“Southern is too big to be adequately protected against Thread which still falls there,” N’ton said.
Lord Groghe nodded, mumbling that he was aware of that. “Point is, people know you can live without hold and survive Threadfall!” The Lord Holder’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at Sebell. “That Menolly girl of yours did it! Hear tell Toric in Southern got little help from those Oldtimers during Falls.”
“Tell me, Lord Groghe,” Sebell asked in his quiet way, “have you ever been out in Fall?”
Lord Groghe shuddered a bit. “Once. Ohhh, well, yes, I take your point, Harper. I take your point. Still, one way to separate boys from men!” He gave a sharp nod of his head. “That’s my notion. Separate boys from men!” He gazed up at N’ton, a sly look in his eyes though his expression continued bland. “Or don’t the Weyrs want the boys separated?”
N’ton laughed, to the Lord’s surprise. “It’s time we separated more than the boys. Lord Groghe.”
“Huh?”
“We will convey your message to F’lar today.” The Fort Weyrleader raised his cup to the Lord Holder as a seal on that promise.
“Can’t ask fairer than that! What news, Master Sebell, of Master Robinton?”
Sebell’s eyes lit with amusement. “He’s four days out of Ista Hold, resting comfortably.”
“Ha!” Lord Groghe begged to disbelieve that.
“Well, I’m told he’s comfortable,” Sebell replied. “Whether he is of the same opinion or not.”
“Going to that pretty place where young Jaxom’s trapped, huh?”
“Trapped?” Sebell regarded Lord Groghe with mock horror. “He’s not trapped, only restricted from flying between for a while longer.”
“Been at that cove. Beautiful. Whereabouts is it exactly?”
“In the South,” Sebell answered.
“Humph. All right, you won’t tell? You won’t tell! Don’t blame you. Beautiful place. Now, off with the pair of you and tell F’lar what I’ve said. Don’t think I’ll be the last but it’d be a help to be the first. Help to him. Help to me! Dratted sons of mine drive me to drinking!” The Lord Holder rose and so did the two younger men. “Tell your Master I was asking for him when you see him next, Sebell.”
“I will, sir!”
Lord Groghe’s little queen, Merga, chirped brightly at Sebell’s Kimi and N’ton’s Tris as the three men walked to the Hall door. To Sebell, it indicated that Lord Groghe was well pleased with the interview.
Neither man made any comment until they were well down the wide ramp that led from the courtyard of Fort Hold to the main paved roadway of the complex Hold.
Then N’ton heard Sebell’s soft and satisfied chuckle. “It worked, N’ton, it worked.”
“What worked?”
“The Lord Holder’s asking the Weyrleaders’ permission to go south!”
“Why shouldn’t they?” N’ton seemed perplexed.
Sebell grinned broadly at his friend. “By the Shell, it worked with you, too! Do you have time to take me to Benden Weyr? Lord Groghe’s right. He might be the first though I doubt it, knowing Lord Corman’s ways, but he won’t be the last.”
“What worked with me, Sebell?”
Sebell’s grin deepened and his brown eyes danced. “Now I’m well trained not to give away craft secrets, my friend.”
N’ton made a noise of disgusted impatience and stopped in the middle of the dusty pavement. “Explain or you don’t go.”
“It should be so obvious, N’ton. Do think on it. While you take me to Benden. If you haven’t figured out what I mean, I’ll tell you there. I’ll have to inform F’lar what’s been done anyhow.”
“Lord Groghe, too, eh?” F’lar regarded the two younger men thoughtfully.
He’d just returned from fighting Thread over Keroon and a surprising after-Fall interview with Lord Corman, punctuated with much honking of the Lord’s large and perpetually runny nose.
“Threadfall over Keroon today?” Sebell asked and when F’lar grimaced sourly, the young Craftmaster grinned at N’ton. “Lord Groghe wasn’t first!”
Giving vent to the irritation he felt, F’lar slapped his riding gauntlets down on the table.
“I apologize for barging in when you must wish to rest, Weyrleader,” Sebell said, “but if Lord Groghe has thought of those empty lands to the south, others have, too. He suggested that you’d better be warned.”