Dragonseye (Red Star Rising)

The Trials at Telgar and Benden Weyrs

As it happened, a blizzard covered most of the eastern mountain ranges and all of Bitra when the trial was convened. The winds were too fierce over Bitra for even a dragon to penetrate. The storm had not yet reached Benden so they, and representatives from every Weyr and Hold, were present: with the exception of Lord Jamson of the High Reaches who was very ill of a respiratory fever.

The Lady Holder Thea came, annoyed that Jamson had a legitimate excuse for his absence and had sent Gallian in his place.

“It might have done that stubborn streak of his some good to hear just how that Chalkin conducts his Hold. Oh, he’d’ve spouted on about autonomy but he most certainly is against any harm coming to unborn children.” Thea gave Zulaya a significant nod, reminding those around her that she had borne fourteen children to Lord Jamson in the course of her fertile years: sufficient to substantially increase the borders of the Hold when the children were old enough to claim their land grants.

Held in the capacious Lower Cavern at Benden Weyr, the first of the two trials was a sobering, well-conducted affair. At one time there had been trained legists on Pern, but the need for such persons had waned. Most arguments were settled by negotiated compromise or, when all negotiation efforts failed, by hand-to-hand combat.

Consequently a spokesperson for the accused guards had to be found: one of the teachers from Fort Hold who specialized in legal contracts and land deeds reluctantly agreed to officiate.

Gardner had not been very enthusiastic about involving himself, however briefly, with rapists but he recognized the necessity for representation and did his best. He had perfunctorily questioned the victims as to the identity of their alleged assailants and tried to shake their testimony. The three women were no longer the frightened, half-starved wretches who had been so abused. Their time in the Weyr had done wonders for their courage, self-esteem and appearance.

Gardner even insisted that they had been rehearsed in their testimony, but that did not m gate the circumstances of the grievous bodily and mental harm inflicted on them.

“Sure I rehearsed,” the oldest of the women said loudly. “In me mind, night after night, how I was flung down and done by dirty men as wouldn’t have dared step inside a decent woman’s hold with such notions in their head. I ache still rehearsing…” and she spat the word at him, “what they again and again and again.” For emphasis she slammed one fist into the other hand. Gardner ceased that line of questioning.

In the end, he managed one small concession for the right to be returned to their Contract Hold, following the trial, rather than have to make their own way back to Bitra.

“Fat lot of good that’ll do them,” Zulaya muttered under breath when he won that point. “Chalkin hates losers and the guys have lost a lot more than their contract.”

“I wonder what sort of tone Chalkin’s next letter of protest will take,” Irene said with a malicious chuckle. Paulin had received a thick screed from the Bitran Holder when he discovered the unmitigated interference of assorted renegade dragon riders in his affairs and the abduction of ‘loyal holders’ from their premises. “If he dares make one.” She went on.

“Oh, why did it have to snow so hard? I’d love to have had him here when his guards said they ‘was only following orders to keep the holders from leaving’! M’shall would have gathered him up in a ball and rendered him spitless

M’shall had assumed the role of prosecutor, claiming that right since it had been his riders who were first on the scene. He had been exceedingly precise in manner and in his questioning.

“Poring over the Charter and what books Clisser could send him on legal procedures,” Irene told Zulaya with a broad grin. “It’s done him a world of good. Taken his mind off the spring, you know.”

Zulaya had nodded approvingly. “He’d have been a good legist or did they call them lawyers?”

“No, barristers.”

“Yes, barristers stood before the judge and handled the trial procedures,” Irene replied.

“Gardner wasn’t half bad, you know. He tried,” Zulaya remarked. “I’ll even forgive him asking for mercy for those miserable clods.

“After all, he had to appear to work for his clients,” she added tolerantly. “I’m glad we had Iantine sit up close. I want to see his sketches of the trial. I could wish he worked as fast with my portrait.”

“Your portrait is scarcely the same thing as annotating a trial. And he’s to come to Benden when he’s finished with you two, you know.”

Zulaya was pleased to hear the pride in Irene’s voice when she mentioned Iantine. He was a Bendenian.

“You mean, when he’s finished sketching our riders?”

Irene gave a wistful smile, tinged with sadness. “You’ll be glad he did. I wonder will he do the same thing for us at Benden?”

