Looking up to the fire heights, Jaxom noticed that N'ton's bronze Lioth was nose to nose with Wilth, the elderly brown watch dragon. He wondered what the two dragons were talking about. His Ruth? The trial of the day? He noticed fire lizards, tiny cousins to the big dragons, executing lazy spirals above the two dragons. Men were driving wherries and runner beasts from the main stables out to the pastures, north of the Hold. Smoke issued from the line of smaller cotholds that bordered the ramp into the Great Court and along the edge of the main road east. To the left of the ramp, new cots were being built since the inner recesses of Ruatha Hold were considered unsafe.
«How many fosterlings does Lytol have at Ruatha Hold, Jaxom?» N'ton suddenly asked.
«Fosterlings? None, sir.» Jaxom frowned. Surely N'ton knew that.
«Why not? You've got to get to know the others of your rank.»
«Oh, I accompany Lord Lytol quite often to the other Holds.»
«I wasn't thinking of socializing so much as having companions here of your own age.»
«There's my milk brother. Dorse, and his friends from the cothold.»
«Yes, that's true.»
Something in the Weyrleader's tone made Jaxom glance at him but the man's expression told him nothing.
«See much of F'lessan these days? I remember that you two used to get into a lot of mischief at Benden Weyr.»