The Masterharper of Pern

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Some good did come of that disagreeable confrontation with Fax.

MasterSmith Fandarel withdrew all Masters from the "seven holds.”Other CraftMasters followed that example.Fax had been too busy congratulating himself over the acquisition of Ruatha Hold to realize what was happening.Now he complained bitterly, offering inducements to the Masters to return.Nor did he dare retaliate against those journeymen who remained: as many as could do so had slipped away before he knew they had left.Even the MasterMiner at Crom had removed himself and set up a new headquarters for his Craft in one of the Smithhalls at Telgar.Despite substantial rewards, Master Idarolan, who had succeeded Gostol as MasterFishman, refused to lay any keels for Fax to replace the ships which had so mysteriously disappeared from the High Reaches fishing villages.All that were left were small sloops or ketches, which were restricted in cargo space or range.

The only Hall that did not withdraw skilled assistance was the Healer Hall.MasterHealer Oldive quietly stated that such a measure went against the very purpose and grain of his Craft.He was respected for it, as were those of his Hall who remained to succour the ill and injured.And there were many of them.

"Fax hadn't counted on the loss of Masters," Robinton said, thoroughly pleased.Of course, harpers had long since been driven away or hunted down by Fax.Indeed, it had become almost a crime, Nip said, to admit to owning an instrument, much less playing or singing.

"The man is determined to make life as miserable as possible.

He's succeeding rather well, a fact which will eventually go against him."

"We hope," Robinton remarked dryly.

"Oh, wait and see," Nip said with unusual optimism.

"I'm waiting."

While the MasterHarper waited over the next five turns, he busied himself improving all within his Hall.He asked Groghe for the best fighter of his guard and had the man teach classes, from apprentice level on up, in self-defence and, though this did not sit well with the more self-confident young students, when to run and hide and how to do that, leaving the least evidence of escape.To Robinton's surprise, Sebell turned out to be almost ferocious in the drills: only Saltor, the head guard, or his burly assistant, Emfor, would partner him.

"Sebell's amazing," Robinton remarked to Saltor when Sebell had pinned Emfor to the mat in three moves.

Saltor regarded him with amusement."It's you he's determined to defend, Master Robinton.Keep him at your side and you'll never need to fear."

"Not that I can keep him from my side," Robinton replied, wondering how he had managed to generate such devotion in the lad, kin though he was.

"That goes for every one of "em, you know," Saltor continued, and Robinton felt decidedly uncomfortable."Just as well, you ask me," the guard added, then walked off to correct a wrestling hold.

Sebell's prowess was by no means limited to such physical skills.Like his adored Master Robinton, he soaked up sufficient expertise and abilities to gain his journeyman's rank almost as quickly as his mentor had.Robinton reluctantly sent him for a turn's teaching in Igen Hold, then found out just how much he had come to rely on the lad and brought him back.As if Sebell could sense where Robinton needed help, the young journeyman assumed many duties so adroitly that both Masters and the older journeymen could not deny the MasterHarper his invaluable assistant.

It was Sebell who suggested a new role for young Traller, an exceedingly mischievous apprentice who sorely tried the patience of every Master in the Hall with his pranks and strategies to get out of any task he did not like.Traller never seemed to be to blame for boyish tricks…it was always someone else in the dorm.He was never there when work was assigned and always had a plausible excuse for such an absence.He could ride any runner-beast in the beasthold, pin a fly to the wall with his dagger at a hundred paces, survive the best tricks of heavier lads on the wrestling mats, and he was totally without conscience.He possessed a lively wit, however, as well as an inventive mind for excuses.He was the personification of contrariness, and yet Robinton liked him, however often the boy was up before him for disciplinary action.He had had a good treble, lost when he hit puberty, and now his best musical skill was drumming: either in the Tower, where he excelled, or on any surface which had any resonance.He drummed with his fingers, one of his dorm-mates said he drummed with his toes at night against the bedstead - with sticks, and even upon occasion in the dining hall, with the thigh-bones of a fowl.

"It's about Trailer," Sebell said one evening as Robinton was relaxing after dinner.

"Ohhh," Robinton groaned."What's he done this time?" He had run out of any useful disciplines to curb the lad.

"I was thinking, Master, that he might do better training with Nip," Sebell said, a sly smile on his face as he watched Robinton's reaction to the suggestion."It seems to me that every time Nip reports in he looks more gaunt and tired.He needs someone else, if only to run back here with messages for you." When he saw that Robinton was considering the notion he added, "It's not as if anyone will ever control Traller, but all that energy could be useful to Nip."

"I think you've hit on a marvellous future for that young man, Sebell.I can't imagine why I didn't think of it myself."

Sebell chuckled."You do have one or two other matters to worry about."

Robinton agreed vehemently and went back to solving those of the most immediate concern, such as reassigning harpers for the next turn's teaching duties.

But he was ready with Sebell's suggestion the next time Nip eased himself into the Harper's study, followed closely enough by Sebell with food and drink for the man.

"I've someone you might like to train, Nip," Robinton said.

"Huh?" Nip scowled."I travel faster alone.And safer.Ah, thanks, Sebell, you're remarkable in anticipation of my needs." He bit into a meat roll and chewed while Robinton went on.

"I think you must at least assess young Traller as a possible apprentice," Robinton said firmly.

"Oh, well, if you put it like that, I'll give him a going-over then."

"It's you or back to Keroon for him, because we can't use his… special…talents as a harper, that's very obvious.Weren't you saying that you can only be in one place at a time?If I need an assistant, so do you."

Nip gave him complete attention."Sebell's no lad…" He shook his head."I'd hate to put someone in danger, and it's dangerous up there in Fax's."

"More reason than ever for you to have an…assistant," Sebell remarked pointedly.

Nip made a noise in his throat."You mean "shadow", don't you?" he asked, jerking his thumb towards Sebell who grinned back, quite willing to make the criticism into a compliment.

Robinton blinked and grinned, then laughed out loud, for there was a faint resemblance, the colour and set of their eyes, the same dark hair almost to the whirls at the crown, and strong features, chin and nose. that spoke of their distant Blood relationship.

Sebell was now as tall as the MasterHarper and, over the turns, had picked up some of Robinton's mannerisms as well.Their eyes met and they grinned with perfect understanding and mutual respect.

