Dragonriders of Pern 6 - Dragondrums
Page 17
“Ah, Sebell,” said the Masterharper, for all the world as if he were welcoming his journeyman into his rooms at the Harper Hall instead of surreptitiously meeting on a dark meadow in early dawn. “Menolly, hand him his clothes. He can tell us what has been happening while he changes. Is Lord Meron so desperately ill?”
“Probably. Of temper if nothing else,” replied Sebell, stripping off his tunic and getting a shower of dust and grit in his hair and face. “He walked the Gather last evening…”
“He what!” exclaimed Master Oldive, cocking his head up at Sebell in surprise.
“He had to. And then someone stole a fire lizard queen egg from the hearth of his bedroom…”
“No?” Laughter as well as amazement colored the Harper’s exclamation.
“Piemur?” asked Menolly at the same moment. “Is that why he isn’t with you?”
“Is that why I’ve been summoned? To witness the punishment of a thieving apprentice?” Master Robinton was no longer amused.
“I don’t know, Master. Kimi located Piemur in the Hold, but she couldn’t explain where, said she couldn’t get to him because it was too dark. I know the guards spent hours searching the Hold. Presumably they know it better than Piemur could. But—” Sebell paused. “I’m bloody certain they would have made some sort of commotion if they had found him and recovered that egg.”
“Nothing would give Lord Meron more satisfaction than to force me to punish an apprentice thieving in his Hold.”
“The message clearly states that Lord Meron is ill,” said Master Oldive. “If he was foolhardy enough to walk his Gather and then agitate himself over the loss of a queen egg, he could indeed be very ill in his condition.”
“It’s accepted fact among the Nabolese,” said Sebell, gratefully throwing aside his herdsman’s cracked boots, which had rubbed his heels raw, “that the man’s dying.” He glanced up at Oldive and saw the Healer’s head move affirmatively.
“Did you find out whom the Nabolese prefer as heir?” asked Master Robinton.
“A grand-nephew, Deckter. A carter who runs a steady business between Nabol and Crom. He’s got four sons that he keeps firmly in line. He’s not a friendly man, but he’s got the grudging respect of those who know him.” Sebell had finished dressing and now gestured the group toward the Hold. “I have also discerned that there are more fire lizards in and about Nabol than there ought to be. Most of them…” and he paused to give his words more weight, “…are green.”
“Green?” Menolly swung on him in surprise.
“Yes, green.”
“You mean,” Menolly went on, “he’s been distributing eggs from green fire lizard clutches? Why, the bloody beast!”
“On top of that insult, a lot of the eggs don’t hatch at all, so you can imagine how little his generosity endears Lord Meron to the recipients,” Sebell added grimly. “Of more importance,” and Sebell held up his hand to forestall her angry words, “just after moonset, four dragons landed right in the courtyards and lifted off again so heavily laden you could hear their wings creaking!” Sebell grinned at the expressions of shock from his companions. “Further, Kimi didn’t know those dragons and their presence frightened her.”
“Now that is the most interesting piece of news you’ve given me,” remarked the Master Harper. He said no more because they had reached the foot of the ramp to the Hold and the group of men waiting there impatiently rushed down to meet them. Sebell recognized the Hold’s harper, Candler, and the healer, Berdine. Of the other three, he recognized the two men who had supported Lord Meron on his Gather walk. The fatter man barged straight up to the Harper.
“Master Robinton, I am Hittet, of the Blood, and you simply must assist us. The situation must be clarified with all possible dispatch. As I’m sure Master Oldive will tell you, there is no time to be lost…” The others exclaimed in support of his words. “I fear that after the alarms and excitements of this night, the poor man cannot long survive. But come, we must hurry.” Then he took the Harper by the arm and urged him toward the Hold.
“Alarms and excitements? Ah, yes, you had a Gather yesterday…” Master Robinton was saying.
“I can’t thank you enough for responding, Master Oldive,” said Berdine falling in step with the Healer as the others followed Hittet and Master Robinton across the Court. “I know you said that there was nothing more you could do for Lord Meron, but the truth of the matter is that he has sadly taxed what strength was left him. I warned him, oh I did most explicitly, that he ought not walk the Gather, but he was adamant. Had to reassure his holders. I think that would have been safe enough, but then he insisted on having guests in his apartments…so much excitement. And then, to discover the queen egg had been stolen!” Berdine fluttered his hands in distress. “Oh my, oh my. I was beside myself trying to calm him. He wouldn’t take that draught you left me for such an emergency. He became utterly uncontrollable when they couldn’t find that wretched drudge who’d stolen the egg—”
“Journeyman Berdine,” said Hittet in chilling tones, whipping about to stare warningly at the healer.
