The Renegades of Pern (20 page)

Not just grim, Asgenar thought, returning the bottle to Swacky. His neighbor was more intense than that: vindictive and bloodhot, despite the freezing cold. Asgenar hoped that there was experience there as well as incentive. A false move would flush their quarry, and they would have to go through the whole thing all over again. He wanted the matter settled that morning. There were other important things to attend to.

The sun was finally above the eastern peaks, its clear light painting the snow in gold dappled with shadowed blues and blacks. The plateau above and to their right glistened, sparkling as sun struck ice like beams of light bouncing off diamonds.

Suddenly the signal was given, and the men who had lain or crouched just in front of the trampled-down forecourt of the hold sprang to their feet and charged forward, wielding a ram to force the door, but the door proved to be unbarred, and the impetus of their forward motion put the men of the first troop into the main cavern before they could unsheath their swords. Larad pushed past them toward the chamber that he felt his sister would be using. But there were sleeping bodies along the corridor, and someone had wit enough to trip him, yelling at the top of his lungs while Larad sprawled untidily on the stone floor. Asgenar helped him to his feet while Swacky and his other companion plunged on down the gallery, swinging left and right at the sleepers who, awakened by the racket, rose to fight.

Even as Larad yelled at them to take the right fork, Swacky and the younger trooper turned to the left. Others surged in behind them, and Larad and Asgenar went on alone. When they reached their destination, they found the door barred and had some difficulty angling the ram for maximum effect.

When the door was finally hanging on its hinges, the room they entered was empty except for scattered pieces of clothing. Asgenar spotted the other doors, and the battering ram was brought into use again. Each successive room showed signs of frantic packing. Asgenar consulted his map of the complex and tried to relax. True, there was a series of smaller chambers off the main one, but all exits were well guarded. No one could escape.

Shouts resounded, often making the words unintelligible. A messenger found Larad and Asgenar to tell them that the main chamber was secure, all the left-hand tunnels cleared of their quarry, and prisoners taken.

“Any chance that Thella’s among them?” Asgenar asked.

“No, sir, I’ve her face right here,” the man said, holding out the sketch in his hand. “Several women but not one like her!”

“This is the best set of apartments,” Larad said in a quiet, taut voice. “These have to have been hers.”

Asgenar did not remark upon the obvious, that there had been unmistakably male accoutrements in two of the rooms. They moved forward to crouch in a narrow, low tunnel. Asgenar dropped to crawl on hands and knees and ended up, with Larad, in what appeared to be a dead end.

“Can’t be,” Larad said. “Glows! Forward some glows!”

“There was an exit to this group, I know it,” Asgenar said, frustrated.

Before illumination could be brought, they heard an ominous rumble, and felt the stone beneath their fingers and knees shake. The sound seemed to continue for a long time.

“Lord Asgenar, Lord Larad? Are you there, sirs?”

“Yes, Swacky. What was that noise?”

“Here, Jayge, take the basket—you’re more agile than I am. Sirs, it was an avalanche. We’re going to have to dig our way out.”

“Avalanche?”

Larad’s anxious expression, lit by the glow basket, matched his worried tone, but the crouching young trooper seemed to make nothing of their cramped and closed-in condition. His face reflected so much hatred and frustration that Asgenar was stunned. A man that young ought not to feel such passions, he thought.

“Yes, sir,” Jayge said. “They’d a deadfall arranged. Someone got out to release it. They’ve used that trick before. Didn’t anyone think to check?”

“You forget yourself,” Larad said icily.

“Jayge?” Asgenar slewed around and took the glowbasket from him. “You were in that ambush at Far Cry, weren’t you?”

“Yes . . . sir.”

“Bloodkin lost?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, the courtesy not as sullenly added. “This isn’t the dead end it looks like! See the marks there on the ground. Something’s scraped.”

Larad and Asgenar heaved and pushed, thinking of a cantilevered slab.

“Lords,” Swacky called. “You’re needed out front. We’ll keep on here.”

Larad and Asgenar crawled back out to where they could stand erect again, and Swacky gave a fuller report.