"He's outside," Sebell said, indicating the hallway."I found him on the drum Tower stairwell, trying to see who was making such a late-night entrance."

"Well, now, that sounds promising," said Nip, and himself went to invite Traller into the room.The two stood regarding each other as warily as strange canines."If you'll pardon us, Robinton, Sebell," Nip said after a long pause and, taking Trailer by the shoulder, he pushed the lad ahead of him out of the door. The next morning Nip told Robinton to rename the boy "Tuck' and to designate him as an apprentice on special assignment.

"I told you he was a natural," Robinton said somewhat smugly.

Nip snorted."He will be when I get through with him." Then he grinned in his irrepressible fashion."He'll be good, too.Thanks, Rob.Oh, and he's coming with me.I've got two runner-beasts ready and willing.Like any well-brought-up? ’ Nip smiled at that description being applied to Tuck ‘? Keroonian, he rides like a leech." He paused again at the door."And he runs like the wind."

Nip took turns with Tuck to deliver reports over the next two turns.

Then one night Tuck appeared unexpectedly late, grinning with delight when he had startled Robinton from reading Term reports on the current apprentices.

"Nip says that there's something odd going on at Ruatha Hold." "Oh?" And Robinton was glad to find some distraction from the reports.He didn't agree with some of them, and it always annoyed him when any of his favourite "sons' did not measure up to the high standards he wanted them to achieve.

"Well, it seems that it's not prospering.There've been four stewards, and each one has failed to extract any profit from the Hold." Tuck grinned."It's as if every attempt fails, some way or another.

And Fax's not known to be pleased with any sort of failure."

"Hmmm.That's interesting.A kind of subtle rebellion?"

Tuck gave the sort of snort that Nip affected."With that bunch of drudges?They're the most useless load of incompetents I've seen.And since I've been north? ’ he gestured with a thumb ‘? I've seen every sort of way to avoid hard work that's been invented.

And then some.The only jobs which get done in a halfway decent fashion are helped along by an overseer with a whip standing over the workers.Fax has only so many men and too many holdings." He grinned broadly."Though his supply of metal-knotted whips seems inexhaustible."

"One hold, one holder" is a good adage to remember," Robinton said sententiously.

"To be sure." Tuck glided past that."Nip specially said to tell you about Ruatha."

"What could be happening there?" Robinton asked, more or less rhetorically."If there is no one able to foment trouble, is it trouble, or pure carelessness on the stewards' parts?"

Tuck shrugged his shoulders.He had grown into a wiry man, not much taller than his companion.He might practise being nondescript, but he hadn't quite the knack Nip had and could never disguise the bright, interested gaze of his dark eyes.

"But there's something there.Sort of? ' He tilted his hand sideways in a gesture he had obviously learned from close association with Nip.‘A general uneasiness.Like something watching all the time.Only who'd watch?And what are they watching?"

"I should take a? "

"No, you shouldn't." Tuck held up a hand."Harper Blue is a target for any of Fax's soldiery.I don't say the best is at Ruatha, but you're not to risk your neck…Master Robinton." He added the title as a respectful afterthought."Bargen's increased his activities in High Reaches, by the way, now that he has more folk in the Weyr."

"He's being careful, isn't he?"

"Bargen's so careful he's womanish," Tuck said with disgust.

Then he sighed."Of course, he wants to stay alive long enough to take High Reaches Hold back.So no one really minds when he sends them out to do what he plans.And he's pretty good at making trouble."

“Without embroiling others?"

"They'd rather do something, Master Robinton, than nothing,"

Tuck said."They've got some pride left, you know." Robinton nodded.

"Isn't the Benden clutch about to hatch?" Tuck asked.

"Soon.Jora's dead." Robinton had had the details from a letter sent to Master Oldive by Lord Raid's journeyman healer, who had been brought by R'gul to try to keep the Weyrwoman alive.

Remembering how Jora had gorged herself at the Impression Feast,and that had been turns ago now, he had no trouble believing that the woman had died of overeating.The healer had been appalled at the state she was in and had agreed that she should be interred between.

"I heard the drums, but did I hear correctly that the queen produced a gold egg?" Tuck cocked his head hopefully and Robinton nodded."That's pulling up pretty close, isn't it?" Robinton nodded again, and Tuck asked, "You'll be going to the Impression?"

"I hope to." Robinton wasn't sure that any invitations were going out from the Weyr, but that didn't mean that a CraftMaster could be excluded.There had been few enough clutches and Impressions since S'loner had died.

"Nemorth'll last?" Tuck's expression was anxious.

"Probably.At least, that's my reading of queen dragon behaviour.

Even without her rider, Nemorth will try to last until her clutch hatches."

"D'you think the next Weyrwoman will be an improvement on Jora?"

Robinton gave a snort."I don't see how any woman could be worse."

"Then the riders'll be on Search, won't they?"

"I would presume so."

Tuck was the one to nod now."I'd best go."

"Where to?"

"I'm to meet him? ’ which always meant Nip ‘? at High Reaches.Fax is there, preparing…" he grimaced "…to go on one of his "tours.”

"Tours?"

"Inspections, to find out why he isn't getting what he expects out of his holdings."

"I wish him luck," Robinton said drolly.

"Not him, the poor unfortunates he'll be beating up." Then Tuck was out of the door.

Over the next few days, Robinton had a feeling of imminence, of something impending.He was not surprised then to have Sebell escort a runner, mud-spattered and exhausted, into his office.But was stunned by the message.

"Tuck says you'd better come, Master Robinton."

"Come where?" Robinton had been on his feet the instant he saw Sebell's companion.Master and journeyman helped the man to a chair, and then Sebell poured him wine.

"Fax has left…for Ruatha Hold.Dragonriders…with him."

"At Ruatha?Dragonriders?With him?"

The runner nodded, sipping the wine."On Search." And he grimaced."Takes guts…to go to the…High Reaches."

Robinton was amazed."Who?"

The runner shook his head."You're to do a Nip and Tuck, he said."

"How much time do I have?" Robinton asked, waving aside the objections he could see Sebell about to utter.

"Fax is forcing his march.You'd best be in place."