That interruption was timely made, for none of the Nabolese saw the looks of relief that the harpers exchanged.
“A drudge stealing an egg?” asked the Harper, as if he didn’t believe his ears.
“Yes, if you must know,” began Hittet, still glaring at the indiscreet healer. “Lord Meron was recently given a clutch of fire lizard eggs, one of which was thought to be a queen egg. He naturally took the best care of such prizes, kept them on his own hearth, He has had a lot of experience with fire lizards, you see. He was to distribute the eggs to deserving people as the high point of the Gather Feast. When his rooms were being freshened, one of the kitchen drudges had the audacity to steal the queen egg. How, we can’t yet understand. But it’s gone, and that wicked lad is somewhere in the Hold.” Hittet’s tone augured ill for Piemur when he was found.
None of the Nabolese noticed Beauty, Zair and Kimi peeling off from airy escort and darting out an open window as the group traversed the Main Hall. Sebell gave Menolly’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She didn’t look at him, but her lips curved slightly in a smile of relief.
“You can appreciate how upset Lord Meron was when the theft was discovered, and I fear this, and our pressing him to name an heir, resulted in his collapse,” Hittet was saying to Master Robinton.
“Collapse?” Master Oldive looked sternly at Berdine, who immediately got his tongue twisted, trying to vindicate himself to his craft’s Master. Master Oldive now brushed past Hittet and Master Robinton and, with the still apologetic Berdine on his heels, ran up the steps with no regard to his physical handicap or dignity.
Master Robinton also quickened his pace until the fat Hittet was forced to run to keep up. Sebell and Menolly deliberately slowed, to give their fire lizards a chance to range through the Hold and locate Piemur.
“If you could know how good it is to see a friendly face,” said Candler, quite willing to match their laggard advance to the Lord’s apartments. “If anyone can make that dreadful man see reason, it’s Master Robinton. Lord Meron won’t name an heir. That’s why he collapsed, to avoid it. He was furious about the egg theft, to be sure, but while they were searching, he was more like himself—totally disagreeable and planning all kinds of fiendish punishments when they caught the drudge. Frankly, Sebell, he wants the Hold in contention. You know how he hates Benden. And now,” and Candler laughed sourly, “none of the relatives who’ve been badgering him to name one of them wants to be the heir. I don’t know why. They changed their tune abruptly this morning. Just as well.” Candler snorted with disgust. “Any one of the lot would create disorder in next to no time.”
“Changed their minds early this morning, did they?” said Sebell, grinning at Menolly.
“Yes, and I can’t figure out why. Every single one of them has done all he could to secure the-nomination. Now…”
“I’d heard that Deckter was an honest man.”
“Looked up the Nabol bloodline.”
Beauty flitted back, skimming so close to Candler that he ducked. Rocky, Zair and Kimi followed her, all chittering in some distress. All had the same message: Piemur was not in the Hold. Sebell and Menolly exchanged glances.
“Would he have hidden somewhere outside?” Menolly asked.
Sebell gave a quick shake of his head. “Kimi couldn’t find him.”
“Rocky and Beauty have been much closer to Piemur than Kimi.”
“Can’t hurt to try!”
“Piemur?” asked Candler, mystified by this cryptic exchange.
“I’ve reason to believe that the theft was accomplished by Piemur,” said Sebell. He and Menolly gave their fire lizards new instructions and watched them dart out the Hold door.
“Piemur? But I remember Piemur. The boy with the fine soprano. I didn’t see him anywhere—” Candler broke off and pointed at Sebell. “You were there when Lord Meron walked the Gather. The very drunken herdsman. I thought there was something familiar about him. It was you! Well. And Piemur here, too? On harper business? I thought it odd for one of Meron’s drudges to have so much initiative. Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Piemur is not in this Hold.”
“How could he have gotten out?” asked Sebell. “I was just beyond the ramp all night. Even if I didn’t see him, Kimi would have.”
They had reached the Lord’s apartments now, and Candler opened the door, gesturing them to precede him. “What’s that smell?” asked Menolly softly, grimacing in distaste.
“Smell? Oh, you get used to it. Disgusting, I know, but it has something to do with Lord Meron’s illness. We try to mask it,” and Candler gestured to the sweet candles alight in containers about the room. “I often think that it’s only justice,” he added in a careful whisper, “for the suffering he’s given others, but it’s a terrible way to die.”
“I thought Master Oldive had given him…” Sebell began.
“Oh, he has. The strongest there is, according to Berdine. But the medicine only dulls the pain.”
The doors to the next two rooms were open, and the harpers could see the clusters of men standing about, in silence, all avoiding each other’s gaze. Suddenly, in the third room, there was a brief flurry as the Harper appeared at the door to the Lord’s private room.