“The Benden Weyrleader’s got his dragons digging us out. We’ve accounted for all but three of the faces in those drawings, and some who weren’t, plus one guy who swears blind he’s got to talk to whoever’s in charge. And there’re troops following every alley and furrow in the place.”

Larad swore under his breath, his expression unreadable.

“Which three faces, Swacky?” Asgenar asked.

“The woman they call Thella, the empty-faced man someone said was dragonless, and one other, a real brute.”

“Swacky, you’re too broad to crawl that tunnel,” Asgenar said, letting Larad digest the news. “Find someone else to go down and help Jayge. And a crowbar or chisel would be useful if you can find such tools in here.”

“We found an awful lot of stuff, Lord Asgenar. They’d settled in with nothing missing.”

“Thank you, Swacky. The tools, please, and as many men as needed to find that exit.” He took Larad by the arm and escorted him back to the main chambers.

The smallest room, which had only one entrance, was where the prisoners were being guarded. One of Larad’s men greeted the two Holders and returned the drawings. “There’re all here, and sixteen more, Lord Larad.”

“Any casualties on our side?” Larad asked, noticing bloody head wounds and other signs of injury among the prisoners.

“A broken bone or two when the avalanche caught people unawares. Them,” the trooper said contemptuously, “we mostly caught still in their bedrolls. There’s one over in that small room that you should speak to.” He nodded to his left, in the direction of the main hall of the complex, where one of Asgenar’s foresters stood guard. “And there’s some fresh klah in the pot,” he added, gesturing to the bigger hearth where a fire had been freshened and a huge kettle was slightly steaming. “They lived pretty good all right.”

Asgenar steered Larad toward the hearth, and a trooper sprang to serve them. Then they went to see the man the guard had mentioned.

When they entered the room he rose, smiling with obvious relief. “Did they escape after all?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” Larad said sternly.

“Certainly, Lord Larad.” He turned his head to nod politely at the Lemosan. “Lord Asgenar.” Then he waited.

“Who are you?” Larad asked after a long pause. The man showed not the slightest bit of tension or insolence.

“My name is Perschar, Lord Larad, a journeyman whom Master Robinton hoped could penetrate this band. I gather that someone finally sent you the sketches I’ve been dropping whenever and wherever I could. I’d swear Thella has eyes in the back of her head. Did she escape? Please, the suspense is very hard on my stomach.”

“Perschar? Would the name Anama mean anything to you?” Asgenar asked, pulling at Larad’s sleeve before the other could interrupt.

“Of course!” The man’s long face was wreathed with a happy smile. “Lord Vincet’s second daughter. I did her portrait, oh, far too many Turns back, I fear. She’ll be grown and married, with children of her own to be painted, I’ve no doubt.”

“He’s Perschar, all right,” Asgenar assured Larad. Taking a seat at the table, he noticed that Perschar had not been idle while waiting. There were more sketches.

“It was the only way I had of dropping information. Not that they suspected me, but it was as well not to raise any doubts whatsoever. The Lady Thella—”

“The woman is holdless,” Larad said harshly.

“Exactly her problem,” Perschar replied with some acerbity, then sighed. “She styled herself Lady Holdless, and, while not appropriate, as she
did
hold here—” His long hand made a graceful gesture indicating the room they were in. “—she was devilish quick, quite brilliant with her schemes—flawless almost, so I had to be cleverer still. Did she escape?” His eyes sought Asgenar’s, almost pleading, certainly urgent.

Asgenar nodded, disgusted. “We think so. But until we’ve reestablished communications with those outside, we can’t be certain.”

“We had
every
hole out of this warren covered,” Larad said, stalking about the small room.

“I heard the avalanche,” Perschar said in a lugubrious tone. “That means someone got out. I’d lay odds with a Bitran, she did. Unless you caught Giron or Readis. Those three used the right-hand rooms.”

“The guard said all but three of the faces in your invaluable drawings are accounted for—Thella, the dragonless man, and the heavyset man.”

