“You must be very sure of G’dened’s Barnath then,” R’mart of Telgar Weyr said in a disgusted tone of voice that rose over the startled murmurs.
G’dened, grinning broadly, managed to avoid meeting anyone’s glance.
“I want the best leadership for Ista,” D’ram said, stiffly, resenting R’mart’s implication of a token flight. “G’dened has proved his competence to my satisfaction. But he ought to prove it to everyone’s.”
“That’s fairly put.” F’lar rose to his feet, holding up his hands for silence. “I don’t doubt G’dened has a good chance, R’mart, but D’ram’s offer is exceedingly generous at this critical time. I’ll inform all my bronze riders but I, for one, will permit only those whose dragons haven’t yet had a chance to mate with a queen. I don’t think it’s fair to pile too many odds against Barnath, now is it?”
“Isn’t Caylith a Benden queen?” Lord Corman of Keroon Hold asked.
“No, she’s one of Mirath’s laying. Parith is the Benden Hatched queen.”
“Caylith’s an Oldtimer queen?”
“Caylith is an Istan queen,” F’lar said firmly but quickly.
“And G’dened?”
“I was born in the old time,” the man said in a quiet voice but the expression he turned to Lord Corman bore no trace of apology.
“He is also a son of D’ram,” Lord Warbret of Ista Hold said, speaking directly to Lord Corman as if that qualification should ease the Holder’s tacit objection.
“Good man. Good blood,” Corman replied, not at all ruffled.
“His leadership is in question, not his bloodline,” F’lar said. “The custom is a good one …”
Jaxom clearly heard someone remark that it was the only good Oldtime custom he’d ever heard about, and he hoped that the low whisper hadn’t carried far.
“D’ram would be within his right to keep to the Weyr for leadership,” F’lar continued, addressing the craftmasters and Lord Holders. “I, for one, deeply appreciate his offer and the willingness of the Weyr to open the mating flight.”
“I only want the best leadership for my Weyr,” D’ram repeated. “This is the only way to be certain Ista gets it. The only way, the only right way.”
Jaxom suppressed the urge to cheer and glanced about the room, willing the reactions to be favorable. All the Weyrleaders seemed to agree. As they should, since one of their riders might gain from it. Jaxom hoped that G’dened’s Barnath would fly Caylith anyhow. That would prove there was good metal in the younger Oldtimers. No one would be able to say anything against Ista leadership once it was proved by competition!
“I have stated Ista’s intention,” D’ram said, raising his tired voice over the murmur of individual conversations. “It is the will of my Weyr. I must go back now. My duty to you, Lords, Masters, Weyrleaders, all.”
He gave a quick sweeping nod to everyone, bowed more formally to Lessa, who rose, touched his arm in sympathy and let him pass.
To Jaxom’s surprise and elation, everyone rose as D’ram left, but the Istan Weyrleader’s head remained down. Jaxom wondered if he’d been aware of that spontaneous show of respect and felt a lump rise in his throat.
“I will take my leave as well, in case I’m needed,” G’dened said, bowing formally to Benden’s leaders and the others.
“G’dened?” Lessa incorporated a wealth of question in his name.
The man shook his head slowly. “I will inform all the Weyrs when Caylith is ready to fly.” He quickly followed D’ram.
As the sound of his footsteps diminished down the corridor, voices began to rise. The Lord Holders weren’t certain they approved of such an innovation. The Craftmasters were apparently divided, though Jaxom rather thought Robinton had known of D’ram’s decision and was neutral. The Weyrleaders expressed complete satisfaction.
“Hope Fanna doesn’t expire today,” Jaxom heard a Craftmaster murmur to his neighbor. “A death at a Hatching is a bad sign.”
“Besides spoiling the feast. I wonder just how strong G’dened’s bronze is. Now if a Benden bronze rider got into Ista …”
Speaking of the feast reminded Jaxom that his stomach was roiling for lack of food. He’d been up early for his training as usual, and had had no more than time to change into good clothing at his Hold so he began to sidle to the exit. He could always coax a meatroll or a sweetbread from one of the Lower Cavern women to stay his hunger.