15
Southern Continent, PP 17
Due to Jancis’s excellent measurements, the original entrance to the cavern was found the next day, dug out, and shored up, and the fissure closed using—at Master Fandarel’s insistence—one of the sheets of the ancients’ translucent material.
“It’s efficient,” Jancis told Piemur, her eyes dancing with merriment, “because it provides a certain amount of light. It’s strange, really,” she added, tilting her head in a manner that Piemur found exceedingly endearing, “to think that here”—she gestured toward the unearthed mounds—“they seemed to encourage light in their dwellings, and then they go carve out cliffs to live in and hide away from it.”
“Baffling, indeed. It seems such a drastic change to make,” Piemur said. “Is it possible that they didn’t know about Thread when they first landed?” He had not even mentioned that idea yet to Master Robinton.
“And Thread sent them scurrying north to caves?”
“Well, there are more caves in the North. Mind you,” he said, qualifying that statement, “there’s a good-sized complex at Southern Hold, and this rambling one here, and I’ve only been along the coast, so there could be hundreds inland …”
“Yes, but you’ve been to most of the ancients’ sites, haven’t you? And you mentioned that they built above the ground, in freestanding buildings.” She gave him a measuring look and then shyly added, “I really would like to see one of those sites.”
“That can be easily arranged,” Piemur said, trying not to read into the wistful request more than a professional curiosity.
They had been together almost constantly for the last ten days, either as assistants to Master Robinton and Master Fandarel, or on their own, itemizing the contents of some of the smaller, well-packed chambers. Master Fandarel had ordered several crates of machine parts to be transferred to a warehouse where he and other mechanically oriented Masters and journeymen were attempting to make sense out of such quixotic wealth. Piemur and Jancis, meanwhile, were attempting to match banding, color, and numerals on the crates and cartons to those on the lists Piemur had found in the desk that first day. They had been eating lunch when Jancis made her innocent comment. Piemur called Farli to him and wrote a message to V’line, Clarinath’s rider at Eastern Weyr.
“I do envy you Farli,” Jancis said when the little queen had disappeared on her errand.
“How come you don’t have a fire-lizard?”
“Me?” She was astonished by the question. She also had a smudge on her cheek and another on her forehead, and Piemur wondered if he should tell her. She was neat in her habits and motions, but he kind of liked to see her disheveled—it made her seem more approachable. “Not likely. With every Craftmaster and senior journeyman ahead of me in the list, I’ll be waiting a long time. Unless you know of a nest around here?”
He gave her a long look, suppressing the laughter that threatened to fracture his solemn regard. He knew very well that she had spoken artlessly, but that did not keep Piemur from daring. “Nest hunting is the preoccupation of every rodman and digger. But you—you’d make a good fire-lizard friend.”
Jancis’s eyes went wide, and then her expression changed. “I think you’re teasing me.”
“No, really, I’m not. After all, I’ve got a queen.”
“You mean Farli’s clutched?”
“Frequently.” And then Piemur was forced to admit the embarrassing aspect of that: “Trouble is, I don’t know where!”
“Why not?” Jancis asked, surprised.
“Well, you see, queens instinctively return to their original clutching place and choose a free site nearby. Only I don’t know where that was.”
“But you Impressed her when she hatched? Surely—”
Laughing, Piemur waved his hand to halt her comments. “That’s another long story, but basically I don’t know where she was clutched and she can’t seem to give me directions beyond sand dunes and heat.”
Just then Farli returned, flying into the chamber and chittering agitatedly about things in her way. But the message she bore was affirmative.
“We’re taking the afternoon off, Janny. We deserve it,” Piemur said firmly. “We’ll ruin our eyes, trying to match up all this banding. So we’ll go visit a restored ancients’ ruin at Paradise River Hold. You’ll like Jayge and Ara! I told you about them being shipwrecked and all.”
Her answering expression was inscrutable, but she smiled before she gathered up their work materials.
“This is official, isn’t it?” V’line asked Piemur, glancing at Jancis when the two presented themselves to the bronzerider.
“Sure is,” Piemur assured him airily, helping Jancis to mount Clarinath. “Got to cross-check carton markings on the ones left at Paradise River. It’s one of those boring things that’s got to be done, and Jancis and me got chosen!” He climbed on behind the girl, well pleased with himself. It would be perfectly legitimate for him to put his arms about her during flight.
Jancis gave him a speaking look and a grin for his outrageous invention, and then gasped, grabbing his arms as Clarinath launched himself skyward.
“This isn’t your first time a-dragonback, is it?” Piemur asked, his lips close to her ear. Tendrils of her curly hair escaped from her helmet and tickled his nose. She shook her head, but her grip on his arms did not relax, so he knew that she could not have ridden often.
Then they went between, and her fingers tightened spasmodically. The next moment they were above the clean sandy stretch, Clarinath gliding in to land on the riverbank a few lengths from the hold. The heat was considerably greater there than on the relatively higher, cooler Plateau. Fleetingly Piemur wondered why Alemi had a ship anchored that far to the west of Paradise River. Then Farli came streaking in over Clarinath’s shoulder and, bugling in her silvery voice, joined the stream of welcoming resident fire-lizards, who all swooped into the hold.