“Whatever he can fit in, I’m sure. That young man’s got himself more work than he can handle.”

“If he can get it all done before… oh, the jury’s back.” The twelve men and women, picked at random by straw from those who had come to observe, had listened to all the evidence. Tashvi, Bridgely and Franco had sat as judges. Now a silence descended over the room, so intense that a cough was quickly muffled.

The three rapists were accounted guilty as charged and three more were sentenced as accessories, since they had helped pin the victims down. The penalty for the rape of a pregnant woman was castration, which was to be carried out immediately. The others were to receive forty lashes, well laid on by Telgar’s large and strong stewards.

“They were lucky there isn’t Fall,” Zulaya remarked to Irene, Lady Thea and K’vin. “Otherwise they could also have been tied out during the next Fall.”

Despite herself, Thea gave a shudder. “Which is probably why there are so few cases of rape recorded in our Hold’s annals.”

“Small wonder,” K’vin said, crossing his legs again. Zulaya had noticed his defensive position and her lips twitched briefly. He turned away. His Weyrmate had nearly cheered aloud when the verdict was delivered

“You can’t do that to me,” one of the guards was roaring now as he belatedly realized the significance of the verdict.

He had been the leader of the men stationed at the eastern border crossing. The other defendants were too stunned, their mouths moving in soundless protest, Morinst being loud enough to drown out any complaint they could voice. “You’re none of you my Lord,” he’d railed at three Lord Holder judges. You’ve got no right to do this.”

“And you had no right to rape a pregnant woman!”

“But Chalkin ain’t even here.” The man writhed in the grip of his guards.

“Chalkin’s presence would have had no effect on the trial or the verdict,” said Tashvi, at his most repressive.

“But he should’ve been here!” Morinst protested.

“He was invited to attend,” Tashvi said without regret.

“He’s gotta know. You can’t do nuthin’ without him knowing. I gotta contract with him.”

“To rape, torture and humiliate?” Bridgely asked in too soft a voice.

Morinst clamped his lips shut. He struggled more violently as the bailiffs aimed him towards the exit… And his punishment. Not that he could escape either the sentence or the Weyr. The other two were still too stunned to resist their removal to the infirmary where the verdict would be carried out. Those to be lashed were brought outside, though not all the audience followed to witness the corporal punishment.

When that, too, had been completed and the men removed to have their wounds treated, the observers filed back into the Lower Cavern.

While this was scarcely an occasion for celebration, except that justice had been served, a substantial meal had been prepared. Wine was the first item sought and served.

“You were superb, M’shall,” said Irene when her Weyrmate joined her, a newly opened skin of Benden wine on his shoulder, “and do please give me a glass. Though I’m sure you need one more than I. Nice of Bridgely to supply it,” she added to Zulaya.

“I think we all need it,” the Telgar Weyrwoman said, glancing over to where the three plaintiffs were celebrating with considerable enthusiasm. “Well, let them. Now what do we do?”

“Well, we’ve the second trial to get through. I hope it goes as well,” M’shall said.

“No, with them,” and his Weyrmate pointed to the three women.

“Oh. That them. They say they just want to go back to their homes. Not going to let Chalkin take it because they’re not there holding their places.” He made a grimace. “Some of them don’t really have much to go back to. Chalkin’s bullies burned what was flammable and pulled down what they could. I’d say the storms kept more damage from being done. But,” and he altered the grimace to a grin, “give’em credit. They do own what they hold, and now they know it. It may give them a tad more backbone next time they’re chivvied and more pride in what they do. They’ve also asked for ground-crew training.”

“Nothing like losing something - however briefly - to make you value what you have,” Thea said. “On the practical side, though, I think High Reaches can supply some basic items.

“Anyone organizing that?” She glanced about at others in the group. “D’you have numbers yet?”

“Actually we do,” Zulaya said, including Irene in her nod.

“Three hundred and forty-two - no, forty-three with that premature baby. It’s very good of you to offer, Thea.”

Thea snorted. “I’ve reread the Charter, too, and know my duty to my fellow creatures.”

“You wouldn’t also happen to know how many poor wretches hold in Bitra?”

M’shall had that answer. “Of course, you can’t tell if Chalkin doctored the last census or not, but he’s supposed to have 24,657 inhabitants.”

“Really?” Zulaya was surprised.

