All the Weyrs of Pern (25 page)

We both did, but it’s going to be a long day. Are you comfortable in the sun?

I am! It is a fine day.

For you!

There will be time for feasting and dancing later. Now you must be Lord Holder.

Hastily Jaxom turned his inadvertent chuckle into a cough and reached for his cup, displaying an innocent expression when frowns were directed at him. He nodded apologetically at Sangel for interrupting his measured remarks supporting Blesserel’s claim. Then Begamon rose and, with a series of rather disjointed comments, tried to sway votes in favor of Terentel. Privately Jaxom thought anyone else would have done better for Terentel than the Nerat Holder.

With the second vote, Terentel lost two supporters to Blesserel. The eldest son acquired seven votes, while Ranrel received eight. As before, Lytol burned the papers. Too close, and Jaxom tried to control the nervous jiggling of his leg.

Groghe signaled that he wished to speak, and Lytol consented.

“I’m not the oldest of you, but I have held Fort for longer than any of you others, bar Sangel.” Groghe accorded the Boll Holder a bow and a smile. “Tillek was the third Hold to be established—”

“Word of the Abomination?” Sangel asked slyly.

“Aivas has now seen, and restored, the Records of every Hold, which can scarcely be called an abominable duty—boring, probably, if your ancestors inscribed as much trivia as mine did—”

“What’s your point, Groghe?” Laudey asked testily.

“My point is that James Tillek, who founded this Hold, was a forward-looking man who charted the coastline and started the first Fishercrafthall. Tillek has always been the safest harbor on the western coast, with the biggest fleet and more Masters sailing ’em; its Lord Holders have always encouraged and assisted our fishermen. Ranrel thought enough of his heritage to take a Master’s knot from the Fishercrafthall—”

“He did that because Oterel threw him out of Hold,” Sangel retaliated.

“Order!” Lytol’s voice boomed out with unaccustomed force, and Sangel subsided.

“Be that as it may,” Lord Groghe continued, “he’s certainly the only one of Oterel’s sons who’s ever done a day’s hard work. I think he deserves to Hold now. Fort’ll support him as Tillek’s Holder in every way it can, so we will!”

Murmurs of “well said” caused Groghe to flush with pleasure as he seated himself.

Larad then asked to speak and did so concisely, adding that in his last months Oterel had been too ill to attend to many matters, and that the only one of his sons to take an interest in Hold management had been Ranrel. If Blesserel, however, or Terentel had done anything to take Hold in their father’s name, he would like to hear of it.

“Clever point,” Jaxom murmured to Asgenar.

Sigomal asked to be recognized.

“Blesserel had the onerous task of caring for his ailing father,” he said, “and was scrupulous in all duties to ease Oterel in his last illness. He is a man of integrity . . .”

“He paid his gambling debts,” Asgenar whispered to Jaxom, “when he could squeeze the marks out of Oterel’s purse.”

“. . . with four fine strong sons and a fine woman to be his Lady Holder . . .”

“Ranrel’s wife is not only a Masterweaver but considerably easier to get on with than Lady Esrella,” Asgenar added quietly.

“Put in your mark’s worth, Asgenar,” Jaxom said.

“Why don’t you speak?”

“And ruin Ranrel’s chances altogether?” Jaxom tried to sound as if he didn’t mind.

Asgenar inclined his head, accepting what Jaxom had implied: that as the youngest of the Lord Holders, his opinion was not much sought by others.

Meanwhile Sigomal wound up his peroration and sat down, glaring at Jaxom, who turned his head to regard Asgenar as the Lemos lord stood to speak for Ranrel.

“When a man does not wait for honors to be given him but works with his hands and achieves a mastery in a Hall, he has learned many of the skills needed to make a prudent and resourceful Holder under whose guidance Tillek will prosper. We can ask for no better-qualified a man than Ranrel. On all counts.”

“I’d heard,” Toric began, standing without Lytol’s permission, “that Ranrel had quarreled with Oterel and was told never to show himself in Tillek Hold again. Can a father’s express wishes be so totally disregarded by this Council?”

Bargen jumped to his feet, glancing belatedly at Lytol for permission.

“In my presence, Oterel retracted that statement two seven-days before he expired,” he announced after Lytol nodded to him. “Ranrel is the only one of the legitimate male heirs who has achieved merit on his own cognizance. At the last, Oterel was proud of the boy, which is why Ranrel has my complete support.”