“Look, I don’t know how long this will take, V’line,” Piemur began, hurriedly unbuckling helmet and jacket as the heat enveloped them, and helping Jancis remove hers.
“I’ve got to hunt Clarinath,” V’line said. “That’s how come I could get off sweepriding to bring you. Would you ask Jayge where’s the best place to go for wild runners?”
Piemur dismounted and helped Jancis down just as Jayge came onto the verandah to see who had arrived. Piemur hurried over to the dark shady expanse of the porch, introduced Jancis to Jayge, and asked where Clarinath could hunt.
“Tell him to go on down the river, about twenty minutes straight. He’ll catch ’em browsing close to the water this time of day,” Jayge suggested, adding that V’line should return to the hold to bathe the bronze and to join them in the evening meal while Clarinath digested his.
“You’re crazy, Piemur, coming down here before the heat’s passed,” Jayge said, yawning hugely. He turned to Jancis. “Want something cool to drink?”
“Thank you, Holder Jayge,” Jancis said, giving Piemur a sly glance, “but we ate just before we left the Plateau and we really must check the coding on the cartons in your storeroom, if we may.”
Piemur was stripping down to the loose vest he wore under his shirt. Jancis seemed unaffected by the heat, which irritated him, but then, smiths were used to warmth. “Now, Jancis, I only said that—”
“That’s true enough, Piemur,” Jancis went on equably, “but it was a clever notion, and I think we should check it out.”
“You two do as you wish,” Jayge said, grinning as he looked from one to the other, “but I’m going back to my hammock and wait till the afternoon shower cools us off. Anyone with any sense stays out of the hot!” he muttered as he went.
“Now, Jancis,” Piemur began, using his shirt to mop his forehead.
“It can’t take that long to look!” she said, peering around the verandah at the empty rocking chairs and baby swing. She started down the neat shell-lined path toward the other buildings, and Piemur, cursing under his breath, followed her. “Are all these occupied now?” she asked when they were halfway to the storehouse.
“As far as I know,” he answered grumpily. He knew she was teasing him and that he should not react. And then he began to wonder why she was doing it; he had believed that she liked him and even enjoyed working with him. Why was she being perverse? Was it a character flaw? “Jayge and Ara invited some Bloodkin to join them from the north,” he went on, attempting a more cheerful, if resigned, attitude. “And then Menolly suggested her brother, Alemi, who’s Master Fisherman here, and there’s a Glassmaster now because there are some really fine white sands, and, well, Paradise River was gradually repaired and occupied. Here we are!”
The high-ceilinged building was cool, with what breeze there was entering at the ventilating slats at the top. Empty crates and cartons were still piled neatly in one corner, but there were more that had been put to use and were stacked close to the entrance. Jancis made a small disapproving sound.
“Why not use ’em?” Piemur asked. “They weren’t full; they were all Jayge and Ara had when they were shipwrecked. Besides, I think the ancients would like to see them in use again.”
“A lot of people are second-guessing what the ancients would and would not like,” Jancis said.
“Including your grandfa,” Piemur reminded him. “You didn’t object to him using the sheet to cover the fissure.”
She gave him a quelling look. “Master Fandarel had his reasons.”
“So did Jayge and Ara. Why ignore useful things?” Piemur asked. “It’s one thing if they contain artifacts—but otherwise they are being useful, efficient.” He threw in that word more out of pique than as a humorous reference. “They’re not being desecrated or misused. They’re not inviolable. They’re certainly durable.”
“Then you believe we should use the shirts and boots and other materials in that cavern?” Jancis turned on him, her eyes flashing and her jaw set in a determined line.
“If they fit, why not?”
“Because it’s—it’s profane, that’s what!”
“Profane? To wear a shirt because it’s a shirt and was made to cover nakedness; boots because they’re boots and made for walking? I don’t understand you.”
“It’s a misuse of historical relics.”
“Besides the building slab, Master Fandarel’s using some of those drills—sharpest steel he’s ever seen.”
“Grandfa is not wasting them!”
“These aren’t being wasted either,” Piemur declared. He raised his hands up high in frustration, then brought them down smartly to his sides. “Go read the bloody carton labels! That’s what you came down here to do. I’m going back to the hold. Jayge’s right about the heat of the day. It affects some people’s thinking.”
Farli accompanied him, chittering questions at him which he could not have answered even if he had understood them. When he got back to the wide verandah, he went to the clay pitcher that hung at the shady corner and poured himself several long, cool drinks. Then he strung up one of the hammocks and tried to figure out why he and Jancis were quarreling.
The canines’ excited barking roused him from a light doze. Then Farli swooped, tugging at his sleeveless vest to emphasize her urgent little squeaks.
“Huh? Whassamatter? Easy, Farli. You scratch!” But the instancy of her alarm was inescapable. He blinked sleep from his eyes and made an awkward attempt to jump out of the hammock; it swung out from under him, and he landed with an ignominious thump on the porch floor.
The resident fire-lizards were swarming into the house through window and door, chittering with great agitation. Piemur could hear Jayge’s drowsy protest. Outside, the pitch of the canines’ alarm went up several notches to a frenzy, a commotion that further agitated the fire-lizards.