“But then, Bitra’s one of the smaller holds and doesn’t have any indigenous industry - apart from some forestry. The 5 down to what’s needed locally. There’re a few looms, but no great competition for Keroon or Benden.

“And the gaming,” Thea added with a disgusted sniff.

“That’s Chalkin’s main industry.”

“Well, he’s lost a lot on this gamble,” Zulaya said.

“Has he?” K’vin wanted to know.

The second trial was almost anticlimactic. Gardner again presented the seven defendants accused of allegedly ‘causing grievous bodily harm and death’ to five innocent men and while Gardner again stipulated that the men had only been obeying orders to restrain ‘by any means’ anyone trying to s the border out of Bitra Hold, their putative domicile, it claimed that unnecessarily severe restraint had been used causing the deaths of persons who should not have been denied 'lawful' exit, this being a usurpation of their basic right to freedom of movement.

The subsequent mutilation and/or torture of the seven, the prosecution said, was not inherent in the order to ‘restrain by any means’. Chalkin had no right to take the lives of any holders without due cause and/or trial by jury.

The day’s jury retired and, within half an hour, unanimously rendered a verdict of guilty. The men were sentenced to be transported by dragon back to the eastern islands with a seven-day supply of food, which was the customary punishment for murderers.

“Are there many on the islands?” Thea asked. “I mean, there have been others sequestered there. Even families, I read, but that was years ago.”

Zulaya shrugged. “Telgar’s never had to take anyone there, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Benden hasn’t,” Irene said, “at least not as long as we’ve been Leaders.”

“My father sent two,” Paulin said. “And I do believe that both Ista and Nerat have sent killers there.”

“Chalkin did, too,” Gallian surprised them by saying. “About four years ago. I don’t know where I heard about them. Some sort of real trouble down in his Hold, and he had Ista transport them since the men originated from that Hold.”

“Oh, I remember now,” Irene said. “M’shall only mentioned he was glad he hadn’t had to do the transport.”

“Maybe we should send Chalkin’s men there when they can travel,” Zulaya suggested.

“No, let him see that we won’t tolerate his methods of Holding,” Irene said, her tone implacable. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

“That’ll be the day!” Zulaya said facetiously.

When snow had melted sufficiently to allow any travel out of Bitra, Chalkin did send another blistering note of protest to Paulin, making it plain that he intended to demand compensation at the Turn’s End Conclave for the ritual disfigurement of men “only doing their duty”. This time, however, an elderly green rider collected the message when the urgent banner was seen flying from the panel heights of Bitra Hold. F’tol endured a long harangue from Chalkin that letter had better be delivered, that dragon riders were parasites on the face of Pern, that there’d be some changes made or… F’tol was neither intimidated nor impressed.

Stoically he took the letter and responsibly delivered it.

Whether Chalkin knew, or cared, that the refugees had been returned to their holdings was not known. F’tol was reasonably sure that would have been included in the tirade, since Chalkin seemed to have included every other shortcoming, mistake and venial sin ever committed by a dragon rider

Both Telgar and Benden Weyrs made daily checks on the returned, to reassure them as well as those concerned with their welfare. Of course the conditions in Bitra, with dragon-high drifts blocking major roads and tracks, made it improbable that any of Chalkin’s men would have been able to move, much less go the distance to the far-flung properties.

Benden Hold and Weyr became the latest winter victims as the blizzards which had hovered over Bitra made their way eastward, coating the eastern seaboard, even down into the northern section of Nerat which hadn’t seen any snow since the settlement of the Bendens in the early decades of the First Pass.

The dragons were the only living creatures who didn’t mind snow, since their tough hide was impervious to its cold as well as between.

They muchly enjoyed the snow battles that the weyrfolk indulged in, and then the warmth of sun intensified by the white landscape so they lounged in reflected be spite the more northerly position, Telgar Weyr got only a hand span of snow and made do with that. The young were fascinated by the stuff and by having to crack ice of the lake to bathe. Bathing a dragon had become a hazard, but T’dam allowed the weyrlings to suds up a *ago net and allow it to rinse itself off in the frigid water. But y washings resulted in some distress for the rider.

“I’ve chilblains again,” Debera complained to Iantine, showing him her swollen fingers when he came out to watch her tend Morath.

