Sharra chuckled softly. "I see that everyone who could afford it has been spilling marks into the Weavercraft coffers."
"I thought Master Zurg looked excessively smug when we passed him."
"He should be. Everyone, including that wretched dandy Blesserel, is wearing new clothes, either tailored by or made from fabrics bought from good Master Zurg. Except you." Sharra said that with a sniff of disapproval. "It wouldn't have taken much time to have a new outfit for today."
"Why? I'm not exactly threadbare or colorless," Jaxom replied. He was fond of the deep brown and russet he wore; he thought those colors went well with Sharra's azure. "And these clothes aren't all that old. They were new for our last Gather day."
Sharra sniffed again. "Half a Turn ago. You don't care what you wear so long as it's comfortable. Just look at the variety of style and hue others are wearing."
Jaxom closed his right hand over hers on his arm and gave it a squeeze. "You look grand enough for both of us."
Sharra gave him a droll sideways glance. "If you'd ever taken the time to be fitted for what I wanted you to wear, we'd outshine everyone else, love." She gave a resigned sigh. "As it is, it's just too bad the Craftmasters can't vote on the succession."
"They should, you know," Jaxom replied. "They're as vital to the smooth management of Pern as any Lord Holder."
"Sshhh," Sharra said, though her eyes twinkled at his heresy. "You upset sufficient Lord Holders without suggesting that innovation."
"It'll come! It'll come," Jaxom said. "Once the conservative element among the Holders are replaced."
"What if Ranrel doesn't make it? Brand did say that there would be protest over his use of the 'Abomination's' materials."
Jaxom snorted. "With bloody near everyone else wearing them? Besides, Ranrel's the only one of Oterel's issue who's ever worked. And he's improved the Hold's facilities. That has to count heavily in his favor."
"Yes, but he's also a journeyman, which men like Nessel and Corman take as an admission that he himself knows he's not Holder material."
"And Blesserel and Terentel, with their soft hands and steep debts, are? A journeyman's knot in the Fisherman's Craft at least says a man has skill, strength, and endurance. And he's had more of managing men than either of that useless pair," Jaxom said.
"Brand mentioned that Blesserel's been actively striving to get support from Corman of Keroon, Sangel, and Begamon and even went to see Toric."
"Well, if he's promised to help Toric with Denol's island rebels, he'll be working against himself," Jaxom said scornfully.
"I don't know about that, Jax, I really don't," Sharra said, frowning slightly. "My brother's devious, as well as plain contrary at times." Then she smiled as she saw Toronas and his wife heading in their direction.
"Four votes wouldn't be enough anyway," Jaxom murmured with a reassurance he didn't really believe before the young Benden Holders joined them.
Robinton had wanted to arrive early at Tillek, to have a stroll around and get the feel of the assemblage. Somehow or other, Lytol had managed to delay their departure so that T'gellan deposited them only just before the actual Conference was due to start. Lytol secured him an oversized goblet of Benden white and insisted that he be seated on one of the few wall benches on the forecourt "for an overall view." Granted he had that, but he would have preferred to mingle with the crowd and sense the general mood.
"You're fussing over me, Lytol!" Robinton said querulously.
"You'll have enough excitement..."
"There are people I wish to speak with down there!"
"You can't alter the outcome of today's proceedings a half hour before they start, Robinton," Lytol replied.
"But you can!" Robinton knew that he was being testy with his old friend, and jealous.
"I will do as common sense dictates, Harper, and when that will be most effective." Lytol caught sight of Blesserel, Oterel's firstborn son, clad in uncharacteristically sober dark colors in a conservatively cut outfit. "As if that garb is going to counteract his years as a gaudy guy!" Lytol muttered contemptuously.
"I don't see Ramel," Robinton complained.
"To your left, on the third riser, speaking to Sigomal," Lytol said, pointing.
"Well, good for him. He's not afraid to parade his accomplishments," Robinton said after a moment's regard. The youngest of Oterel's eligible sons had dressed in Fishcraft colors and wore his journeyman's knot fastened to his Tillek rank cord. "Ista and High Reaches will appreciate the compliment. And Master Idarolan."
"For all the good it does."
"Now, if only Craftmasters were allowed in on the voting..." Robinton said, half to tease Lytol and half in wishful thinking. Lytol merely grunted, a surprising reaction since, in previous times, he had been dead set against such an innovation. Was Jaxom having some effect on his former guardian after all? Robinton wondered.