Just as Piemur was getting to his feet, he saw furtive movements on the beachfront, and the last of his torpor abated. Small wonder the canines were hysterical. Piemur had relied on Farli and Stupid too long to argue with animal instincts or wonder why anyone was creeping up on Paradise River Hold. At the sound of a strangled cry from the line of fishers’ cots farther up the beach, he unsheathed his hefty jungle blade, crept to the porch railing, and peered cautiously out.
There! More movement! It looked as if a number of people were spreading out to surround the hold—and more invaders seemed to be crawling down to the other holds. He heard Jayge muttering irritably at the interruption to his nap. Silently Piemur crept to the hammock, reaching up to release first one end from its wall hook and then the other. Maybe he could use it as a second weapon. Dragging the hammock with him, he scooted around the corner of the porch and climbed in through the side window, anxiously scanning the walls for possible weapons.
“Jayge!” he called softly, seeing the holder sleepily stumbling down the corridor.
“Huh?” Still groggy, Jayge just stared at him.
“Grab something. You got invaders!”
“Don’t be silly!” Jayge said in a normal voice. Then his fire-lizards came swooping into the room, squeaking in their panic. “Huh?”
Outside, the canines’ racket took on a new note, almost jubilant. Someone had had the wit to loose them from their pen. Galvanized, Jayge yanked two kitchen knives from their rack just as they heard a sudden shout from the beach.
“Ara! Get the children and run!” he roared, bounding forward with Piemur to meet the enemy outside.
It proved an embarrassingly short defense. Six sunburnt tattered men, brandishing swords, pikes, and long daggers, rushed Piemur and Jayge at the base of the short porch steps. Piemur slashed with his knife and thrashed about with the hammock, which was soon cut to shreds despite the clumsiness of the attackers. Curses and shrieks told him that Jayge was making full use of his knives. Someone was yelling orders in a strident voice, screaming with impatience at the attackers’ ineptitude and demanding results. A concerted rush by the attackers pushed both Piemur and Jayge awkwardly against the steps. Piemur heard someone behind him, but before he could react, he felt the crashing blow on his head and slid into oblivion.
Jayge came to, facedown in sand, head pounding fiercely, ribs and right shoulder aching, aware of the burn of sand-filled cuts all over him. He quickly discovered that he could not shift and ease his discomfort—he was trussed up like a wherry on a spit. He was about to spit out a mouthful of sand when he heard a groan, then a thud, and finally a smug chuckle.
“Back to sleep, harper,” a harsh-voiced woman said. “And that’s how to deal with jumped-up holders, lads. It also prevents them from getting any assistance from those fire-lizards. Or anyone else. Now—” Her voice went from cajolery to sheer venom. “I want the woman and her brats. Without them, this whole effort is worthless.”
Inadvertently Jayge stiffened, straining against his bonds. Thella! He had never believed his own words when he had reassured Aramina over and over that the woman must have perished, or been apprehended. Of late, when their formal acquisition of the Paradise River Hold had meant that their names would be circulated, he had had twinges of anxiety. If Thella lived, would she hear? Would she care? Would she act? Common sense made that seem unlikely. But common sense was not a likely virtue in someone as vindictive as Thella.
Fortunately Ara had managed to escape with the children. Also, he was relieved to recall that V’line was due back to collect Piemur and Jancis! A dragon in the sky could be quite a deterrent to the type of holdless men that would fall in with a renegade like Thella. How long had he been unconscious? The heat was still oppressive, so he might have been out … just long enough, he thought sourly, to be trussed up so thoroughly.
“I thought it was him you wanted to kill?” someone complained indignantly.
“Killing’s easy. I want him to suffer! As he’s made me suffer for the past two Turns. But that can be best accomplished by forcing him to watch what I’ve planned for her! And you imbecilic dolts let her get away from you!” Jayge heard the sound of startled grunts.
“Why kick us? We did our best,” someone complained. “You never said nothing about canines! Vicious, they was. Couldn’t get past ’em. Fangs a hand long. Great brutes as big as herdbeasts!”
“There were six of you, with swords and spears! More than enough to take a drudge slut. Are these all tied up now? And the women in the fisherholds? All right, then, now we go after her. She can’t go far with small kids. She may be holed up in those big ruins. If she took to the forest, that underbrush is so thick she’ll have to have left some sort of a trail even tunnel turds like you could find. I want her and those children. She’ll wish she’d never been born before I’m through with them. And her.”
“Now, look, Thella,” the spokesman protested. “You didn’t say nothin’ about savaging anybody! I don’t hold with—” There was a loud and sickening gasp, and then a silence more telling than any words.
“I trust that answers any question?” Thella challenged, her voice edged despite a mockingly light tone. “Bloors, your leg may be sliced, but you’ve two good arms. Take this club, and when anyone so much as twitches, you clout ’em good. Just behind the ear! Got it? If I find that one of them has moved so much as a muscle when I get back, I’ll hamstring you. You, pick up that rope. You, the nets, to wrap our guests up in. You others, grab some of those spears. Those should do for the canines. Now, follow me.”
