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talking would certainly relieve the tedium of turning pages, Jaxom complied—and found it very easy indeed to talk to Aivas through the long night. Only later would he realize how skillfully he had been queried. He could not even guess how valuable his explanations would prove to be.
    Jaxom had worked his way through five Turns of the Present Pass when the muscles in his shoulders began to tense. He needed a break. So when he heard someone stirring, he called out softly.
    “Who’s up?”
    “Jancis. You came back—oh!” She grinned as she entered the chamber. “Shall I take over? You look exhausted. Why didn’t Sebell or Menolly do this?”
    “Because Aivas will have nothing to do with them until they’ve been formally introduced to him. By a Lord Holder, a Masterharper, and a Weyrleader.”
    Jancis’s expression was rueful. “Sometimes we outsmart ourselves. Here, I’ll take over, Jaxom. Get yourself some klah. It should still be good and hot.” And taking the Record from his hands, she spread the pages on the panel. “Master Robinton, and the others here then, quite rightly decided it was wiser to limit who could talk to Aivas.”
    “Hmm, yes, there’s no telling what people will ask Aivas,” Jaxom said, thinking of the way he had rattled on and on, although Aivas had done all the asking.
    By the time he had finished the klah, which was not as hot as he liked but did stimulate him, Jancis had finished that volume. She started on another.
    How soon, Jaxom wondered, could he get his lady, Sharra, admitted to the roster? She had been so excited when he had told her about the medical knowledge Aivas claimed to possess. She had two cotholders, suffering intense pains that she was unable to alleviate with fellis. They were slowly wasting away. Master Oldive, whose advice had been sought, was also baffled by their declines. Then Jaxom reminded himself that Oldive, being Masterhealer, would have precedence with Aivas. Jaxom was careful about using his privileges as Lord Holder, and yet, in a case of life or death, could he not make an exception?
    “That will be all for now, Journeywoman Jancis,” Aivas said in a muted voice. “The energy supplies are nearly exhausted. An hour of good sunlight will be needed to restore power. If the remaining panels could be cleared, there would be more power available in the future.”
    “Did I do something wrong?” Jancis asked Jaxom in confusion.
    “No,” Jaxom said, chuckling. “It gets its power from those panels you and Piemur uncovered on the roof. Sun power. Sun’s been down for hours now.” He yawned hugely. “It’s late. We should both get some sleep.”
    Jancis considered the idea, then reached for the nearly empty klah beaker. “No, I’m awake now. I’ll brew more klah. We’ll need plenty of that when people start arriving.” And she bustled off.
    Jaxom liked Jancis. Not long ago, they had shared lessons at the Mastersmithcraft and he remembered that she had worked a lot harder than he had—and that she clearly had a talent for smithing. She deserved her Master’s status. He had been a bit surprised when she and Piemur had come to an understanding, though Sharra had heartily approved. Wandering up and down the Southern coastline had turned Piemur strange there for a time, she had said. What he needed to set him right was a sound relationship. And certainly the impudent young harper would encourage Jancis to develop some needed assertiveness and maybe lose some of the inhibitions caused by growing up in the shadow of her awesome grandfather, Fandarel. Jaxom knew just how capable a draftsman she was.
    Tired but unwilling to settle down to sleep, Jaxom wandered to the entrance, nodding to the two bored guards as he walked out into the cool night air and up the mound of excavated dirt, to stand on its summit. Ruth rumbled affectionately at him from the next hillock, and Jaxom sent the white dragon a caressing thought.
    Though Jaxom hadn’t even mentioned