S'nan had insisted on being allowed to convey the two Lords Holder for he had been as stunned by the impeachment as Jamson.

"My word!" the Fort Weyrleader said, staring about him.

Magrith was staring too, and Paulin had to suppress a grin since the dragon was looking in one direction, his rider in the other.

The courtyard was neat and the recent snow swept from the paving which showed fresh cement grouting. The road, in either direction, was no longer bordered by straggling bushes and weed trees. The row of cot holds sported fresh roof slates, repaired chimneys and painted metal shutters, all obviously in good working order. Although some of the upper windows were already shuttered tight, the facade was no longer festooned with dead vine branches. Sunlight glinted off solar panels that had been cleaned and repaired.

Piled under a newly built shed were HNO3 tanks, racked for easy usage, with the hoses and nozzles hung properly on pegs. Kalvi had told Paulin that he'd been asked to deliver the Bitran consignment within a week of Vergerin taking Hold. And the following week he had sent his best teachers to instruct in their use and maintenance.

Vergerin wore a good tunic over his trousers, but they were made of stout material and he had obviously been working before his guests arrived. He greeted Paulin affably and responded courteously to the introduction to Jamson, whose response was frosty.

"You've done a lot since you took over, Vergerin," Paulin said, giving the man the encouragement of his public support. "I wouldn't have believed it possible, frankly."

"Well," and Vergerin grinned in the most charming way, "I found Chalkin's h.o.a.rd, so I've been able to hire in craftsmen."

"Even the nearest holders aren't accustomed to me yet and timid?"

"Scared, more likely," said Paulin dryly.

"That, too, I'm sure, but I've done what I can to supply them with materials to make their own repairs. The Hold was in an appalling state, you know."

Jamson grunted, but his eyes widened as he saw the quiet order and cleanliness of the first reception room. S'nan made approving noises deep in his throat and even ran a finger across the wide table with its attractive arrangement of winter berries and leaves. A drudge, in livery so new the creases hadn't been lost, was hurrying across the hall with a heavy tray.

"My office is quite comfortable," and Vergerin gestured for them to enter.

Paulin noticed that the heavy wooden door gleamed with oil and the bra.s.s door plates were polished to a high gloss.

The interior had been totally replaced, with work-tops, tidy shelving and bookcases. A scale map of Bitra Hold was nailed up on the interior wooden wall; beneath that was the northern continent and, oddly enough, the Steng Valley. Did Vergerin plan to reopen the mines there? A fire burned on the hearth, three upholstered chairs cozily arranged, while a low table evidently awaited the tray. Polished metal vases on the deep window-ledge held arrangements of bright orange berries and evergreen boughs: altogether a different room under Vergerin's management.

"There's klah, an excellent broth which I do recommend, and wine, mulled or room temperature," Vergerin said, gesturing for his three guests to take the comfortable chairs.

"You've a new cook as well, Vergerin?" Paulin asked, and pointed to the steaming pitcher when Vergerin grinned." I'll sample the broth, then." Jamson didn't mind if he did, too, but S'nan wanted the klah.

"You remember the back staircase, Paulin?" Vergerin asked, taking the broth as well and pulling up a straight chair for himself.

"I do. Was that where the marks were hidden?"

"Yes, in one of the steps." Vergerin chuckled. "Chalkin must have forgotten that I knew about that hidey-hole, too. It's been a life-saver, both to return unnecessary t.i.things and to buy in supplies. One thing Chalkin did do correctly was keep records. I knew exactly how much he had extorted from his people." Jamson cleared his throat testily.

"Well, he did, Lord Jamson," Vergerin said without cavil. "They hadn't even enough in stores to get by on this winter, let alone have reserves for Fall. I'm still unloading what we couldn't possibly use from what Chalkin had ama.s.sed." Vergerin gave a mirthless laugh.

"Chalkin would have weathered all fifty years of the Pa.s.s from what he had on hand... but none of his people would have lasted the first year. Let alone have the materials to safeguard what they could plant out. Bitra being established after the First Fall, there were no hydroponics sheds although the tanks are stored below." Jamson gave another snort.

"And the gaming"?

"Have you curtailed that?"

"Both here and elsewhere," Vergerin said, flushing a little. "I haven't so much as touched dice or card since that game with Chalkin."

"What about his games men?"

Vergerin's smile was grim. "They had the choice of signing new contracts with me - for I will not honor the old ones or leaving. Not many left!"