Jayge tried to figure out how many men Thella had with her. He knew that he had sunk the longer knife in someone’s belly and blooded some of the others who had pressed in on him. Piemur had made good use of that jungle blade of his before he had been overcome. He heard the grate and grind of sand underfoot and cracked his eyes a bare fraction to count four sets of feet going past him, flicking sand in his face. Thella’s voice went off to his right, down past Temma’s and Swacky’s holds and toward the warehouse. Jancis? Had it been she who had loosed the canines?
More sand spattered across his face. He was aware of a fetid odor—blood, stale sweat, and fish oils—and something looming over him. He almost winced as a club prodded him experimentally. This Bloors took his duty seriously. In the distance Jayge could hear Thella directing the search of the ruins. Let her! Aramina would have made for the woods and most likely headed for the great fellis trees that stood in a grove beyond the first thickets. If Ara could hide in one of the great densely leaved trees—and keep the children quiet—Thella could be searching a long time. Long enough, he hoped, for him to somehow free himself and overcome the one guard.
Bloors had stopped moving, but Jayge could hear sounds that suggested that the man was evidently settling himself on the verandah steps. He strained against painfully tight bonds and pumped up his chest, despite sore ribs, to try to loosen the ropes binding his arms to his sides. His wrists were secured behind his back, and his ankles were so constricted that he could barely feel his feet. Grimly he twisted his wrists, seeking any slack in the ropes, while he listened to Thella banging about in the warehouse, looking for any sign of the fugitives.
As he carefully worked his wrists, he became conscious of other silences. There were no canine sounds, not a single whine, bark, or growl. The beasts could all have been killed, but reviewing the comments he had overheard, Jayge thought that some had survived to protect Aramina. Most conspicuous was the absence of fire-lizards. His were not as well trained as Piemur’s, but they, too, had been present during the fight, diving at the invaders, scratching and biting. With Bloors on guard, he could not risk calling to them. Besides, Piemur was the only person they knew to go to with messages. Where was Piemur’s Farli? The harper claimed that his queen showed more initiative than most. Was she off trying to rouse help? If only Bloors could be gotten out of the way, perhaps Jayge could get his fire-lizards to bite through the cords around him.
Where was Farli likely to go for help? To V’line and Clarinath? Brief hope encouraged Jayge. The sight of V’line and his bronze might be enough to send Bloors scarpering off, if only to warn Thella. Once Jayge was free, he would settle Thella for once and for all. He was consumed with the desire to feel his sword slide into her belly, to hear that arrogant voice beg for mercy.
A comforting thought, but it brought no slack to his bindings—the constriction was slowly taking all feeling from his fingers. His dry throat began to tickle, but he dared not cough. He pushed the sand from his mouth, holding on to a small shell, which he sucked to encourage salivation. Someone beside him groaned and stirred in the sand, and Bloors applied the club. How many such blows could a skull absorb without permanent damage? Jayge wondered desperately.
He heard some distant shouting and crashing—and still no canine growls. Thella had a huge area to search. If Ara could manage to keep the children quiet …
There was another thunk of club against flesh. Something heavy and damp fell across Jayge’s back, forcing a gasp from him.
“Easy!” a quiet voice cautioned. “V’line?”
“K’van.” The bronze rider was already sawing at Jayge’s bonds. “Aramina yelled—a good knack to rediscover at a moment of crisis. Heth responded. I can see why. Did Thella leave only the one guard?”
“Yes. She took the rest off to hunt Aramina and the children. I don’t know how many she has. K’van, I don’t need to remind you how dangerous Thella is.”
“No, you don’t.” K’van cut the final strand and turned Jayge over. As blood rushed into starved tissues, Jayge gasped and writhed with pain. K’van massaged his limbs to help encourage circulation. “Easy now. It’ll be awhile before Thella realizes her quarry is well away.” He helped Jayge to his feet. “Stamp your feet.” Then he projected his voice cautiously toward the hold. “It’s all right, Mina. Get some of that rotgut Jayge makes. He needs it and so will the others.”
“You rescued Ara?” Jayge reeled more from relief than physical weakness.
K’van steadied him, eyes twinkling. “Plucked her out of the trees this time—her, Jancis, and the two children. Had to leave the canines behind.” He began tying up the gagged and unconscious Bloors.
Jayge shook his head at the dragonrider’s levity. “Look, K’van, ask Heth to contact Ramoth and Mnementh. They’ll want to know …” Jayge’s stiff, thick hands refused to close on the dagger in Bloors’ belt.
“I expect they will, but as Benden Weyr’s fighting Threadfall, Heth can’t bespeak them yet.”
“Then call up your own Weyr!”
K’van gave him a long, measuring look. “You know I can’t do that, Jayge.”
“I don’t understand you, K’van. I thought you were our friend, and now when we really need your help …”
“I’ve already done more than I should,” K’van said, a trace of impatience in his tone as he bent to cut Temma loose.
Jayge had no chance to argue with him, for at that moment Aramina came running down the steps and into his arms. The skinful of spirits banged against his sore ribs. His embrace was perfunctory as he was still seething at K’van’s unwillingness to help more. Then he saw Jancis, carrying Janara on one arm while Readis clutched her skirt, and he had to reassure the children, as well.
