Bearing in mind that the entrances tended to be on the short ends, they abandoned F’lar’s original trench on the roof. Ramoth and Mnementh obligingly shifted enormous mounds of the curious gray-black soil from the center of the end. The entrance was shortly revealed as a door, large enough to admit a green dragon, sliding on rails; a smaller opening pierced one comer. “Man size,” F’lar said. It opened on hinges that were not of metal, a fact which delighted and puzzled Masters Nicat and Fandarel. Just as they opened the small door, Jaxom and Ruth arrived. No sooner had they landed on the mound’s top, than three more dragons burst into the air.
“D’ram,” Lessa said, “and two Benden browns that went south to help.”
“Sorry to take so long, Master Robinton,” Jaxom said, handing the Harper a neat roll as if it were of no moment. “Good morning, Lessa. What was in Nicat’s building?”
The Harper tucked the roll carefully in his belt pouch, pleased with Jaxom’s dissembling. “A children’s hall. Go take a look.”
“Could I have a word with you, Master Robinton? Unless …” Jaxom waved his hands toward the mound and the little door hanging so invitingly open.
“I can wait until the air is cleared out,” Robinton said, having noticed the tense look in Jaxom’s eyes and his air of polite entreaty. He moved with the young man to one side of the others. “Yes?”
“Sharra is being restrained at Southern by her brother,” Jaxom said in a low voice that did not reveal his agitation.
“However did you find that out?” Robinton asked, glancing up at the circling bronze that bore the Southerner.
“She told Ruth. Toric has plans for her to marry one of his new holders. He considers the Northern lordlings useless!” There was a dangerous glint in Jaxom’s eyes and a sternness to his features which, for the first time since Robinton had known the lad, gave him the look of his father. Fax, a resemblance which afforded Robinton some small pleasure.
“Some of the lordlings undoubtedly are,” Robinton replied, amused. “What have you in mind, Jaxom?” he added, for there was no answering response to his drollery in the grim-faced young man. Somehow, the Harper had failed to appreciate the maturing that had occurred in Ruatha’s Lord Holder during the past eventful two seasons.
“I intend to get her back,” Jaxom said in a quiet firm tone, and gestured to Ruth. “Toric forgot to reckon with Ruth.”
“You’d fly into Southern and just carry her off?” Robinton asked, trying to keep his expression straight, though Jaxom’s romantic manner made it difficult.
“Why not?” Suddenly the glint of humor was restored to Jaxom’s eyes. “I doubt if Toric expects me to take direct action. I’m one of those useless Northern lordlings!”
“Ah, but not before you receive some direct action yourself, I fancy,” Robinton said in a quick undertone.
Toric and his group had dismounted in the clear space between two of the mound ranks. He had left his people to sort themselves out and, stripping off his flying gear, was striding toward Lessa and those clustered about the mound door. But, after giving her a greeting, he changed directions and there was no doubt his goal was Jaxom.
“Harper!” he said, coming to a halt with a courteous nod for Robinton before he looked at Jaxom.
To Robinton’s pleasure, Ruatha’s Lord did not so much as straighten his shoulders or turn to face Toric.
“Holder Toric,” Jaxom said over his shoulder in a cool indifferent greeting. The title, which was certainly proper as Toric had never been invited to take full rank by the other Lord Holders of Pern, brought the Southerner up short. His eyes narrowed as he looked keenly at Jaxom.
“Lord Jaxom.” Toric’s drawl made an insult of that title, implying that it was not fully Jaxom’s as yet.
Jaxom turned slowly toward him. “Sharra tells me,” he said, noting as Robinton did the surprise twitch of Toric’s eye muscles, and a quick darting glance at the firelizards about Ruth, “that you do not favor an alliance with Ruatha.”
“No, lordling. I do not!” Toric flicked a glance at the Harper, a broad smile on his face. “She can do better than a table-sized Hold in the North.” The last word held contemptuous emphasis.