S'nan barked out a cackle of a laugh. "Not many would, considering the hazards of being holdless during a Pa.s.s. You have done well, Vergerin." He nodded in emphasis.

"You've had a second chance, Vergerin," Jamson said, waggling his finger, "so see that you continue to profit by such good fortune." He had finished the broth and now stood. "We will go on a quick survey of the holds, if you please."

"Of course," and Vergerin rose hastily, pushing back his chair. "By horse."

"No, no." Jamson dismissed that. "You've no need to accompany us. Better if you don't." "Now, Jamson," Paulin began, for it was discourteous of the High Reaches Holder even to suggest Vergerin stay behind.

"Certainly, as you wish." Vergerin motioned them to pause at the map and indicated directions. "We've managed to complete all the necessary repairs on the holds adjacent to or not far from the major link roads. Those high up have had to wait on supplies. I can't overdo my welcome at Benden Weyr, though M'shall has been far more obliging than I thought he'd be."

"It's to his advantage to oblige," S'nan said stiffly, at the merest hint of criticism of a Weyrleader.

Jamson had opened the door into the Hall and stopped so short, staring at the opposite wall, that Paulin nearly walked up his heels.

Jamson muttered something under his breath and, pointing at the wall, turned to Vergerin.

"Why under the sun are you hanging his portrait there?" he demanded, almost outraged.

Paulin and S'nan peered in the direction indicated.

And Paulin had to laugh.

"When did Iantine get a chance to redo it?" he asked.

Vergerin, who was also broadly grinning, answered "I got it yesterday," and he walked across the Hall to stand beneath it. "I think the likeness is now excellent."

There was a moment of silence as they all viewed the portrait, now altered to an honest representation of the former Bitran Lord close-set eyes, bad complexion, scanty hair and the mole on his chin.

S'nan sniffed. "Why would you want his face around at all, Vergerin?"

"One, to remind me to improve my management of Bitra, and two, because it's traditional to display the likenesses of previous Lord Holders." He gestured up the double-sided staircase where hung the portraits of previous inc.u.mbents.

Jamson harrumphed several times. "And Chalkin? How's he doing?" Paulin shrugged and looked to S'nan, for only dragon riders could get to the exile's island.

"He was supplied with all he needs. There is no need to exacerbate his expulsion by further contact."

"And his children?" Jamson asked, eyes glinting coldly.

Vergerin grinned, ducking his head. "I feel they have improved in health, well-being and self-discipline."

"They stood in great need of the latter," Paulin added.

"They may surprise you, Lord Paulin," Vergerin said with a sly smile.

"I could bear it."

"As the branch is bent, so it will grow," Jamson intoned piously.

"Come this way," Vergerin said, putting a finger to his lips to indicate silence.

He led them down the corridor, towards what Paulin remembered as one of the gaming rooms. They could hear muted singing: Paulin instantly recognized the melody as one of the College's latest issues.

As they got closer to the source, he heard the words of the 'Duty Song.' Jamson gave another one of his harrumphs and sniffed.

Carefully Vergerin opened the door on a mightily altered room.

The students - and there were far more of them than Paulin had expected - were seated with their backs to the door. The teacher - and Paulin was surprised to recognize Issony back at Bitra - gave an additional nod to his head to acknowledge their presence as he continued to beat the tempo of the song.

Children's voices - even those who couldn't carry the tune - are always appealing; perhaps it is the innocence of the tone and the guilelessness in their rendition of the song's dynamics.

Even Jamson smiled, but then the verse they were singing was about the Lord Holder's responsibilities.

"Which ones are Chalkin's?" Paulin whispered to Vergerin.

He pointed, and only then could Paulin pick out the children in the front rows: the girls on the one side and the boys on the other.

They were much better clothed than the others but no less attentive to their teacher, and singing l.u.s.tily: the older girl had the most piercing voice. Somewhat like her mother's, Paulin thought.

Vergerin motioned for them to withdraw, grinning.

Issony's been right that those youngsters needed compet.i.tion.

"The holder kids need no incentives; they want to learn, and Chaldon is determined not to let mere holders get better grades than he. Oh, there's still whinings and pleadings and tantrums, but Issony has my permission to deal with them."

"And he does. Most effectively."

"Nadona?" Paulin asked.

Vergerin raised his eyebrows. "She's learning much the same lessons as her children, but she's not as quick a study, as Issony would say. She has her own quarters," and he inclined his head towards the upper levels. She stays within."

