Robinton laughed. "Brekke feels, and so does Menolly, that the attachment is sincere on both sides. I'm delighted you agree. I've been daily hoping he would ask me to officiate. Especially in view of today's reflections. By the way, only it isn't exactly by the way but to our point, Jaxom went back to Ruatha Hold last evening. He approached Lytol on the subject of his confirmation as Lord Holder."
"Did he?" F'lar was as pleased as his weyrmate. "Prompted by Sharra? Or by Toric's not-too-subtle jibing yesterday?"
"I missed far too much not being permitted to go to the Plateau yesterday," the Harper said irritably. "What jibing?"
The bugling of Ramoth and Mnementh outside effectively prevented further discussion.
"N'ton's here, with Master Nicat and Wansor," F'lar said. He turned to Robinton and Lessa as he rose. "Shall we just let matters proceed naturally?"
"That's usually best," Robinton said.
Lessa smiled cryptically as she strode toward the door.
N'ton had brought three journeymen miners as well as their Master. F'nor arrived immediately thereafter with Wansor, Benelek and two young apprentices apparently chosen for their generous size. Without waiting for Toric to appear with D'ram, they all went between to the Plateau, landing as close to Nicat's little mound as possible. Daylight provided the answer to its function-numerals and letters paraded as design across the far end, and rather fascinating animals, large and small and bearing no resemblance to anything walking Pern's surface, marched across the two long walls.
"A harper's room, for the very young learning first Teaching Songs and Ballads," the Harper said, not nearly as disappointed as the others since the building applied to his Craft.
"Well, then," Benelek added and, turning on his heel, pointed to the mound immediately on the left. "This is where the advanced students would be. If, of course," he sounded dubious, "the ancients followed a logical sequence and progressed to the right in any circular formation." He executed a curt bow to the Weyrleaders and the three Craftmasters and, gesturing to one of the apprentices, marched decisively out, picked a shovel from the pile and proceeded to cut the grass from the inner end of the chosen mound.
Lessa, waiting until Benelek was out of hearing, gave way to laughter. "And if the ancients disappoint him, will he bother with any more mysteries?"
"It's time to unearth my large mound today," F'lar said, trying to imitate Benelek's decisiveness as he gestured the others to pick up tools and join him.
Bearing in mind that the entrances tended to be on the short ends, they abandoned F'lar's original trench on the roof. Ramoth and Mnementh obligingly shifted enormous mounds of the curious gray-black soil from the center of the end. The entrance was shortly revealed as a door, large enough to admit a green dragon, sliding on rails; a smaller opening pierced one comer. "Man size," F'lar said. It opened on hinges that were not of metal, a fact which delighted and puzzled Masters Nicat and Fandarel. Just as they opened the small door, Jaxom and Ruth arrived. No sooner had they landed on the mound's top, than three more dragons burst into the air.
"D'ram," Lessa said, "and two Benden browns that went south to help."
"Sorry to take so long, Master Robinton," Jaxom said, handing the Harper a neat roll as if it were of no moment. "Good morning, Lessa. What was in Nicat's building?"
The Harper tucked the roll carefully in his belt pouch, pleased with Jaxom's dissembling. "A children's hall. Go take a look."
"Could I have a word with you, Master Robinton? Unless…" Jaxom waved his hands toward the mound and the little door hanging so invitingly open.
"I can wait until the air is cleared out," Robinton said, having noticed the tense look in Jaxom's eyes and his air of polite entreaty. He moved with the young man to one side of the others. "Yes?"
"Sharra is being restrained at Southern by her brother," Jaxom said in a low voice that did not reveal his agitation.
"However did you find that out?" Robinton asked, glancing up at the circling bronze that bore the Southerner.
"She told Ruth. Toric has plans for her to marry one of his new holders. He considers the Northern lordlings useless!" There was a dangerous glint in Jaxom's eyes and a sternness to his features which, for the first time since Robinton had known the lad, gave him the look of his father. Fax, a resemblance which afforded Robinton some small pleasure.
"Some of the lordlings undoubtedly are," Robinton replied, amused. "What have you in mind, Jaxom?" he added, for there was no answering response to his drollery in the grim-faced young man. Somehow, the Harper had failed to appreciate the maturing that had occurred in Ruatha's Lord Holder during the past eventful two seasons.
"I intend to get her back," Jaxom said in a quiet firm tone, and gestured to Ruth. "Toric forgot to reckon with Ruth."
"You'd fly into Southern and just carry her off?" Robinton asked, trying to keep his expression straight, though Jaxom's romantic manner made it difficult.
"Why not?" Suddenly the glint of humor was restored to Jaxom's eyes. "I doubt if Toric expects me to take direct action. I'm one of those useless Northern lordlings!"
"Ah, but not before you receive some direct action yourself, I fancy," Robinton said in a quick undertone.
Toric and his group had dismounted in the clear space between two of the mound ranks. He had left his people to sort themselves out and, stripping off his flying gear, was striding toward Lessa and those clustered about the mound door. But, after giving her a greeting, he changed directions and there was no doubt his goal was Jaxom.
"Harper!" he said, coming to a halt with a courteous nod for Robinton before he looked at Jaxom.
To Robinton's pleasure, Ruatha's Lord did not so much as straighten his shoulders or turn to face Toric.
"Holder Toric," Jaxom said over his shoulder in a cool indifferent greeting. The title, which was certainly proper as Toric had never been invited to take full rank by the other Lord Holders of Pern, brought the Southerner up short. His eyes narrowed as he looked keenly at Jaxom.
"Lord Jaxom." Toric's drawl made an insult of that title, implying that it was not fully Jaxom's as yet.
Jaxom turned slowly toward him. "Sharra tells me," he said, noting as Robinton did the surprise twitch of Toric's eye muscles, and a quick darting glance at the fire-lizards about Ruth, "that you do not favor an alliance with Ruatha."
"No, lordling. I do not!" Toric flicked a glance at the Harper, a broad smile on his face. "She can do better than a table-sized Hold in the North." The last word held contemptuous emphasis.
"What did I hear. Toric?" Lessa asked, her voice light but with a hint of steel in her eyes as she squarely ranged herself beside Jaxom.
"Holder Toric has other plans for Sharra," Jaxom said, his tone more amused than aggrieved. "She can do better, it seems, than a table-sized Hold like Ruatha."
"I mean no offense to Ruatha," Toric said quickly when he caught the flicker of anger in Lessa's face, though the Weyrwoman continued to smile.
"That would be most unwise, considering my pride in my Bloodline and in the present Holder of that title," she said in the most casual tone.
"Surely, you might reconsider the matter, Toric," Robinton said, as affable as ever despite the palpable warning he conveyed that the Southerner was on very dangerous ground. "Such an alliance, so much desired by the two young people, would have considerable advantages for you, I think, aligning yourself with one of the most prestigious Holds on Pern."