“That’d be Dushik. Thella sent him off on some special affair as soon as we made it back here. So at least Readis is accounted for, if they’re the only ones missing. Yes, either Giron or Thella herself loosed that avalanche. She was rather taken with the notion. Had all of us working on it during the last Fall. Bloody cold work.” Perschar shivered dramatically. “Is there any more klah in the pot?” he asked hopefully.

It took just as long for the dragons to dig them out as it did for Perschar to discover, after he had drunk his klah, that Readis was not among the prisoners. And it took twice as long for Jayge to discover how to open the clever door.

“And there was where we underestimated Thella,” Asgenar said with as grim a smile as Larad’s. “Gone up a bit, you might say,” he added, unable to stifle the observation as he stared up the vertical tunnel through which escape had been effected. “Your charts were a trifle out of date, Larad.”

Larad cursed and Asgenar listened sympathetically.

Jayge had scrambled up the rungs of the ladder and come out well above the entrance stormed by the troops. “The avalanche was set off from here,” he hollered down. Both men clasped hands on their ears against the echoes his call set up. “A bronze dragonrider says that he’s sent out sweep riders. They can’t have gotten far on foot.”

Larad leaned disconsolately against the wall, shaking his head, and sighed at the futility of their efforts. “She knows how to use snowstaves. She’s very good at it.”

“We can send messages ahead to be on the lookout for three refugees. Send copies of Perschar’s sketches,” Asgenar said as Larad once more got down on hands and knees to navigate the low tunnel. “We’ve blocked up most of the caves we think she’s been using. She’s going to have a long cold trip before she finds any safety at all.” He saw Larad, just in front of him, shaking his head. “If we can get just a little cooperation from Sifer, Laudey, and Corman, surely someone will notice three such unusual people out and about at this time of year.”

Once they emerged from the tunnel, Larad strode purposefully through the rooms where troopers were already gathering up the more expensive-looking articles of clothing and miscellaneous items. Asgenar followed, storing up hopeful suggestions, racking his brains to think of some logical and ultimately successful course of action. It was ludicrous that they should have failed. Yet they had.

When Asgenar saw Larad making for the eating area, he paused, looking around for one of the Benden dragonriders. F’lar, F’nor, and three troopers, still busy jotting down notes on improvised slates, came out of the storage area of the cavern.

“I found the Kadross Hold grain. They’ve got stables back there, baled fodder in quantity, and supplies enough to eat as well as Benden Weyr does,” F’lar said, slapping his heavy fleece gauntlets against his leg. “What’re we going to do with those, anyway?”

“Whose hold does this place fall in, Larad? Yours or mine?” Asgenar asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, sort of. You’ve got all those mines, and I have trees, but trees don’t need much tending in the winter, and your mines can be worked year round.”

Larad turned, a look of surprise on his face, but Asgenar felt that was an improvement on despair.

“I tell you what,” Asgenar went on. “Let’s leave them with enough to keep them going through the winter—what with the snowslide and all, I doubt they can get out, and I’m certainly not going to ask Benden dragons to give them the treat of their sordid lives. Let’s see who’s alive come spring.”

F’lar and F’nor found that solution amusing, as did the troopers, who tried to disguise their grins. At the last, a slight smile tugged at Larad’s mouth, and he began to regain his usual manner.

“I think I had better leave someone in charge, after all,” he remarked. “Thella
has
really improved this place—it’s isolated, but a stout holding.”

“All right then, let’s get busy.” Asgenar clapped his hands together to call the troopers and foresters to attention. “What’ve you got on those sheets? I don’t want to keep the dragonmen here any longer than necessary. We’ll want to move the bulk out as fast as we can.”

“Lord Asgenar, some of the supplies still have purchasers’ markings.”

“Good man, that’ll spare us a lot of trouble. Swacky, organize your troop to haul identifiable things up front. I’ll go separate what this lot—how many are there? Forty? Well, I leave rations for forty for three months. Then we’ll come back to see who wants to work for a living.”

“Meanwhile?” F’lar asked politely, his eyes dancing at Asgenar’s masterful organization.

“Oh, please, F’lar, find that unholy trio!”

