning your courage, but bluntly, however keen you are, however quick and clever Ruth is, you'd be a liability to a fighting wing. You haven't the training, the discipline…"

"If it's only training-"

N'ton grabbed Jaxom by the shoulders to stop his contentiousness.

"It isn't." N'ton drew a deep breath. "I said it's not a question of Ruth's abilities or yours; it is solely a question of advisability. Pern can't afford to lose either you, young Lord of Ruatha, or Ruth, who is unique."

"But I'm not Lord of Ruatha either. Not yet! Lytol is. He makes all the decisions… I just listen, and nod my head like a sunstruck wherry." Jaxom faltered, aware he was implying criticism of Lytol. "I mean, I know Lytol has to manage until the Lord Holders confirm me… and I don't really want Lytol to leave Ruatha Hold. But if I could be a dragonrider, it wouldn't come to that. You see?"

As Jaxom caught the expression in N'ton's eyes, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You see, but the answer's still no! It would just make different ripples, probably bigger ones, wouldn't it? So I've got to muck on as something in between everything. Not a real Lord Holder, not a real dragonrider… not a real anything except a problem. A real problem to everybody!"

Not to me, Ruth said clearly and reassuringly touched his rider with his muzzle.

"You're not a problem, Jaxom, but I do see that you have one," N'ton said with quiet sympathy. "If it were up to me, I'd say it would do you a world of good to join a wing and teach Ruth to chew firestone. For the firsthand knowledge no other Lord Holder could contest."

For one hopeful moment, Jaxom thought N'ton was offering him the chance he so wanted.

"If it were my decision, Jaxom, which it isn't and can't be. But," and N'ton paused, his eyes searching Jaxom's face, "this is a matter that had better be discussed. You're old enough to be confirmed as Lord Holder or to do something else constructive. I'll speak to Lytol and F'lar on your behalf."

"Lytol will say that I am Lord Holder, and F'lar will say Ruth isn't big enough for a fighting wing-"

"And I won't say anything if you act like a sulky boy."

A bellow overhead interrupted them. Two more dragons were circling, indicating that they wanted to land. N'ton waved acknowledgment, and then he and Jaxom jogged out of the way toward the Smithcrafthall. Just short of the door, N'ton held him back.

"I won't forget, Jaxom, only…" and N'ton grinned, "for the sake of the First Shell, don't let anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone. And be bloody careful when you go!"

In a state of mild shock, Jaxom stared at N'ton as the Weyrleader hailed a friend inside the building. N'ton had understood. Jaxom's depression lifted instantly.

As he crossed the threshold of the Smithcrafthall, he hesitated, adjusting his sight to the interior after the bright spring sun. Intent on his own problems, he'd also forgotten how important a session this was to be. Masterharper Robinton was seated at the long work table, cleared for this occasion of its usual clutter, and F'lar, Benden's Weyrleader, was beside him. Jaxom recognized three other Weyrleaders and the new Masterherdsman Briaret. There were a good half a wing of bronze riders and Lord Holders, the leading smiths and more harpers than any other craft to judge by the color of tunics on men he didn't recognize immediately.

Someone was calling his name in an urgent hoarse whisper. Looking to his left, Jaxom saw that F'lessan and the other regular students had gathered humbly by the far window, the girls perched on stools.

"Half Pern's here," F'lessan remarked, pleased, as he made room against the back wall for Jaxom.

Jaxom nodded to the others who appeared far more interested in watching the new arrivals. "Didn't think there'd be so many people interested in Wansor's stars and maths," Jaxom said in a low voice to F'lessan.

"What? And miss a chance to ride dragonback?" F'lessan asked with good-natured candor. "I brought four in myself."

"A lot of people have assisted Wansor in collating the material," Benelek said in his usual didactic manner. "Naturally they want to hear what use has been made of their time and effort."

"They sure didn't come for the food," F'lessan said with a snicker.

Now why, wondered Jaxom, doesn't F'lessan's remark annoy me?

"Nonsense, F'lessan," Benelek replied, too literal minded to understand when someone was being facetious. "Food's very good here. You eat enough of it."

"I'm like Fandarel," F'lessan said. "I make efficient use of anything edible. Sush! Here he is himself. Shells!" The young bronze rider grimaced with disgust. "Couldn't someone have made him change his clothes?"

"As if clothes mattered for a man with a mind like Wansor's." Benelek dropped his voice but he was nearly sputtering with contempt for F'lessan.

"Today of all days, Wansor should look tidy," Jaxom said. "That's what F'lessan meant."

Benelek grunted but did not pursue the subject. Then F'lessan nudged Jaxom in the ribs with a wink for Benelek's reaction.

Halfway inside the door, Wansor suddenly realized that the hall was filled. He stopped, peered around him, at first timidly. Then, when he recognized a face, he bobbed his head and smiled hesitantly. From all sides he met with encouraging grins and murmured greetings and gestures for him to continue to the front of the hall.