There were more refugees than originally estimated and while the resources of the two Weyrs were stretched, the Lord Holders immediately sent additional supplies and offered shelter. Some of those rescued were in bad shape from the cold and could not be immediately transferred to the sanctuaries offered by Nerat, Benden and Telgar Holds.

Zulaya had headed a rescue team of the other queens and the green riders. She came back, seething with rage.

"I knew he was a greedy fool and an idiot, but not a s.a.d.i.s.t. There were three pregnant women at the Forest Road border and they'd been raped because, of course, they couldn't sue the guards later on a paternity claim.

"Are the women all right?" K'vin asked, appalled by yet another instance of the brutality. "We arrived at the North Pa.s.s just in time to spare three lads from very unkind attentions by the guards. Where does Chalkin find such men?"

"From holds which have tossed them out for anti-social behaviour or criminal activities, of course," Zulaya replied, almost spitting in anger. "And that blizzard's closed in. We moved just in time. If we hadn't, I fear most of these people would be dead by morning. Absolutely nothing allowed them! Not even the comfort of a fire!"

"I know, I know," he said, as bitter about the s.a.d.i.s.tic behaviour as she was. "We should have treated those guards to a taste of absolute cold. Like a long wait between. Only that would have been a clean death."

"We still can," Zulaya said in a grating tone. K'vin regarded her in astonishment and she glared at him, clenching her fists at her sides. "Oh, I know we can't, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to!"

"Did you take Iantine with you? I thought of how useful on-the-spot sketches might be."

"In fact, he asked to come. He's got plenty to show Lord Paulin and the Council," he said. He swallowed, remembering the stark drawings that had filled one pad. Iantine's quick hand had captured the reality, made even more compelling by the economy of line, depicting horrific scenes of deliberate cruelty.

The Weyrleaders introduced themselves to the first of the refugees, and started off by interviewing an older couple.

"M'grandsir's grand sir came to Bitra with the then Holder," the man said, his eyes nervously going from one Weyrleader to the other. He kept wiggling his bandaged fingers, though N'ran had a.s.sured them the pain and itch had been dulled by fellis and numb weed "I'm Brookie, m'woman's Ferina. We farmed it since. Never no reason to complain, though the Holder keeps asking for more t.i.the and there's only so much comes out of any acre, no matter who tills it. But he'd the right."

"Not to take our sow, though, his mate added, her expression rebellious. We needed that un to make more piggies to meet the t.i.the he set." Like her man, she laid a stress on the p.r.o.noun. "Took our daughter, too, to work in the Hold when we wanted her land grant. Said we didn't work what we had good enough so we couldn't have more."

"Really?" said Zulaya, deceptively mild as she shot K'vin a meaningful glance. "Now that's interesting, holder Ferina."

K'vin envied Zulaya's trick of remembering names.

You could've asked me, Charanth said helpfully.

You've been listening?

The people needed dragons' help. I listen. We all do.

When the pity of dragons has also been aroused, surely that's enough justification for what we've just done, thought K'vin, if the Council should turn up stiff. I must remember to tell Zulaya.

"But he says we got it wrong and we ain't had no teacher to ask," the man said. An' that's another thing - we should have a teacher for our kids."

"At least so they can read the Charter and know what rights you all do have," Zulaya said firmly. "I've a copy we can show you right now, so you can refresh your memories."

The two exchanged alarmed glances.

"In fact," Zulaya went on smoothly, "I think we'll have someone read you your rights... since it would be difficult for you to turn pages with bandaged hands, Brookie. And you're not in much better case, Ferina."

Ferina managed a nervous smile. "I'd like that real well, Weyrwoman. Real well. Our rights are printed out"?

"In the Charter and all?"

"Your rights as holders are part of the Charter," Zulaya said, shooting K'vin another unhappy look. "In detailed paragraphs."

She rose to her feet abruptly. "Why don't you sit over there in the sun, Ferina, Brookie?" And she pointed to the eastern wall, where some of the Weyr's elderlies were seated, enjoying the warmth of the westering sun. "We'll make sure you hear it all, and you can ask any questions you want."

She helped the two to their feet and started them on their way across the Bowl as K'vin whistled for Leopol.

"Go get the Weyr's copy of the Charter, will you, lad?"

"You want me to read it to them, too?" the boy asked, eyes glinting partly in mischief and partly because he enjoyed second-guessing errands.

"Smart pants, are we?" K'vin said. "No, I think we need T'lan for this." He pointed towards the white-haired old brown rider who was serving klah to the refugees. "Just get the Charter now. I'll request T'lan's services."

Leopol moved off at his usual sprint and K'vin went over to speak to the elderly brown rider. He had exactly the right manner to deal with nervous and frightened holders.

Bridgely arrived in Benden Weyr, his face suffused with blood, torn between fury and laughter.

"The nerve of the man, the consummate nerve!" he exclaimed and threw down the message he carried. It landed closer to Irene than M'shall, so she picked it up.