The little green was a favorite subject of his because, he told Debera, “she has a tremendous range of expression on her face and gets in the most incredible positions.” Debera was far too besotted with her dragon to disagree with such an impartial opinion. If she herself figured in every sketch Jantine did, she did not wonder about it. But the other green riders did.

“You should get some of Tisha’s cream. It stopped my fingers from itching,” he snapped his fingers, like that!”

“Oh, I have some of that,” she told him.

“Well, it doesn’t do you any good in the jar, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, ducking her head, her tone low and apologetic.

“”Hey, I’m not scolding, he said gently, putting one finger under her chin and lifting her head. “What’d I do wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied and pushed his finger away, giving him a too-bright smile. “I get silly notions sometimes. Don’t pay me any mind.”

“Oh, I don’t,” he replied so blithely that she gave him a startled look. “Just go on with lathering up that beast of yours He turned to a new page and removed the pencil from behind his ear. Go on.”

“Iantine’s gone on you, Debera,” Grasella said, eyeing her barrack mate shrewdly.

“Iantine? He’s sketch-mad. He’d do his big toe if he had nothing else to pose for him,” Debera replied. “Besides, he’ll leave soon for Benden.”

“Will you miss him?” Jule asked, a sly look on her face.

“Miss him?” Debera echoed, surprised at the question.

I will miss him, Morath said in such a mournful tone that the other dragonets turned towards her, their eyes whirling in minor distress.

“What did she say that’s got them all upset?” Jule demanded.

“That she’d miss him. But, love, he’s not Weyrbred,” Debera told her dragon, stroking her cheek and then her head-knob. ”He can’t stay here indefinitely.”

“If anyone asked me, I’d say Iantine would like to,” Sarra put in.

“”No-one’s asked you,” Angie replied tartly.

Has he ever done anything, I mean, beyond sketching you, Deb?” Jule asked with an avid glint in her eyes.

“No, of course not. Why would he?” responded Debera, and flustered. That was the trouble with having to sleep with the others. They could be terribly nosy, even if they weren’t as mean as her stepmother and sisters had been. She t pry into where they were when they were late in at

“I give up on her,” said Jule, raising her hands skyward in asperahon. “The handsomest unattached man in the Weyr and she’s blind.”

“She’s Morath-besotted,” Sarra put in. “Not that any of us is much better.”

“Most of us…” and Jule paused significantly, “know that, dragons may now be a significant factor in our lives, are not everything, you know. Even old T’dam-damn has a weyrmate, after all.”

“We don’t have weyrs yet,” said Mesla, speaking for the first. She took everything literally. “Couldn’t have anyone in here with you gawking.”

Debera knew she was blushing: her cheeks felt hot.

“That hasn’t held you back, I noticed,” Sarra said to Jule, ducking her head knowingly.

Jule smiled mysteriously. “From the only Weyrbred resident this barracks, let me assure you that our wishes can influence our dragons’ choices.”

“They won’t rise for another eight or ten months,” said though she had obviously taken heed of Jule’s remark.

“Jule, suppose your dragon fancies a dragon whose rider can’t stand?”

“You mean, O’ney?” and she grinned at Angie’s discomfort.

The girl overcame her embarrassment and snapped back y enough.

“He’s impossible, even for a bronze rider. you ever heard him go on about how his wing is always in competitions! As if that was all that mattered!”

“To him it probably is,” Grasella said, but, “Jule, I’m more worried about the blue riders. I mean, some of them are very nice guys and I wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings, but they don’t like girls.”

“Oh,” and Jule shrugged indolently, “that’s easier still. You make an arrangement with another rider to be on hand when your green gets proddy. Then the blue rider gets his mate, if he’s got one, or anyone else who’s willing - and you’d better believe that anyone’s willing when dragons are going to participate. So you bed the one you like, and the blue rider his choice, and you ALL enjoy!” The girls absorbed this information with varying degrees of enthusiasm or distaste.

“Well, it’s up to yourselves what you do, you know,” Jule went on. “And we’re not limited to this Weyr, either.

“Oh!” and she let out a gusty sigh. “I’ll be so glad when we can fly out of here anytime we want.”

“But I thought you were arranging matters with T’red?” Mesla said, her eyes wide with consternation.

“Well, so I am, but that doesn’t mean I might not find someone I like better at another Weyr. Greens like it, you know”.

