Dragonseye Part 19

It was harder to find the Lord Holder of Ista because he had taken the afternoon off to fish - his favorite occupation.

The harbor master was unable to give any specific direction for a search.

The dolphins went with him. Circle your dragon, and see can he spot them? Small sloop with a red sail but a lot of dolphins. Richud claims they understand him. He may be right," and the elderly man scratched his head, grinning with amus.e.m.e.nt at the notion.

"They do - according to the records," Azury said. "My fishers always watch out for them in the Currents."

"Well, as you wish," the Harbormaster said and went back to his tedious accounting of creel weights lifted ash.o.r.e the previous seven days.

Craigath flew his pa.s.sengers in a high-alt.i.tude circle, spiraling outwards from Ista Harbor. It was he who spotted the craft and, with mighty use of his pinions, dived for it.

Despite the broad safety band securing him to his position, Azury grabbed frantically at Bridgely who was sitting in front of him and Bridgely worried lest his own grip bruise the dragon rider M'shall merely turned his head to grin back at them. The words he spoke - for his mouth moved - were lost in the speed of their descent.

Bridgely watched the sea coming nearer and nearer and arched himself slightly backwards.

He'd ridden often enough not to be alarmed by dragon antics, but never at such an angle or speed. He tightened his hold on his safety straps and argued himself out of closing his cowardly eyes. Just as it seemed as if Craigath would impale himself on the mast of the sloop which wasn't all that small to Bridgely's mind - the bronze went into hover, startling the two crew who were watching Richud struggle with a pole bent almost double by his efforts to land the fish he'd hooked.

"Any time you're free, Lord Richud," shouted M'shall between his cupped hands.

Richud glanced once over his shoulder, then again, and lost control of pole and fish - the reel spinning wildly as pressure ended.

"Don't creep up on me like that! Lookit what you made me do! Fraggit! Can't I ever get an afternoon off? Oh well, what catastrophe's. .h.i.t us now? Must be something bad to bring the three of you this far south."

He handed his pole to a crewman and came to the starboard side.

There was still some distance between him and his visitors.

"I'd ask you aboard, but the bronze would sink us," he said.

"No problem," M'shall said and his eyes unfocused as he spoke to his dragon. Can you get us a little closer, Craigath?

Craigath, eyes gleaming bluely and whirling with some speed, set himself down in the water, wings neatly furled to his backbone while with his left forearm he took hold of the safety rail, pulling himself and his pa.s.sengers closer to the hull of the s.h.i.+p. The sloop began to heel over at the strength of the dragon's hold.

The wind left the sail and the boom started to whip round when, just as abruptly, the sail caught wind again and the s.h.i.+p resumed her forward motion and speed.

M'shall laughed, thumping Craigath on the neck in appreciation of the completed maneuver.

"What'd he do? How'd he do that? What under the sun?" Richud was looking at the dragon, back at the s.h.i.+p, and then at M'shall in confusion.

"He's paddling to keep up so you won't lose headway," the Benden Weyrleader explained.

This is fun. I like it, Craigath informed his rider.

"He's enjoying himself," said M'shall.

"He won't snap the rail, will he?" Richud asked, staring with some apprehension at the huge forepaw clutching the metal upright.

The dragon shook his head. It is fragile so I don't hold it hard.

M'shall paused a moment. Good lad. "He says he's well aware of its fragility."

"He didn't say that," Richud replied, shaking his head in denial.

"Fragility? His very word. Craigath's got quite a vocabulary. You know how Irene speaks... Well, he has to keep up with Maruth, doesn't he?" The dragon nodded.

"Well, I never, Never seen Ronelth or Jemath swim like this either," Richud murmured. "So, what urgent matter brings you here?"

"Chalkin must be impeached as soon as possible. A Hold is autonomous until it exceeds its rights," Bridgely said, and went on to give the Istan Lord Holder details of Chalkin's heinous behavior.

"I'd no idea he'd evict so many. Surely it's winter up there and they'd be in danger of freezing?"

"They would be and have been," M'shall said.

"Their condition was appalling, Richud," Azury told him. "I went to Benden myself to see. And the guards..." He dismissed them with a wide gesture. "You know the sort Chalkin hires."

