Jaxom’s attention was reclaimed by the stamping of feet and the clapping of hands. He hastily added his own applause, wondering if he’d missed anything vital during his ruminations. He’d check with Menolly later. She remembered everything.
The ovation continued long enough to make Wansor blush with pleased embarrassment, until Fandarel rose and spread his tree-limb arms for silence. But Fandarel no more got his mouth open to speak when one of the Ista Hold watchers jumped to his feet to ask Wansor to clarify an anomaly concerning the fixed position of the trio of Stars known as the Day Sisters. Before Wansor could answer him, someone else informed the man that no anomaly existed and a spirited argument began.
“I wonder if we could use Wansor’s equations to go ahead in time safely,” F’lessan mused.
“You deadglow! You can’t go to a time that hasn’t happened!” Mirrim answered him tartly before the others could. “How would you know what’s happening there? You’d end up in a cliff or a crowd, or surrounded by Thread! It’s dangerous enough to go back in time when at least you can check on what happened or on who was there. Even then you could, and you would, muddle things. Forget it, F’lessan!”
“Going ahead could serve no logical purpose at this time,” Benelek remarked in his sententious way.
“It’d be fun,” F’lessan said, undeterred. “Like knowing what the Oldtimers are planning. F’lar’s sure they’re going to try something. They’ve been far too quiet down there.”
“Close your jaw, F’lessan. That’s Weyr business,” Mirrim said sharply, glancing anxiously around her for fear some of the adults might have overheard his indiscreet remark.
“Communicate! Share your thoughts!” F’lessan spouted back some of Robinton’s taglines.
“There’s a difference between communication and gossip,” Jaxom said.
F’lessan gave his boyhood friend a long measuring look. “You know, I used to think this school idea was a good one. Now I think it’s turned the whole lot of us into do-nothing talkers. And thinkers!” He rolled his eyes upward in disgust. “We talk, we think everything to death. We never do anything. At least I have to do first and think later when we fight Thread!” He turned on his heel and then, brightening, announced, “Hey, there’s food!” He began to weave through the crowd to the doors where heavily laden trays were being passed through to the central table.
Jaxom knew F’lessan’s remarks had been general, but the young Lord keenly felt the jibe about fighting Thread.
“That F’lessan!” Menolly said at his ear. “He wants to keep glory in the bloodline. A bit of derring-do …” and her sea-blue eyes danced with laughter as she added, “for me to tune about!” Then she sighed. “And he’s not the type at all. He doesn’t think beyond himself. But he’s got a good heart. C’mon! We’d better lend a hand with the food.”
“Let us do!” Jaxom’s quip was rewarded by Menolly’s smile of appreciation.
There was merit in both viewpoints, Jaxom decided as he relieved an overburdened woman of a tray of steaming meatrolls, but he’d think about it later.
The Mastersmith’s kitchen had prepared for the large gathering, and besides succulent meatrolls there were hot fish balls, bread slabbed with the firm cheeses of the High Range, two huge kettles of klah.
As he passed food around, Jaxom became conscious of something else that annoyed him. The other Lords Holder and Craftmasters were all cordial, inquiring courteously after Ruth and Lytol. They all seemed quite willing to exchange pleasantries with him but would not discuss Wansor’s theories. Perhaps, Jaxom thought cynically, they hadn’t understood what Wansor had said and were ashamed to show their ignorance before the younger man. Jaxom sighed. Would he ever be old enough to be considered on equal terms?
“Hey, Jaxom, dump that,” F’lessan grabbed his sleeve. “Got something to show you.”
Believing he had done his duty, Jaxom pushed his tray onto the table and followed his young friend out the door. F’lessan kept going, grinning like a dimwit, and then swung round to point at the roof of the Smithcrafthall.
The Hall was a large building with steep gables. The roof appeared to be in colorful motion, rippling with sound. A veritable fair of firelizards were perched on the gray slates, chirping and humming to one another in earnest conversationa perfect parody of the intent discussions going on inside the building; Jaxom began to laugh.