"From Chalkin?" she exclaimed, looking up at Bridgely.

"Read it... and pour me some wine, would you, M'shall?" the Lord Holder said, slipping into a chair. "I mean, I know that man's got gall, but to presume... to have the effrontery."

"Ssssh," Irene said, her eyes widening as she read. "Oh, I don't believe it! Just listen, M'shall."

"This Hold has the right to dragon messengers. The appropriate red striped banner has been totally ignored though my guards have seen dragons near enough to see that an urgent message must be delivered. Therefore I must add..."

She peered more closely at the written page. "His handwriting's abominable. Ah. 'dereliction' - -".

"Really, where does he get off to cry 'dereliction'?"

"- -of their prime duty to the other complaints I am forced to lay at their door. Not only have they been interfering with the management of this Hold but they fill the minds of my loyal holders with outrageous lies. I demand their immediate censure. They are not even reliable enough to perform those duties which fall within their limited abilities."

"Limited abilities?" Irene turned pale with fury. "I'll un limit him!"

"Especially when we've had an earful of how he treats his loyal holders." M'shall said, his expression grimmer than ever. "Wait a minute. What's the date on his letter?"

"Five days ago," Bridgely answered, with a malicious grin.

"He had to send it by rider. From what the fellow told me, Chalkin's sent messengers to Nerat and Telgar as well. He wants me, you'll see in the last paragraph, Irene," and Bridgely pointed to that section of the missive, "to forward it by a reliable messenger to Lord Paulin, registering his complaint with the Council Chair. I suppose," and his grin was droll, "I'll get another one when he finds out about yesterday's airlift rescue."

"The man..." Irene paused, unable to find words. "When I think of how he's treated those poor people And when he's called to account, he'll probably whine that his guards exceeded their instructions..."

"...and he's fired them all," said Bridgely with a cynical shrug.

"Oh," M'shall said brightly, "not all of them." He scratched the back of his head. "Ah they wanted to know why they couldn't get to ride a dragon if the riffraff could."

"You didn't, M'shall," Irene exclaimed, her eyes wide with delighted antic.i.p.ation, "drop them off on the way, did you?"

"No," and M'shall shrugged with mock regret. "But I felt it might be wise to... ah, sequester? Yes, that's the word, sequester certain of them should they be required to stand before the Council and explain exactly what orders they received."

"Oh," and Bridgely turned pensive.

"Oh, I was selective, you might say," and M'shall's face was grim. "I found out which had had a hand in those killings and took testimony against them from bereaved witnesses. Not even guards, acting under a Lord Holder's orders, may execute without trial, you know."

"Oh, indeed, and you've acted circ.u.mspectly," Bridgely said, nodding with understanding. "Really, I don't think this can wait until Turn's End. And I shall so inform Jamson and Azury."

"I'd be happy to take you myself," offered M'shall, "and speak for the Weyr. In fact," and the Weyrleader reached for Chalkin's written message, "you could deliver this at the same time, Bridgely."

"You are all consideration, Weyrleader," Bridgely said, gesturing grandly and looking exceedingly pleased.

"My pleasure at any time, Lord Holder." M'shall swept his arm in an equally grand gesture.

"Whenever you can spare a moment from your duties, Weyrleader?"

"Why, I do believe I can spare an hour or two now, since I perceive that it is an appropriate time to visit the western half of the continent."

"Oh, will you two stop your nonsense and GO!" Irene said, laughter in her voice though she tried to look reproving. But their antics relieved the tension in the Weyr.

High Reaches, Boll Holds, Ista, Benden Weyrs, Ista Hold, High Reaches, Fort and Telgar Holds

"Now really, M'shall, Bridgely," said Jamson, fussing with his robes as he shifted uneasily in his chair.

High Reaches was invariably a cold place and today, in Jamson's private office, was no exception. The Benden Holder was glad he had riding furs on and made no attempt to open his jacket nor unglove his left hand after the usual handshake with Jamson. He noted M'shall did the same. "I cannot believe that a Lord Holder would treat the very people he depends on in such a way. Not in midwinter."

"With my own eyes I saw it, Lord Jamson," M'shall said in an unequivocal tone. "And I thought it wise to ask several of the guards to stay in the Weyr so you may learn what their orders were."

"But here, Chalkin complains that you have not accorded him the courtesy of conveyance." Jamson frowned.

"If you had seen what I have, Lord Jamson, you might find it hard to oblige him," M'shall said, his face stark.

"Really, Jamson, don't be such a p.r.i.c.k," Bridgely said, under no similar restraint of courtesy with his peer. "Nerat and Telgar are taking in refugees as well as Benden. You can speak to any you wish to, to determine the extent of Chalkin's perfidy."

"I'll gladly convey you where you wish to go." M'shall offered.

"I've my own Weyr," Jamson said stiffly, "if I need transport. But it's not the weather to be travelling about in unnecessarily at all." Which was true enough, since the High Reaches Hold was cloaked in snow crusted as hard as ice on the ground.