"Idarolan's a sound man and manages to keep most of a very wayward lot in line-most of the time," Lytol said. "But inlanders would not be swayed by his opinions."
"Sangel of Boll is scarcely an inlander," Robinton protested.
"That doesn't mean he thinks with his wits," Lytol replied. "And it's the undecided Holders that must be swayed one way or another: Sigomal, Nessel, and Deckter."
"Deckter will appreciate Ranrel's harbor reconstruction. He's got a merchant's mind on such matters. Blesserel and Terentel have done nothing to improve Tillek Hold."
"Sigomal will side with Blesserel, if only to recoup the boy's gambling losses. You know the way Bitra always turns: markward."
The Hold bugler appeared at the massive entrance and blew the ten-minute warning. The babble of the crowd briefly abated, then increased with excitement as the fifteen Lord Holders began to make their way toward the steps. Lytol watched for Jaxom, Sharra on his arm, to emerge from the throng and unobtrusively beckoned him over. Jaxom's face lit with a big smile as he saw the Harper beside his former warder.
"My dear Lady Holder, you outshine the day," Robinton said, rising to take Sharra's hand warmly in his. "Has everyone here made Zurg markedly richer today?"
Sharra laughed at his outrageous compliment. Though she was a tall girl, she had to stand on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Even Master Norist," she whispered in his ear, giggling as she indicated with a nod of her head where the Glassmaster could be seen in the crowd, resplendent in red and yellow. "Did anyone have the nerve to tell him how much Zurg's Craft has been enhanced by the 'Abomination's' data?"
Robinton let out a bellow of laughter, beginning to let go of his annoyance with Lytol.
Sharra took an admiring pinch of his gracefully belled deep blue sleeve. "I see you endured the fittings and pinnings, too."
"I was excused them," Robinton said loftily. "Master Zurg has had my measurements all these years and presented me these glad rags as a token of his Hall's appreciation for time well spent with Aivas."
Sharra affected a shocked expression. "And here I thought you were Pern's most honest man."
"Not even Lytol is." Robinton gestured at the former Ruathan Warder's back, for Lytol was just entering Tillek's Great Hall with Jaxom. "But then Lytol, as a former weaver, has always been particular in matters of dress."
"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 stream
ed 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.
"Heard you went upstairs again yesterday," Groghe commented, changing the subject. "What'd you do this time?"
"Closed some doors," Jaxom said with a diffident shrug. He had also spent a long time, Ruth beside him, looking down at the splendor of Pern as seen from space. Not even Piemur, harper-trained as he was, had been able to describe the scene adequately or convey how deeply it had affected him. Nor had Jaxom, though he had tried to tell Sharra something of the grandeur he had seen and the awe he had felt. He kept the vision solidly in one bedazzled corner of his mind. If only more of the Lord Holders would see, he thought, they would stop their petty bickering.
"Closed doors? Was that all?" Groghe asked in surprise.
"There's a lot to be done to set the Yokohama to rights. It's dangerous up there," Jaxom replied. That was a slight exaggeration, but Aivas had steadily repeated the fact that space was a hostile environment and humans must learn the necessary cautions to prevent accidents. "When the safety measure
s do check out, it would be our pleasure, Ruth's and mine, to take you up there."
Groghe, clearly astonished, hemmed and hawed nervously. "We'll see, lad, we'll see," he said finally.
Jaxom merely nodded and asked amiably, "Do you think this will take all morning?"
"Likely to." Groghe gave a snort, then covered his mouth so that only Jaxom would hear his next comment. "Sigomal needs Blesserel to be confirmed or he'll never get his money. That young fellow was gambling on succeeding and having the Hold's mark-coffers at his disposal."
Jaxom had already suspected that Oterel's oldest son was heavily in debt to the Bitran Holder.
"Does Terentel have any support?" Jaxom found it hard to imagine who would back Oterel's middle son. Some people seemed to be born losers: Terentel was such a one.
"Actually," Groghe said, his eyebrows going up in surprise, "I believe Begamon will. Corman, too, but probably only because he dislikes Blesserel and is feeling testy about the amount of interest in the Landing projects. He's still not convinced."
"No one from Keroon Hold itself is involved, but there're enough from the minor holds so that no one at Landing's worried overmuch about his opposition," Jaxom replied. "Keroon's more agriculturally oriented anyway."
"And Corman's a stubborn old fool," Groghe added, eyeing Jaxom critically.
Jaxom contented himself with a grin. Then Asgenar touched his arm, and he turned to his right.
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