“Jancis, that was quick thinking, to free the canines then,” he said fervently.
“Seemed the logical thing to do,” she said, shrugging off his praise. Placing Janara on the ground, she knelt by Piemur, who was pallid under his deep tan. “Awful woman! Isn’t she the one Telgar and Lemos were hunting so earnestly? Well, drink up and then hand the wineskin to me, will you, Jayge? I don’t like Piemur’s color.”
Jayge obeyed and found that a long swig of the strong spirits proved to be a powerful restorative.
“Temma could use some as well,” K’van said, helping the groggy woman to a sitting position. Aramina gently began to rub the older woman’s red and swollen wrists and ankles. The two children, still subdued by their experiences, stood close together, wide-eyed, watching the adults.
“Free Swacky, Jayge,” K’van suggested, ignoring the furious look Jayge shot him as he cut Nazer’s bonds.
“If you’d only send for a wing, K’van, or even a few more riders …”
“Much as I would like to, I can’t compromise the Weyr, Jayge, not without Benden’s permission,” K’van said impassively. “It could be constituted as direct interference in hold management. You have to rescue yourself from Thella.”
“He’s right, Jayge,” Jancis said, briskly massaging Piemur’s bruised arms and wrists.
“But you …”
“Heth heard Aramina, and he rousted me out of the Weyrhold in only my pants.” K’van shuddered involuntarily. “We came out of between right over her head. There wasn’t much else I could do except pick her out of that tree.” He gave an exasperated snort. “I’ll take knocks enough for that later, but Heth didn’t ask. Maybe F’lar will permit the lapse on those grounds: a rider rarely wins an argument with his dragon.”
“But you had to save Aramina and my children!”
“And so I did!” K’van’s patience was wearing a little thin, and he frowned at the irate holder. “I would again, even if I knew the circumstances beforehand. The rest, my friend, is now up to you. There’s another couple of hours before I can contact the Benden Weyrleaders, and I don’t think Thella’s going to be barging around in your orchard that long. Pass me that wineskin. Swacky looks like he needs a long pull.”
“There are five of us,” Jayge began, forcing his anger with the bronze rider out of his mind and trying to organize a strategy.
“Seven,” Jancis said firmly.
“I don’t know how many Thella has with her.”
“Well, she’s lost a few,” Jancis said helpfully, pointing to five bodies laid out to one side of the porch.
“Six came at us,” Temma said hoarsely, shaking her hands to increase the blood flow. “I managed a couple of good blows, and I know Nazer knifed one in the chest.”
“Three attacked me, and I got one, but I don’t think I killed him,” Swacky said.
“Are all the canines dead, Ara?” Jayge asked. They would attack anything on command.
“Only one. The rest are up the tree,” Aramina said with a brief grin. “Jancis heaved and I pulled. They’re perched out of sight—I hope—and on a stay command. I was going to organize the fire-lizards, but then Heth appeared and they all departed.”
From the woods the shouts of the frustrated searchers could be plainly heard, with a louder female voice exhorting them to climb up into the trees if they could not check from the ground.
“Was Farli among the fire-lizards?” Piemur asked weakly, a healthier color gradually reducing his pallor.
“I didn’t see her,” Jancis replied.
“She probably went for help once I was knocked out.”
“To the Master Harper?” K’van asked. “I suppose!”
“Alemi and the fishermen would be nearer to hand,” Aramina said, shielding her eyes to peer out at the sea-reach. “Would she have the wit to go to them?”
“Finding them and getting them back here in time are two separate matters,” said Swacky, who did not think that much of fire-lizard abilities. “And where are Alemi’s womenfolk?”
“Tied up in their holds,” Jayge said, gesturing toward the cots farther up the river bank. “Ara, you and Jancis take the children and go free them. If, by any miracle, Thella left the skiffs intact, I want everyone to pile into them and sail out into the bay until Alemi returns.”
Aramina bristled. “I’m not running away again, Jayge Lilcamp!”
“I think you’d make it a lot easier for Jayge if you were out of Thella’s range,” K’van said firmly. “You and the children. Let him deal with her. It’s going to come to that one way or another, you know.” And with that the bronze dragonrider looked Jayge squarely in the eyes.
“And long overdue!” Jayge said savagely. “Go on, Aramina. She won’t find me such an easy mark this time.”
“Or any of us!” Swacky said fiercely, his eyes bright with anger. He had been searching among the weapons piled on the porch: he found his own sword and passed Piemur his broad jungle blade. “You, me, Temma, Nazer, and Piemur, if he’s got his wits back …” He grinned when Piemur cursed him roundly. “We can cause a lot of damage against such an undisciplined bag of scum with no need to compromise the dragonrider. Dragonriders,” he corrected himself, pointing one of the hunting spears downriver, where a second dragon was lazily gliding in to land.
The newcomer settled on the beach not far from Heth. Then his eyes whirled from placid green to agitated orange, and he emitted a startled bleat.
“Heth just brought Clarinath up to date,” K’van said with a wry grin.
V’line was scrambling down his dragon’s side and came racing toward them, his expression anxious. “Is it true? You’ve been attacked, Jayge? By whom? It’s outrageous. This sort of thing can’t be permitted.”
