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Jaxom signaled to Sebell to help, and with both lending Idarolan support, they steered him toward the nearest head, just past the busy kitchens.
"I was fearful worried, I was, my of friends, that that Blesserel would take the honors. We'd be done for then, we would, we decent hardworking fisherfolk," Idarolan rambled on. "I couldn't've borne the waiting sober, could I? So I'd had to take a heartener, or three or four," he added, gri
Jaxom got him into a stall, Sebell deftly adjusting his clothing. Then they both politely looked away. Idarolan began to sing some sort of a sea song, but though his speech was clear for a man well gone in wine, he couldn't do more than mouth the lyrics in a hoarse bass voice. He took his relief for such a long time that, despite themselves, the two old friends locked eyes in amazement at the older man's bladder capacity. Jaxom's grin became a chuckle, and then Sebell started to laugh. Oblivious to them, Idarolan continued his wild garble.
Then abruptly, the Masterfisher completed his business and sagged between them.
"Oops! Hang on to him," Jaxom said urgently, just managing to throw Idarolan's limp arm across his shoulders as the man started to slide to the paving.
"He is gone, Jaxom, gone," Sebell said, gri
"Master Robinton would never forgive us. Slip into the kitchen, Sebell, and grab a pot of klah. We'll sober him up. Why should he celebrate only half a day? The best part's still to come." Closing the lid, he eased Idarolan onto the stool, one hand on the Masterfisher's chest to keep the flaccid body from falling.
"Be right back." Sebell slipped out of the stall, carefully closing the door behind him. Jaxom heard his boot scraping on the stone floor, and then the second door opened and closed.
Jaxom rearranged Idarolan into what he felt would be a more comfortable, or at least more manageable, posture, but the man was as slippery as a fish on a deck.
Jaxom adjusted boneless arms and hands on the man's lap, all the while holding his torso upright on the stool. The knees were together and the toes pointing in. Even in the soft court leather boots, Idarolan had big feet, Jaxom noticed for the first time.
Just then the outside door slammed inward, and the brush of footsteps on the flagging indicated the arrival of several men; men shod in leather shoes, not workboots, Jaxom decided, pleased with his power of observation. Wishing to spare Idarolan embarrassment, he quickly leaned forward to slip the bolt of the stall door shut.
"Well, he's not the only heir. He's not even the direct heir," one man was saying.
"We know that," a second man said in a gravelly voice. "His dam was only a third cousin, once removed, of the Blood. But the second cousin's alive, known to be of the Blood, and it's her son we'd support in his place. The lad'd be dead easy to manipulate. Fancies himself as a true Blood."
"Which he is," a lighter voice said.
"Don't forget her son has sons who're in the direct line, even if his mother disqualified him to the succession," the gravel voice said.
Jaxom couldn't figure out who they meant, for there had been no question of Ranrel's lineage. He had his father's light eyes and the rugged features of his maternal grandfather. But the tone of their discussion about this facile rearrangement of sons and true Bloods was distinctly unsettling.
"That doesn't disqualify him," the first man said in disgust.
"He's weyrbred, not holdbred, and a dragonrider, so he can't hold."
"His sons are too young to be considered, even with a warder. No, this local lad will suit the purpose. He only needs encouragement."
"So all we have to do is arrange a convenient accident to bring the Hold into contention again?"
"That's all," the gravel voice said.
"Yes, but how?" the light voice asked.
"He flies Thread, doesn't he? And he goes up to the Dawn Sisters, doesn't he? That's dangerous. We just wait for the right moment and..." He had no need to finish his grisly premise.
Incredulous, Jaxom shook his head. He was aware of a paralytic chill oozing from his guts to his gorge as he realized that the men had to be referring to himself, Lessa, and F'lessan. The "local lad" could only be Pell, for his mother, Barla, was of the direct Ruathan Bloodline.
"I'm not going off good solid earth, I'm not," the second man exclaimed. They were moving away, their business completed.
"You won't have to," the first man said with an icy chuckle. "We've..." And the closing of the door cut off the rest of his sentence.
Jaxom realized that he had been holding his breath and expelled it. He was shaking. Lack of oxygen, he told himself, drawing in deep breaths. Idarolan groaned and began to slide out of a grip Jaxom had inadvertently relaxed.
"C'mon, Sebell. Hurry up!" If only Sebell arrived just at that moment, he would see who had left the head. "C'mon, Sebell!"
I'll tell his fire-lizard, Ruth said suddenly, his tone anxious. What's worrying you? I can feel it. Is the fisherman ill?
No, Ruth, he's only very drunk. Ask Kimi to tell Sebell to get a move on. Though I think it's too late now, he added glumly. He had not recognized any of the voices, and none of them had betrayed any particular twang that might have identified which Hold or Hall they came from.
He heard the door crash open. "Jaxom? What's wrong?"
"You didn't happen to see three men leaving here, did you?" Jaxom called anxiously.
"What's wrong? Kimi said it was urgent. Which three men? Everyone and his cousin is packed into the courtyard."
Sebell fumbled with the stall door until Jaxom threw the latch over. Anxiously the Masterharper looked down at the comatose Masterfisher and then in astonishment at Jaxom. He had a pitcher in one hand and a mug tucked under his arm.
"Never mind, too late now," Jaxom said, feeling defeated.
He decided not to worry Sebell by reporting a conversation that might well have been just disgruntled speculation. Talking was harmless, he told himself, though the conversation he had overheard had sounded anything but harmless. He sighed in fateful resignation.
"What happened?"
Sebell's harper instincts were very good, Jaxom thought grimly. But then the man was trained to observe, to hear the unsaid.
Jaxom managed a detached ma
Sebell gave him a shrewd look. "No, but here's one who is. Hold his head up. Maybe the aroma of klah will revive him. And we've got reinforcements coming."
"I don't mind..." Jaxom began. He hated people to think him pretentious and unwilling to cope with an inebriated friend.
Sebell gri
Once again the door crashed open and several men entered in haste. "Master Sebell?"
Sebell swung the stall door open. "In here!"
The switchover of attendants was quickly made, and just as Sebell and Jaxom swung out of the place they heard the unmistakable sounds that Idarolan had foretold and gri
"My timing has always been excellent," Sebell said. "Even Master Shonagar agreed. Ah, the music has begun."
In the doorway, Jaxom hesitated, seeing very well why Sebell would not have noticed three men emerging from the head. In just the short time that they had been assisting Idarolan, the courtyard had filled up with celebrants, all merry with wine and stuffing themselves on whatever was on the trays the drudges were carrying.