"Agreed," said Bridgely, trying hard not to shiver and wondering at Jamson's parsimony with fires, or if the heating system in the Hold was another victim to technological obsolescence. "So you will grant that only a dire need would bring me out, asking you to change your mind about taking immediate action against Chalkin. People would have frozen to death on Bitra's borders last night!" And he pointed vigorously eastward.

"He doesn't mention that in this," Jamson said, peering at the letter on the table.

"Doubtless he'll circulate a longer letter on that score," said Bridgely with deep irony. "But what I saw required me to give aid without any delay to meditate."

"As you know, Lord Jamson," M'shall put in, "Weyrs are also autonomous and may withhold services with sufficient justification. I feel perfectly justified in refusing him basic courtesies. Come, Bridgely. We're wasting Lord Jamson's valuable time. Good day to you."

Before the astonished High Reaches Holder could respond to such peremptory behaviour, the two men had left the room.

"My word! And I always considered M'shall to be a sensible man. Thank goodness, G'don is a solid, predictable Weyrleader - One simply does not impeach a Lord Holder overnight! Not this close to Threadfall." Jamson buried his hands more deeply into the sleeves of his fur-lined jerkin.

Azury was so shocked he did not even comment on M'shall's dereliction of services.

"I'd no idea, really," he said.

In direct contrast to High Reaches, Southern Boll's weather was hot enough for Bridgely to wish he'd worn a lighter shirt.

Although they were well shaded from the morning sun on a porch decorated by a blooming plant with fragrant pink blossoms tangling in cl.u.s.ters, he had to open his collar and roll up his sleeves to be comfortable. Azury had ordered a fruit drink and by the time it came, Bridgely's throat was dry enough to appreciate the cool tang.

"I know Chalkin's not exactly... reliable, and Azury then grinned wryly. And I've lost sufficient marks in his little games of chance to wonder about his basic honesty. But..." and he shook his head. "A Holder simply doesn't keep his folk in the dark about something as critical to their survival as Thread. Does he really think it won't come? That we're all foolish or stupid?"

"He is both foolish and stupid," Bridgely said. "Why else did our ancestors bio-engineer the dragons? And develop a totally unique society to nurture and succor the species, if not for future need?" He glanced at M'shall who merely raised his eyebrows. "It isn't as if we didn't have graphic proof of the existence of Thread, which was part of our education. Nor tons of records annotating the problem. It's not something we thought up to inconvenience Chalkin of Bitra!"

"Preaching to the converted, Bridge," Azury said. "He's ten times the fool if he thinks to brace the rest of the planet on this score. But," and he leaned forward on his wicker wood chair which creaked slightly, "Holders can spin great lies."

"And I can spot a whinge and a b.i.t.c.her as fast as you can, Azury," said Bridgely, moving to the edge of his chair which also reacted noisily to the weight shift. "Like this chair. You can interview any of those we've taken in... and the sooner the better, so you can judge the condition they were in before we rescued them."

"I think I'd better have an eyes-on at that," Azury told him.

He raised one hand quickly. "Not that I doubt you, but impeaching another Lord Holder is nervous-making."

"That's as may be, but having a Hold that is totally unprepared for the onslaught of Thread - one that's adjacent to me," and Bridgely jabbed a thumb in his chest, "is far more nervous-making."

"You've a point there," Azury admitted. He looked over his shoulder and beckoned one of the attendants, asking him to bring his riding gear. "You said that Jamson's reluctant? Doesn't impeachment require a unanimous verdict?"

"It does," Bridgely agreed, and set his lips in an implacable line.

Azury grinned, thanking the attendant who had quickly returned with his gear. "Then you also need me to add weight to a second delegation to High Reaches?"

"If you feel you can turn Jamson's opinion?" Azury stamped into his boots. "That one's just perverse enough to hold out, but we'll see. Tashvi, Bastom and Franco are involved, and I know Paulin is agitated... Who does that leave?

"Richud of Ista? Well, he will go along with a majority." He rose.

"Now, let's leave before I swim in my own sweat."

Azury interviewed each of the fourteen refugees still housed in Benden Weyr as unfit to be transferred elsewhere. He then had a chat with three of the guards.

Not that they were in a chatting mood, he said, his light blue eyes vivid with anger in his tanned face, but they may soon have second thoughts on how much their loyalty is worth to Lord Chalkin.

"They do claim," and, as he grinned, his teeth were very white against his skin, "that they were outnumbered by the influx of so many ranting, raving maniacs and had to use force to restrain them until they could receive orders from the Hold."

"That conflicts with what the ranting, raving maniacs say, doesn't it?" M'shall replied.

"Oh, indeed," Azury agreed, grinning without humor. "And I do wonder that the guards came out of the ranting and raving ma.s.s unscathed while all of the maniacs seem to have a variety of injuries. Clearly the truth is being pulled in many directions."

"But it lies there, limpid as usual, to the eye that sees and the ear that hears."

"Well said," Bridgely nodded.

"So let's speak with Richud."