The Skies of Pern (44 page)

“You can’t exile us,” the wineman cried, stepping out of line and trying to seize Pinch. He was instantly pinned by two of Pinch’s assistants who, judging by the roughness with which they held him, had been just waiting for an opportunity.

“Why not?” Jaxom asked.

“All the islands were drowned.”

“Oh,” N’ton said in a quiet voice, “I think we can find a suitable one.”

“We can’t be exiled!” “We’re saving Pern!” “That’s unfair.”

The captives broke from their sullen stance, dashing frantically about the court, looking for some way to escape or force their
way past those blocking the gateway. The crowd was only too happy to recapture them. There were calls for rope to tie them, cloth to gag the screamers.

“So where’re all these established procedures of yours, Lord Jaxom?” Captain Venabil demanded, heaving from his exertions.

“A Lord Holder, a Weyrleader, and a MasterCraftsman may enforce any Council decree,” Jaxom said. “It is in the Charter, if anyone cares to check. We must do so before sufficient witnesses.”

“WE WITNESS.” “WITNESSED!” “WE WERE HERE!” “DROWNING’S EASIER. QUICKER!” “EXILE ’EM!” “AWAY WITH THEM!”

Raising his arms, Jaxom faced the crowd. “Those of you who do not care to be witnesses to the judgment of this incident may step back without prejudice.”

Later Tagetarl was to remember that no one stepped away.

“Then the decree of the Council will be enforced. Weyrleader N’ton, you may send for assistance,” the Lord Holder of Ruatha said formally.

“D’you just drop ’em off?” Captain Venabil asked, his expression severe as if stunned by the sentence of exile.

“They are not dropped,” N’ton said, stressing the last word, his eyes hinting an inner conflict kept under stern control. “Sufficient food, supplies—” he paused briefly, “and water are provided to give them time to become established.”

“But—but—”

N’ton stared Venabil quiet. “I,” and he jerked a thumb at his chest, “am the only one who will know which island. And there are still many, many islands in both the Eastern and the Ring seas that can—isolate those who can be so destructive.”

“Better than they deserve, Weyrleader. Better than they deserve!” Captain Venabil stepped back, giving all three men a respectful bow. Decisions involving the lives of others were never easy to make.

The crowd had quieted down from its previous high pitch though some low conversations were begun. Pinch sent two of his men to bring the unconscious man from the cellar, tying his hands behind his back before he was set with the other Abominators, placed in a rough line on the broken Hall doors.

Seeing Rosheen shivering, Tagetarl put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him.

“It is legal, you know,” he whispered to her.

“I know. I’ve read the Charter. I just never thought we’d have to invoke it.”

“It’s perhaps as well to isolate them,” Tagetarl murmured to her. Angry as he was, and he had been ready to batter the men, he was not a violent man. “They could escape from the mines and come back and try again. I think that I want to know they can’t get to us—even if, at a later date, we decide to retrieve them.”

She clung to him, shaking her head. He didn’t tell her that two important members of the Abominator group Pinch had been watching out for were not in those captured tonight: Scar-face and the awkward-looking holdless woman from Tillek. That meant that not all those who held Aivas an Abomination had been removed from hall and hold.

T
he dragons were seen in the sky, their eyes sparkling in serene whirls as they hovered above the court: a half wing of them. From somewhere, fire-lizards did sky-pirouettes around them, calling in an oddly melodious chorus.

“They’ll land on the wharf,” N’ton said and pointed in that direction.

It was only the next road over and there were plenty of strong men and women to carry the Abominators despite their writhing and struggling and the gagged pleas to be released. Ruth followed, perching on a bollard while the exiles were hauled up on the dragons, and tied alongside the sacks that were to be left with them.

Then N’ton vaulted to his dragon’s back. “Riders, take your destination from Lioth!” he said in a voice loud enough to be heard by all watching. He lifted his arm, visible in the wharf lights, and gave the signal to leap skyward.

Tagetarl thought he had never seen a more impressive sight: twelve dragons leaping into the night, the fairs of fire-lizards escorting them and disappearing at the same moment.

In an unnaturally quiet way, those who had witnessed the night’s incredible event left the wharf side or climbed aboard the ships anchored there for the night.