"And leaves you to get on with the real work?" Paulin asked in a droll tone.

"Exactly."

"Hmm, yes, well, that's it here, I think," Paulin said, and then made much of fastening his riding jacket to indicate his willingness to depart on the inspection tour. "Do you agree, Jamson?" Jamson harrumphed, but the fact that he did not have questions Paulin took as a good sign.

When they left the house, men and women were busy putting on the flame-thrower tanks.

"I've scheduled a drill. Have to make up for lost time, you know," Vergerin said by way of explanation. Jamson and S'nan exchanged such fatuous glances that Paulin did his best not to laugh out loud.

Vergerin caught his eye and winked, then bade a polite farewell to his guests before he returned to the ground crew.

"Well, he obviously learned a thing or two," Jamson said in a sanctimonious tone as they went down the steps to the waiting bronze dragon.

"Yes, it would seem he has," S'nan said, and then frowned slightly. "Although I cannot like him turning loose Chalkin's games men. They'll cause trouble at Gathers, mark my words."

"No more than they've always done," Paulin said, giving Jamson a discreet helping hand up Magrith's tall shoulder.

"Probably less without Chalkin exhorting them to squeeze more out of innocent and guileless holders."

"No gambling should be allowed for any reason in a Weyr", said S'nan, as portentous as ever.

Paulin mounted silently, hoping that these two would see sufficient in a quick swoop to rea.s.sure them about Vergerin's worth and the wisdom of Chalkin's impeachment. The brief visit had satisfied him especially the sight of Chalkin's much improved portrait. He must send a message to Iantine at Telgar Weyr; Bridgely had said the artist had returned there as soon as he was finished at Benden Hold and enquired when he and his spouse could hope to have a sitting.

During the rest of the inspection circuit, Paulin addressed the more important problem of subtly reinstating Gallian in his father's favor. Paulin didn't know if it was working, and probably wouldn't until Jamson died and the succession was in question. There were so many instances of visible repairs and clearings that Jamson could certainly see how poor a Holder Chalkin had been. For once, S'nan's critical comments were a positive encomium of Vergerin's effort at taking Hold.

Paulin was well pleased he had taken the trouble to accompany Jamson. He hoped Lady Thea would be able to tell him that Gallian was off the hot seat.

"You are not saving the entire world from Threadfall by yourself, P'tero," said K'vin, glaring up at the young blue rider.

He was nearly beside himself with rage at P'tero's utter disregard of common sense. "You are not going to impress M'leng. If this is how you see your role in Threadfall, I think you'll be a long time on messenger duty."

"But, but..."

"Furthermore," and K'vin pointed a finger fiercely under the boy's nose, "Maranis tells me that your wounds are not well enough healed for you to be back on duty."

"But... but..." and P'tero, eyes wide with fright, recoiled from his Weyrleader's fury, clutching the neck ridge before he over-balanced. The pad which T'sen had given him now slipped, the ties torn loose some time during the exercises.

Blood spotted it.

"Get down here," K'vin roared, pointing to where he wanted P'tero: on the ground. "Right now."

P'tero obeyed as promptly as he could, but he was stiff from sitting so long during the day's maneuvers and from the barely healed flesh of his b.u.t.tocks.

K'vin caught him by the shoulder and whirled him around.

"Not only new blood, but old stains," he said, his voice trenchant with scorn and fury. "You're off duty."

"But... but... Thread's nearly here!" P'tero cried in anguish, almost in tears with frustration and the fear of being unable to show M'leng just how brave he really was. Not mock-brave, like the lion attack, but brave in the air.

"And Thread'll be here for fifty years, young man. That's plenty long enough for it to fear you and Ormonth in the air!

"Report to Maranis immediately. You're grounded!"

"But I have to be in the first Fall wings," P'tero cried, anguished.

"That wasn't the way to get there. Go to Maranis!" K'vin didn't wait to see if P'tero obeyed. He stormed across the Bowl, the temptation to shake sense into the blue rider so intense that he had to put distance between them.

Ormonth tried to keep him from flying today, Charanth informed his rider.

K'vin halted, now glaring up at his bronze dragon who was settling himself on his weyr ledge to get what sun remained.

Then you're as bad as the pair of them! K'vin had the satisfaction of seeing Charanth quail at his fury.

From now on, you are to report to me - instantly - when any rider, or his dragon, is not one hundred percent fit for duty. Do you understand me?