Anne McCaffrey - The White Dragon

«Why not?» Suddenly the glint of humor was restored to Jaxom's eyes. «I doubt if Toric expects me to take direct action. I'm one of those useless Northern lordlings!»

«Ah, but not before you receive some direct action yourself, I fancy,» Robinton said in a quick undertone.

Toric and his group had dismounted in the clear space between two of the mound ranks. He had left his people to sort themselves out and, stripping off his flying gear, was striding toward Lessa and those clustered about the mound door. But, after giving her a greeting, he changed directions and there was no doubt his goal was Jaxom.

«Harper!» he said, coming to a halt with a courteous nod for Robinton before he looked at Jaxom.

To Robinton's pleasure, Ruatha's Lord did not so much as straighten his shoulders or turn to face Toric.

«Holder Toric,» Jaxom said over his shoulder in a cool indifferent greeting. The title, which was certainly proper as Toric had never been invited to take full rank by the other Lord Holders of Pern, brought the Southerner up short. His eyes narrowed as he looked keenly at Jaxom.

«Lord Jaxom.» Toric's drawl made an insult of that title, implying that it was not fully Jaxom's as yet.

Jaxom turned slowly toward him. «Sharra tells me,» he said, noting as Robinton did the surprise twitch of Toric's eye muscles, and a quick darting glance at the fire lizards about Ruth, «that you do not favor an alliance with Ruatha.»

«No, lordling. I do not!» Toric flicked a glance at the Harper, a broad smile on his face. «She can do better than a table sized Hold in the North.» The last word held contemptuous emphasis.

«What did I hear. Toric?» Lessa asked, her voice light but with a hint of steel in her eyes as she squarely ranged herself beside Jaxom.

«Holder Toric has other plans for Sharra,» Jaxom said, his tone more amused than aggrieved. «She can do better, it seems, than a table sized Hold like Ruatha.»

«I mean no offense to Ruatha,» Toric said quickly when he caught the flicker of anger in Lessa's face, though the Weyrwoman continued to smile.

«That would be most unwise, considering my pride in my Bloodline and in the present Holder of that title,» she said in the most casual tone.

«Surely, you might reconsider the matter, Toric,» Robinton said, as affable as ever despite the palpable warning he conveyed that the Southerner was on very dangerous ground. «Such an alliance, so much desired by the two young people, would have considerable advantages for you, I think, aligning yourself with one of the most prestigious Holds on Pern.»

«And be in favor with Benden,» Lessa said, smiling so sweetly that Robinton almost chuckled at the man's predicament.

Toric stood there, absently rubbing the back of his neck, his smile slightly diminished.

«We should discuss the matter. At some length, I think.» Lessa tucked her arm in Toric's and turned him about. «Master Robinton, will you join us? I think that little cot of mine would be an admirable spot in which to talk undisturbed.»

«I thought we were here to dig up Pern's glorious past,» Toric said, with a good natured laugh. But he did not disengage his arm from Lessa's.

«There's surely no time like the present,» Lessa continued at her sweetest, «to discuss the future. Your future.»

F'lar had joined them, falling in step at Lessa's left, apparently aware through the link between Mnementh and Lessa of what had just occurred. The Harper shot a reassuring look over his shoulder to Jaxom but the young man was looking at his dragon.

«Yes, with so many ambitious holdless men pouring into Southern,» F'lar said smoothly, «we've been remiss in making certain you'll have the lands you want, Toric. I don't fancy blood feuds in the South. Unnecessary, too, when there's space enough for this generation and several more.»

Toric's answer was a full bodied laugh and although he had adjusted his stride to match Lessa's, he still gave Robinton the impression of invulnerable self assurance.

«And since there's so much space, why should I not be ambitious for my sister?»

«You've more than one, and we're not talking of Jaxom and Sharra just now,» Lessa added with a hint of irritability as she dismissed the irrelevant. «F'lar and I had intended to arrange a more formal occasion to set your Holding,» she went on, gesturing to the ancient, empty structure in which they now stood, «but there's Master Nicat wanting to formalize Minecrafthall affairs, and Lord Groghe is anxious that his two sons do not hold adjacent lands, and other questions have come up recently which require answers.»

«Answers?» Toric asked politely as he leaned against one wall and crossed his arms on his chest.

Robinton began to wonder just how much of that pose of indolence was assumed. Was Toric's ambition going to overpower good sense?

«One answer required is how much land any one man should Hold in the South?» F'lar said, idly digging dirt from under his thumbnail with his knife point. He had lightly emphasized the one.

«And? Our original agreement was that I could Hold all the lands I had acquired by the time the Oldtimers had passed on.»

«Which, in truth, they haven't,» Robinton said.

Toric agreed to that. «I shan't insist on waiting,» he admitted with a slight inclination of his head, «since the original circumstances have altered. And, since my Hold is thoroughly disorganized by the indigent and hopeful lordlings, and holdless men and boys, I am reliably informed that others have eschewed our help and landed wherever their ships can be beached.»

«All the more reason to be sure you are not deprived of one length of your just Hold,» F'lar said. «I know that you have sent out exploring teams. How far have they actually penetrated?»

«With the help of D'ram's dragonriders,» Toric said as Robinton noticed how keenly he watched F'lar's face to see if this unexpected assistance was known to Benden, «we have extended our knowledge of the terrain to the foot of the Western Range.»

«That far?» The bronze rider appeared surprised and perhaps a trifle alarmed.

Robinton knew from that auspiciously discovered map that, while the area from the sea to the Western Range was immense, it was but a small segment of the total area of the vast Southern Continent.

«And, of course, Piemur reached the Great Desert Bay to the west,» Toric was saying.

«My dear Toric, how can you possibly Hold all that?» F'lar seemed politely concerned.

«I've small cotholders with burgeoning families along most of the habitable shoreline, and at strategic points in the interior. The men you sent me these past few Turns proved most industrious.» Toric's smile was more assured.

«I suspect they have pledged loyalty to you in return for your original generosity?» F'lar asked with a sigh.

«Naturally.»

Lessa laughed. «I thought when we met at Benden that you were a shrewd and independent man.»

«There's more land, my dear Weyrwoman, for any man who can hold it. Some small holds could turn out to be far more valuable than larger spreads, in the eyes of those who truly appreciate their worth.»

«I'd say then,» Lessa went on, pointedly ignoring Toric's allusion to Ruatha's size, «that you'll have more than enough to occupy you fully and to hold, from sea to Western Range to the Great Bay…»

Suddenly Toric straightened. Lessa had been looking at F'lar, obliquely seeking his approval for what she granted Toric, so it was only Robinton who caught the full alertness, the look of intense surprise and displeasure in the Southerner's eyes. He recovered himself quickly.

«To the Great Bay in the West, yes, that is my hope. I do have maps. In my Hold, but if I've your leave…»

He had taken one stride to the door when Ramoth's bugle halted him. And as Mnementh chimed in, F'lar moved swiftly to block his way.