“It was what had to be done, Lord Jaxom, Master Tagetarl,” said Captain Venabil in a low but firm voice. He shook their hands and then made his way down the wharf.

“Yes, it was what had to be done,” Pinch said as they all turned to go back to the Hall.

Then Pinch dropped back to Jaxom who was walking more slowly, his head bent.

“Dorse was among them, wasn’t he, Jaxom?” he asked so softly only Jaxom could hear. Jaxom flashed him the most quelling stare the Harper had received since he’d been an apprentice.

“No hold, no hall,” Jaxom finally replied. “Even if he was my milk-brother, what else could I do?”

“I’ve been trailing him, Jaxom,” Pinch murmured, “a long time.”

“You have. I haven’t.”

“I know,” and there was great compassion in the Harper’s voice.

“Was he in this from the beginning?”

Pinch shrugged. “We don’t even know when the Abominators were revived to plague us. Not all of those participating in these—events—are interested in keeping Pern pure or traditional. I’ve no doubt some of these people were motivated by blind adherence to what their fathers or mothers taught. I recognize some as hill folk who never took kindly to teachering: like the woodsy ones down in Southern Boll, or the mountain holds in upper Telgar and Lemos, or the desert nomads in Igen. Any and all of them simply fear change. They might even resent losing the Red Star as a permanent problem on which to blame ‘things that go wrong.’ Unfortunately, two of the people that I suspect have been churning up ill feelings against healers, and now the Print Hall’s new technology, aren’t among those in tonight’s catch.” He quickened his pace and fell in step with Tagetarl, leaving Jaxom to his own somber stride. “It would be wise, MasterPrinter, to issue a concise statement of what happened here tonight. The Runners can see that the truth is circulated.”

A truth that would not name the milk-brother of Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold as one of the vandals who had been exiled that night.

A handful of men and women stood by the open outer gates of the Hall. Ruth could be seen quietly awaiting the return of his rider.

“If you need some help tonight, or tomorrow, Master Tagetarl,” began one of the men stepping forward, “we’d be willing to do repairs.”

Tagetarl thanked them, aware that the doors to the Print Hall would have to be replaced. Steel would have reassured him but he didn’t have enough marks and he doubted the Smithcrafthall had the time.

“If one of you is a carpenter …”

“Five of us are, Master Tagetarl, the reason we bother you right now.”

“I am extremely grateful. Come when you can in the morning.”

He and the others had no sooner walked away than two fire-lizards whisked out of the night, landing on the shoulders of Rosheen and Pinch.

Jaxom walked straight toward his dragon and vaulted to his back. Tagetarl lifted his arm in farewell but he didn’t think the Lord Holder saw him. In silence Pinch and Tagetarl closed the gates. Then Pinch made his way to the loft where undoubtedly his assistants had taken themselves. Tagetarl and Rosheen turned to the right and the steps up to their hold.

I
n the morning, while the five carpenters put up new doorposts—made of sky-broom wood, they proudly informed Tagetarl—the Masterprinter took the report that he and Rosheen had spent a sleepless night composing to the Runner Station.

Pursing his lips, Stationmaster Arminet read the text. “Well said, Master Tagetarl. Fairly said. It will go in every pouch to come through here. I may even need more.”

Tagetarl made a protest, wondering how much more the night’s work would cost him.

“Keep your marks in your pocket,” Arminet added, pushing away the ones Tagetarl proffered.

“It’s a Harper Hall announcement …”

“It’s a community announcement,” Arminet replied, straightening himself to his full dignity though he was not as tall as the well-built Tagetarl. He glared up. “I’m the one who decides what should or should not be spread from my Station. The people of Wide Bay were very much aware of the atrocity committed by persons who would not claim hall or hold, Master Tagetarl, and others must know about the matter so as not to be left in doubt as to the exact details of the matter.” He tapped the bottom paragraph. “As I was one of those witnesses, this is exactly as I recall the incident. Thank you, Master Tagetarl. Let it not be said that the Runners did less than their best, too.”

