"I wish he'd managed to install that particularity in Jaxom." Sharra sniffed. "I'd chosen such a beautiful fabric, one of the new brocades in marvelous dark blue-green, and he never managed a single fitting."
"I fear he fit in other things," Robinton replied, unable to forgo the wordplay.
"Oh, you!" Sharra rolled her eyes dramatically, laughing.
A singularly lovely ripple of laughter, Robinton thought, grinning back at her. Zair, perched on the Harper's shoulder, chirped agreement.
Just then the Tillek steward pulled shut the great Hold doors with a finality that echoed across the forecourt. The Harper and Sharra were close enough to hear the clang as the lock was spun shut. Conversation was momentarily stilled, and the kitchen doors opened. Drudges streamed out, carrying trays of klah, chilled fruit juices, and finger foods to ease the tedium of awaiting the decision.
The clang signaled the Lord Holders within the Great Hall to take their places at the round table. Before them, their places were set with fine glassware and small pitchers of klah, wine beakers, and bowls of succulent fruits.
The night before, Jaxom had been present at a special meeting-the subject of which had been himself-that included the Benden Weyrleaders, Lytol, Master Robinton, D'ram, and Sebell. He was the youngest Lord Holder, and while he was as capable as any of the much older men, perhaps more so than some, many had not yet forgiven his age.
"Especially," Sebell continued, holding Jaxom's eyes with an apologetic glance, "as you're working so closely with Aivas."
"That figures," Jaxom said with deep contempt. "And just how many of the oldsters refer to Aivas as the Abomination?"
Grinning at the epithet, Sebell winked at him. "The ones you'd expect: Corman, Sangel, Nessel, Sigomal, Begamon."
"Five, huh?" Jaxom replied. "That means no clear mandate for Ranrel, and I'll be stuck all day in Council."
"With little to say," Lytol added grimly.
Jaxom threw up his hands and, jumping from his chair, began to pace the room. "And how much longer do I have to play the idiot before my opinions"-he jabbed a thumb into his chest-"bear any weight?"
"It's what you don't say that will bear weight on this occasion," Lytol replied crisply.
"Lytol!" Robinton said warningly, raising an eyebrow at the old Warder. "His actions speak louder than words."
"Even if they do get me deeper into trouble with those hidebound relics," Jaxom said bitterly. "All right, all right." He spread his hands to pacify the others before he received another lecture. "I appreciate the circumstances. I'll content myself with voting as I see fit. I'll be polite when they cast aspersions on Aivas and all we're doing, but by the first Egg, I know more about Hold precedents and procedures than they've forgotten."
Although he had not mentioned that meeting to Sharra, it still rankled-all the more because the climate against Aivas, and himself, was so changeable.
With suitable dignified reserve, Jaxom seated himself between Lord Groghe of Fort and Asgenar of Lemos. He was not of a temperament to hold a grudge or keep a sulk, so he was amused that the known pro-Ranrel group had ranged themselves together in one quadrant of the table. Predictably, the supporters of Blesserel and Terentel had also seated themselves in blocks, though he wasn't sure how many supported which older son.
He nodded pleasantly to those opposite him-Sangel of Boll, Nessel of Crom, Laudey of Igen, Sigomal of Bitra, and Warbret of Ista, the ones reputed to favor Blesserel, the eldest son of Oterel. Begamon of Nerat, Corman of Keroon, and, surprisingly, Toric of Southern were said to prefer Terentel. Toric was probably being perverse, since he didn't know any of Oterel's sons well enough to have made an educated choice. It was enough for Toric that his sister's husband, along with Benden, Nerat, Telgar, and Lemos, was for Ranrel.
Jaxom took a deep breath, determined to be on his best behavior no matter how sorely he was tempted to "explain" matters to some of the old idiots. He picked up the klah pitcher, glancing courteously at Groghe with an offer to pour, which Groghe declined with a brief shake of his head. The portly Lord Holder was pulling at his pursed lips as he looked about the table, though his glance, Jaxom noticed, seemed again and again to veer back to Toric.
Skin bronzed and hair bleached almost blond by the -Southern sun, Toric was quite a contrast to the older lords on either side of him. By comparison, Sangel looked more wizened than ever, and Nessel downright desiccated. On Nessel's other side, Laudey of Igen, his face as tanned as Toric's, looked the healthiest of the older group.
"D'you think Toric'll support Ranrel?" Groghe asked, shielding his mouth as he bent toward Jaxom.
Jaxom gave a slight shake of his head and replied with equal discretion. "Toric's been in a perverse state of mind ever since Denol went to the Big Island two Turns back. Then, too, Ranrel used Hamian's material, and Toric's annoyed with his brother and furious with the dragonriders for not assisting him in ousting Denol from the Big Island. So, since I've made no bones about preferring Ranrel and I'm a dragonrider, Toric is making his protest public."
Groghe gave a snort. "He's making too much of this Denol affair."
"You tell him, then, Lord Groghe. As I understand the tradition of Holding, he doesn't lose the island no matter who's improving it-it remains incontrovertibly his as part of his Hold grant. No one can usurp his title to it. Especially not someone like Denol."
Groghe swiveled around in his chair to gaze with some astonishment at Jaxom. "Are you sure of that? I mean, about the Holding? That no one can supersede his claim?"
"Of course I am." Jaxom grinned slyly. "That sort of irrevocable grant is mentioned in the settlers' Charter. And, remarkably enough, Pern still operates, and enforces, the rules and restrictions of that Charter, even if half the world doesn't know it. So, once given, a grant can't be rescinded. It can't even be ceded out of the Bloodline of the original grantee. When the last of the Bloodline dies, challenge decides the new Holder."
Groghe smiled grimly at that reminder of how F'lar and Fax had dueled to make Jaxom the heir to Ruatha Hold.
"Toric was awarded those specific Southern lands in compensation for Holding during the Oldtimers' incumbency of Southern Weyr," Jaxom went on. "If you'll remember, the Big Island is within the borders of that grant. No act of Denol's can alter Toric's title to the Island."
"Even if Toric's not put his own holders there?"
Jaxom grinned. "When Denol first came South, he agreed to hold for Toric. He can't disavow that. I'm sure he thought that because others have been granted the right to hold in their own names, he could simply cross the water and claim the Big Island. It doesn't work that way." Jaxom was rather pleased to note the respect in Groghe's eyes as he explained the ramifications. He had always been lucky to have the Fort Holder's good opinion, but he felt that he had reinforced that today. He valued Groghe's approval over that of any of the others, so this conversation was doing much to restore his pride. "Meantime, Denol's been improving the place with every cot and shed he's built, every crop he's planted. In fact," Jaxom said with a slightly wicked grin, "if Toric gave Idarolan the word, Denol's marketable goods could be collected and sold north, and the profit credited to Toric!"
"Well, that would solve that problem, surely."
"Yes, but Toric's not listening, and certainly not reading any messages from Landing," Jaxom said ruefully.
"Hmmm, yes." Groghe pensively fingered his full lower lip. "Well, he'll listen to me, by the first Egg! Best thing about getting old is that you've got the authority to make people listen to you." He nodded sharply, emphasizing his remark.
Jaxom did not grin, nor did he add that getting older did not always give a person something worth listening to. But Groghe was more open-minded than some of his contemporaries, for which Jaxom was thankful.