He held up his hand, saw the quick pain in her eyes, as the merest shake of his fingers forestalled all she wanted to say. He sighed, closing his eyes against the pain in her loving eyes. Abruptly he was exhausted by an exchange of understanding that had taken so few moments. As few as at Impression, he thought, and as lasting. He supposed he had always known the dangerous ambivalence of his feelings for the young SeaHold-bred girl whose rare talent he had developed. Ironic that he should be weak enough to admit it, to himself and to her, at such an awkward moment. Obtuse of him not to have recognized the intensity and quality of Menolly’s feelings for him. Yet, she’d seemed content enough with Sebell. Certainly they enjoyed a deep emotional and physical attachment. Robinton had done everything in his subtle power to insure that. Sebell was the son he had never had. Better that!
“Sebell …” he began, and stopped when he felt her fingers tentatively closing over his.
“I loved you first. Master.”
“You’ve been a dear child to me,” he said, willing himself to believe that. He squeezed her fingers in a brisk grip which he broke and, elbowing himself off the pillows, retrieved the cup he had set down and took a long drink.
He was able, then, to smile up at her, despite the lingering ache in his throat for what could never have been. She did manage a smile in return.
Zair flew up and beyond the sunscreen, though Robinton couldn’t imagine why the approach of the Masterfisher would startle the creature.
“So, you wake. Rested, my good friend?” the Seamaster asked.
“Just the man I wanted to see. Master Idarolan, have you noticed those Dawn Sisters at dusk? Or has my eyesight deteriorated with the rest of me?”
“Oho, the eye is by no means dimmed, good Master Robinton. I’ve already sent word back to Master Wansor on that account. I confess that I have never sailed so far easterly in these Southern waters so I’d never observed the phenomenon before, but I do believe that there is something peculiar about the positioning of those three stars.”
“If I’m allowed to stay up past dusk this evening,” the Harper glared significantly at Menolly, “may I have the loan of your distance-viewer?”
“You certainly may. Master Robinton. I’d appreciate your observations. I know you’ve had a good deal more time to study Master Wansor’s equations. Perhaps we can figure out between us this erratic behavior.”
“I’d like nothing better. In the meantime, let us complete that game we started this morning. Menolly, have you the board handy?”
CHAPTER XVIII
At the Cove Hold the Day of Master Robinton’s Arrival, 15.10.14
WITH so MANY eager hands and skilled craftsmen, Cove Hold took only eleven days to complete, though the stonemen shook their heads a bit over rushing the drying of hardset. Another three days were spent on the interior. Lessa, Manora, Silvina and Sharra consulted long, and with much shifting of the furnishings finally achieved what they considered the effective use-not efficient, Sharra told Jaxom with a wicked grin, but effective-of the offerings which poured in from every hold, craft and cot.
Sharra’s voice began to take on a tone that mixed suffering and pride. She’d spent the day unpacking, washing and arranging things. “What did you fall into?” she asked Piemur, noticing newly acquired scratches on his face and hands.
“Doing things his way,” Jaxom replied, though he’d a few marks on his neck and forehead as well.
With so many to build the Hold, N’ton, F’nor, and F’lar, when he could arrange the time, had joined Piemur and Jaxom to increase their knowledge of the lands immediately adjacent to the Cove.
Piemur rather arrogantly told F’lar that dragons had to be to a place first to get there again between—or else get a sharp enough visualization from someone who had. But he, with his two feet and Stupid’s four, had to be first so that mere dragonriders could then follow. The dragonriders ignored the somewhat disparaging remarks, but Piemur’s attitude was beginning to get on Jaxom’s nerves.
No matter the method of accomplishment, temporary camps at a good day’s flight by dragon from Cove Hold were established in a wide arc fanning out from the new Hold. Each camp consisted of a small tile-roofed shelter and a stone bunker to secure emergency supplies and sleeping furs. By a tacit agreement, they had gone two days’ flight on a direct bearing to the mountain and built a secondary camp.