Corman sat hunched in on himself, glowering, and his was probably the one blank sheet turned in to Lytol. There were two boldly printed "nays," but the "yeas" signified the approval that would be passed on to the two Mastercraftsmen involved.
"Who decides who're to be Craftmasters and pay for the establishment of these Halls?" Nessel asked.
"Craftsmasters have not yet been chosen, but there are suitable candidates. Empty buildings at Landing have already been altered for both new Crafts," Lytol went on, consulting his notes, "and the additional Halls will be built by those seeking to apprentice themselves to the new Crafts. Anyone wishing to transfer to either the Printer Hall or the Technicians Hall will need the permission of their Mastercraftsman and the Master of their present Hall."
"What about those working without their Mastercraftsman's permission?" Sangel asked disparagingly. Everyone knew he meant Morilton.
"That is an internal Craft matter," Lytol said, "and will be resolved by the parties involved, not by this Council."
"But what if we can't get glass-"
"There's no shortage of glass," Groghe said, curtly. "We buy what we choose from whom we choose. Simple as that! And there's many of us who patronize one Hall in preference to another. Always have, always will. It's only sensible, human nature being what it is."
Master Robinton wants to know what's delaying the announcement, Ruth said to Jaxom.
Talk. The choice has been made, but Lytol 'dl peed me if I usurp his prerogative. Just hearing Ruth's voice helped to soothe Jaxom, who was seething at the subtle, and not so subtle, currents. At least he now knew which Holders to watch: Corman, Nessel, Sangel, and Begamon. Corman was blunt enough to speak his mind, but the others had been nursing their resentment and grievances, and that wasn't healthy. Did their intransigence stem more from fear of Aivas, or from a stubborn intractable resistance to change?
"Is there any other business before the Council?" Lytol asked as procedure dictated.
"I have a question," Toric said, rising.
"Yes, Lord Toric?"
"Who is to be Lord Holder of Landing?"
For once even Lytol lost his composure and gawked at the Southern Holder.
Toric gave a faint smile of satisfaction. "Certainly a place as important as Landing cannot be left without proper supervision." He sounded eminently reasonable, but Jaxom almost guffawed at the shock registered on the faces of the other Holders. The expressions were even more indicative of which Lord Holders felt Landing was important; Jaxom noted those who did not, confirming his guesses; Sangel, Nessel, Sigomal, Corman, Begamon, and Laudey, though the Igen Holder seemed more diffident than antagonistic.
"You've not been keeping up with such minor details in the east," Jaxom heard himself saying in an amused drawl. "Lord Warder Lytol, Masterharper Robinton, and D'ram, Tiroth's rider, jointly administer Landing and equably represent the interests of Hold, Hall, and Weyr. The shared authority works well. You have always been welcome at Landing, Lord Toric."
"The moment the discovery of the Aivas was made," Lytol said, firmly taking charge, "a meeting was called on the site. The eight Lord Holders, eight Craftmasters, and seven Weyrleaders unanimously decided that, in view of its historical significance and its current educational status, Landing would remain an uncontested area.
Corman growled irritably to Nessel, but when Lytol gestured for him to speak up, he morosely subsided.
"How much of an area?" Toric all but pounced on Lytol with the question.
Lytol regarded him in subtle rebuke before answering. "The same area that was encompassed by the Landing site on the settlers' maps, of course."
Toric flicked a grimace at Lytol and sat down, his enigmatic stare checking the expressions of the others at the round table. Jaxom, scrutinizing him under cover of a hand on his brow, could not guess what thoughts might be going through the Southerner's covetous mind. Surely the man knew that further territorial acquisitions would be met with resistance from Hall, Hold, and Weyr-especially the Weyrs. Jaxom began to regret that he had given Toric a solution to the problem of the Big Island: that problem had kept the man from looking eastward for over two full Turns. Jaxom sighed. Sometimes one solved a problem only to create a half-dozen more.
He was considerably relieved when, with no more ado, Lytol called the Council meeting adjourned. There were protests and reproaches from certain quarters, but Lytol chose to ignore them, as was his right. However much Jaxom would have liked to storm out of the Great Hall, first he had to endure one more ceremony.
We're adjourned, he told Ruth.
Lytol led the procession, Jaxom deftly inserting himself between Larad and Asgenar and ahead of the Fort Holder. He grinned an apology at Groghe. Lytol gave the traditional three pounds of his fist on the door, which was opened immediately by the Tillek Hold head Steward. Privately Jaxom decided that all Stewards shared some arcane instinct that allowed them to sense the ending of a meeting. Lytol nodded, and the men at either side of the great doors wrestled to turn the metal Iockwheel and hauled the halves apart. The bright sunlight was almost as dazzling as the finery on the people crowding the steps. Foremost of those were the three contenders: Blesserel, commanding a position in the exact center and looking far too smug; Terentel, standing a length to his left and wearing an almost imbecilic expression; and Ranrel, standing quietly at the far right. Behind him stood Master Robinton, Sharra, Sebell, Menolly, and the Benden Weydeaders.
Jaxom lifted his lips in the merest of smiles and saw the relief on their faces even as Lytol began his formal announcement.
"On the third vote, a majority of twelve was achieved," he said when the crowd's babble had died sufficiently for his voice to be audible. "The Council has elected a new Lord Holder. Lord Ranrel, may I be the first to offer my congratulations on your succession to the honor."
While jubilant cheers echoed off Tillek's granite walls, Ranrel looked genuinely stunned and none too sure he believed what he had heard. Blesserel looked murderous, and Terentel merely shrugged and, turning on his heel, pushed his way through the crowd to the nearest wine keg. From the fireheights, the dragons bugled their congratulations, and the air overhead was made hazardous by fire-lizards, zipping and darting and singing their high descants to dragon sound.
Lord Ranrel was immediately surrounded by well-wishers thumping his back, pumping his arms, and shouting congratulations. Blesserel was surrounded, too, by Sigomal, Sangel, Nessel, and Begamon. Jaxom didn't bother to check Blesserel's reactions. Sigomal's face was frozen with displeasure and a cunning that boded no good for anyone crossing him that day.
"Was it very bad?" Sharra asked as she embraced Jaxom. "Ruth said you were angry and upset, but he didn't know why."
"I was and I am. Give me your cup," he said, needing a steadying draught. "Let's get to Sebell and Master Robinton. There're things they should hear, as well. Your brother wanted to know who'd be made Lord Holder of Landing."
Sharra rolled her eyes in dismay. "He'll never learn, will he? So what was he told?"
"The truth," Jaxom replied. "You'll remember we asked Breide to be sure Toric knew Aivas was an important discovery."
Sharra wrinkled her nose, a mannerism Jaxom still found engaging. "He was so livid over Denol occupying his island that he could think of nothing else." Then she cast a sharp look at her husband. "You told him about the irrevocable grant?"
"I didn't. Groghe did. We needed his vote cast for Ranrel."
"He wasn't voting for Blesserel, was he?" Sharra was aghast.
Jaxom gave her a flash of a grin. "What happens in Council is not to become public knowledge!"