"Yes, tough necks layabouts, ruffians and scoundrels like those Gather artists of his." Richud paused in thought. "Has that impeachment clause ever been used?"

"No, but it was put there as a safeguard. And there are a lot of people in Bitra who need their safety guarded especially this close to Fall."

"Agreed. I'll go along with you. Only," and his tone turned entreating, "not when I have an afternoon off to fish?" Craigath let go of the rail and the two groups drifted apart.

Suddenly the bronze shuddered from pate to tail.

I like that. Do it again.

Who are you talking to, Craigath? M'shall demanded, having had to clutch the neck ridge and lift his legs high above sudden waves slos.h.i.+ng Craigath's sides. His pa.s.sengers had reacted as well to keep from a wetting.

Doll fins rubbed me.

Playful, are they? Well, another time, my friend. We still have work to do. "Sorry about that. The dolphins were tickling Craigath."

"Dragons are ticklish?" Bridgely asked, startled.

"Their bellies, yes."

Dolphins flowed from under the dragon now, leaping up in the air and diving neatly back into the water as they sped off after the sloop.

"So what do we do now? Beard Jamson again?" asked M'shall, stroking the bronze's neck affectionately. He was amused to see that Richud had retrieved his pole and was evidently baiting his hook.

"We'd probably have to drag Jamson down to Benden so he can see for himself, as you had to, Azury," Bridgely said, s.h.i.+vering as he thought of having to return to the frigid High Reaches.

Take the pictures, suggested Craigath, to his rider's astonishment. Dragons did not often offer unsolicited opinions, but then M'shall considered Craigath very intelligent.

"What pictures?" he asked.

"Pictures?" echoed Bridgely. "What pictures?"

Maruth says there are pictures. At Telgar.

"At Telgar?"

"Oh, that young painter," M'shall and Bridgely said in unison.

"What painter?" Azury wanted to know.

Bridgely explained.

"Very good idea, if Jamson will accept the proof as genuine," the Southern Boll Holder said, skeptically.

Which was exactly what happened.

"How can you be sure these are accurate?" asked the High Reaches Lord Holder when he had leafed through the vivid and detailed drawings on Iantine's pad. "I think the whole matter has been exaggerated out of all proportion." He closed the pad halfway on the stark sketch of the hanging men.

"And you won't even accept my word, Jamson?" Azury said. "I've just been there and spoken to these people..." He riffled through the pages and came to one of a holder he'd interviewed.

"That fellow, for instance. I spoke to him myself, and I've no trouble accepting the truth of his story. He was four nights in an animal pen with no food and only the moisture he could get from snow, with his wife and elderly parents. Incidentally, they died of exposure despite all that Benden Weyr could do to try to revive them."

"I do not see why, Azury," Jamson said at his most pompous, "you do not content yourself with running your own Hold. Leave Chalkin to run his. He has the right."

"But not the right to inflict atrocities on any of his people." Azury's reply was heated.

Jamson regarded him coldly. "A few lazy holders."

"A FEW?" Bridgely exploded in frustration which, even as he did so, he knew defeated his purpose. "A few hundred is more like it, Jamson. And for that many we should all stir ourselves!"

"Well, I for one shall not, Bridgely. And that's final." He folded his arms across his chest and sat there, glaring at his visitors.

"Jamson," Azury said in a very controlled, calm voice as he pushed Bridgely to one side and leaned across the desk towards Jamson huddled in his furs. "I, too, was skeptical when Bridgely came to me, unwilling to believe his report, much less his solution to the problem. One does not lightly impugn the honor of a peer. and I could not understand why Bridgely was so agitated over a few insignificant holders. Then, too, Bitra is too far to affect anything in my Hold.

"Though I quite took his point that Thread must not be allowed to burrow unchecked anywhere on the northern continent. So I conceived that it was my duty, my responsibility, to personally investigate the allegations.

"I have the witness of my own eyes and ears now. As well as the disparity between what the guards told me and the evidence of my own eyes. The Bitran situation is dire and must be rectified. We cannot, as intelligent, responsible leaders, allow such a situation to fester and spread. It affects the very roots of our society, the strength of the Charter, the fundamentals on which this whole society is based. We cannot ignore it as the internal problem of an autonomous Holding.