“Permission is never the issue,” K’van said grimly. “And our hands are tied in such matters.”
“Oh, yes, that’s true, you’re right,” V’line said, belatedly recalling Weyr strictures.
A frantic fire-lizard erupted into the air above Piemur’s head and then wrapped herself around his neck, threatening to strangle him with relief.
“Hold it, Farli, hold it! I can’t understand you,” Piemur exclaimed, protecting his face from her lickings and unwinding her tail from his neck. “Once again, more slowly. Ah, really? Weren’t you a clever one!” Piemur managed a grin as he explained. “She found Alemi, and he’s just beyond the point. He sent her to see what’s happened. Jancis, you got anything to write on? And what do I tell him, Jayge?”
“Alemi had six crew—that gives us twelve.” Swacky looked pleased.
“We can’t wait,” Jayge said. “We’ll have to rely on surprise—and luck.”
“They won’t expect canines to come out of a tree,” Aramina suggested.
Jayge pawed through the weapons, searching for a dagger. Solemnly K’van handed him his own blade.
“They’re heading into the grove now,” Swacky said, cocking his head at the sounds of men crashing through the undergrowth. “We can sneak after ’em, pick ’em off one by one.” He flexed his sword arm, grinning in anticipation.
Jayge caught Aramina’s hands as she hefted a fishing spear. “Oh, no, my love. You will take yourself and our children as far away from here as possible. Do you understand me? There’s no time to argue the point. You’re going.”
“And Heth and I will make sure she does,” K’van said unexpectedly, taking Aramina by the arm. “That much I can do.”
She hesitated one brief moment, then acquiesced, her shoulders drooping. “Just don’t let her slip away again, Jayge. I don’t ever want to be faced with this again!”
Piemur dispatched Farli with the message to Alemi. Swacky fortified himself with one more pull from the wineskin, settled the fishing spears to his shoulders, and looked attentively to Jayge. They were all armed now, bristling with assorted weapons, their manner determined. Under the worried gaze of V’line, the Paradise River Holders jogged east, slipping past the thickets that bordered the holds.
The tree in which Aramina and Jancis had taken refuge with the two children was in the approximate center of the grove that Thella was currently searching. The ancient fellis trees, their massive trunks larger than three men could span with fingers touching, spread densely leaved branches to form a large, dimly lit park. Air vines looped in intricate patterns, further obscuring any sun that tried to penetrate the luxuriant foliage. A thick, deep mulch covered the ground and aided the soundless advance of Jayge and the others as they slipped from the shadows of one wide-boled trunk to another.
“Hey, over here! I saw the branches move,” someone called. “Over here!”
Jayge swore under his breath, praying that the canines would not break until he and the others got close enough to make use of that diversion. Thella’s men—he counted eleven, no, fifteen-closed in on the tree.
Then Thella swaggered forward. Even in the dim light, Jayge realized that the woman who had caused him and Aramina so much pain and anguish had altered considerably since their first encounter on the trail. Though better clothed than her ragtag minions, she was as gaunt, and her close-cropped hair framed a face made ugly by scar pocks and privations.
“Aramina!” She peered up into the branches, and her call was brightly wheedling. “We know you’re up there. Your man and all your other friends are tied up tight and out of their senses. This time—” Thella’s throaty laugh was malicious “you haven’t any handy dragons to help you.”
Jayge edged closer, hefting the spear in his hand, marking a burly man as target, but he was not close enough for a killing throw yet. He checked the others. Piemur and Jancis were on his left. Swacky, on his right, crouched low and darted forward, Temma and Nazer moving like shadows beyond him. They would all have to get closer. If each disabled one man, there were still nine to contend with. Though maybe now that the renegades were confident of their quarry, they would relax their guard and lower their blades. He gestured to catch Swacky’s eye and pantomimed his instructions. The man nodded.
“You—Obirt, Birsan, Glay,” Thella said. “Gather up some of those loose branches. I don’t know how well fellis burns, but we’ll soon find out, won’t we?” She laughed nastily. “It’s one way to get someone out of a tree, isn’t it, men? I can just see the flames crackling, climbing quickly up this hairy bark, thick smoke roiling up, choking the brats, making them lose hold and fall to their deaths. Is that what you want, Aramina?” Thella’s jocularity ended. “Come down out of there. Now! Save your babes from suffocating.”
The three men she named had set aside their weapons and begun to gather kindling. The others continued to peer up into the tree, circling it, oblivious to the holders’ stealthy advance. A fourth man began to kick the dry ground cover into a pile against the trunk and knelt to start a blaze. Suddenly he collapsed across the pile of brush, the flickering flame extinguished by his body.
“What the—” some else declared. “Hey, there’s a knife in Birsan’s back!”
“Attack!” Jayge yelled, and sprang from behind his tree.
He launched his spear at the back of the burly man and swerved to one side to throw one of his daggers at the nearest wood gatherer. A dagger whistled past his ear to thunk into the fellis trunk behind him.
“Attack!” he repeated, hoping the canines would respond.
