Authors: Anne McCaffrey
“We will deal first with the matter of Southern Boll’s Holdership.”
“Let us discuss the anarchic behavior,” Lord Kashman said, speaking rapidly and angrily, rising from his chair so fast it crashed backward to the flagstones, “of Lord Jaxom, Weyrleader N’ton, and Masterprinter Tagetarl who arbitrarily exiled twelve people, alleged to be Abominators.”
Larad looked up with surprise, and not a little annoyance, at Kashman’s complete disregard for protocol. Newly appointed Lord Holders should not be so presumptuous.
“Yes,” drawled Toric, smiling with considerable relish, “let’s hear about this latest of the exiles so enthusiastically perpetrated by Lord Jaxom and Weyrleader N’ton.”
“The Abominators did the perpetrating, Toric. Jaxom, N’ton, and Tagetarl followed precedent,” Groghe said, slapping one hand down hard on the table. “I was present for two of those judgments.
I
was the one who passed sentence at Turnover. Furthermore, this Council decreed—you were actually present for that meeting,” he pointed a thick, unwavering finger down the table at Toric, “don’t deny it—when we all decided that exile was an appropriate deterrent for any more wasteful acts of vandalism.”
“
This
issue will be discussed later,” Sebell said, raising his trained voice that overwhelmed the beginning of a three-sided shouting match by Toric, Groghe, and Kashman. Old Lord Corman
seemed to have passed his contentiousness on to this sixth son of his, who was not much past his thirtieth birthday.
“I came to discuss
that
,” Toric cried.
“The first matter is, and will be, the confirmation of a new Holder for Southern Boll!” Sebell said in clarion tones.
“Why don’t you just agree to the girl and let us get to the
real
issues?” Toric demanded.
“But she’s a woman!” Kashman protested. “There hasn’t been a Lady Holder, except in a temporary capacity for …”
“Not since Lady Sicca ran Ista,” Groghe said. “My grandfather had great respect for
her
. For that matter, all of us here, bar you who are new come to the Council honors,” and Groghe emphasized that, “know that Lady Marella’s been running Boll for the past five Turns since Sangel began to deteriorate. Lady Janissian has been her steward and she certainly proved her worth to me during the Fireball Flood. Those cousins of hers removed themselves and their belongings to high ground and stayed there without lifting a finger. Neither of them should hold.”
“For that matter,” Lessa said, “Emily Boll held those lands in her own right. As I see it, that Holdership has come full circle and about time.”
Lady Dulsay, Adrea, Master Ballora, and Palla were bold enough to second her.
“Shall we confirm Lady Janissian then?” Asgenar asked, looking around, a sly smile on his face, “And save time for the really important matters?” He glared at Toric.
“Like what the Weyrleaders are going to do to prevent more fireballs?” Toric demanded, glaring across the floor at Lessa and F’lar.
“Now, just a minute,” Bargen said, annoyed, “that isn’t as critical a problem—”
“I should hope it is,” Toric interrupted at his most obnoxious.
Bargen gave him a furious glare and, raising his harsh baritone voice, continued, “as choosing a Bloodline successor, Lord,” and he closed his lips for a moment, catching Lady Sharra’s reaction, “or Lady.”
“There are two males in the Bloodline, aren’t there?” Lytol asked, supporting Bargen in order to keep to the agenda.
“Vormital, a great nephew of Sangel,” Sebell said, eyeing Toric, “and Warlow, a first cousin. Sangel’s sons died in the plague and there is no other male issue in the direct Bloodline.”
“Never heard of Vormital or Warlow,” Bargen said. “There has to be more.”
“Not surviving,” Sebell said. It was the Harper Hall’s duty to check.
“There was, there was. I knew him when I was in High Reaches Weyr. Hillegel. Big man. Half brother to Sangel,” Bargen insisted.
“He thought he’d go south,” Toric said, grinning smugly. “I heard he went down one of the rivers and never a word since.”
N’ton got to his feet. “When approached by the Weyr to help evacuate the vulnerable coast from the Flood, Vormital informed me that this was Sangel’s problem, not his.”
“Dismiss him from consideration,” Groghe said, bringing his fist down on the table. “In my hearing, on five separate occasions, Sangel said the man was a fool and couldn’t hold a cup without help.”
“Does anyone know any good of this Vormital?” Sebell asked.