"You as an honorable Lord Holder owe it to yourself to investigate the situation. Then you can come to a considered judgment. At least, set your own doubts to rest by going, as I did, to Benden and gather first-hand information."

"I have no doubts," Jamson said. "The Charter clearly states that a Lord Holder has autonomy within his borders.

"What he does is his business, and that's that. I should certainly protest against anyone poking his nose in my business. So I suggest you take your meddling noses and spurious charges out of here, right now!" This time he rang a hand bell and, when his oldest son opened the door in response, he said, "They're leaving. See them out." Bridgely took in a deep breath, but a sudden short blow to his midriff by Azury robbed him of wind to speak and he was helpless as the Southern Boll Holder dragged him out of the room.

"No matter what you said, he's not in a mood to listen," Azury told him, straightening Bridgely's jacket in a tacit apology.

"Lord Azury's right, I'm afraid," M'shall agreed.

"You came about Bitra?" the son asked, leaning against the heavy office door to be sure it was tightly closed. "I'm Gallian, his eldest and acting steward."

"You've heard?"

"Hmmm, the door was a bit ajar," said Gallian, not at all penitent about eavesdropping, "and during your last visit too."

"Father's memory's slipping a bit, so one of us tries to be nearby for important visits. He sometimes gets details muddled."

"Any chance you can unmuddle this visit to get his cooperation?"

"May I see the sketches?" He held out one hand.

"Certainly," Bridgely said and put the pad in his hand.

"Awful," Gallian said, shaking his head as he viewed the distressing scenes and peering briefly with intent gaze at one or two.

"And these are accurate?" he asked Azury.

"Yes, inasmuch as I verified the condition of some of these people now at Benden Weyr," Azury replied.

The bell jangled. Gallian thrust the pad at Azury.

"I'll do what I can. And not because I already consider Chalkin a thief and a cheat. I must go. See yourselves out, can you?"

"We can and will."

"What could the boy do?" M'shall wanted to know as they ran quickly down the steps to the front door and out into the icy air.

"One can never tell," Azury admitted. "Shards, but it's colder than between here. Get me back to my sun as fast as possible."

"Would a stop at Fort Hold be too much to expect from you?" asked Bridgely, grinning at the southerner's chattering teeth.

"No, and I expect it's a tactical necessity in this struggle with Chalkin."

M'shall nodded approvingly and, vaulting to Craigath's back, lent a hand to the other two to mount.

The ambient temperature at Fort Hold was not warm but a decided improvement over High Reaches. Warmer still was the greeting Paulin gave them, insisting on a hot mulled wine when he heard of their adventures.

"I don't expect Jamson will change his mind, especially now he has been specifically asked to do so," Paulin said when his guests were settled near the good fire he had on his office hearth. "Jamson's always been perverse."

"Then the son is unlikely to be able to alter him?" Bridgely suggested humor. K'vin knew that Zulaya found it amusing to sit for a portrait at all, and was twitting him about what he should wear to be immortalized. K'vin also knew about Iantine's project to do miniatures of all the riders. Ambitious, considering there were close to six hundred in the Weyr at the moment. On the one hand, K'vin was grateful these would be the gallery, while on the other hand, he dreaded those who would become casualties.

"Will it make it any easier not to have pictures?" Zulaya had asked the other night when she had required him to tell her why he was so preoccupied. "We have nothing to remind us of the first occupants of this Weyr. I think I would have liked that. Gives a continuity to life and living."

K'vin had supposed it did, and decided that he had to have a more positive att.i.tude.

"It's not as if we knew who will not be here this time next year," she added. "But it'd be nice to know that they were here."

"How much longer, Iantine?" Zulaya asked plaintively. The fingers of the hand she had resting on her thigh twitched. "I can't feel my feet or my left hand any more."

Iantine gave an exaggerated sigh and laid down the palette, scratching his head with the now free hand as he swished the fine brush in the jar on the table. "Soon, Zulaya. You should by rights have had a break some time ago. But the light's perfect and I didn't want to stop."

"Oh, help me up, K'vin," Zulaya said, holding out a hand.

"I don't usually get a chance to sit still so long."