“Ah, but can we go to other Weyrs?” Sarra asked, waggling a finger at Jule. “In four-five months, we’ll have Fall and then we’ll really work hard, ferrying firestone sacks to the fighters.” Her eyes gleamed brightly in anticipation and she hugged herself. “We’ll be doing something a lot more exciting than having just one mate and plenty of kids.”

Debera averted her face, not wanting to take part in such a ridiculous discussion.

Something bothers you, Morath said and slowly lowered her head to her rider’s lap. I love you. I think you re wonderful.

Iantine does, too.

That confidence startled Debera. He does?

He does! And Morath’s tone was emphatic. He likes your green eyes, the way you walk, and the finny crackle in your voice. How do you do that?

Debera’s hand went to her throat and she felt really silly now.

Can you talk to him, too? Or just listen to what he’s thinking?

He thinks very loud. Especially near you. I don t hear him too good far away. He thinks loud about you a lot.

“DEBRA?” Sarra’s loud call severed that most interesting conversation.

“What? I was talking to Morath. What did you say?”

“Never mind,” and Sarra grinned broadly. “Have you got your Turn’s End dresses finished yet?”

“I’ve one more fitting,” Debera said, although that subject, too, caused her embarrassment. She tried to argue with Tisha that the beautiful green dress was quite enough: she didn’t need more.

Tisha had ignored that and demanded that she’ll choose two colors from the samples available: one for the evening and another good one for daytime wear. Everyone in the Weyr, it seemed, had new clothes for Turn’s End. And yet, something in Debera had delighted in knowing she’d have two completely new dresses that no-one had ever worn before her. She had, she admitted very very quietly to herself, hoped that Iantine would notice her in them. Now, with Morath’s information, she wondered if he’d notice at all that she was wearing new clothes.

“Speaking of weyrs,” Mesla said.

“That was half an hour ago, Mesla,” Angie protested.

“Well?”

“There aren’t that many left and the bigger dragons would have first choice, wouldn’t they?” she went on.

“Don’t worry,” Jule told her, “some’ll come free by the time we need them.” Then she covered her mouth, aware of what she had just implied. I didn’t mean that. I really didn’t. I

mean, I wouldn’t think of moving in.”

“Just shut up, Jule,” Sarra said in a quiet but firm voice.

There was a long moment of silence, with no-one daring to look at anyone.

“Say, who has the salve?” Grasella asked softly from the bunk beyond her, breaking the almost intolerable silence. “My fingers are itching again. No-one told me I’d have to cope with chilblains while dealing with dragons.”

Angie found it in her furs and passed it on.

“After you,” Debera said softly as she gave it to Grasella.

The easy laughing chatter was over for the night.

“I haven’t had much time,” Jemmy told Clisser in his most uncooperative tone of voice when Clisser asked how he was coming on the last of the History Ballads. “Had to look up all that law stuff.”

“Why’d you have to take so much trouble with those fragging guards? They shoulda all been dropped on the islands, right away. None of this trial farce.”

“The trials were not farces, Jemmy,” said Clisser, so uncharacteristically reproving that Jemmy looked up in a state of amazement. “The trials were necessary. To prove that we would not act in an arbitrary fashion.

“You mean, the way Chalkin would have,” and Jemmy grinned, his uneven teeth looking more vulpine than ever in his long face.

“Exactly.”

“You’re wasting too much time on him.” Jemmy turned back to reading.

“What are you looking up?”

“I don’t know. I’m looking because I know there’s something we can use to check on the Red Planet’s position, something so simple I’m disgusted I can’t call it to mind. I know I’ve seen it somewhere.” Irritably he pushed the volume away from him.

“It’d help a great deal if the people who copied for us had had decent handwriting. I spend too much time trying to decipher it.” Abruptly he reached across the cluttered work-top to the windowsill and plonked down in front of him a curious apparatus. “Here’s your new computer.” He grinned up at Clisser who regarded the object - bright coloured beads strung on ten narrow rods, divided into two unequal portions.

“What is it?” Clisser exclaimed, picking it up and finding that the beads moved stiffly up and down on the rods.

“An abacus, they called it. A counter. Ancient and still functional.” Jemmy took the device from Clisser and demonstrated.

