The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [349]
“I have stated Ista’s intention,” D’ram said, raising his tired voice over the murmur of individual conversations. “It is the will of my Weyr. I must go back now. My duty to you, Lords, Masters, Weyrleaders, all.”
He gave a quick sweeping nod to everyone, bowed more formally to Lessa, who rose, touched his arm in sympathy and let him pass.
To Jaxom’s surprise and elation, everyone rose as D’ram left, but the Istan Weyrleader’s head remained down. Jaxom wondered if he’d been aware of that spontaneous show of respect and felt a lump rise in his throat.
“I will take my leave as well, in case I’m needed,” G’dened said, bowing formally to Benden’s leaders and the others.
“G’dened?” Lessa incorporated a wealth of question in his name.
The man shook his head slowly. “I will inform all the Weyrs when Caylith is ready to fly.” He quickly followed D’ram.
As the sound of his footsteps diminished down the corridor, voices began to rise. The Lord Holders weren’t certain they approved of such an innovation. The Craftmasters were apparently divided, though Jaxom rather thought Robinton had known of D’ram’s decision and was neutral. The Weyrleaders expressed complete satisfaction.
“Hope Fanna doesn’t expire today,” Jaxom heard a Craftmaster murmur to his neighbor. “A death at a Hatching is a bad sign.”
“Besides spoiling the feast. I wonder just how strong G’dened’s bronze is. Now if a Benden bronze rider got into Ista . . .”
Speaking of the feast reminded Jaxom that his stomach was roiling for lack of food. He’d been up early for his training as usual, and had had no more than time to change into good clothing at his Hold so he began to sidle to the exit. He could always coax a meatroll or a sweetbread from one of the Lower Cavern women to stay his hunger.
“Is this all the meeting there is?” Lord Begamon of Nerat Hold asked, his rasping voice falling into a momentary silence. He sounded peevish. “Haven’t the Weyrs yet found out who took the egg? Even who returned it? That’s what I thought we’d hear today.”
“The egg was returned, Lord Begamon,” F’lar said, extending his hand to Lessa.
“I know the egg was returned. I was right here when it happened. Was at its Hatching, too.”
F’lar continued to lead Lessa down the length of the room.
“This is another Hatching, Lord Begamon,” F’lar said. “A happy occasion for all of us. There will be wine below.” And the two Weyrleaders had left the room.
“I don’t understand.” Begamon turned in confusion to the man beside him. “I thought we’d learn something today.”
“You did,” F’nor said, guiding Brekke past him. “That D’ram is stepping down as Weyrleader at Ista.”
“That doesn’t concern me,” Begamon was growing more, rather than less, annoyed with the replies he was getting.
“That concerns you more than any puzzle over the egg,” F’nor said as he and Brekke left the room.
“I think that’s all the answer you’re going to get,” Robinton said to Begamon, a wry smile on his face.
“But . . . but aren’t they doing anything about it? They’re not just letting the Oldtimers insult them like that and not doing something?”
“Unlike Lord Holders,” N’ton said, coming forward, “dragonriders are not free to indulge their passions or honors at the expense of their primary duty, which is to protect all of Pern from Thread. That is the important occupation of dragonriders, Lord Begamon.”
“C’mon, Begamon,” Lord Groghe of Fort Hold said as he took the man by the arm. “It’s Weyr business, not ours, you know. Can’t interfere. Shouldn’t. They know what they’re doing. And the egg was returned. Too bad about D’ram’s woman. Hate to see him go. Sensible fellow. F’lar didn’t say but it must be Benden wine.”
Jaxom saw Lord Groghe searching the faces about him.
“Ah, Harper, it ought to be Benden wine here?”
The Harper agreed and left the Council room in the company of the two Lords, Begamon still protesting the lack of information. Jaxom followed them out as the room