She looked both uneasy and dignified; her eyes were still red from tears. But she nodded, confirming what C'rob reported.
Robinton escorted them all to the Lord Holders. Fax sauntered along in their wake, smiling enigmatically when Robinton firmly closed the door in his face.
When the Lord Holders concluded their interview with Manora and the bronze riders, most of them left the small dining room for the refreshments available in the hall. But, of the group who remained, Robinton saw Lord Faroguy and was startled by the change in the man. He looked almost bloodless with fatigue, as if he had little energy and substance, barely responding to whatever Lord Melongel, of Tillek Hold, was saying to him.
Then Farevene bustled down the hall, carrying a tray of food and drink. Giving Robinton a nod ofin the hour, and then Robinton was sent to find out if any of the dragonriders he had named were present in the Hold. The Council begged the favour of a few words with any of the bronze riders. Robinton wondered as he went in search if he should send someone to wake F'lon. But he found M'ridin, C'vrel, C'gan and C'rob in the courtyard, as well as the girl he had seen speaking to the Weyrleader.
"Manora here," C'rob said, indicating the girl, "says that the Weyrleader was unwell at dinner. She overheard Maidir asking to be conveyed home, and S'loner said he'd do it because he wanted an excuse to leave. He'd been having pains in his arm rather more often than he admitted, even to Tinamon."
She looked both uneasy and dignified; her eyes were still red from tears. But she nodded, confirming what C'rob reported.
Robinton escorted them all to the Lord Holders. Fax sauntered along in their wake, smiling enigmatically when Robinton firmly closed the door in his face.
When the Lord Holders concluded their interview with Manora and the bronze riders, most of them left the small dining room for the refreshments available in the hall. But, of the group who remained, Robinton saw Lord Faroguy and was startled by the change in the man. He looked almost bloodless with fatigue, as if he had little energy and substance, barely responding to whatever Lord Melongel, of Tillek Hold, was saying to him.
Then Farevene bustled down the hall, carrying a tray of food and drink. Giving Robinton a nod of recognition, he hurried up to his father and Lord Melongel. Melongel took the nearest glass of wine and passed it to Faroguy, then watched anxiously as the older man sipped and smiled in appreciation of the courtesy.
"There may be need for another Council soon, Harper," Fax commented, appearing at Robinton's elbow. "Mark my words."
Robinton made no reply, managing to keep his expression bland though he seethed inwardly at Fax's pretentiousness. He could not help but worry about Faroguy, though it irritated him to give any weight to something Fax might say – especially since both Melongel and Farevene seemed so concerned over the High Reaches Lord Holder.
There was little a harper could do, Robinton realized philosophically, but he'd have a word with Farevene if the opportunity arose.
Then what Farevene was saying to his father reached his ears. "MasterHealer Ginia would be glad to give you a consultation, Father, as soon as you feel able."
"It won't do any harm," Melongel agreed heartily.
"Very well," Faroguy said with a heavy sigh and a flick of his pale hands where they rested on the arm of the chair He managed a weak smile. "I'd rather another Council was not called sooner than necessary. And on my account." He took another drink of the wine, then looked at the glass. "Benden wine is, I fear, superior, Melongel."
"Just give us the time Benden has had with viticulture and you'll see a comparison in our favour," Melongel replied with a hint of challenge.
"Robinton?"
The journeyman turned at the touch of his arm to see C'vrel standing there, frowning.
"Simanith is on the heights, but I can't find F'lon anywhere."
"He's asleep in my quarters. He was reeling with fatigue," Robinton replied.
"Yes, well, we all are. But I'd rather you either kept him in your rooms or woke him now. Fax is wandering around, and I have a good suspicion – confirmed by Farevene in there – that he's probably looking for F'lon." C'vrel shifted his weight anxiously.
"There's no doubt in my mind that F'lon would start trouble. We've had enough."
"I'd agree to that."
C'vrel gave a short bark. "S'loner sent F'lon out on quite a few unwise' – he lifted one thick black eyebrow – "errands which, quite frankly, were not conducted to the Weyr's advantage. I, for one, did not condone some of S'loner's methods or aims. Candidly, but it's almost as much a relief to us' – the flick of his hand was meant to indicate the other older bronze riders – "that S'loner's no longer leader as it is to the Council. So do us all a favour, Harper, and keep F'lon out of Fax's way. I'll take the High Reaches party back myself. I didn't know, in fact, that F'lon had been to that Hold today. M'ridin was to make that transfen"
Robinton nodded. Odd: F'lon had wished Robinton to think he didn't know Fax, and yet the young rider had seemed almost eager for a confrontation with the holder. It was fortunate indeed that exhaustion had intervened.
As he made his way to the front staircase, Robinton stopped by Hayon. I'll be in my quarters if I'm needed. I've been advised to keep F'lon and Fax separated."
"Oh, F'lon's in your rooms?" Hayon heaved a sigh of relief.
"We've all been wondering. Especially that Fax. I don't like that man."
"Perceptive of you, Hayon."
I'll cover for you. There're enough harpers here, as well as Master Gennell."
Robinton wished he could have been in two places at once, but it was far more important for him to keep F'lon asleep until the Council had departed. He wondered just what had transpired between the two. F'lon was known to be a clever fighter ... but no rider should put his life – and that of his dragon – in jeopardy.
Which was why it had been irresponsible of S'loner to fly when he was unwell. Robinton knew that a man's heart could stop from one second to another. Chendith would have known in that instant that his rider had died, and the presence of a passenger would not have deterred the dragon from suicide. And the grievously tragic death of Lord Maidin
F'lon was asleep, sprawled out on the bed. Carefully, Robinton laid a blanket over him lest a chill wake him prematurely. The sun was well west by now, and the room was cooling down. He locked his door, pocketed the key and, taking a light fur from the closet, laid himself down on the little bed in the room he'd occupied as a child.
He was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes ...
"All right, where's the key?" a voice said in his ear as a hand shook him roughly.
The little room was dark, and only one glowbasket was open in the outer chamber, but the long boots on the figure by his bed told him that F'lon was up and anxious to leave.
"Oh, sorry, F'lon."
F'lon snapped his fingers for the key as Robinton fumbled for it in his pants. "If I find that the High Reaches contingent took another dragon back, I shall be quite annoyed."
"If one hasn't," Robinton replied, "I shall be."
He gave the key over and lay back, wishing he'd been allowed to sleep round the clock as he heard F'lon stride noisily across the outer room, fumble the key into the lock, and swing the door open so roughly that it crashed into the wall.
"I'd better go after him," he murmured to himself, but he consoled himself with the thought that C'vrel would have whisked the High Reaches trio off long before now.
He was right. F'lon must have just received that information from Hayon when Robinton reached the top of the stairs, for the bronze rider glared fiercely over his shoulder at him. Then, in one of his lightning changes of mood, F'lon smiled and waved a hand.