“It’ll take the place of a calculator. Most are down now. Oh, and I found the designs for this, too.” He fumbled around his papers and withdrew an instrument consisting of a ruler with a central sliding piece, both marked with logarithmic scales. “You can do quite complicated mathematical calculations on this slide-rule, as they called it. Almost as fast as you could type into a digital pad.” Clisser looked from one to the other. “So that’s what a slide rule looks like. I saw one mentioned in a treatise on early calculators but I never thought we’d have to resort to ancient devices. And mention of an abacus, too, actually. You have been busy reinventing alternatives.”

“And I’ll find that other device, too, if you’ll leave me alone and don’t dump more vitally important, urgent research on me.”

“I’m hoping,” Clisser said at his most diplomatic, “that you can give me something to show before the Winter Solstice and Turn’s End.”

Jemmy shot straight up in his chair. cocked his head and stared at Clisser so that Clisser leaned forward hopefully, holding his breath lest he disrupt Jemmy’s concentration.

“Fraggit,” and Jemmy collapsed again, beating his fists on the table. “It has to DO with Solstices.”

“Well, if you’ve gone back to abacii and slide-rules, why not a sun-dial clock?” Clisser asked facetiously.

Jemmy sat up again, even straighter. “Not a sun-dial,” he said slowly, “but a cosmic clock - a star dial like… stone stone SOMETHING.”

“Stonehenge?”

“What was that?”

“A prehistoric structure back on Earth. Sallisha can tell you more about it if you’d care to ask her,” Clisser said slyly and was rewarded by Jemmy’s rude dismissal of the suggestion. “It turned out to be rather an astonishing calendar since it accurately predicted eclipses as well as verifying Solstices dawn.” Clisser stopped, looking wide-eyed at Jemmy whose mouth had dropped open to form a soundless ‘O’ as what he said astounded them both.

“Only that was a stone circle… on a plain…” Clisser stammered, gesturing dolmens and cross-beams. Muttering under his breath, he strode across to the shelves, trying to find the text he wanted. “We must have copied it. We had to have copied it.”

“Not necessarily since you’ve been on these relevant only historical entries,” Jemmy contradicted him.

“I remember accessing it once. It’s only that we’ll have to adapt it to fit our needs, which is framing the Red Planet when the conjunction is right.” He was scrabbling amongst the litter on his desk for a clean sheet of paper and a pencil.

“The first three he found were either stubs or broken. That’s another thing we’ve got to re-invent… fountain pens.”

“Fountain pens?” Clisser echoed. “Never heard of fountain pens.”

“I’ll do them tomorrow. Leave me to work this out but,” and Jemmy paused long enough to grin diabolically up at Clisser’s befuddlement, “I think I’ll have something by Turn’s End. Maybe even a model… but only if you leave now.” Clisser left, closing the door quietly behind him and pausing a moment.

“I do believe I’ve been kicked out of my own office,” he said, pivoting to regard the door. His name, which had recently been repainted, was centered in the upper panel.

“Hmm.” He turned the sign hung there on a nail to DO NOT DISTURB” and walked away whistling the chorus from the ‘Duty Song’. He’d catch Sallisha before she climbed up the stairs to his office. That would please her. Well, it might.

He hurried down the steps and met her coming in the door.

“I’m not late,” she said, at her most caustic, her arm tightening convulsively on the bulging notebook she carried.

He was in for it.

“I didn’t say you were. Let’s take the more comfortable option of the teachers’ lounge.”

“My conclusions are not something you’ll wish to discuss in public,” she said, recoiling. She might be one of his best teachers though the rumor was that children learned their lessons to get out of her clutches - but her attitude towards him, and his proposed revitalization program, was totally hostile.

Clisser smiled as graciously as he could. “It’s empty right now and will be for at least two hours.”

She sniffed but, when he courteously gestured for her to precede him, she tramped on in an implacable fashion. Like a Morinst to his Clisser shuddered and hurriedly followed her.

The lounge was empty, a good fire crackling on the hearth.

The klah pitcher rested on the warmer and there were, for a change, clean cups. He wondered if Bethany had done the housekeeping.

The sweetener jar was even full. Yes, it would have been Bethany, trying to ease this interview.

As he closed the door, he also turned the DO NOT DISTURB” sign around and flipped the catch. Sallisha had seated herself in the least comfortable chair - the woman positively enjoyed being martyred. She still held the notebook, like a precious artifact, across her chest.