8

Telgar Hold To
Keroon Beastmasterhold,
Southern Continent,
Benden Hold, PP 12

W
HEN THE DRAGONRIDERS
brought Jayge, Swacky, and the other volunteers back to their camp, Jayge collected his pay and a written warranty from Swacky attesting to his character and service, then strapped his gear on Kesso’s saddle and left. Swacky did his best to talk the younger man out of making such a long trip in winter; even the fairly temperate Lemosan valley would soon be clogged with snow. But seeing that his efforts were in vain, he let the boy go and promised to take the note Jayge wrote his father back to Far Cry. When Jayge took his leave of Lord Asgenar, the Holder expressed his regret at losing such a clever auxiliary.

Perschar was distressed when he discovered that his sketches of Readis were strangely missing from the roll that Asgenar had copied and distributed. Dushik, whom Perschar called the most ruthless and cruel of all Thella’s followers, had not returned from the errand Thella had sent him on. So, in effect, they had failed in achieving the primary aim of the dawn sortie. Thella, Giron, Readis, and Dushik were still at large—and, as Perschar said without mincing words, exceedingly dangerous. There were plenty of holdless folk desperate enough to throw in their lot with such successful renegade leaders. Finding a new base in the hills behind Lemos and Bitra would not be difficult, and the band could start up all over again.

Perschar drew several views of Readis to be distributed along with those of Thella, Giron, and Dushik. Ever cautious, he asked Asgenar and Larad to hint to the captives that he, Perschar, had managed to escape. For, he said with a heavy sigh, he might be called on to help again and wanted to do so with impunity. Meanwhile, he rather thought he would like to go back to Nerat. He had not really felt warm since he left, and he had heard that Anama, Vincet’s pretty daughter, now had children whom he would like to paint.

Lord Larad assigned Eddik, a trustworthy, diligent herdsman, as temporary holder. Most of Thella’s band were genuinely relieved that they were not to be made holdless again. They were all afraid of the possibility of Dushiks reappearance and were reassured by Eddik’s presence. Larad and Asgenar reinforced that sense of security by offering a substantial reward for any sight of the man in the vicinity, and double that for his capture.

Jayge was driven by mixed emotions, chief of which was revenging the deaths of Armald and his other friends and exacting retribution for the economic losses sustained by the train from Thella’s attack. And in the back of his mind was always the thought that if Readis had had sufficient loyalty to risk death to stop the attack on his Bloodkin, then perhaps he could be persuaded to leave Thella’s malign influence. Jayge had always admired his big uncle. Readis’s departure from Kimmage Hold had seriously depressed the young Jayge, who could not comprehend why Readis had deserted them in that terrible situation. His father had explained that Readis had every right to leave in search of more suitable employment. And before long Jayge had come to recognize Childon’s many little ways of humiliating the impoverished traders, giving them the most unsavory chores and condescending even about the food they ate and the quarters they were crowded into. Proud Readis could not have endured such treatment. Jayge, only ten Turns old, had had no choice. Even if he had been old enough to strike out on his own, he would never have left his sick mother, Gledia, behind.

But at twenty-three, and driven by revenge rather than humiliation, Jayge could take the winter, while the trader train was snowbound, to set out to settle his debt. He reasoned that if he could stay close to the amazing girl who heard dragons, whose ability had caused so much trouble for those he loved, he might also find Thella. He did not think that Thella would give up on her own pursuit of Aramina, either because without her secure mountain camp she would need the girl’s talent more than ever, or out of revenge for the loss of that fine base. When Jayge had seen her there on the track to Far Cry, surveying the damage her plans had wreaked on his train, he had thought her malevolence unusual. Her knifing that burden beast had been an act of savage, almost deranged, vengeance. And her imbalance had been further demonstrated by her willingness to let everyone in her hold be killed by that avalanche—once she and her chosen followers were safe.

Aramina might have been taken to Benden Weyr. But was she truly safe there if Thella was still at large?

The fugitives had been forced to flee with little preparation and would certainly steal without hesitation. To make it across the winter trails to Benden Weyr, they would need supplies and information, both of which were most easily acquired at Igen low caverns. According to Perschar, Thella, Giron, Dushik, and Readis had often gone there, so Jayge made the caverns his first stop, pushing Kesso to his limits in order to arrive before his quarry.