"Hmmm, yes, I had, hadn't I?" Robinton felt a surge of wild excitement and sighed with relief.He ignored the pointed anxiety on Sebell's face."Take care of him, will you, Sebell?"

And Robinton bolted down the steps to Silvina's rooms."I'll need rough clothing, suitable for a drudge," he told her.

"And what are you up to?" she demanded, hands on her hips as she glared up at him.

"Now, don't you start on me too," he warned, far more sharply than he intended, and pointed to the keys on her belt."I have to look the part."

"If you think you can do a Nip, you're gone in the head, Rob. Send Sebell for you."

"No, not Sebell," Robinton said angrily."I won't risk him."

"But you will yourself' she complained as reluctantly she led the way down to the storage rooms."How can you possibly disguise yourself?" she demanded, trying another tack to dissuade him.

He immediately pulled in his shoulders, scrunched down and, with one hand hanging loosely, affected a hobbly gait.

"A limp might even be better," she said after a moment's observation.

"Hmmm.As if you'd been kicked by a boot in the wrong place." Then she sighed in defeat.

By the time Sebell joined them, a look at his Master's face and he kept his objections to himself, the two had found appropriately ragged clothing for Robinton to wear.Even Sebell had to agree that, once Robinton assumed his odd stance and gait, he no longer resembled the tall, dignified MasterHarper of Pern.

"If you've time, I can cure them in the midden," Silvina suggested helpfully, but her eyes gleamed with mischief.

Sebell began to chuckle at Robinton's expressive shudder and was caught off balance when Robinton thrust the clothing into his hands and told him to see to it.

"The smell will undoubtedly keep others from examining me at too close range," he said with a long-suffering sigh."Now, while I'm away, Sebell, you'll tell everyone that I've caught a fever and keep them out of my rooms."

Sebell nodded, though he was clearly unhappy with his Master being involved in such a subterfuge.Still, he knew when to keep his comments to himself.

Robinton waited until he got to the Red River before he put on his disguise.Black had sidled away from the saddlepack holding the reeking clothes.He left the runner-beast with the border guards and warned them to be extra vigilant.

From there Robinton made his discreet way to the beasthold at Ruatha to discover that there weren't but two sorry-looking milch animals to be cared for.He was looking around the beasthold in dismay when a wing of dragons appeared mid-air and a frightened man came running so fast he was in danger of tripping over himself as he shrieked his message at the top of his lungs:

"Dragonriders, and Fax comes.Dragonriders…" Still yelling, he disappeared into the Hold.

In his guise of a witless drudge, Robinton could come out to stare up at the amazing sight of a full wing of dragons, some of whom had the remnants of flame still trickling beyond their muzzles, appearing in Ruathan skies.One after another, they bugled.

They sounded surprised, he thought.As the dragons wheeled to come in for a landing, he spotted a blue who had to be Tagath, which confirmed his suspicion that this was F'lar's wing, after all.

Searching at the High Reaches would take the nerve of F'lon's son.

Maybe he could get a word with C'gan somehow.Maybe even get a chance to meet F'lar at long last.He wondered if R'gul had authorized the Search in this area.Somehow he doubted it.Then he put his mind to the pressures of this moment.

A witless drudge would be terrified and rush to find shelter from such a frightening sight, he thought, and he shambled as fast as his assumed limp would allow him to join the other drudges milling about the courtyard.

The Warder, his face ghastly, appeared on the steps to verify the message and then started yelling conflicting orders at those near by, grabbing the nearest drudge and propelling him towards the Hold.

"We must prepare.We must do something!There has to be food!

There has to be order in this Hold…and you are…going…to…work your nuts off!" Each pause was to allow him to kick or shove some ragged body into the Hold.

Robinton managed to evade the full force of the kick aimed at him, but he went willingly into the Hold.There he paused briefly in dismay at the sight of the once beautiful entrance hall and the Main Hall seen past the broken-hinged double doors which led to it.Then someone bumped into him, and that restored him to his character.

An old woman struggled to hand out brooms and mops; another shaggy-haired drudge distributed other cleaning equipment.They were herded up the steps to sweep and ready rooms which, to judge by the appalling condition of them, had not been used since the massacre.He was pushed into a room which had obviously had its window left open for turns: leaves, branches and dirt were piled like snowdrifts in the corners.The hearth held ashes which had hardened into rock.The bedding was soiled and damp and would have to be discarded, though what would be available to take its place, Robinton didn't know.Nor was a single cleaning going to do much more than loosen the surface of dirt thickly caking the bare floor.The steward raced from one room to another, yelling for haste, for more clean water, for more effort from each and every drudge, bestowing kicks where he felt the cleaners faltered.How any steward worth his mark could have allowed the once graceful Hold to fall into such desuetude, Robinton could not understand.

Even a monthly sweeping would have kept this room habitable.

He did manage to clean the floor before Fax and his entourage arrived.Then he was hauled by the scruff of his neck out into the hall and sent down to help stable Fax's runner-beasts.

The main Hall had survived the concerted attack by the drudges, and looked slightly better.There were damp spots here and there, and no one had been able to reach the crawlers or their filmy webs which hung in tatters from the ceiling.There was huge confusion, yells, shrieks, and the excited barking of the spit canines coming from the kitchen, and Robinton was just as happy to be sent to care for the runner-beasts.He just hoped that someone had cleaned up the beasthold. Hesaw Fax scowling fiercely, beating his boot with a heavy baton-whip.He saw Lady Gemma, great with child, being lifted off her mount by two of Fax's strongest men.He could see her wincing, although the men were handling her with great care.

Several of the ladies in this very mixed group rushed to her assistance once she was on the ground, supporting her as she waddled up the steps and into the Hold.He felt immense pity for her, and hoped that the quarters she was to inhabit had not been in such bad condition as the one he had tried to clean.Was Fax trying to kill the woman?Probably, if some of Nip's earlier reports bore any truth, and they undoubtedly did.

Robinton was prodded to take several beasts at once, which was awkward, given the infirmities he was affecting.Two of Fax's bullies came along to oversee him and the other hastily organized drudges who were to tend to the mounts.Ruathan-bred, Robinton thought drolly, come back full circle.The two scrawny beasts which had inhabited the Hold were gone.Probably they were what would be offered the Lord Holder tonight, and would be tough as old boots.