You can not exclude Greek history from study,” she said, aggressively launching into an obviously prepared speech.

“They’ve got to understand where our form of government came from to appreciate what they have. You have to include…”

“Sallisha, the precedents can be covered in the outline, but not the entire culture,” he began.

“But the culture determined the form of government.” She stared at him, appalled by his lack of comprehension.

“If a student is curious enough to want to know more, we shall have it to give him. But there is no point in forcing hill farmers and plains drovers to learn something which has absolutely no relevance to their way of life.”

“You demean them by saying that.”

“No, I save them hours of dull study by replacing it with the history of Pern.”

“There is scarcely enough of that to dignify the word ‘history’.”

“Yesterday is history today, but do you want to repeat it?

“’History’ is what happened in the life or development of a people… we,” and he tapped his chest, “the Pernese. Also a systematic account of us,” he tapped his chest again, “with an

analysis and explanation. From the beginning of the Pern colony. That is history, grand and sweeping, surviving against incredible odds and an implacable menace, daring-do, ingenuity, courage, and of this planet, not of a place that’s only a name. It’s better than our ancient history - if it’s taught right.”

“Are you impugning my -“

“Never, Sallisha, which is why I particularly need your complete cooperation for the new, enriched, relevant curriculum. On average, your students rank higher in their final examination papers than any other teacher’s… and that includes the hill-farmers and the plains drovers. But they never again use the information you imparted. Pern is difficult enough… with an external menace to contend with… Let them be proud of the accomplishments of their ancestors, their most recent ancestors. Not the confused and tortured mindlessness the Pern colonists left behind.

“Furthermore,” he went on relentlessly as she opened her mouth to speak, “the trials at Telgar and Benden have proved that not enough time is spent teaching our people their rights under the Charter.”

“But I spend…”

“You certainly have never been remiss, but we must emphasize,” and he slapped one fist into the other palm, holder rights under their Lord: how to claim Charter acreage, how to prevent what happened in Bitra.”

“No other Lord Holder is as wicked,” and her mouth twisted with disgust as she enunciated the last word, “as that awful man. Don’t think you can get me to teach there now Issony’s left!” She waggled her index finger at him and her expression was fierce.

“Not you, Sallisha, you’re far too valuable to waste on Bitra,” he said, soothing her. Bitra would need a more compassionate and flexible teacher than Sallisha. But I’m amazed at just how many people were unaware of the Charter Rights. And that’s wrong. Not that I think the cowed folk up in Bitra would have dared cite the clauses to him… even if they had known about them. I mean, it was appalling to realize just how few people who attended the trial KNEW that ordinary holders had the RIGHT to freedom of movement, and lawful assembly, or to appeal for mediation for crippling tithes.

“Why haven’t the Lord Holders impeached him?” she wanted to know, her fierceness diverted towards a new victim. It’s patently obvious he is unfit to manage a Hold, much less one during a Fall. I cannot see why they have been waffling about over the matter.

“Sallisha, it takes a unanimous decision to impeach a Lord Holder,” he said with a light admonishment.

She regarded him blankly for a moment. Then flushed.

“Who’s holding out?”

“Jamson.”

She clicked her tongue irritably. “And that’s another place you mustn’t send me. The cold would exacerbate my joint problem.”

I’m aware of that, Sallisha, which is why I wondered if you’d consider Nerat South this year?”

“How much travelling?” she demanded, but not unappeased.

“Six major holds and five smaller units, but all within reasonable distance. And, of course, your journeys would fall on Threadfree days.

“Excellent accommodations and a very good contract. Gardner made sure that everything complies with your wishes as regards conditions.” He reached into his jerkin pocket and pulled out the document. “I thought you might like to see it today.”

“Sweetening me up, are you?” she said with an almost coquettish smile, hand half outstretched to the sheets.

“You are my best teacher, Sallisha,” he told her and extended his hand until her fingers closed around the contract.

“This won’t make me approve your butchery of pre-Pernese history, Clisser.”

“It’s not intended to, but we can’t have you in danger on the plains of Keroon.”

“I did promise to come back.”

“They will understand.”

“There are some really fine minds there.”

“You will find them wherever you go, Sallisha, you have the knack.” Then he hauled out the larger sheaf of papers, the new syllabus. “You may find this much easier to impart to your students.” She eyed it as she would a tunnel snake.