To his chagrin, he learned that the best “eyes and ears” of the place had been found dead of a broken neck. Everyone was bemoaning the death of the footless old seaman, Brare, out of one side of their mouths, while calling him a dreadful cheat, rogue, extortionist, and pervert out of the other. Still, the Igen low caverns seemed a good place to start looking.

The cavern was buzzing about the spectacular raid on Thella’s base, all sorts of people relating the tale with many fanciful embellishments that Jayge did not bother to correct. There was considerable confusion about how many raiders there had been and what had become of them. Some believed that Lord Larad—and who could have blamed him—had had them transported to his mines. Everyone knew the Holder needed help in those black pits of his, considering the shortage of metals needed to make the weapons for fighting Thread, not to mention those other queer things the Mastersmith was always banging away at. Others were of the opinion that the offenders had been shipped South, and there was a curiously fearful sort of envy over that fate. Jayge listened closely, wondering if there were any substance to the rumor. Would Thella and Giron have gone South with Readis—to disappear in what some claimed was a vast continent and others thought was merely an island, like Ista, only larger? Were they on their way to the boiling waters of the Southern Seas? Everyone knew how hot it was there, hotter than Igen ever could be. No, somehow he was positive that Thella would still attempt to secure Aramina—if only to kill the girl. And he particularly did not want Readis to be involved if it came to that.

By Jayge’s reckoning, the fugitives would have made very slow progress out of the mountains, even using snowstaves, which were more help on snowy hillslopes than in wooded areas. Benden dragonriders were making frequent random sweeps over the mountains during the daylight hours; and even desperate people would not attempt to travel that terrain in the dark. Despite a grudging admiration for dragonriders like F’lar, T’gellan, and the young K’van, Jayge did not hold out much hope that they would actually catch the fugitives. That would spoil everything. He did not wish it to be that easy.

Jayge felt he had time to spare to search for a possible lair within the complex. Exploring the less frequented passages, he found several promising sites, none with any signs of recent occupation but all with small entrances partially or completely concealed from casual observation.

From one old trader friend of his father’s, Jayge did establish that Thella and Giron had been in the low caverns during the time the Lilcamp-Amhold train had been taking on its shipments for Far Cry. He showed the sketch of Readis to the trader, and although the man had not seen Readis with Thella at that time, the sketch was much admired for itself.

“Why, you expect the man to draw breath. Nice-looking chap. Your kin, you say? Aye, no one could deny the Blood between you. Now whoever did this so handy? What’d they use? Charcoal would have smudged. Leads, you say? They’d be expensive—a’ course, you being trader connected, you’d have the chance.”

With one of his few marks, Jayge bought from a trader a tattered but fairly accurate map of the eastern stakes shores: Keroon to Benden, including Bitra and the easternmost section of Lemos. While in several spots the creases of the hide made the lines difficult to decipher, caves were marked, large and small, watered or dry, as well as all the holds and the best routes for various sorts of haulage. He also listened carefully to the nighttime conversations around the main fires, when the jugs were passed, encouraging conviviality. Apparently Dowell and his family had been such long-term residents that they were well-known. Everyone was still amazed that “their” Aramina had made it to Benden Weyr, where eggs were hardening. Everyone was rather pleased with the notion that “their” Aramina, raised in Igen low caverns, was certain to Impress the queen egg on Benden’s Hatching Ground, and they were basking in her achievement. It had become known fact that Dowell, Barla, and the other two children had gone back to Ruatha, reinstated into their original home by Lord Jaxom, who had given them workmen to repair it, and who generally treated Barla as long-lost Bloodkin. The family was half the world away from Thella, and Aramina was safe in Benden Weyr.

Jayge did not agree. No one was safe from that woman while she drew breath. In his travels as a trader, Jayge had met all sorts of people, most of whom he could forget as soon as he moved on. But Thella was unique. She was the most evil person he had ever encountered. She deserved to be dropped down a smooth hole in the ground and left there.