“But he did not name him successor?” Toric continued, an enigmatic half smile on his face.

“Do you doubt
my
word?” Bargen demanded, scowling at the Southern Holder.

“Doubt doesn’t enter into it, Bargen. The incident is recorded fact.”

“Which is why the succession has been challenged,” Lytol said. “And the right of any male descendant to challenge the succession, no matter what bad feeling existed between father and son, has been upheld on numerous occasions.”

Groghe leaned across the table toward Toric and spoke in the blandest possible tone. “I’m sure Lord Toric appreciates that fathers and sons may agree to disagree.”

Toric stared at the Fort Holder hard enough, Jaxom thought, for his gaze to burn holes through the man. Groghe shrugged. How had Groghe known that Toric had stormed out of his family’s fishhold in Ista? That wasn’t generally known, nor would Sharra have been so disloyal to her brother as to mention it.

“But it is as Lord Toric has said,” Sigomal said, rubbing his hands together nervously, his expression one of specious regret. “Oterel disavowed Ranrel, and that should be noted. His challenge should be nullified.”

“Blesserel must owe Sigomal a great deal,” Asgenar murmured to Jaxom, his expression bland.

“Does anyone support Terentel’s claim?” Lytol asked into the pause. When Begamon did not respond, he added, “Then let us vote between the two remaining candidates: Blesserel and Ranrel.”

This ballot raised Ranrel’s support to ten, but with Blesserel still polling five, the requisite majority had still not been attained.

“I am calling a brief adjournment, my Lord Holders, for private discussions,” Lytol said and, rising, moved away from the table.

The others followed his example.

“We need two more votes,” Groghe murmured to Jaxom, Asgenar, and Larad as they made their way to the tables where food was available.

“Toric has to have been the third vote for Terentel. I know Corman and Begamon espouse him,” Larad said. “Is Toric hoping that loon Terentel will give him guards for that armed assault he wants to make on the Big Island?”

“Something like that, but I’ve a word for his ear alone,” Groghe said, winking at Jaxom and grinning broadly.

“C’mon, Asgenar.” Larad hauled the Lemos Holder after him. “We’ll bear you out, Groghe.”

Jaxom made a plateful of the spice cakes he knew Lytol liked and served his old guardian, all the while surreptitiously watching the three in close conversation with Toric. He looked quickly away when Toric suddenly swiveled in his direction, an indecipherable stare on his broad, tanned face. Jaxom wondered if Groghe had identified the source of his information. Toric then asked Larad a sharp question. Groghe responded, and Larad added a few words, while Asgenar nodded, one corner of his mouth slightly upraised.

“I think we just obtained one more vote for Ranrel,” Jaxom murmured to Lytol, being careful to keep his face blank.

Larad and Asgenar stayed talking to Toric while Groghe made his way back to the Ruathans.

“That seemed to go down with no trouble, Jaxom. Clever of you. Though I don’t think Denol should attempt to have a meeting with Toric when he finds out he can’t make any profit for himself. Who else can we approach?”

“I’m not approaching anyone, remember? I’m deeply involved with the Abomination,” Jaxom said with a disgusted snort. “I’m not about to ruin Ranrel’s chances by speaking up.”

“You do yourself a disservice, lad,” Groghe said kindly.

“I’d rather not do Ranrel one, Lord Groghe.”

As Groghe turned away, Jaxom took the opportunity to inform Ruth of what was happening, asking him to tell Sharra.

Master Robinton thought it would go that way,
Ruth replied.
He asked have you told Toric? He didn’t say what.

Groghe did, with Larad and Asgenar backing him up,
Jaxom replied.
Certainly it’s giving Toric something to think about. More’n I could get him to do. There’s a recess on right now. The west coast contingent needs more klah to wake up enough to listen. I’ll keep you all informed.

Shortly thereafter, Lytol called the Lord Holders to order again and asked if anyone wished to add anything or supply new information to the Council.

“Another vote, Lytol,” Deckter said. “There is other business to be discussed.”

Jaxom had noticed Deckter in deep discussion with Warbret and hoped for success in that area. Two votes were all that was needed—unless Toric decided to be more difficult than usual.

This time everyone appeared to be counting as Lytol sorted, so all knew before the formal announcement that Ranrel had won. Sigomal looked ready to spit nails, glowering at Toric and Warbret, who had abandoned his cause.

