good
between
.” But his tone was more affectionate than captious.
While the others started shoveling away the mud, Fandarel and Evan made careful measurements of the area to be enclosed, then calculated where the new power wheel would be situated. With deft lines, Evan made a preliminary sketch of what the finished installation would look like. Fandarel, watching over his shoulder, nodded approval. Then he looked about, squinting up at the high, smooth face of the dam and the hillsides.
“Now,” he said, satisfied with his analysis of the site’s needs, “we go back to Telgar, to assemble the components.” He grinned at Evan. “It will be a novel thing, will it not, to work from proper plans?”
Evan merely raised his eyebrows. “Can’t be but more efficient that way.”
“My dear F’lar,” Robinton said reassuringly to the Weyrleader, who was patently disappointed at his failure to gain the full backing of the Lord Holders, “Aivas impressed Larad, Asgenar, Groghe, Toronas, Bargen, and Warbret, plus Jaxom. Seven out of sixteen’s not bad for a start. Oterel’s doddering, and Corman always needs time to mull things over. If the various projects for which you will need workers here continue to clear out that beggars’ cave of Laudey’s, he’ll back you.” Robinton put one hand on F’lar’s shoulder and gave it just a little shake. “F’lar, you so desperately
want
to eradicate Thread. That’s your first responsibility. Managing their Holds is theirs, and sometimes, as we both know, they forget the wider view. Yes, K’van?” The Harper had been aware that the young Southern Weyrleader was hovering in the background. “Have I been monopolizing F’lar when you need a word with him?”
“If I might intrude . . .” K’van said.
“My glass is empty.” With a raffish grin, Robinton took himself back to the food-laden table in search of a wineskin.
“Was Lord Toric asked?” K’van said hesitantly.
“Yes, indeed, he was, K’van.” F’lar drew him to one corner of the room, where they were less likely to be drawn into the lively discussions of the other Weyrleaders. “I charged Breide in particular to let him know.”
K’van managed a fleeting grin—they both knew that Breide’s main function at Landing was to report to the Southern Lord Holder everything of interest. Breide’s conscientiousness often served up such quantities of trivia that Toric obviously did not bother to read the reports.
“He’s trying to get enough men over to the island to shift Denol and his kin.” Everyone knew that Toric was furious about the attempt by a band of rebels to take over the island he claimed as part of his Hold.
“I’d’ve thought he’d accomplished that already,” F’lar said in surprise. “Toric can be very determined.”
K’van’s grin was sour. “He’s also determined to have the Weyr’s help.”
F’lar started angrily. “There’s no way he’s to have that, K’van!”
“And so I’ve told him, time and again. The Weyr is not there for his convenience.”
“And?”
“He doesn’t take my no as final, F’lar.” K’van faltered and he gave a helpless shrug to his shoulders. “I know I’m young to be a Weyrleader . . .”
“Your youth is not a relevant factor, K’van. You’re a good Weyrleader, and I’ve had that assurance from the older riders in your Weyr!”
K’van was young enough to flush with pleasure at hearing such praise. “Toric wouldn’t agree,” he replied, twitching his straight-held shoulders.
F’lar could not deny the fact that K’van’s slim, youthful build would put him at a disadvantage in a confrontation with the tall and powerful Southern Lord Holder. At the time K’van’s Heth had flown Adrea’s queen, Toric had been enthusiastic about having a Benden-trained Weyrleader. But he had not had rank rebellion in his Hold at that point.
“At first,” K’van went on, “he wanted the Weyr to take his soldiers to the
between
.” But his tone was more affectionate than captious.
While the others started shoveling away the mud, Fandarel and Evan made careful measurements of the area to be enclosed, then calculated where the new power wheel would be situated. With deft lines, Evan made a preliminary sketch of what the finished installation would look like. Fandarel, watching over his shoulder, nodded approval. Then he looked about, squinting up at the high, smooth face of the dam and the hillsides.
“Now,” he said, satisfied with his analysis of the site’s needs, “we go back to Telgar, to assemble the components.” He grinned at Evan. “It will be a novel thing, will it not, to work from proper plans?”
Evan merely raised his eyebrows. “Can’t be but more efficient that way.”
“My dear F’lar,” Robinton said reassuringly to the Weyrleader, who was patently disappointed at his failure to gain the full backing of the Lord Holders, “Aivas impressed Larad, Asgenar, Groghe, Toronas, Bargen, and Warbret, plus Jaxom. Seven out of sixteen’s not bad for a start. Oterel’s doddering, and Corman always needs time to mull things over. If the various projects for which you will need workers here continue to clear out that beggars’ cave of Laudey’s, he’ll back you.” Robinton put one hand on F’lar’s shoulder and gave it just a little shake. “F’lar, you so desperately
want
to eradicate Thread. That’s your first responsibility. Managing their Holds is theirs, and sometimes, as we both know, they forget the wider view. Yes, K’van?” The Harper had been aware that the young Southern Weyrleader was hovering in the background. “Have I been monopolizing F’lar when you need a word with him?”
“If I might intrude . . .” K’van said.
“My glass is empty.” With a raffish grin, Robinton took himself back to the food-laden table in search of a wineskin.
“Was Lord Toric asked?” K’van said hesitantly.
“Yes, indeed, he was, K’van.” F’lar drew him to one corner of the room, where they were less likely to be drawn into the lively discussions of the other Weyrleaders. “I charged Breide in particular to let him know.”
K’van managed a fleeting grin—they both knew that Breide’s main function at Landing was to report to the Southern Lord Holder everything of interest. Breide’s conscientiousness often served up such quantities of trivia that Toric obviously did not bother to read the reports.
“He’s trying to get enough men over to the island to shift Denol and his kin.” Everyone knew that Toric was furious about the attempt by a band of rebels to take over the island he claimed as part of his Hold.
“I’d’ve thought he’d accomplished that already,” F’lar said in surprise. “Toric can be very determined.”
K’van’s grin was sour. “He’s also determined to have the Weyr’s help.”
F’lar started angrily. “There’s no way he’s to have that, K’van!”
“And so I’ve told him, time and again. The Weyr is not there for his convenience.”
“And?”
“He doesn’t take my no as final, F’lar.” K’van faltered and he gave a helpless shrug to his shoulders. “I know I’m young to be a Weyrleader . . .”
“Your youth is not a relevant factor, K’van. You’re a good Weyrleader, and I’ve had that assurance from the older riders in your Weyr!”
K’van was young enough to flush with pleasure at hearing such praise. “Toric wouldn’t agree,” he replied, twitching his straight-held shoulders.
F’lar could not deny the fact that K’van’s slim, youthful build would put him at a disadvantage in a confrontation with the tall and powerful Southern Lord Holder. At the time K’van’s Heth had flown Adrea’s queen, Toric had been enthusiastic about having a Benden-trained Weyrleader. But he had not had rank rebellion in his Hold at that point.
“At first,” K’van went on, “he wanted the Weyr to take his soldiers to the
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