She looked both uneasy and dignified; her eyes were still red from tears. But she nodded, confirming what C’rob reported.
Robinton escorted them all to the Lord Holders. Fax sauntered along in their wake, smiling enigmatically when Robinton firmly closed the door in his face.
When the Lord Holders concluded their interview with Manora and the bronze riders, most of them left the small dining room for the refreshments available in the hall. But, of the group who remained, Robinton saw Lord Faroguy and was startled by the change in the man. He looked almost bloodless with fatigue, as if he had little energy and substance, barely responding to whatever Lord Melongel, of Tillek Hold, was saying to him.
Then Farevene bustled down the hall, carrying a tray of food and drink. Giving Robinton a nod of recognition, he hurried up to his father and Lord Melongel. Melongel took the nearest glass of wine and passed it to Faroguy, then watched anxiously as the older man sipped and smiled in appreciation of the courtesy.
“There may be need for another Council soon, Harper,” Fax commented, appearing at Robinton’s elbow. “Mark my words.”
Robinton made no reply, managing to keep his expression bland though he seethed inwardly at Fax’s pretentiousness. He could not help but worry about Faroguy, though it irritated him to give any weight to something Fax might say – especially since both Melongel and Farevene seemed so concerned over the High Reaches Lord Holder.
There was little a harper could do, Robinton realized philosophically, but he’d have a word with Farevene if the opportunity arose.
Then what Farevene was saying to his father reached his ears.
“MasterHealer Ginia would be glad to give you a consultation, Father, as soon as you feel able.”
“It won’t do any harm,” Melongel agreed heartily.
“Very well,” Faroguy said with a heavy sigh and a flick of his pale hands where they rested on the arm of the chair He managed a weak smile. “I’d rather another Council was not called sooner than necessary. And on my account.” He took another drink of the wine, then looked at the glass. “Benden wine is, I fear, superior, Melongel.”
“Just give us the time Benden has had with viticulture and you’ll see a comparison in our favour,” Melongel replied with a hint of challenge.
“Robinton?”
The journeyman turned at the touch of his arm to see C’vrel standing there, frowning.
“Simanith is on the heights, but I can’t find F’lon anywhere.”
“He’s asleep in my quarters. He was reeling with fatigue,” Robinton replied.
“Yes, well, we all are. But I’d rather you either kept him in your rooms or woke him now. Fax is wandering around, and I have a good suspicion – confirmed by Farevene in there – that he’s probably looking for F’lon.” C’vrel shifted his weight anxiously.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that F’lon would start trouble. We’ve had enough.”
“I’d agree to that.”
C’vrel gave a short bark. “S’loner sent F’lon out on quite a few unwise’ – he lifted one thick black eyebrow – “errands which, quite frankly, were not conducted to the Weyr’s advantage. I, for one, did not condone some of S’loner’s methods or aims. Candidly, but it’s almost as much a relief to us’ – the flick of his hand was meant to indicate the other older bronze riders – “that S’loner’s no longer leader as it is to the Council. So do us all a favour, Harper, and keep F’lon out of Fax’s way. I’ll take the High Reaches party back myself. I didn’t know, in fact, that F’lon had been to that Hold today. M’ridin was to make that transfen”
Robinton nodded. Odd: F’lon had wished Robinton to think he didn’t know Fax, and yet the young rider had seemed almost eager for a confrontation with the holder. It was fortunate indeed that exhaustion had intervened.
As he made his way to the front staircase, Robinton stopped by Hayon. I’ll be in my quarters if I’m needed. I’ve been advised to keep F’lon and Fax separated.”
“Oh, F’lon’s in your rooms?” Hayon heaved a sigh of relief.
“We’ve all been wondering. Especially that Fax. I don’t like that man.”