“You recognized one of them, didn’t you, Jaxom?” Sharra asked softly, having watched his silence all day. She knew he had been called away that night. When he had returned, he had tried to disguise both fatigue and a preoccupied air. He had pushed food around his plate at both lunch and dinner. He had not been able to display any enthusiasm for the hour he usually spent so companionably with his sons.

She had waited, without appearing to hover close by, in case he might wish to talk about what was depressing him. She’d seen him terribly distracted like this only once before: when he had presided over the exile of those who had been responsible for abducting Master Robinton.

She waited until they had gone up to their own quarters and he was leaning against the deep window, looking out on nothing. Just as she was sure she’d have to pry, he gave a deep sigh.

“Ruth and I went to Wide Bay, to assist Tagetarl. There was an attempt to damage the Print Hall.”

“More Abominators?” Who else could it have been, since the Print Hall had been so enthusiastically received by every Craft.

He nodded but did not elaborate.

In the silence that followed, Sharra watched her spouse, absent-mindedly running his hand up and down the heavy brocade curtain that prevented the worst of the winter winds from penetrating into their sleeping room. She waited quietly. She knew when he was fretting over something.

“Dorse was one of them.”

Sharra felt something within her lurch at that soft, chilling admission. Jaxom did not have many fond memories of his milk-brother but had kept giving him the benefit of the doubt, long after his foster mother had died. Dorse had left before one more outrageous act would have compelled Jaxom to send him away.

“I thought he had gone south. Worked for Toric.” She gasped as soon as she finished speaking.

Jaxom nodded his head slowly. “He did not speak.”

“But surely, love,” and Sharra went to lay her hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his body, “he had only to—”

“They were asked to name hall or hold.” Jaxom’s grip tightened on the curtain so that the fabric was stretched from its rail, the upper hem tearing.

“Are you distressed because he
didn’t speak
?”

“I’m not sure.” Sharra could hear the anguish in Jaxom’s voice. “I’m not sure! I—think,” and now Jaxom buried his face in the folds of the curtain, “he was the leader. I think he was challenging me. Defying me and what I stand for. What did he expect me to do? See that they were only sent to the mines?”

Before he tore the curtain from the wall, she closed her hand around his fingers and gently detached them.

“I suggest that either way he is getting his own back on you, Jaxom,” she said in a quiet nonjudgmental tone. “By any chance, did anyone else recognize him? Ruth said you did not go alone.” He gave her a fierce look. “No, no, my love. I
never
asked him. He knows I worry that sometimes the pair of you might get into trouble and not tell me.” She tried to speak lightly, to ease his distress. She didn’t even get a rise out of him for what he usually termed unnecessary anxiety.

“Pinch has been on his trail, he said. It’s possible N’ton recognized him, though he wouldn’t have seen him in Turns.” He was
silent a moment then added, “I should somehow have had a word with him. To see if he would tell me more.”

“More about what? Isn’t it enough that he was caught destroying what he can very well recognize as a tremendously important asset for all Pern?”

Jaxom gave her a long closed look. That made her flinch inwardly because they were usually so open with each other about everything in their lives.

“I thought he had been well placed in the south with Toric,” he said finally.

“Oh!” Sharra had to sit down quickly as she absorbed the implications of that. Jaxom had been trying to shield
her
.

“It’s preferable to think that he was on his own, perhaps just taking an opportunity to be paid for making the kind of trouble he enjoys. It wouldn’t be unlike him,” and Jaxom spun from the window and began pacing the floor, looking everywhere but at his spouse.

“My brother, Toric,” Sharra said in a voice as taut as Jaxom’s had been, “was greedy as a child and would allow no common sense to dissuade him from what he felt was his, or—” she paused a beat “perceived was his by right. He has since, as you should know, forfeited the loyalty of all his brothers and sisters. Even his sons. I thought when he was brought up short several Turns ago by the Lord Holders and Weyrleaders that he might realize that there are limitations to what one man may hold.”

Jaxom could not endure her anguish and took her in his arms, his cheek against her cheek.

“We do not know that this is another scheme of his, Sharra.”

She clung to him, her fingers tight in his hair, pressing herself into the strength that always emanated from him. “Even if I, too, can see that Toric may be setting himself against the rest of Pern, just to prove he can?”