He did no more than the others, despite being cuffed and kicked to "do a proper job of it'.He felt sorry for the tired runner-beasts, though he was almost as tired as they before he and the others were given sickles and sent to cut fresh fodder.His limp and his groans were heartfelt by now.With nothing to eat so far this long day… and if what he suspected were true, there was unlikely to be enough food in the Hold to feed the visitors, much less the residents.He wondered if the dragonriders had brought their own provisions.

And how was he to reach C'gan if he spent the entire livelong day drudging?It was too bad that he had never established as much of a contact with Tagath as he had had with Simanith.

Although he knew very well that the drudges in the Harper Hall and Fort Hold were well cared for, he had discovered a heretofore unexpected sympathy for those whom life had deprived of the wit or energy to achieve more than such lowly positions.

When the armsmen finally allowed that the beasts had been properly cared for, Robinton followed the other five men back to the Hold.They were muttering about their expectations of food.

Darkness had set in and, as an additional mark of the poverty of the Hold, the glowbaskets gave glum illumination.

"Bread, if we're lucky," one said, trudging along.

"When's luck got anything' to do wiv us?" another demanded."I'd be anywhere but here."

"Yes, always the gripe, never the go," the first one said."Who're you?" he suddenly asked Robinton, peering up at him.

"Came wiv dem," the MasterHarper said, jerking a thumb at the soldiers striding along in front of them.He wanted to straighten up, to relieve the ache in his back, but doubted it would help and, besides, he daren't unbend.Even bent, he was still a good head taller than his erstwhile companions.

The first man made an inarticulate sound in his throat that was half snarl."Goin' on wiv "em then?"

"Not going' nowhere but here," Robinton said in a dour voice.

They made for the kitchen entrance and the first man recoiled, startled at the chaos within, the slamming and clanging of pots and the screams as a drudge was hit.One male voice rose above the others, giving orders, yelling if the response wasn't immediate.

"Shards, it's burned on the one side and raw on the others." That sentence was bellowed in a tone of fury and frustration.A canine yipped piteously.Robinton could hear slapping and more screams and groans as the cook evidently vented his feelings on his helpless drudges.

"Us'ns'd have it, if it's meat," the first drudge muttered to himself, wistfully licking lips.He took a deep breath.

"Smell's all we's likely to have," the other said.

Not that the smell was at all appetizing.But Robinton used their interest in the kitchen activities to cover his movements as he stealthily backed off into the shadows.He had noticed as they passed the main Hold door that there were no guards either at the door or in the Hall.He couldn't enter in his guise of a drudge, but surely he could sneak into the guard barracks and change into something…more appropriate.

He slipped in just in time to hear one of the underleaders assigning posts for the evening, and he ducked into an alcove as they tramped past him, the dim glowbaskets neatly shadowing him.

Fortunately, many of Fax's soldiers were of a generous size and they had brought several changes of clothes with them.He found the cleanest and, happily shedding his filthy, sweaty rags, put them on.A bit loose at the waist and a bit short in the leg, but he used his own belt and secured the trousers.He took the sleeve of his shirt and scrubbed at his boots, getting the worst of the stable muck off them.

"Where the shards were you."?" a harsh voice called.

Robinton whirled round to see a guard underleader in the doorway.

"Relieved me'sel," he muttered, wondering if the sudden pounding of his heart would give him away.

"Up to the Hall, then.Want every one of you up there "case those sharding dragonriders doan know theys manners." The grin suggested that the man was aching to teach dragonriders manners.

"Yuss," Robinton said.He squared his shoulders, which was not easy after a day's crouching, and passed the underleader cautiously, as if expecting a kick on his way.But no kick came.A quick look back told him that the man was bending over his saddlebags, extracting his sword-belt.

Reaching the Hall, Robinton slowed to avoid stepping on the heels of Fax's two underleaders, who were escorting their Lord into the chamber with one of his ladies.The Warder was effusively bowing them in.Robinton slipped along the wall as if he had been in the wake of the latest arrivals and took up a position halfway between the guards already in place.Neither took note of him, their attention focused on the dragonriders seated at one of the trestle tables set up perpendicular to the raised dais which held the head table.With relief, Robinton spotted C'gan's silvery head and then looked along to spot the young rider, F'nor.There was no mistaking his lineage as F'lon's son: it was there in the cocked head and the slight smile.F'nor was watching his half-brother at the head table, talking to one of Fax's ladies, seated beside him.Lady Gemma occupied the seat on the other side.F'lar didn't seem all that happy in such company.Just then a crawler dropped from the ceiling on to the table, and Lady Gemma noticeably winced.

Fax went stamping up the steps to the head table.He pulled back his chair roughly, slamming it into the Lady Gemma's before he seated himself.Then he pulled the chair to the table with a force that threatened to rock the none-too-stable trestle-top from its supporting legs.Scowling, he inspected his goblet and plate.

"A roast, my Lord Fax, and fresh bread, Lord Fax, and such fruits and roots as are left." The Warder approached the head table, clearly apprehensive.

"Left?Left?You said there was nothing harvested here."

The Warder's eyes bulged and he gulped."Nothing to be sent on," he stammered."Nothing good enough to be sent on.Nothing.

Had I but known of your arrival, I could have sent to Crom? "

"Sent to Crom?" roared Fax, slamming the plate he was inspecting on to the table so forcefully that the rim bent under his hands.The Warder winced again.

"For decent foodstuffs, my Lord," he quavered.

Robinton felt a sudden ripple, like an odd push at his mind.

"The day one of my Holds cannot support itself or the visit of its rightful overlord, I shall renounce it."

The Lady Gemma gasped, and Robinton wondered if she had felt the same remarkable ripple he did.As if confirming that, the dragons roared.And Robinton felt the surge of…something.

F'lar felt it too, the MasterHarper thought, for he sought his half-brother's eyes and saw F'nor's almost imperceptible nod…and those of the other wingriders.

"What's wrong, Dragonman?" snapped Fax.

Robinton admired the way in which F'lar affected no concern, stretching his long legs and assuming an indolent posture in the heavy chair.

"Wrong?" He had a voice like F'lon's, a good baritone with flexible intonations.Robinton wondered if the man could sing.

"The dragons!" Fax said.

