"I can't support the notion of Jaxom leaving Ruatha for fostering," Lessa said with a frown. "Not when he's the last of the Bloodline…"
"Nor do I," Lytol said, but it is necessary to reciprocate in fostering-"
"Tis not," Lord Groghe said, clapping Lytol on the shoulder. "In fact, it's a blessing not to. I've a lad Jaxom's age to be fostered. Be a relief not to have to take another boy back. When I see what you've done to put Ruatha back on its feet and so prosperous, Lytol, the lad would learn from you how to Hold properly. That is, if there should be anything for him to Hold when he gets his majority."
"That's another matter I'd like to broach," Lord Sangel said, stepping up to F'lar with a glance at Groghe for support. "What are we Holders to do?"
"To do?" asked F'lar, momentarily perplexed.
"With the younger sons," Robinton said smoothly, "for whom there are no more holds to manage in South Boll, Fort, Ista, and Igen-to name the Lords with the largest families of hopeful sons."
"The Southern Continent, F'lar, when can we start opening the Southern Continent?" Groghe asked. "That Toric, who stayed behind in the Southern Hold, maybe he could use a strong, active, energetic, ambitious lad or two, or three?"
"The Oldtimers are in the Southern Continent,"
Lessa said sternly. "They can do no one harm there, since the land is protected by grubs."
"I hadn't forgotten where the Oldtimers are, Weyrwoman," Groghe remarked, raising his eyebrows. "Best place for 'em, they don't bother us, they do what they want, without making honest folk suffer." There was a commendable lack of acrimony in Groghe's tone, Robinton noticed, considering how badly Fort Hold had suffered from T'ron's irresponsible conduct of Fort Weyr. "Point is. Southern's a fair size, grubbed, too, so it doesn't matter if the Oldtimers fly Thread or not, no real damage can be done."
"Have you ever remained outside your Hold during Threadfall?" F'lar asked Lord Groghe.
"Me? No! What d'you think I am, crazy? Not but what that gaggle of young men, fighting at the drop of a glove… Mind you, it's fists they fight with and I keep all weapons blunted, but their noise is enough to drive me between or outside… Oh, I take your point, Weyrleader," Groghe added gloomily and his fingers did a rapid dance on his broad belt. "Yes, makes it difficult, doesn't it? We're not geared to live holdless, are we? Toric's not looking to increase his Holding at all? Something's got to be done about the youngbloods. Not just in my Hold, either, eh, Sangel?"
"If I may make a suggestion," Robinton broke in quickly when he saw F'lar hesitating. Considering the alacrity with which F'lar gestured him to proceed, he appeared grateful for the Harper's interruption. "Well, half a Turn ago. Lord Groghe's fifth son Benelek had an idea to improve a harvesting implement. The Fort Smithcraftmaster suggested that Fandarel ought to be interested. Indeed the good Mastersmith was. Young Benelek went to Telgar for special instruction and also talked one of the High Reaches' sons into joining him, that lad also having a mechanical bent. To shorten the tale, there are now eight Holder sons at the Smithcraft Hall, and three Crafthold boys who show an equal talent for the Smith's craft."
"What are you suggesting, Robinton?"
"Mischief needs idle hands. I'd like to see a special group of young people, recruited from all Crafts and Holds, exchanging ideas instead of insults."
Groghe grunted. "They want land to hold, not ideas. What about Southern?"
"That solution can surely be investigated," Robinton said, treating Groghe's insistence as offhandedly as he dared. "The Oldtimers won't live forever."
"In truth, Lord Groghe, we're by no means against expanding holds in the Southern," F'lar said. "It's just that…"
"The time must be chosen," Lessa finished when he faltered. There was a curious gleam in her eyes that suggested to the Harper she had other reservations as well.
"We'll not have to wait until the end of this Pass, I hope," Sangel said peevishly.
"No, just until we are in no danger of dishonoring our word," F'lar said. "If you'll think back, the Weyrs have agreed to explore the Southern Continent…"
"The Weyrs agreed to get rid of Thread and the Red Star, too," Sangel said, irritated now.
"F'nor here and Canth still bear the scars of that Star," Lessa reminded him, indignant at having the Weyrs criticized.
"Meaning no offense, Weyrwoman, F'lar, F'nor," Sangel said, mumbling and not very subtly masking his annoyance.
"Another reason why it might be salutary to have young minds trained to discover new ways of-doing things," Robinton said, smoothly diverting Lord Sangel.
Robinton was no end pleased at Sangel's attitude. He'd reminded F'lar and Lessa recently that the older Lord Holders persisted in believing that the dragonriders could, if they would put their minds to it, char Thread at its source on the Red Star and end forever the menace that kept people hold-fast. Mention, however, he deemed sufficient and quickly changed the subject.
"My archivist. Master Arnor, is going blind from trying to decipher eroding Record hides. He does well, but sometimes I think he doesn't at all understand what it is he is saving and thus unwittingly miscopies blurred words. Fandarel has commented on this problem, too. He's of the firm opinion that some of the mysteries from those old Records stem from miscopying. Now, if we had copyists who knew the discipline-"
"I'd like Jaxom to have some training that way," Lytol said.
"I was hoping you'd suggest him."
"Don't go back on your offer to take my son, Lytol," Groghe said.
"Well, if Jaxom's…"
"I see no reason why both solutions cannot be used," Robinton said. "We'd have boys his own age and rank fostering here where Jaxom must learn to Hold, but Jaxom would also learn skills with others of different rank and background."
"After the famine, a feast?" N'ton said in so low a voice that only Robinton and Menolly heard him. "And speaking of feasts, here's our honored guest!"
Jaxom stood, hesitating, on the threshold, remembering his manners sufficiently to swing a bow to the assembled.
"Ruth's settled, has he, Jaxom?" Lessa asked in a kind voice, gesturing the boy to come to her side.
"Yes, Lessa."
"Some other settlings been done, too, kinsman," she went on, smiling when she saw his apprehensive look.
"You know my son, Horon, don't you? Your age?" Groghe asked.
Jaxom nodded, startled.
"Well, he's going to foster here as company for you."
"And possibly some other lads," said Lessa. "Would you like that?"
Robinton noticed the incredulous widening of Jaxom's eyes as he glanced from Lessa to Groghe and back to Lytol where his glance remained until Lytol had nodded solemnly.
"And, when Ruth is flying well, how about coming to my Hall to see what I can teach you about Pern that Lytol doesn't know?" Robinton asked.
"Oh, sir," and Jaxom looked again to his guardian, "may I really do all this?" There was unadulterated relief and joy in Jaxom's voice.
CHAPTER II
Benden Weyr, Present Pass, 13th Turn
DUSK WAS SETTLING in Benden Weyr as Robinton climbed the stairs to the queen's weyr, something he had done so many times in the past thirteen Turns. He paused as much to catch his breath as to speak to the man just behind him.
"We've timed it well, Toric. I don't think anyone noticed our arrival. And they'll certainly not question N'ton," he said gesturing to the Fort Weyrleader dimly seen crossing the Bowl to the lighted kitchen caverns.
Toric wasn't looking at him. He was staring up at the ledge where bronze Mnementh was seated on his haunches, regarding the new arrivals, his jewel-faceted eyes gleaming in the dim light. Robinton's Zair reacted by digging his claws sharply into the Harper's ear and twining his tail more tightly about his neck.