"Yes, and showed me where a man of your talents could be better used now, Lord Lytol."
"Oh, tell me more," Lytol said, gesturing to the heavy carved chair which had been placed to get the most benefit of the fire.
"Don't let me take your chair," Jaxom said courteously, noticing that the cushions bore the recent imprint of buttocks and thighs.
"I suspect you're about to take more than that, Lord Jaxom."
"Not without due courtesy," Jaxom said, dragging a small footstool beside the chair for his own use. "And a challenge in its place." He was relieved at Lytol's placid reaction. "Am I, sir, ready to be Lord of Ruatha Hold now?"
"Are you trained, do you mean?"
"That, too, but I had in mind the circumstances which have made it wiser to leave Ruatha in your charge."
"Ay, yes."
Jaxom keenly watched Lytol to see if there was any constraint in his manner as he answered.
"The circumstances have indeed altered over the past two seasons," Lytol almost laughed, "thanks to you, in great part."
"To me? Oh, that wretched illness. So, there is now no real bar to my confirmation as Lord Holder?"
"I see none."
Jaxom heard the harper's soft intake of breath but he was watching Lytol closely.
"So," Lytol almost smiled, "may I know what has prompted you? Surely not just the realization that pressure is eased in the North? Or is it that pretty girl? Sharra, is that her name?"
Jaxom laughed. "She's a large part of my haste," lightly emphasizing the last word and then catching Finder's grin from the corner of his eye.
"A sister to Toric of the Southern Hold, isn't she?" Lytol pursued the subject, testing the suitability of the match.
"Yes, and tell me, Lytol, has there been any move to confirm Toric as a major Lord Holder?"
"No, nor any rumor that he's asked to be." Lytol scowled as he reflected on that circumstance. "What's your opinion of Toric, Lord Lytol?"
"Why do you ask? Certainly the match is suitable, even if he hasn't rank to match yours."
"He doesn't need the rank. He has the ambition," Jaxom said with sufficient rancor to attract the undivided attention of both guardian and harper.
"Ever since D'ram became Southern Weyrleader," Finder remarked in the silence that ensued, "I've heard it said that no holdless man is turned away."
"Does he promise them the right to hold what they can?" Jaxom asked, turning so quickly on Finder that the harper blinked in surprise.
"I'm not sure…"
"Two of Lord Groghe's sons have gone," Lytol said, pulling at his lower lip thoughtfully, "and my understanding from him is that they will hold. Of course, they retain their "birthrank" of Lords. Brand, what was Dorse promised?" he asked as the steward returned.
"Dorse? Has he gone south looking for a hold?" Jaxom gave a chuckle of relief and wonder.
"I saw no reason to refuse him the opportunity," Lytol replied calmly. "I didn't imagine you would object. Brand? What was promised him?"
"I think he was told he could have as much land as he wanted. I don't believe that the term hold came into the discussion. But then, the offer was made through one of the Southern traders, not directly from Toric."
"Still, if a man offered you land, you'd be grateful to him, and support him against those who had denied you land, wouldn't you?" Jaxom asked.
"Yes, gratitude would be reasonably expressed in loyalty," Lytol moved restlessly, considering another aspect of the situation. "However, it was clearly stated that the best land was too far from the protection of the Weyr. I gave Dorse one of our older flamethrowers, in good repair of course, with spare nozzles and hose," Lytol added.
"I'd give anything to watch Dorse in the open in Threadfall without a dragonrider in sight," Jaxom said.
"If Toric is as shrewd as he appears to be," Lytol said, "that may be the final consideration as to who may hold."
"Sir," Jaxom rose, finishing the rest of his wine, "I'll return tonight. Our blood's not yet thick enough for a snowstorm in Ruatha Hold. And there's a task set for Ruth and myself tomorrow. Would you be free to come South again? If Brand can hold matters in our absence?"
"At this time of year, I would welcome the sun," said Lytol.
Brand murmured that he could cope.
When Jaxom and Ruth returned to Cove Hold, grateful for the balmy warmth of the starlight night, Jaxom was more certain than ever that Lytol would not find the change hard to make. Even as Ruth circled to land, Jaxom felt himself relaxing in the warm air. He'd been very tense at Ruatha-tense not to rush Lytol and still achieve his own ends, and worried by the report of Toric's clever machinations.
He slid down Ruth's shoulder to the soft sand, at just the spot where he had so recently kissed Sharra. Thoughts of her were comforting. He waited until Ruth had curled into the still warm sand and then he made for the Hall, tiptoeing in, surprised to see even the Harper's room dark. It must be later than be thought in this part of the world.
He crept into his bed, heard Piemur mutter in his sleep. Farli, curled beside her friend, opened one lid to peer at him, before going back to sound sleep. Jaxom pulled the light blanket over him, thinking of the snows in Ruatha, and went gratefully to sleep.
He woke, abruptly, thinking that someone had called his name. Piemur and Farli were motionless in the crepuscular light that briefly heralded the dawn. Jaxom lay taut, expecting a repetition of that call, and heard none. The Harper? He doubted that, for Menolly was attuned to wake at his call. He touched Ruth's sleepy mind and knew that the dragon was only just rousing.
Jaxom was stiff. Maybe that was what had awakened him for his shoulders were cramped, the long muscles in his arms and across his midriff ached from yesterday's digging. His back was uncomfortably warm from the sun on that Plateau. It was too early to be up. He tried to court sleep but the discomforts of his muscles and skin were sufficient to keep him wakeful. He rose quietly so as not to disturb Piemur or be heard by Sharra. A swim would ease his muscles and soothe his bum. He paused by Ruth and found the white dragon waking, eager to join him for Ruth felt certain that all the mud had not been washed from his hide the evening before.
The Dawn Sisters were clearly sparkling in a sun which was not yet visible over the far horizon. Could his ancestors have gone back to them for refuge after the eruption? And how?
Wading out to his waist in the quiet Cove, Jaxom dove and swam under water, mysteriously dark without the sun to lighten its depths. Then he shot himself to the surface. No, there must have been some other sanctuary between the settlement and the sea. The flight had been channeled in one direction.
He called Ruth, reminding the grumbling white dragon that the sun would be much warmer on the Plateau. He collected his flying gear and grabbed some cold meatrolls from the larder, listening for a long moment to see if he had roused anyone else. He'd rather test his theory now and surprise everyone with good news on waking. He hoped.
They were airborne just as the sun became visible on the horizon, touching the clear cloudless sky with yellow and gilding the benign face of the distant cone mountain.
Ruth took them between and then, at Jaxom's suggestion, circled wide and lazily above the Plateau. They'd made new mounds of their own, Jaxom noticed with amusement, from the debris which the dragons had clawed from the two ancient buildings. He lined Ruth up in the direction of the sea. That goal would have been a long day's march for terrified people. He decided against calling the fire-lizards at this point; they'd only overexcite themselves repeating memories of the eruption. He had to get them to a spot where their associative memories tapped a less frantic moment. Surely they would have something to recall of their men in whatever refuge the fleeing people had set out to reach.