"You've not been keeping up with such minor details in the east," Jaxom heard himself saying in an amused drawl. "Lord Warder Lytol, Masterharper Robinton, and D'ram, Tiroth's rider, jointly administer Landing and equably represent the interests of Hold, Hall, and Weyr. The shared authority works well. You have always been welcome at Landing, Lord Toric."

"The moment the discovery of the Aivas was made," Lytol said, firmly taking charge, "a meeting was called on the site. The eight Lord Holders, eight Craftmasters, and seven Weyrleaders unanimously decided that, in view of its historical significance and its current educational status, Landing would remain an uncontested area.

Corman growled irritably to Nessel, but when Lytol gestured for him to speak up, he morosely subsided.

"How much of an area?" Toric all but pounced on Lytol with the question.

Lytol regarded him in subtle rebuke before answering. "The same area that was encompassed by the Landing site on the settlers' maps, of course."

Toric flicked a grimace at Lytol and sat down, his enigmatic stare checking the expressions of the others at the round table. Jaxom, scrutinizing him under cover of a hand on his brow, could not guess what thoughts might be going through the Southerner's covetous mind. Surely the man knew that further territorial acquisitions would be met with resistance from Hall, Hold, and Weyr-especially the Weyrs. Jaxom began to regret that he had given Toric a solution to the problem of the Big Island: that problem had kept the man from looking eastward for over two full Turns. Jaxom sighed. Sometimes one solved a problem only to create a half-dozen more.

He was considerably relieved when, with no more ado, Lytol called the Council meeting adjourned. There were protests and reproaches from certain quarters, but Lytol chose to ignore them, as was his right. However much Jaxom would have liked to storm out of the Great Hall, first he had to endure one more ceremony.

We're adjourned, he told Ruth.

Lytol led the procession, Jaxom deftly inserting himself between Larad and Asgenar and ahead of the Fort Holder. He grinned an apology at Groghe. Lytol gave the traditional three pounds of his fist on the door, which was opened immediately by the Tillek Hold head Steward. Privately Jaxom decided that all Stewards shared some arcane instinct that allowed them to sense the ending of a meeting. Lytol nodded, and the men at either side of the great doors wrestled to turn the metal Iockwheel and hauled the halves apart. The bright sunlight was almost as dazzling as the finery on the people crowding the steps. Foremost of those were the three contenders: Blesserel, commanding a position in the exact center and looking far too smug; Terentel, standing a length to his left and wearing an almost imbecilic expression; and Ranrel, standing quietly at the far right. Behind him stood Master Robinton, Sharra, Sebell, Menolly, and the Benden Weydeaders.

Jaxom lifted his lips in the merest of smiles and saw the relief on their faces even as Lytol began his formal announcement.

"On the third vote, a majority of twelve was achieved," he said when the crowd's babble had died sufficiently for his voice to be audible. "The Council has elected a new Lord Holder. Lord Ranrel, may I be the first to offer my congratulations on your succession to the honor."

While jubilant cheers echoed off Tillek's granite walls, Ranrel looked genuinely stunned and none too sure he believed what he had heard. Blesserel looked murderous, and Terentel merely shrugged and, turning on his heel, pushed his way through the crowd to the nearest wine keg. From the fireheights, the dragons bugled their congratulations, and the air overhead was made hazardous by fire-lizards, zipping and darting and singing their high descants to dragon sound.

Lord Ranrel was immediately surrounded by well-wishers thumping his back, pumping his arms, and shouting congratulations. Blesserel was surrounded, too, by Sigomal, Sangel, Nessel, and Begamon. Jaxom didn't bother to check Blesserel's reactions. Sigomal's face was frozen with displeasure and a cunning that boded no good for anyone crossing him that day.

"Was it very bad?" Sharra asked as she embraced Jaxom. "Ruth said you were angry and upset, but he didn't know why."

"I was and I am. Give me your cup," he said, needing a steadying draught. "Let's get to Sebell and Master Robinton. There're things they should hear, as well. Your brother wanted to know who'd be made Lord Holder of Landing."

Sharra rolled her eyes in dismay. "He'll never learn, will he? So what was he told?"

"The truth," Jaxom replied. "You'll remember we asked Breide to be sure Toric knew Aivas was an important discovery."

Sharra wrinkled her nose, a mannerism Jaxom still found engaging. "He was so livid over Denol occupying his island that he could think of nothing else." Then she cast a sharp look at her husband. "You told him about the irrevocable grant?"

"I didn't. Groghe did. We needed his vote cast for Ranrel."

"He wasn't voting for Blesserel, was he?" Sharra was aghast.

Jaxom gave her a flash of a grin. "What happens in Council is not to become public knowledge!"

"Since when is your wife public?"

They made their way through the crowd and on to the quiet corner where Robinton and the others were waiting.

"My harpers, too, report resentment from those Holders, Jaxom," Sebell said when Jaxom had finished summarizing the proceedings. "I told Master Robinton and Lytol as much earlier today. And I've every apprentice with any wit whatever keeping his or her ears open here today."

"It's almost a relief to have the dissenters identified," Master Robinton said.

"Is it?" Jaxom asked skeptically. The retelling had depressed him. They had so much to hope for in the future-if only they could get over the pitfalls and trivial machinations of the present.

Sensing his mood, Sharra leaned against her tall husband, and he allowed himself to be comforted. After all, they had voted Ranrel in despite the opposition. The dissenters were few in number, and all of them old.

Master Idarolan became legless before anyone else on Lord Ranrel's celebratory day. He rarely imbibed, but having stood to lose the most if Ranrel was not elected, he had been under great stress and evidently had started drinking at his Hall over breakfast and continued all through the long morning until the result of the convocation was announced. Since the Masterfisher was also extremely popular, his uncharacteristic inebriety was kindly ignored. When he lurched over to the courtyard corner where Jaxom, Sharra, Robinton, Sebell, Menolly, and Tagetarl were seated, his gaiety was a welcome change from their gloomy conversation.

"There was no way," Idarolan announced in drunken joviality, "that we fisherfolk would have been happy to keep our Hall here with Blesserel Holding. He'd mortgage us mast, spar, hull, and anchor when we wasn't looking!" His exuberance was so infectious that Jaxom was not the only one to grin at his antics. "I'd've moved me, Hall, Master, journeyman, and apprentice, down to that fine harbor the old maps call Monaco. Yessur, that's what I'd've done had anyone but Ranrel become Holder."

"But Ranrel is Lord Holder, so you don't need to worry now," Robinton assured the Masterfisher. The Harper gestured for Sebell and Jaxom to find the man a stool before his legs buckled. Menolly and Sharra offered him choice portions to eat in the hope of counteracting the wine.

"I won't waste time eating what'll doubtless return on me all too soon," Idarolan said, waving aside the plates. Then he belched and apologized. "Don't mind me, ladies. I'm a relieved man, and I think that's what I'd better do, if you'll pardon the expression. Lord Jaxom..." He leaned at a dangerous angle toward the young Holder, his eyes unfocused. "Before I continue my drinking, would you be good enough to indicate the proper direction?"