The upper branches began to shake, and then the canines sprang from above. Jayge heard their snarling challenges as he raced toward Thella. The din of screams, curses, growls, and the clang of metal against metal filled the air.
She was waiting for him, blatantly ignoring the pleas for help from the man on the ground a scant stride away, struggling to keep the canine from tearing out his throat. Jayge saw the arrogant smile on her face—and then her raised arm. As her hand snapped forward, he flung himself sideways and heard the thrown blade whir through the air where he had been standing to hammer into the tree that guarded his back. She flipped a third dagger into her left hand and, grinning balefully at him, drew her sword.
Jayge watched the curved sword and the straight dagger as he edged closer, wishing for another spear and the greater range it would have given him. His own sword scraped from its scabbard, and he twisted it to make the sound as loud and threatening as he could. Thella was not impressed.
“So,” she said, “it seems I was foolish to leave just one guard. How did you escape? I tied you up myself, little trader man.” She was circling slowly, and the point of her sword dabbed out like a feline’s paw, chiming against Jayge’s blade, testing his wrist. “Is all the strength back in your arm?” The blades chimed again, and Jayge’s sword wavered off line as the impact thumped his jangling sinews. Thella grinned more widely still. “It seems not. Even so, I should have followed my own advice and chopped off your hands, but those oafs let your woman escape.”
“That’s been your problem all along, Thella—things get out of your hands. Maybe weapons, too.” Jayge wondered why she was circling that way. Looking for an escape route? Maybe her touted ability with a sword was all bluff, too. “This is your final mistake, Thella. Because this is where it ends. You won’t slip away from me, not this time. Not here. Not now!”
The slow circling broke as he thrust forward suddenly, violently—but the blades met with a clash and a grinding sound like huge, murderous scissors as Thella’s defensive sweep became a parry and riposte that licked her sword’s steel tongue straight at his face. Jayge broke ground with a barely balanced backward leap and heard her laughing at him. There was blood on his cheek, from a slice he had not even felt—not until the wet heat dribbled from his chin and the sting of the cut ran from his eye to the corner of his mouth.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, little holdling,” Thella said with a sneer. “First blood’s mine!”
“Only heart’s blood counts.” He slammed his sword’s edge against her knuckleguard, hoping for a flinch, for the weapon to twist in her grip, maybe even for it to fly from her hand. Jayge had no such luck; she let the stroke glissade and expend its force along the sweep of her own blade—and then the dagger in her left fist jabbed at his face, his throat, his belly, three flickers of bright metal that reminded him where her true skill lay.
Jayge smashed the daggerpoint sideways with the guard of his sword, feeling it pluck at his clothing as it came close, far too close. But he refused to make the break Thella had hoped for, and instead forced her back, back, back, until she slammed hard against the immovable trunk of a fellis. Her widened eyes told him that she had not expected to be trapped that way, and Jayge anticipated her attempt to beat her way free with a series of savage cuts. He met them and blocked them, every one, and forced her hard back against the tree again.
“And it’s your heart’s blood that will spill today.” His point flicked through her guard and left a long rip down her left arm. The dagger went flying. “That’s for Armald!” He came at her again, feinting at her weakened arm and then closing, K’van’s knife in play now for all that its lack of a guard might cost Jayge fingers. Their swords ran together at the hilts, a tangle of sharpened metal held crisscrossed by main force as Jayge’s dagger pulled to gash her right arm. “That’s for Borgald’s best team!” Another swift feint led her blade far off its defensive line, swept further by the knife in his left hand as the sword in his right raked across her exposed midriff. “And that was for Readis!”
“Readis?” Her voice was trembling, from surprise as much as from pain. “What was Readis to you?”
“My uncle, Thella. My uncle!” Jayge backed off, seeing the pallor in her pocked face as shock changed to despair. The rage in him abated briefly, and he charged it again to do what was necessary and end it all.
Is it necessary, Jayge? Is it really? The voice in his head, and in his memory, belonged to Readis—but the voice in his ears belonged to Aramina. “Enough, Jayge! Or you’ll be no better than she is.”
For all his surprise at hearing his wife when she should have been safely away, Jayge did not let his gaze waver from Thella’s face. But hers, startled, went over his left shoulder, and her face contorted with loathing. Eyes blazing, she lunged in a savage futile attack at the girl who had eluded her. Jayge was in the way.
Thrusting as hard as he could, he felt the appalling jolt along blade and hand and arm as his curved sword went into Thella’s flesh, its edge grating against one rib as the point punched through to her hating heart. Stolidly, he wrenched the sword free.
Thella’s sword spun from her hand, thudded deep into the dirt at Aramina’s feet, and stuck there, swaying. With a little sigh, she dropped to her knees, one hand against her breast as if to stem the flow of shocking red that seeped through her fingers. And then she crumpled to the ground unmoving.
The deep hush that settled once again over the fellis tree grove was punctuated by Jayge’s hoarse breathing and the whimpers of wounded men and animals. Gulping air into pumping lungs, Jayge gradually became aware of Alemi and the other fishermen moving about the glade. Aramina, carefully avoiding the dagger, bent down to study Thella’s face. Without speaking, she rose and turned to Jayge, noting the bleeding cuts that his exertions had opened.
