“Is this all the meeting there is?” Lord Begamon of Nerat Hold asked, his rasping voice falling into a momentary silence. He sounded peevish. “Haven’t the Weyrs yet found out who took the egg? Even who returned it? That’s what I thought we’d hear today.”
“The egg was returned. Lord Begamon,” F’lar said, extending his hand to Lessa.
“I know the egg was returned. I was right here when it happened. Was at its Hatching, too.”
F’lar continued to lead Lessa down the length of the room.
“This is another Hatching, Lord Begamon,” F’lar said. “A happy occasion for all of us. There will be wine below.” And the two Weyrleaders had left the room.
“I don’t understand.” Begamon turned in confusion to the man beside him. “I thought we’d learn something today.”
“You did,” F’nor said, guiding Brekke past him. “That D’ram is stepping down as Weyrleader at Ista.”
“That doesn’t concern me,” Begamon was growing more, rather than less, annoyed with the replies he was getting.
“That concerns you more than any puzzle over the egg,” F’nor said as he and Brekke left the room.
“I think that’s all the answer you’re going to get,” Robinton said to Begamon, a wry smile on his face.
“But … but aren’t they doing anything about it? They’re not just letting the Oldtimers insult them like that and not doing something?”
“Unlike Lord Holders,” N’ton said, coming forward, “dragonriders are not free to indulge their passions or honors at the expense of their primary duty, which is to protect all of Pern from Thread. That is the important occupation of dragonriders, Lord Begamon.”
“C’mon, Begamon,” Lord Groghe of Fort Hold said as he took the man by the arm. “It’s Weyr business, not ours, you know. Can’t interfere. Shouldn’t. They know what they’re doing. And the egg was returned. Too bad about D’ram’s woman. Hate to see him go. Sensible fellow. F’lar didn’t say but it must be Benden wine.”
Jaxom saw Lord Groghe searching the faces about him.
“Ah, Harper, it ought to be Benden wine here?” The Harper agreed and left the Council room in the company of the two Lords, Begamon still protesting the lack of information. Jaxom followed them out as the room was clearing. When he got to the base of the weyr steps, Menolly pounced on him.
“Well, what happened? Did they speak to him at all?”
“Did who speak to whom?”
“Did F’lar or Lessa address the Harper?”
“No reason why they would.”
“Plenty of reason why they wouldn’t. What happened?”
Jaxom sighed for patience with her as he rapidly reviewed what had occurred.
“D’ram came here to ask-no, to tell them that he’s stepping down as Istan Weyrleader …” Menolly nodded encouragingly as if this were no news to her. “And he said he was invoking an Oldtime custom to throw the first queen’s mating flight open to all bronzes.”
Menolly’s eyes widened and she made her mouth round with surprise. “That must have rocked ‘em back on their heels. Any protests?”
“From the Lord Holders, yes.” Jaxom grinned. “From the other Weyrleaders, no. Except that R’mart made a snide remark about G’dened being so strong there’d be no contest.”
“I don’t know G’dened, but he’s a son of D’ram’s.”
“That doesn’t always mean anything.”
“True.”
“D’ram kept saying that he wanted the best leadership for Ista Weyr and this was the way to achieve it.”
“Poor D’ram…”
“Poor Fanna, you mean.”
“No, poor D’ram. Poor us. He was very strong as a leader. Did Master Robinton speak at all?” she asked then, throwing off her reflections on D’ram for the more important consideration.
“He spoke to Begamon.”
“Not to the Weyrleaders?”
“No reason to. Why?”
“They’ve been such close friends for so long …and they’re so unfair about it. He had to speak up. Dragons can’t fight dragons.”
To which Jaxom stoutly agreed, his comment echoed by a rumble from his stomach so audible that Menolly glared at him. Jaxom was torn between embarrassment and amusement at such an internal betrayal. The laughter won and, even as he apologized to Menolly, he could see that the incident had triggered her sense of the ridiculous.