“Sebell!” Master Robinton’s calm request carried clearly, and everyone turned to watch the journeyman hurry to his master’s side. “Please send a drum message to Lords Oterel, Nessel and Bargen, and to Weyrleader T’bor. Would they please attend us here at Nabol immediately. Double urgency on the beat, please.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sebell with such unexpected vigor that Master Robinton gave him a mild second look. But Sebell turned on his heel and walked swiftly out of the apartments, motioning as he passed them for Candler and Menolly to come with him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier, Menolly. If Piemur got out of the Hold and is hiding somewhere in the hills, he’ll surface to a drum message aimed at him. Lead us to your drumheights, Candler.”
The big message drums needed only to be uncovered. Sebell stood for a moment, beaters poised over the taut hide as he composed his message. The opening roll boomed across the valley, the urgent measure following as the last echoes died. Then Sebell, eyes half-closed in concentration, beat out the recipients’ names, the Harper’s request, and the urgent measures once again to insure immediate reply and attention. Menolly positioned herself at the window then, ears straining to catch the pass-along roll from the next drumheights.
“There it is from the east,” she told the two men. “What’s wrong with the northern listeners? Still asleep? Ah, there they are.”
“Candler, any chance of some food?” Sebell asked the Hold Harper. “We’d best wait here for replies.”
“Yes, let’s eat here where the air is clear,” said Menolly, with a shudder as she thought of the thick, distasteful odor in Lord Meron’s rooms.
“Of course, of course. I apologize for not offering sooner.” Candler was away down the stairs.
Sebell picked up the sticks again and beat a quick measure. “Apprentice. Report. Urgent.” He waited a few breaths and then repeated the measure.
“If he’s anywhere between here and Ruatha or Crom, he’ll hear that,” Sebell said, carefully replacing the drum-sticks on their hooks before he joined Menolly at the window.
Her face was sad and her brows constricted in a tiny frown as she gazed across the huddle of cots below the Hold ramp and over the disorganized Gather square, still tenanted by those unwillingly held over by the emergency. Few sounds wafted to their ears at this height, and the scene was unrealistically calm.
“Don’t fret over Piemur, Menolly,” Sebell said, trying to sound more lighthearted than he felt. “He has a knack of landing on his feet.” He smiled down at her, allowing himself the luxury of putting his arm lightly about her shoulders.
“Except when the steps are greased!” Menolly’s voice had an angry edge, and he gripped her shoulder reassuringly.
“Look at it this way: just see how that misadventure has worked to his advantage. He’s got out of the drum-heights and acquired himself a queen fire lizard egg. For all we know, he may meet us at the Hold gates with it, smiling in that ingenuous fashion of his, when you and I know he’s as devious as Meron!”
“I wish I could believe you, Sebell,” Menolly said sighing heavily, but she leaned trustingly against him for his comfort. “If he was anywhere in the vicinity, Beauty and Rocky ought to have found him.”
“He’s somewhere,” replied Sebell firmly, and daring more than ever, he gave her a quick hug, turning abruptly from her as he caught her startled look. “The wretch!” he added, more of a growl than a comment. At that moment, they both heard the message drum roll across the mountains, and Sebell hastily strode back to the drums.
Candler arrived just as Sebell beat “receive” for the last of the messages. The Nabol Harper was panting with the exertion of his climb, for he carried not only a well-laden tray, but a full wine skin slung over his shoulder. The three harpers had time to make a leisurely meal before the first of the visitors arrived. The harpers then escorted the Lord Holders and T’bor to the Master Harper.
Sebell almost gagged and lost his breakfast when he brought Lords Holder Nessel and Bargen into Lord Meron’s inner room. Menolly was already there with Lord Oterel and Weyrleader T’bor. He saw her mouth working to control the revulsion she was obviously feeling. Only Candler seemed impervious to the odor.
Although Sebell had seen Lord Meron the day before, he was appalled by the change in the man propped up in the bed: the eyes were sunken, pain had lined his face deeply, his skin was a pale yellow, and his fingers, plucking nervously at the fur rug that covered him, were claws with hanging bags of flesh between the knuckles. It was as if, Sebell thought, all life was centered in those hands, feebly holding onto life through the hair of the fur.
“So, I’m granted my own private gather, is that it? Well, I’ve no welcome for any of you. Go away. I’m dying. That’s what you all wished me to do these past Turns. Leave me to it.”
“You’ve not named your successor,” said Lord Oterel bluntly.
“I’ll die before I do.”
“I think we must persuade you to change your mind on that count,” said the Masterharper in a quiet, amiable tone.
“How?” Lord Meron’s snarl was smug in his self-assurance.
“There is friendly persuasion…”