Finally, with the valuable map and the sketches of Readis carefully wrapped and secured against his chest, Jayge turned Kesso southeast along the bright waters of Keroon Bay. He kept to the well-traveled routes, as a lone rider on back trails would be easy prey for petty thieves, looking for what they could get. Thella’s gang may have been the best organized and most successful, but it was hardly the only one.

Despite the fatigues of travel Jayge did not sleep well. He kept going over and over that fateful raid: the rockfalls, the wagons toppling, and the stones that missed their targets and went on rumbling down the river ravine. He kept reliving his own part in the fight and wondering how he could have saved Temma from her frightful wound; protected Nazer; killed more of the raiders. He was haunted by the sight of that foot and hand sticking out of the rubble. They seemed to twitch in his dreams, as did Armald’s pitiful hulk sprawled on the gravel road. He kept seeing Temma with her shoulder pinned by that barbed spear to the wall of her own wagon, and always Thella, poised on that boulder, directing all that horror—and throwing the knife that severed Borgald’s pet beast’s tendons. To keep from dreaming, he would walk, around and around, watching the sharp, clear stars out over the sea, conjuring the vision of himself lowering Thella by rope into a deep, smooth-sided pit and hearing her screams and then her pleas to be released.

At Keroon Hold, a trader friend of Crenden’s suggested that Jayge help out one Beastmaster Uvor, who was taking four fractious mares to the stallions at the Beastmasterhold in Keroon. At the moment he was resting them from their sea voyage. “Resting his belly from seasickness,” the trader remarked with a sniff. “Anyway, he lost his apprentice to a broken leg, so he’s on his own. You’re good with the beasties, young Jayge, and he’s going your way. Doesn’t hurt to close your hand on the odd mark, as well. He’ll be in this evening, like as not. Come back then.”

With Kesso comfortably stabled and muzzle-deep in a good grain feed, Jayge set out to explore Keroon Hold. He had never been that far south before, and the busy Hold was full of new sights, including a port facility that handled cargo bound for Ista and the west. Jayge walked down to the port and spent a long nooning in a harbor alehold, listening to seamen, listening to people, and listening for any word of Thella. He never asked about her directly but instead discreetly inquired about a dragonless man or showed the sketch of Readis.

He always asked about Benden Weyr, for news of the dragonriders. Courteous interest went down well with the Holds and Halls, which were intensely loyal to their Weyrfolk. He learned that there had been a Hatching and a queen egg but the lucky girl who Impressed Beljeth was Adrea and came from Greystone Hold in Nerat. The Neratians had been exceedingly proud of her, and she was said to be a very attractive but biddable girl.

When Jayge returned to the trader’s, Uvor was there, a lean, likable man who cared for the mares and his own sturdy mount as if they were his children. On the circuitous route to the Beastmasterhold, Uvor named sire and dam of each of his mares for generations back, and never once put a name to his wife or any of his sons. He taught Jayge a few tricks of living off barren land, and what insects and semitropical plants could supplement a diet of the ever present snakes.

It was in the Beastmasterhold that Jayge first got wind of the unusual tradings with the Southern Continent. Four breeding pairs of fine burden beasts and four of runners were to be shipped to Toric at Southern Hold as soon as the winter storms had abated. A Master Rampesi would collect them in a ship outfitted with special belowdeck accommodations for such valuable animals. Jayge questioned the journeymen closely, for it had been his understanding that the Benden Weyrleaders had interdicted all commerce between north and south while the Oldtimer dragonriders remained in the Southern Weyr.

“There’re reasons, you know, new reasons to reestablish trade south. There’re reasons,” an older journeyman assured Jayge, looking as if there was plenty he could add but he was being discreet. “Some say it has to do with mines dwindling down and plenty of rich ore just lying loose over the ground in the South. Some say it’s because the Holders have put pressure on the Weyrleaders to give land to younger sons. A couple of Fort Holder’s Bloods are going, and now that that raider group has been knocked into a deep pit, some of Corman’s might foller.”

Jayge snorted. “And what about the holdless folk in Igen low caverns who’ve no decent place of their own?”