“Those will need to be cleaned, Jayge,” she said in a curiously detached tone. “And we’ll have to tend the canines.”
“Go on, Jayge,” Alemi said. “We’ll take care of all this.” His gesture consigned Thella and her dead supporters to oblivion.
Lessa and F’lar arrived two hours later, straight from Threadfall. As K’van had anticipated, he was soundly berated by Lessa for involving himself in a holder dispute.
“I’d have done the same thing even if I’d known what the problem was when Heth shouted at me, Lessa,” K’van said stoutly, although Piemur thought the young Weyrleader was pale enough under his tan. “A rider doesn’t ignore his dragon’s summons.”
“A rider makes certain a dragon doesn’t endanger himself,” the Benden Weyrwoman replied, “much less his entire Weyr! Did you forget your position, Southern Leader?”
“No,” K’van replied. “But neither did Heth,”
“At least, you had the good sense to limit Weyr involvement to the one rescue.” F’lar’s expression was as grim as Lessa’s. “Jayge honorably concluded the affair.”
The Weyrleaders had seen the dead woman where she and the other renegades lay in sacks, prepared for immediate sea burial.
“That’s the end of that,” Lessa said, frowning. Then she began to take off the rest of her heavy flying gear. “Did the renegades destroy everything in the hold, or do we have to fly back to Benden to refresh ourselves?” she demanded petulantly. She was tired, hot, and at the end of an exhausting Fall, the last thing she needed was another crisis.
“No, indeed not,” Jancis said, taking Lessa’s jacket. “There’s redfruit, juice, klah, some of Jayge’s rotgut spirits, and if you can spare the time, broiled fish fresh from the sea.”
The hospitality brought a smile to Lessa’s face, reluctant at first, but more relaxed as Jancis led them up the porch steps. The first of the evening breezes had freshened the sultry air, and the house was pleasantly cool.
“What sort of casualties did Jayge suffer?” F’lar asked.
“None of the hold was badly hurt—bumps, lumps, superficial cuts, and bruises mostly,” Jancis said, “though Ara had to take a few stitches here and there. She’s very neat.”
“And the renegades?” Lessa asked, sipping the drink Jancis had given her.
“Six survive, all badly wounded.” There was a note of satisfaction in Jancis’s voice. “One of them captained the ship that brought them here.”
“Master Idarolan should be informed.” Lessa grimaced. “He doesn’t like his masters disloyal.”
“The man wasn’t a master, Lessa,” Piemur said, joining them. The bandage on his head, his bruised face, and the various small lacerations smeared with numbweed gave him a raffish appearance.
“You should be resting,” Jancis told him sternly.
He caught her hand and grinned down at her. “Harpers have notoriously hard heads.”
“And thick skins,” Lessa added in mock derision.
“Leave it to Thella to have found a dissatisfied journeyman, denied his mastery and willing to dishonor his Hall,” Piemur went on. “Stole the ship from the repair dock at Thella’s instigation. Master Idarolan will enjoy making an example of him.”
“And the others?” F’lar asked.
“Holdless men,” Piemur shrugged. “Promised rewards and easy living in the south.” He eased himself onto the broad couch beside Jancis.
“They can go back with the ship,” F’lar said, “and then wherever Master Idarolan requires drudges.”
“That’s not the end of the problem of renegades, though, F’lar,” Lessa said, frowning.
“True enough, but if Thella’s death is sufficiently publicized”—F’lar looked meaningfully at Piemur—“it will deter the undecided and give us another breathing spell.”
“I’ll make a full report to the Masterharper—both of them,” Piemur said, a twinkle in his eye.
Lessa gave an impatient exclamation. “Robinton’s nearly as much of a renegade as—” She paused to think of a suitable comparison and then, with a sly smile, fixed her eyes on Piemur. “As you are, journeyman!”
“Truly spoken,” Piemur said, grinning broadly.
Lessa opened her mouth to say more but broke off as Jayge, bruised, bandaged, and bedaubed even more than Piemur was, entered the room with an apprehensive Aramina.
Lessa greeted her warmly, expressing delight that Aramina had rediscovered her ability to contact dragons. She was magnanimously restrained over the brief Weyr participation, dwelling on the relief all would feel at Thella’s defeat. Upon questioning, it appeared that Aramina had not heard Ramoth and Mnementh as they arrived—which, Lessa said kindly, she ought to have done since both dragons had been considerably agitated.
“I do hear the fire-lizards,” Aramina offered, and Piemur was pleased to notice that for once Lessa did not respond to mention of the creatures with her customary acerbity. “And I also hear someone—something else—occasionally. Whatever it is, is very sad, and so I don’t try to hear it.”
Despite gentle probing, she could give no more information, but Lessa extracted a promise from her to be open to dragons again. “Not to intrude on your life, my dear, but merely to keep in touch. It proved valuable enough today, you’ll agree.
“We’re not even halfway through this Pass,” Lessa reminded her as the Weyrleaders prepared to leave, “and we’ll need good women for our queens. I—and Ramoth—hoped to have you in our number, but perhaps that daughter of yours … The ability is in the Bloodline, you know, and you’re Ruathan, too, Mina!”