"Oh, nothing.They often roar…at the sunset, at a flock of passing wherries, at mealtimes." F'lar smiled amiably at Fax.His tablemate, however, was not so sanguine and gave a squeak.

"Mealtimes?Have they not been fed?"

“Oh, yes, five days ago."

"Oh.Five…days ago?And are they hungry…now?" Her voice trailed into a whisper of fear, and her eyes grew round.

"In a few days," F'lar assured her.Robinton watched him scan the Hall with a good appearance of detached amusement."You mount a guard?" he asked Fax casually.

"Double at Ruatha Hold," Fax replied in a right, hard voice.

"Here?" F'lar all but laughed, gesturing around the sadly unkempt chamber.

"Here!" Fax changed the subject with a roar."Food!"

Five drudges staggered in under the weight of the roast herd-beast.

The aroma that reached Robinton's nostrils had not improved in the short while since he had left the kitchen courtyard.

The odour of singed bone was most prevalent.And there was the Warder, sharpening his tools for carving.

Robinton was not the only one to see Lady Gemma catch her breath, her hands curling tightly around the armrests.

The drudges returned with wooden trays of bread; burned crusts had been scraped and cut from the loaves.As other trays were borne in by the drudges and passed before Lady Gemma, Robinton could see her expression turning to unmistakable nausea.Then he saw her convulsive clutch at the armrest and realized that the food was not the principal problem.He saw F'lar lean towards her to say something, but she stopped him with an imperceptible shake of her head, closing her eyes and trying to mask the shudder that ran down her body.

The poor woman looked to be going into labour, Robinton thought.

The Warder, with shaking hands, was now presenting Fax with a plate of the sliced meats…the more edible-looking portions.

"You call this food?You call this food?" Fax bellowed.More crawlers were shaken from their webs as the sound of his voice shattered fragile strands."Slop.Slop." And he threw the plate at the Warder.

"It's all we had on such short notice," the Warder squealed, bloody juices streaking down his cheeks.Fax threw his goblet at him, and the wine went streaming down the man's chest.The steaming dish of roots followed; the Warder yelped in pain as the hot liquid splashed over him.

"My Lord, my Lord, had I but known!"

Robinton felt a repeat of the powerful ripple, and thought it was triumphant.

"Obviously, Ruatha cannot support the visit of its Lord." F'lar's voice rang out."You must renounce it."

Robinton stared at the dragonrider.Everyone else did, too.The MasterHarper also caught the sudden blinking of F'lar's eyes, as if the bronze rider had astonished himself as well.But F'lar straightened his shoulders and regarded Fax in the silence that fell over the Hall, broken only by the splat of crawlers and the drip of the root liquid from the Warder's shoulders to the rushes on the floor.The grating of Fax's boot heel was clearly audible as he swung slowly around to face the bronze rider.From his vantage point, Robinton could see F'nor rise with hand on dagger hilt.It was all he could do not to gesture for F'nor to stay seated, to take his hand off the knife.

"I did not hear you correctly?" Fax asked.His voice was expressionless, and Robinton was glad that the man's back was to him.

"You did mention, my Lord," F'lar drawled with a good command of himself, Robinton noted with almost paternal pride, "that if any of your Holds could not support itself and the visit of its rightful overlord, you would renounce it."

Then, with admirable self-possession, the dragonrider, his eyes still on Fax, speared some vegetables from a serving dish and began to eat.F'nor, still on his feet, was glancing around the Hall as if he thought someone else had spoken, not F'lar.That was when Robinton realized that those odd ripples of power had not emanated from the dragonriders, or the dragons.But where had they come from?

Fax and F'lar stood, their gazes locked.Suddenly a groan escaped Lady Gemma.Fax glanced at her in irritation, his fist clenched and half-raised to strike her.But the contraction that rippled across her swollen belly was as obvious as her pain.

Fax began to laugh.He threw back his head, showing big stained teeth, and roared.

"Aye, renounce it in favour of her issue, if it is male…and lives," he crowed.

"Heard and witnessed!" F'lar snapped, jumping to his feet and pointing to his riders.They were on their feet in an instant.

"Heard and witnessed!" they responded in the traditional manner.

Robinton had seen the guards slip hands to their belts and did the same with his own hand when the dragonriders rose.But as there was no sign from Fax, who continued to howl with contemptuous laughter, they all relaxed and some even had half-grins of snide amusement.

The lady beside F'lar, Lady Tela, was obviously concerned about Lady Gemma, but clearly didn't know what to do.Someone had better help her, Robinton thought.She was in obvious pain and distress.

It was F'lar who acted, bending to assist her out of her chair.She grabbed his arm and murmured something, her lips turned away from Fax's eyes.F'lar's eyebrows rose, and Robinton saw him press her hands reassuringly.He wondered what they were saying.

F'lar beckoned to two of the Warder's men and pushed Lady Tela to Gemma's side.

"What do you need?" the bronze rider asked her, his voice carrying.

Fax snorted.

"Oh, oh…" Her face was twisted with panic."Water, hot, clean.

Cloths.And a birthing-woman.Oh, yes, we must have a birthing-woman."

F'lar looked about the Hall, then signalled to the Warder."Have you one in this Hold?"

"Of course." The Warder sounded affronted.

"Then send for her."

The Warder caught Fax's nod and then kicked the drudge on the floor.

"You…you!Whatever your name is, go get her from the Crafthold.You must know who she is."

With a nimbleness probably developed from turns of avoiding kicks, the drudge moved with astonishing speed and scurried across the Hall and out of the door to the kitchen.

Fax came down to the platter of roast and began slicing meat, which he speared on the point of his knife and ate from the blade.

Occasionally he would glance up in the direction the women had taken and bark out a laugh.F'lar sauntered down to the carcass and, without waiting for a direct invitation, began to carve neat slices, beckoning his men over Those of Fax's men who were seated at the table waited, however, until Fax had eaten his fill.

The men standing on guard were not relieved, and the proximity to food became almost unendurable.Bad as the roast was, it was food, and Robinton's belly rumbled.He was also very thirsty, and his feet hurt.His whole body hurt, for that matter.He vowed not to get so unfit ever again.A MasterHarper ought to be ready for anything.

Clearly he was not.