“If anyone does, it will be the first time,” Groghe said in a voice meant to be heard.
“Who’s the other one?” Bargen of High Reaches said. He had fought hard to return High Reaches to his Bloodline after Fax’s presumptive holding and he saw nothing wrong with fighting to claim Bloodright—for males, of course.
“Warlow is the child of Sangel’s youngest sister. He has a small farm and five sons, three of whom have served Lady Marella in minor capacities.”
“If his sons served, and he hasn’t pushed for himself, he’d be useless,” was Bargen’s immediate answer. “Are we left with the girl?”
“Lady Janissian has served as steward to her grandfather and grandmother—” Sebell began.
“More the grandmother’s doing, I’m certain,” Langrell of Igen remarked.
“It’s more important that she was
doing
,” Groghe said, scowling at Langrell. “And she is of the Blood.”
“Oh, confirm her and let’s get on with this meeting,” Toric demanded impatiently.
“In that case, I will collect your votes,” Sebell said.
“Isn’t it a good thing,” Lessa murmured to F’lar after they had both written their decisions, “that Janissian happens to be well qualified.”
“Hold Blood’s getting thin after twenty-five hundred Turns. And, with the end of Threadfall …” F’lar murmured.
“Holding began with Fort, with Paul Benden. There’s nothing wrong with Fort’s Bloodline. But that form of inheritance is not in the Charter, you know.”
F’lar regarded her in mild surprise. “No, actually, it isn’t. Holders and all those traditions came later.” He looked at Toric who was impatiently tapping the table while Sebell was sorting through the slips.
Sebell held up two piles—one thin, one fat. Three slips remained on his lectern.
“Three abstentions, five nays, and thirty-seven yeas,” Sebell said. “Harper Hall votes yea.”
Nothing more than murmured sounds of relief were expressed but Sebell strode quickly to the big doors, opened one leaf and gestured.
“Lady Janissian of Southern Boll, the Council would be pleased if you would take your seat as Boll’s Lady Holder!”
There was cheering from outside as Janissian, a smiling Menolly giving her a little push, stepped in and the door was closed behind her. She stood there, her head no higher than Sebell’s shoulder, and her dark hair fetchingly arranged around her pale, handsome face; the hem of her red gown matched the white shields and bright chevrons that were Boll’s insignia. She wore the heirloom diamond and ruby chevron pendant that was supposed to have been handed down from Emily Boll and she gave the impression of great dignity. Sebell took her hand, and while everyone stood—even Toric, though he took his time getting to his feet—he walked her to the empty chair beside Lord Groghe. The old Lord Holder was red-faced with pleasure and kissed her on both cheeks as soon as she was seated.
Lessa approved of her calm in accepting such an accolade and her composed nod to the rest of the Council.
“Well, then, let’s to real business,” Toric said, remaining on his feet while the rest of the Council resumed their chairs.
“It’s my autonomy that has been abrogated, Lord Toric,” Kashman cried, standing up, his thin features reddened by agitation. “Those intruders should have been brought to
my
Hold for
my
judgment. I want to know why
my
authority was ignored.”
Before the Masterprinter could get to his feet, Lord Lytol leaned toward Kashman, his gaunt face serene.
“Let me point out, Lord Kashman, a fact that you may not be acquainted with yet,” he said, “but MasterCraftHalls enjoy autonomy within their halls and may set punishment or fines, depending on the nature of any offense committed within their confines.”
“But—but the Printer Hall’s new …” Kashman began.
“That does not,” Sebell said, “interfere with its autonomy or internal discipline.”
Tagetarl spoke up. “Let me remind Lord Kashman that the intruders refused—in front of witnesses—to name either hold or hall to which they could be taken to receive a hearing from another authority.”
“It just
happens
…” and Kashman waved his arm in a sarcastic manner, “that Lord Jaxom who resides in Ruatha and N’ton whose Weyr is in Fort happened to be present in Wide Bay at such an unlikely hour?”
“The intruders picked the hour,” Tagetarl said.
“The dragons responded to a summons for support,” N’ton added.
“Who summoned them?” Kashman demanded, his nostrils flaring with irritation.
“Beauty, in my case,” Jaxom said and turned to N’ton.
“In mine as well.”
“Beauty?” Kashman echoed, confounded by that identification.
“Beauty is the queen fire-lizard that often conveys urgent messages from the Harper Hall,” N’ton said.