“Ranrel has polled the requisite majority of twelve votes and is duly elected to succeed to his father’s honor as Lord Holder of Tillek.” Lytol gave Jaxom a warning sideways glance that the young Ruathan had no trouble understanding: He was not to make any premature announcement through Ruth.

“There are two other important reports to discuss in this Council. I now call upon Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold to inform us of any progress made toward the end of destroying Thread.” Lytol inclined his head courteously to his former ward and sat down.

Jaxom stood abruptly, catching the attention of the entire table. The phrases he had rehearsed so often piled out of his mouth and continued even when he heard someone mumbling imprecations about the “Abomination’s corruptions.”

“Having received extensive training from the Aivas, Journeyman Harper Piemur and myself rode Ruth safely
between
and landed on the bridge of the
Yokohama
. We completed the programming of the telescope for use by Aivas from the Landing facility and initiated a damage report on the space vessel. We retrieved the remains of Sallah Telgar, which have since been suitably interred at Telgar Hold.” He bowed deeply to Larad. “The next day Ruth transported me back to the bridge. I then proceeded to the cargo-bay area to close the outer doors, which had not shut due to a malfunction in the remote-closure program. Once the doors closed, I returned to the bridge and from there to Landing. Additional journeys to the
Yokohama
will be necessitated to improve the basic life-support systems, namely to replant the algae tanks. Additional personnel must become acclimated to free-fall conditions, and there will be several missions composed of different teams, using green dragons, in order to alter the telescope to maximize its use.”

“And just what does that all mean when translated into normal speech?” Corman demanded.

“That the
Yokohama
can be used as a base from which to attack Thread in space, Lord Corman.”

“So all the dragons are going up to the spaceship and attack Thread at a distance from the planet?” His sarcastic remark must have seemed as silly to himself as it did to the others, for he flushed and looked away from Jaxom.

“No, that is not the plan, Lord Corman. The plan is to divert Thread from ever falling to the surface.”

“And how far are you toward that desired end?” Laudey asked, not quite as contemptuous as Corman had been.

“There are still two Turns, five months, and seven days before that end is achieved, Lord Laudey.”

“And I suppose that you’re here to ask our permission to draft more journeymen from our halls, more drudges from our holds?”

“No, sir, we don’t ‘draft’ anyone,” Jaxom replied. He couldn’t help grinning—the problem was turning unsuitable people away from Landing without giving offense.

“And I suppose you’re unhappy that those lower caverns of yours are pretty much empty of beggars and layabouts?” Groghe asked pointedly.

“And will they all stay usefully employed two Turns, five months, and however many days from now?” Laudey demanded.

“Do you, or do you not, wish to be rid of Thread, Lord Laudey? Lord Corman?” Jaxom demanded. “Admittedly, in two hundred and fifty Turns,
you
won’t have to care whether or not we succeed. But your descendants will!”

“Are you speaking as a Lord Holder or a dragonrider, Jaxom?” Nessel asked snidely.

“Both, Lord Nessel!”

“Then we won’t need dragonriders anymore!” Sigomal roared. “What’re you dragonriders going to do then?”

Jaxom grinned back. “I think you will find, Lord Sigomal, that you will always
want
to have dragonriders on Pern.”

“And how do you arrive at that?” Sigomal demanded.

“They do a lot more for you, and everyone here, than rid the skies of Thread. Think on it, Lord Sigomal.” Jaxom smiled enigmatically. Let them cudgel their brains oven that one. “Lord Toric knows what I mean, I’m sure.”

Startled, Toric swung his piercing gaze to his sister’s husband and began to frown.

“I don’t get what you mean, young man,” Sangel said in some agitation.

“My Lord Sangel, I would have thought that was too obvious to require explanation. May I continue, Lord Lytol?” When he had received the nod, Jaxom went on. “I will also tell you that Harper Piemur and I have seen this lovely world of ours, turning in space, from day toward night. It is the most incredible sight!” He knew his voice trembled slightly, but he was not ashamed. “Once we are certain that the life-support systems—oxygen and heat—are stable, I will take it upon Ruth and myself to bring any Lord Holder who wishes to the bridge of the
Yokohama
to see for himself what a splendid world we live on and how essential it is for us to rid ourselves of Thread forever.”