The drudge returned rather more quickly than he had thought possible.She strode right through the main door, leading a woman at least slightly cleaner than herself, though almost as ancient.The birthing-woman stopped in the doorway, frozen by the sight of those in the Hall.

F'lar strode up to her and took her by the arm, leading her towards the steps.

"Go quickly, woman.Lady Gemma is before her time." He was frowning with concern.The drudge caught the other arm and pulled the old woman past the guards and to the stairway.

F'lar stood watching until they disappeared into the upper level.

Then he made his way to the riders' table, where he spoke quietly to F'nor and the rider Robinton recognized as bronze Pianth's rider, K'net.

Robinton would have given anything to sit, or to have a piece of the trimmed bread which lay in a bowl two strides from him on the guards' table.He noticed that the other two guards were surreptitiously shifting their feet and easing their shoulders.

The waiting continued.Nothing could be heard from the upper level, but there were sounds of weeping and scufflings rising from the kitchen: no doubt the Warder rewarding the drudges for their efforts.

Then suddenly there was a screeching, and one of the women came running out of the upper hall and paused briefly at the top.

"She's dead…dead…dead…" Her cry reverberated down the staircase and through the Hall, causing yet more crawlers to be loosened from their strands.

"Dead?" Fax whirled, watching the woman's hysterical progress down the stairs.

"Oh, dead, dead, poor Gemma.Oh, Lord Fax, we did all we could, but the journey…" She ran to where Fax was sitting.

Casually, Fax slapped her and she fell sobbing in a heap at his feet. Robinton saw F'lar reach for his dagger hilt.Women in the Weyr were rarely treated in such a harsh manner.It would definitely go against a dragonrider's grain.Robinton tightened his hands into fists, willing the bronze rider to relax.

The men were muttering, not all of them as happy to hear such news about their Lady as their Lord, who was decidedly pleased.

"The child lives," cried a voice from the top of the stairs, and there was the drudge who had gone for the birthing woman."It is male." Her voice was rough with anger and, perhaps, hatred.

Robinton was astonished to recognize the two emotions. Fax was on his feet, kicking aside the weeping woman, scowling viciously at the drudge."What are you saying, woman'?."

"The child lives.It is male," she repeated in a firm voice, belying her apparent age.

Incredulity and rage suffused Fax's face.The Warder's men stifled their cheers.

"Ruatha has a new lord," the astonishing drudge continued, making her way down the stairs.

The dragons roared.

The drudge's eyes appeared to be focused on Fax as she made her way down the stairs.Robinton was altogether astonished at her sudden, assertive behaviour, as well as the robust quality of her voice.She even seemed oblivious to the roar of the dragons outside.

She didn't see her danger, as Robinton certainly did, when Fax erupted into action, leaping across the intervening space, bellowing denials of her news.Before the drudge could realize his intent, his fist crashed across her face.She was swept off her feet and off the steps, and fell heavily to the stone floor where she lay motionless, a bundle of dirty rags.

"Hold, Fax!" F'lar cried as the Lord of the High Reaches lifted his foot to kick the unconscious body.

Robinton had started forward too, but caught himself before he inadvertently dropped out of disguise.

Fax whirled, his hand closing on his knife hilt.

"It was heard and witnessed, Fax," F'lar cautioned him, one hand outstretched, "by dragonmen.Stand by your sworn and witnessed oath!"

In spite of himself, Robinton shook his head at such a challenge, made to Fax of all people.

"Witnessed`?.By dragonmen,?," cried Fax.He gave a derisive laugh, his eyes blazing with contempt, one sweeping gesture of scorn dismissing them all, just as he had dismissed the Lord Holders and Masters in the Hall at Nabol "Dragonwomen, you me an."

But he took a backward step as the dragonrider moved forward, knife in hand.

Dragonwomen?." F'lar queried, his voice dangerously soft.

Glowlight flickered off his circling blade as he advanced on Fax.

That's right, F'lar, Robinton thought, remembering another scene all too vividly.But this young man had his temper well in hand, unlike his father, and he had the same lean, powerful build the younger F'lon had possessed.

"Women!Parasites on Pern.The Weyr power is over!Over for good," roared Fax, leaping forward to land in a combat crouch.

Robinton spared a look at the others in the Hall.Fax's men were obviously looking forward to a good fight and the death of this unwary adversary.The dragonriders had spread out, circling, as if to keep the guards from interfering.Their expressions reflected confidence in the abilities of their wingleader, especially C'gan whose grinning face reassured Robinton.

Fax feinted, and F'lar neatly swayed away.They crouched again, facing each other across six feet of space, knife hands weaving, their free hands, spread-fingered, ready to grab.

Again Fax pressed the attack.F'lar allowed him to close, just near enough to dodge away with a back-handed swipe.Fabric tore and Fax snarled.He lunged immediately, faster on his feet than Robinton would have expected for such a bulky man.F'lar was forced again to dodge; this time Fax's knife scored across the dragonrider's jerkin.

Fax ploughed in again, trying to corner F'lar between the raised platform and the wall.Robinton caught his breath, hoping that neither would stumble over the unconscious drudge.

F'lar countered, ducking low under Fax's flailing arm and slashing obliquely across his side.Fax caught at him, yanking savagely, and F'lar was trapped against the other man's side, straining desperately with his left hand to keep the knife arm up.F'lar brought up his knee, at the same time making himself collapse.As Fax gasped from the blow to the groin, F'lar danced away; but Robinton could see blood welling up on his left shoulder.

Red with fury and wheezing from pain and shock, Fax straightened up and charged.F'lar was forced to sidestep quickly, putting the meat table between them and circling warily, flexing his shoulder to assess the damage.

Suddenly Fax seized up a handful of fatty scraps from the meat tray and hurled them at F'lar.The dragonrider ducked, and Fax closed the distance around the table with a rush.Robinton nearly cheered when F'lar instinctively swerved out of the way just as

Fax's flashing blade came within inches of his abdomen.At the same moment, the bronze rider's knife sliced down the outside of Fax's arm.Instantly the two pivoted to face each other again, but Fax's left arm hung limply at his side.

