The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [306]
For one hopeful moment Jaxom thought N’ton was offering him the chance he so wanted.
“If it were my decision, Jaxom, which it isn’t and can’t be. But,” and N’ton paused, his eyes searching Jaxom’s face, “this is a matter that had better be discussed. You’re old enough to be confirmed as Lord Holder or to do something else constructive. I’ll speak to Lytol and F’lar on your behalf.”
“Lytol will say that I am Lord Holder, and F’lar will say Ruth isn’t big enough for a fighting wing—”
“And I won’t say anything if you act like a sulky boy.”
A bellow overhead interrupted them. Two more dragons were circling, indicating that they wanted to land. N’ton waved acknowledgment, and then he and Jaxom jogged out of the way toward the Smithcrafthall. Just short of the door, N’ton held him back.
“I won’t forget, Jaxom, only . . .” and N’ton grinned, “for the sake of the First Shell, don’t let anyone catch you giving Ruth firestone. And be bloody careful when you go!”
In a state of mild shock, Jaxom stared at N’ton as the Weyrleader hailed a friend inside the building. N’ton had understood. Jaxom’s depression lifted instantly.
As he crossed the threshold of the Smithcrafthall, he hesitated, adjusting his sight to the interior after the bright spring sun. Intent on his own problems, he’d also forgotten how important a session this was to be. Masterharper Robinton was seated at the long work table, cleared for this occasion of its usual clutter, and F’lar, Benden’s Weyrleader, was beside him. Jaxom recognized three other Weyrleaders and the new Masterherdsman Briaret. There were a good half a wing of bronze riders and Lord Holders, the leading smiths and more harpers than any other craft to judge by the color of tunics on men he didn’t recognize immediately.
Someone was calling his name in an urgent hoarse whisper. Looking to his left, Jaxom saw that F’lessan and the other regular students had gathered humbly by the far window, the girls perched on stools.
“Half Pern’s here,” F’lessan remarked, pleased, as he made room against the back wall for Jaxom.
Jaxom nodded to the others who appeared far more interested in watching the new arrivals. “Didn’t think there’d be so many people interested in Wansor’s stars and maths,” Jaxom said in a low voice to F’lessan.
“What? And miss a chance to ride dragonback?” F’lessan asked with good-natured candor. “I brought four in myself.”
“A lot of people have assisted Wansor in collating the material,” Benelek said in his usual didactic manner. “Naturally they want to hear what use has been made of their time and effort.”
“They sure didn’t come for the food,” F’lessan said with a snicker.
Now why, wondered Jaxom, doesn’t F’lessan’s remark annoy me?
“Nonsense, F’lessan,” Benelek replied, too literal-minded to understand when someone was being facetious. “Food’s very good here. You eat enough of it.”
“I’m like Fandarel,” F’lessan said. “I make efficient use of anything edible. Sush! Here he is himself. Shells!” The young bronze rider grimaced with disgust. “Couldn’t someone have made him change his clothes?”
“As if clothes mattered for a man with a mind like Wansor’s.” Benelek dropped his voice but he was nearly sputtering with contempt for F’lessan.
“Today of all days, Wansor should look tidy,” Jaxom said. “That’s what F’lessan meant.”
Benelek grunted but did not pursue the subject. Then F’lessan nudged Jaxom in the ribs with a wink for Benelek’ s reaction.
Halfway inside the door, Wansor suddenly realized that the hall was filled. He stopped, peered around him, at first timidly. Then, when he recognized a face, he bobbed his head and smiled hesitantly. From all sides he met with encouraging grins and murmured greetings and gestures for him to continue to the front of the hall.
“Well, my, my . . . All for my stars? My stars, my, my!” His reaction