“You
responded
to a message brought by a fire-lizard?” Kashman was incredulous. Toric snorted at his inexperience.
“When such a message comes from a main CraftHall,” Sebell
went on, “it is not wise to disregard its import, especially since other Crafthalls have become targets for vandalism. Twelve people do not simultaneously decide to sample Crafthall wares in the middle of the night, armed with torches, chisels, hammers, and spikes, Lord Kashman. They were discovered
inside
the main gates, which had not been opened to them, destroying the doors to the Print Hall itself. What conclusion would you have come to?”
“Yes, Kashman, what conclusion could you have come to?” Lord Groghe demanded.
“Something’s got to be done about such impertinent men and women,” Bargen said with considerable exasperation. “Wanton destruction—when it takes time and good materials to make anything these days—cannot be permitted. If we have already decided that exile would be a deterrent, then whoever sits in judgment—a proper court, with three judges and witnesses—has the right, indeed the duty of sentencing them to exile. Now, let’s go on to the most important issue before this Council.”
Beyond him, Kashman was gaping, infuriated that the older Lord Holders were so blithely setting aside
his
issue.
“What are you going to do about preventing fireballs dropping from the sky?” Bargen asked, surveying the Weyrleaders with a critical sweep.
“We have several recommendations …” F’lar said, rising to his feet.
“Don’t want recommendations,” Bargen retorted. “I want positive reassurance that such displays won’t be repeated in the near future.”
“Nothing in the
near
future has so far been discerned,” F’lar said and found he had everyone’s attention.
“What do you mean by that?” Groghe demanded.
“Such surveys of near Pern objects as Master Erragon has been able to complete with a dedicated band of sky-watchers suggest that nothing is close enough to descend on Pern’s surface in the
near
future.”
“And?” Bargen prompted, scowling. “In the further future?”
“We must place more telescopes in strategic positions to watch
our skies, mobilize a body of dedicated people to support at least five major observatories—”
Toric leaped to his feet. “You want the Council to support
five
? Tithes are already in full use. Where would more marks come from for
five
observatories?”
Bargen was on his feet, so were Langrell and Toronas, shouting against such major projects. Deckter asked for details. Even Lord Groghe appeared concerned. F’lar stood still, ignoring the shouts, the arguments as Sebell struck the gavel for silence.
A burst of thunder—dragons shouting—penetrated the Great Hall and deafened everyone.
“As I was saying, if you wish to avoid more problems like that Fireball, you have to be prepared,” F’lar went on in a normal tone of voice. “We already have Cove Hold and Honshu,” and he bowed to Lord Lytol and the Star Master, “which is generously maintained by Landing.”
“A portion of our tithes,” Lord Lytol said, “will be distributed to the other locations as well as to pay teachers.”
“The SmithCraftHall cannot produce the telescopes required for observatories …” Master Fandarel began.
“There are four in the Catherine Caves,” Master Erragon said, bowing respectfully to the Mastersmith for his interruption.
“Ah, well, in that case,” and Fandarel raised a thick swollen hand in agreement.
“I have undertaken to supply a Star Hold,” Jaxom said, rising briefly, “with appropriate tithes, and the cost of building one at Ice Lake as recommended by Master Erragon.”
Toric’s frown grew deeper when Lord Larad rose to his feet.
“Telgar does the same. Weyrwoman Palla completed most of her apprenticeship with Master Wansor.”
“As a twenty-four-hour coverage of our skies is essential to its overall success,” F’lar said, but Lessa could see how much he relished the shock he was about to give the entire Council, “an observatory must be constructed as soon as possible on a site, approved by Masters Wansor, Erragon, and Idarolan, on the Western Continent.”
The Council was in an uproar. Even the usually placid
Mastercraftsmen were excited, demanding details and plans while the Lord Holders were protesting such a drain on tithe-marks and labor. It took time for Sebell to reestablish order.
“But it was the
Yokohama
that saw the Fireball,” Groghe exclaimed as the din abated.
“Why are so many needed?” Langrell asked plaintively.
“It’s a big sky,” K’van remarked.
“You have to
find
the near object before you can divert it,” F’lar put in almost offhandedly.
“Divert it?” Groghe exclaimed, the smile that had been growing during F’lar’s opening sentences turning into stunned amazement. “But there are no more engines to divert anything since we blew the Red Star up, are there?”