F'lar darted in, pressing his luck as Fax staggered.But the older man must not have been hurt as badly as F'lar assumed: the dragonrider suffered a terrific kick in the side as he tried to dodge under the feinting knife.Robinton's throat closed.Doubled with pain, F'lar rolled frantically away from his charging adversary.Fax lurched forward, trying to fall on him for a final thrust.F'lar somehow got to his feet, attempting to straighten up to meet Fax’s stumbling charge.His movement took Fax by surprise.Fax overreached his mark and staggered off balance.F'lar brought his right hand over in a powerful thrust, his knife blade plunging deep into Fax's unprotected back.

Fax fell flat to the flagstones, the force of his descent dislodging the dagger so that an inch of the bloody blade re-emerged from the point of entry.

A thin wailing penetrated the silence.Robinton looked up to the top of the stairs, where a woman stood, cradling a swathed bundle in her arms.

"The new Lord Holder," Robinton murmured.The guards on either side of him regarded him with surprise.

Do I come forward as MasterHarper now?he wondered, looking about to see who would take charge.F'nor, C'gan and K'net strode forward, ready to ring F'lar in case any of the guards wished to retaliate.

F'lar, wiping his forehead on his sleeve, half-stumbled to the still-unconscious drudge.He gently turned her over and, even from where Robinton stood, he could see the terrible bruise from Fax's fist spreading across her filthy cheek.

"Do any of you care to contest the outcome of this duel?" F'nor challenged.His hand carefully remained at his side, but he stood as if ready to seize his dagger at the first sign of attack.

Something about the drudge, her thin face, the set of her eyes,caught Robinton's attention.F'lar gathered the limp body up in his arms, the clump of dirty hair dropping downward.As the bronze rider swung her around Robinton got a second good look at her face and something stirred in his memory.

He blinked.No, he had to be mistaken.They'd all died.

Everyone with any trace of Ruathan Blood had been killed that day.

The girl couldn't possibly…incredibly…be Lessa?

And yet…Ruathan Blood had produced many dragonriders and a few Weyrwomen, too.They had strong minds, strong…powers?

And Robinton blinked again.That was what he had felt pulsing through the Hall, what had caused the dragons to roar and F'lar to act so outrageously in challenging Fax.And it made sense to the MasterHarper.Very good sense.She was why Nip thought Ruatha was subtly rebelling against Fax.She was a full Ruathan, and they had always had strong women in the Bloodline.Strong enough to be Weyrwomen, especially now, at this crucial time for Pern.

It was all Robinton could do to restrain the shout of triumph that swelled within him.C'gan!He'd have to tell C'gan so that the blue rider could watch out for her at the Weyr, keep her from being manipulated by that other do-nothing, R'gul.They had to be sure that it was F'lar's dragon Mnementh who flew the new queen, so that F'lar would be Weyrleader.Of course, they'd know when the Red Star was framed by the Eye Rock in the Star Stones on Benden's rim, when the rising sun balanced on the Finger Rock at Solstice.Thread would be falling any time now.Maybe not this Turn, but in the next few, that warning sign would be obvious to all who witnessed it.As today's event had been witnessed.And, as MasterHarper, he should add his voice to those of the dragonriders.

His was the more important, even though he was not supposed to be here.

"You got here, I see." The voice was a soft whisper at his side.

"Nip, you'll frighten the heart out of me one of these days, appearing like that." Robinton leaned back against the wall, sighing with relief."Where've you been?"

Nip pointed to the kitchen, and indeed, now that Robinton got a good whiff of the man, he recognized the odours of singed bone and stale food.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry and there's, well, some bread…" Robinton strode to the table and grabbed a slice in each hand, chewing vigorously.

"Where'd he take her?" Nip asked.

"Lessa.”

Lessa?"

Fortunately, Nip was so astonished that he had gasped out the name in a startled whisper.

"Ssshhh!Only person I know of who could do what she did today…" And Robinton grinned.

"What about F'lar?That was a grand fight he fought.Got hurt, too, I think."

"Didn't seem to hinder him." Robinton kept looking up the stairs, waiting for F'lar to reappear."And I think it's about time one of us started taking charge here, don't you."?"

"Indeed, though I think the dragonriders have it well in hand.

Fax bought loyalty.His death has lost the marks they need.They'll scatter at your command."

The MasterHarper was glad enough to shed the helmet, which had worn a sore ridge around his brows.

"You'll be wanting to make your way back to Nabol or Crom or High Reaches," he said, addressing Fax's soldiers."I don't think the dragonriders will detain you."

"Who the shard are you?" demanded the underleader whom Robinton had encountered in the barracks.

"MasterHarper Robinton, and this is my colleague, Journeyman Harper Kinsale," Robinton said in firm commanding voice.

"The MasterHarper?" the armsman repeated, dumbfounded, looking from one ragged man to the other."Now, wait just a minute," he began, suddenly with a new lease on his authority.

Just then the drums in the tower started.

So Tuck had been here too, Robinton thought, delighted.This sort of thing could be rather a lot of fun, if it didn't involve quite so much hard physical work.

"By the Egg!" the underleader snarled."It'll be all over if we can't silence those drums…"

Two dragonriders immediately took positions at the stairs, hands on their knives.

"I'd advise you all to make a sudden departure," Nip Kinsale said, nodding at C'gan, who was quick enough to pick up the message.

"Lord Groghe's men will be arriving soon enough from his border posts," Robinton added."I spoke with them on my way here.Were I you, I'd be well gone by the time they get here."

His advice caused the soldiery to reconsider their positions.

They could scarcely fail to understand that Fax's protection had died with him.Most of them looked worried and glanced anxiously about the Hall.

"B'rant, B'refli," Robinton said, picking out riders whose names he knew, "accompany them to the barracks so they can pack.I suppose the runners have had enough of a rest to go through the night.At least as far as the Nabol border." Then he turned to K'net.

"How long do you think it will take Lord Groghe's men to make it here?"

"Not long," K'net said amiably."Of course we riders could go and get a few if we needed them." He made to signal F'nor, who was walking towards the door.

"We'll go," the underleader said.

"I'd like you to send someone to collect Bargen from the High Reaches Weyr," Robinton said to F'nor, who was staring at him.

"He's the legitimate heir to that Hold, and we'll have to see if there's any of the Bloodlines left alive in the other ones Fax took over."

"I didn't know he survived," F'nor said, surprised.

