“I think,” said Sharra, who had joined them, “that this is quite a tribute to the Masterharper.” Her eyes caught Jaxom’s and he knew that she was aware of his ambivalent feelings about this invasion of their private, peaceful cove.
Then Jaxom saw F’nor watching him and managed a weak smile. “Yesterday’s blisters will have a chance to heal, I guess. Right, Piemur?”
Piemur nodded, his jaw muscles working as he observed the activity on the beach. “I’d better find Stupid. All this confusion has probably scared him deep into the forest. Farli!” He held up his arm for his firelizard, who swooped down from the roof. “Find Stupid, Farli. Lead me to him!”
The firelizard looked over her left shoulder and chirped, and Piemur strode off in that direction without a backward glance.
“That young man’s been alone too long,” F’nor said.
“Yes!”
“You know how he feels?” F’nor asked, grinning at Jaxom’s terse reply. He clapped him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t let it get to me, if I were you, Jaxom. With the amount of help we’ve got, the hold will be up in next to no time. You’ll have your peace and quiet back.”
“Idiots!” Sharra exclaimed suddenly.
Jaxom, avoiding F’nor’s quizzical expression, looked at her. She’d been half-listening to the conversation between the two Masters.
“Now I have to have it out with them!” Her fists were clenched with exasperation as she strode purposefully up to the two Craftsmen. “Masters, I must point out something you have clearly overlooked. This is hot country You’re both used to cold winters and freezing rains. If you build this hold on those lines, people will stifle in the full heat of summer which is almost upon us. Now, where I live in Southern Hold, we build thick walls to keep the heat out and the cool in. We build off the ground so air circulates under the floor and keeps that cool. We build lots of windows-wide ones-and you’ve brought enough metal shutters, Master Fandarel, to outfit a dozen holds. Yes, I know, but Thread doesn’t fall every day and the heat does. Now .. .”
F’nor made a clicking noise against his teeth. “She sounds like Brekke. And if she acts at all like my weyrmate when she’s in that sort of mood, I’d rather be elsewhere. You,” F’nor poked Jaxom in the chest, “can show us where to hunt. Food was brought along but since you’re in effect the resident Lord Holder, it’s up to you to play host with some roasting meat…”
“I’ll just get my flying gear,” Jaxom said with such a tone of relief that the three dragonriders laughed.
Jaxom quickly slipped long trousers over the short pants he’d been wearing for sunning and swimming, threw his jacket over his shoulder and joined the three riders by the doorway.
“I think we can mount on the left-hand arm of the cove, near Ruth,” said F’nor.
Something whizzed by Jaxom’s ear and instinctively ducking, he looked back as Meer came to a hover, clutching a piece of black reef rock in his front paws. Jaxom heard Sharra thanking her firelizard for his prompt return.
He hastily left before she could think of any errands for him. F’nor had hunting ropes for each of them which they checked and coiled over their shoulders. As they made their way past piles of assorted woods in various lengths and widths, past metal shutters and unlabeled bales, men hailed the riders and inquired how Jaxom was feeling.
Before they completed the short walk to the cove tip, Jaxom had identified men from every Weyr except Telgar-which was expecting Thread that day-and representatives of every craft in Pern, mostly journeyman rank and higher. Isolated as he’d been for so many sevendays, it hadn’t occurred to Jaxom that his illness might have been a subject of widespread interest through Weyr, Craft, and Hold. He was embarrassed as well as gratified, but that did not ease his sense of being overwhelmed, or this violation, however well-intentioned, of the privacy and peace of his cove.
What had F’nor called him? Resident Lord Holder?
He gave himself a shake just as Ruth, dripping wet, landed lightly beside him.