The thick inner membrane was visible now and this was what had been impeding the dragonet’s emergence. Jaxom ripped the slippery stuff open with his belt knife and, from the sac, fell a tiny white body, not much larger than Jaxom’s torso. Instinctively Jaxom reached out, helping the backstranded creature to its feet.

Before F’lar or anyone could intervene, the white dragon had raised adoring eyes to the Lord of Ruatha Hold and Impression had been made.

Completely oblivious to the dilemma he had just originated, the incredulous Jaxom turned to the stunned observers.

“He says his name is Ruth!”

CHAPTER XV

Evening at Benden Weyr Impression Banquet

IT HAD BEEN like coming up out of the very bowels of the deepest Hold, thought Brekke. And Berd had shown her the way. She shuddered again at the horror of memory. If she slipped back down…

Instantly she felt F’nor’s hand tighten on her arm, felt the touch of Canth’s thoughts and heard the chitter of the two fire-lizards.

Berd had led her out of the Ground to F’nor and Manora. She’d been surprised at how tired and sad they both looked. She’d tried to talk but they’d hushed her. F’nor had carried her up to his weyr. She smiled now, opening her eyes, to see him bending over her. Brekke put her hand up to the dear, worried face of her lover; she could say that now, her lover, her Weyrmate, for he was that, too. Deep lines from the high-bridged nose pulled F’nor’s mouth down at the corners. His eyes were darkly smudged and bloodshot, his hair, usually combed in crisp clean waves back from his high forehead, was stringy, oily.

“You need cozening, love,” she said in a low voice which cracked and didn’t seem to be hers at all.

With a groan that was close to a sob, F’nor embraced her. At first as if he were afraid of hurting her. Then, when he felt her arms tightening around him—for it was good to feel his strong back under her seeking hands—he almost crushed her until she cried out gladly for him to be careful.

He buried his lips in her hair, against her throat, in a surfeit of loving relief.

“We thought we’d lost you, too, Brekke,” he said over and over while Canth crooned an exuberant descant.

“It was in my mind,” Brekke admitted in a tremulous voice, burrowing against his chest, as if she must get even closer to him. “I was trapped in my mind and didn’t own my body. I think that’s what was wrong with me. Oh, F’nor,” and all the grief that she’d not been able to express before came bursting out of her, “I even hated Canth!”