"I've a list of where the other survivors got to," Nip said."Oterel at Tillek Hold has given refuge to several, you know."

"No, I didn't, but it's like him.We've a lot of work to do, then, haven't we?" Robinton smiled happily at the thought.One hold, one holder.That point had been well proven over the past turns.

He hoped it could be a moral lesson for a long time."And we must do something about? ' He stopped, realizing that Fax's dead body had already been removed from the Hall.

"First thing I had my fellow drudges do," Nip said."They took an uncommon pleasure in dumping him into the midden.In the old days, he could have been left out for Thread to dissolve.Neater that way." Then he added, as the MasterHarper shuddered, "Well, that was a deterrent, you know."

A hungry wail alerted them to another problem which required an immediate solution.

"And a wet-nurse for the new young Lord of Ruatha Hold," Robinton said, trying to remember if there were any nursing women back at Harper Hall.

The others regarded him blankly.

"I doubt any female here has succour for him, and I intend to keep the babe alive since he had such trouble getting here," Robinton said.

"We'll find one, somewhere," F'nor said firmly.

"Get Tuck to send another message," Nip suggested.

Before they could start that search, F'lar appeared on the steps, racing down them."Has that creature come this way?" he demanded, catching F'nor by the arm.F'nor seemed to know that F'lar was referring to the drudge.

"No.Is she the source of power, after all?" F'nor was astonished.

"Yes, she is." F'lar looked angrily about him."And of Ruathan Blood, at that!"

Robinton grinned with intense satisfaction.

"Oh-ho, does she depose the babe then?" F'nor asked, gesturing to the birthing-woman who occupied a seat close to the blazing hearth.

F'lar looked blank, his body half-turned to go about his search for the missing Lessa."Babe?What babe?"

"The male child Lady Gemma bore," F'nor replied, surprised by F'lar's uncomprehending look.

"It lives?"

"Yes, a strong babe, the woman says, for all that he was premature and taken forcibly from the dead dame's belly."

F’lar threw back his head with a shout of laughter.Then they all heard Mnementh's roar, followed by the curious warble of the other dragons.

"Mnementh has caught her," the bronze rider cried, grinning with jubilation.He strode down the steps and into the darkness of the main court.

Robinton could just see the huge bulk of the bronze dragon, settling awkwardly on to his hind legs, his wings working to keep him balanced.Carefully Mnementh set the girl on her feet and formed a cage around her with his huge talons.Robinton could see that she was facing the wedge-shaped head that swayed above her.

Not afraid of a thing, that one, the MasterHarper thought, and wisely he decided to let F'lar handle the interview with the recaptured Lady of Ruatha.

The two fragments of bread that he'd managed to eat were insufficient to calm his growling stomach, and for once hunger got the better of his harperly curiosity.There had to be something edible on that roast carcass, and he meant to have it before he expired of starvation.Besides, F'lar had better learn to handle the girl now, before she Impressed a queen.Then he grinned to himself.

He rather thought the young bronze rider would be up to the task.

He did find some edible if tough bits off the roast, quite a few, and he shared them with Nip, and Tuck, who had descended from the Drum Tower.

"Good lad," Robinton mumbled, his mouth full of the hard-to-chew meat.

"Where were you hiding, Master Robinton?" Tuck asked, accepting slices from the harper's knife.

"I was a drudge during the day, before I changed into a soldier," Robinton said with a sigh."I never understood the word "drudge" properly before now.I shan't be one again, I assure you."

Nip and Tuck smothered their chuckles at his vehemence.

"All well and good for you two.You're used to it," the MasterHarper went on, finding yet another not-too-scorched bit of meat.

A sudden bestial scream startled them and brought them to the Hold door.Then Lessa's cry: "Don't kill!Don't kill!" They raced to the front door.F'lar was on the stones, where evidently the watch-wher had pushed him.They saw the beast launching a second attack on the fallen dragonrider.But Mnementh's great head swung around to knock the watchwher out of the air.Motivated by Lessa's shriek, the watchwher, trying to avoid F'lar, performed an incredible twist mid-air and fell heavily to the ground.They all heard the dull crack as the force of its landing broke its back.Before F'lar could get to his feet, Lessa was cradling the hideous head in her arms, her face stricken.

"It was truly only defending me," Lessa said, her voice breaking.

She cleared her throat."It was the only one I could trust.My only friend."

Robinton watched F'lar pat the girl's shoulder awkwardly.The bronze rider would have to do better than that, and yet the awkwardness was appealing.

"In truth a loyal friend," F'lar said.The light in the watchwher's green-gold eyes dimmed and died.

All the dragons gave voice to the eerie, hair-raising, barely audible high keening note that signified the passing of one of their kind.

"He was only a watchwher," Lessa murmured, obviously stunned by the tribute.

"The dragons confer honour where they will," F'lar said dryly.

Lessa looked down for one more long moment at the repulsive head.She laid it down on the stones, caressed the clipped wings.

Then, with quick fingers, she undid the heavy buckle that fastened the metal collar around its neck.She threw the collar violently away.

She rose in a fluid movement and walked resolutely to Mnementh without a backward glance at Ruatha Hold.

So, thought Robinton, F'lar did manage to persuade her to abandon Ruatha Hold and become Weyrwoman.He was not surprised, though he did wonder just what F'lar had said, or done,to convince her to leave her beloved Ruatha Hold.

F'nor, C'gan and four others remained on the steps as the other riders strode into the court to wait for their dragons.

"We need to get Lytol from High Reaches," F'nor said as one by one the riders mounted their dragons."To take charge here."

"Good idea," Robinton agreed.

"And who might you be?" F'nor spoke without rancour, but he had clearly not missed the fact that Robinton was wearing Fax's colours.

C'gan chuckled."The MasterHarper of Pern, F'nor." He turned to Robinton."I thought I recognized you standing on guard at the wall, but the light was poor and I couldn't imagine how you'd been able to sneak yourself into Ruatha."

While F'nor regarded Robinton with growing respect and interest, Mnementh launched himself up and out of the courtyard, the other dragons following in quick succession.

"Do you think I would have missed tonight for anything?" Robinton asked.Then he looked past the others, to the dining tables in the Hall, and asked wistfully: "There wouldn't be any decent wine, would there?"