Nerilka's Story

by Anne McCaffrey

  The healer eyed me with some consternation, for this smacked of criticism of the Lord Holder. I could not in conscience show any trace of my growing disgust, disillusionment, and distrust of my sire. And obviously I should not have overheard such sentiment.

  Then Desdra herself appeared from the far side of the Hall court, her face lighting with relief as she saw how burdened we were. "Lady Nerilka, I only asked for interim supplies."

  "I recommend that you take as much as you can get before I am no longer in a position to help."

  She did not question me, but I saw her eyes accept my words and the implications of my tone.

  "I renew my offer to nurse the sick, wherever and whoever they might be," I said as firmly as I could as she took the sacks from my arms.

  "You must take your mother's place here during this emergency, Lady Nerilka," she said, her voice low and kind, her deep, set and expressive eyes conveying her sympathy and condolences. I had once thought the journeywoman too passive a practitioner, her manner too detached, but I had misjudged her. How could I tell her, now, that she mistook my measure and circumstances? Or had such a trivial matter as Anella's arrival not percolated through to the two Halls?

  "How Is Master Capiam?" I asked, before she could turn away.

  "He has nearly completed the course of the disease." Desdra's voice rippled with wry humor, and I detected a twinkle in her eyes. "He's too ornery to die, and determined to find a cure for this plague. Thank you. Lady Nerilka."

  Our brief exchange had outlasted the audible conversations from the Harper Hall, so there was nothing for me to do but retrace my steps out of the court, with Sim trotting behind me. Poor Sim. I forget he has short legs and cannot match my long stride.

  "Sim, where is this internment camp of Lord Tolocamp's?" I sought any excuse to avoid returning to the Hold for a little while. My anger was too sharp, my grief too fresh, my self, discipline nonexistent.

  Sim pointed to his right, where the great road south dips down into a small valley through a copse of trees. I walked far enough down the broad roadway to have an uninterrupted view, and saw guards pacing the arbitrary boundaries.

  "Are there many wayfarers halted there?"

  Sim nodded, his eyes frightened. "Harper and healer, all only trying to get back to their Halls. And a few of the holdless. We always have them coming along. But there'll be sick ones, soon. Wanting help from the Healer Hall. What'll they do? They got a right to healing."

  So they did. Even my mother was, had been, generous to the holdless.

  "Do the guards allow anyone into the valley?"

  Sim nodded. "But not back out again."

  "Who's the guard leader?"

  "Theng, far as I know."

  Even Theng could be got round if it was done the right way. He enjoyed a bottle of wine, and while he was drinking he could pretend not to see past the end of the flask. Harper and healer refused access to their Halls? My father was foolish as well as frightened. And hypocritical when he, himself, returning from a disease‑ridden Hold, placed his own people at jeopardy by his very presence. Well, that didn't mean that I had to be foolish, too. I knew my duty to the Halls, hadn't my father drilled it into me? And I might need their charity before the end of these terrible days. I would speak to Felim, and to Theng.

  As I walked back up to the Hold, I saw a figure in a first story window. My father? Yes, that was his window, and he was watching Sim and me. Sim he wouldn't distinguish from any other drudge wearing Hold livery, but just how keen was his long sight? And what would it matter if he identified me? It would probably be the first time he had. I strode on, proud and careless. But I did take the side entrance into the kitchens. I had to speak to Felim, didn't I?

  "What am I to do now. Lady Nerilka?" the cook began before I could ask him to save the broken meats for the interned men. "She came down with orders for all kinds of foods that I know Lady Pendra would not condone, " And then he burst into tears again, blotting his eyes and face with the rag he always had hanging out of his apron waist. "She was stern, Lady Pendra, but she was fair. A man knew he had only to keep to her standards and there'd be no complaint."

  "What did Anella want?"

  "She said she was to order Hold matters now. And I was to prepare broth for her children, whose stomachs are delicate; and there are to be confections with every meal, for her parents desire sweets; and roasts midday and evening. Lady Nerilka, you know that isn't possible." Tears streamed down his cheeks again as he shrugged, "Must I take orders from her now?"

  "I'll find out, Felim. Proceed with the plans we made this morning. Not even for Anella can we alter an established routine in one day."

  Then I asked him to save what he could from the evening meal, for delivery to Theng.

  "I took the liberty of sending the broken meats last night. Lady Nerilka. As your lady mother would have done. Oh, oh, she was fair, she was fair ..." He buried his face once more in his napkin.

  Felim was fair, too, I thought, trying to keep my mind off my mother. Thinking of Anella helped. That little lay‑aback, coming in here and thinking she could just take over a Hold the size of Fort and run it as if it were exactly like the backhills midden from which she'd come! The thought of the chaos that would shortly result at such inexpert hands gave me a perverse delight. Little did Anella know of real management, and if she wished to keep my father content, she'd better learn. Whatever had made her think that just because Lady Pendra was dead, she was to step into her shoes, just as she had taken her bed partner? Unless ...

  Once again I encountered a distressed Campen in the front hall. My brother's face was suffused with blood and his features contorted with dismay. Doral, Mostar, and Theskin, who were deep in low conversation with him, wore the same expression.

  "Isn't there anything we can do?" Theskin was demanding, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the hilt of his belt knife.

  Doral was slamming one fist into the other palm. "Nerilka, where have you been? Do you know what has happened?"

  "Anella's moving in."

  "Father has had her transferred into Mother's rooms. Already!" There was no doubt of the outrage that Campen and the others felt. "He's looking for you. Rill, demanding to know where you've been all day, what you were doing at the internment camp, and whatever possessed you to go there?"

  "To find out if it existed at all," I replied, bitterly ignoring the other questions. "When?"

  "That was our early morning task," Theskin replied, indicating that Doral had assisted. "Setting the guard and drawing up the watch rosters. Now this! Could he not wait a decent interval?"

  "He may come down with the illness and have lost a last chance to enjoy his few remaining hours!"

  "Nerilka!" Campen was appalled at my irreverence, but Theskin and Doral guffawed.

  "She may have the answer, you know, Campie lad," Theskin said. "Our sire has ever liked his little pleasures."

  "Theskin, that is enough!" Campen remembered to lower his voice, but the intensity of his reprimand made up for the lack of volume.

  Theskin shrugged. "I'm off. Checking the guard! I'll be back for my dinner. Wouldn't miss that for the world!" He winked at me, tugged Doral by the arm, and they went off, leaving me with Campen.

  But I had no wish for a continued lecture on my shortcomings. "Watch out, Campen. She has two sons, you know, and we could all be booted to the upper stories!"

  Patently this had not occurred to my eldest brother. As he struggled with the possibility, I made it safely to my snug little inside room.

  That evening's meal was one I do not remember eating, certainly not enjoying. Our dead mother had made courtesy in us such an instinctive reaction that we could not, any of us, be impolite despite that night's provocation. I had delayed my descent to the Main Hall, so I was rather surprised to find so many of our relations from the second story. The great tables were set up; even my father's chair sat in place on the dais. Anella had been busy.

  "Were you invited?" I
asked Uncle Munchaun when he sauntered over to me.

  "No, but she'd not know our ways, would she?"

  One could count on Uncle Munchaun, not to mention the others, to sense a situation and make sure to witness it firsthand.

  "I fear I've found nothing of value in my reading thus far," Uncle continued smoothly. "I've set others to the task, as well. Any word from the Halls? I understand you were there today."

  I ignored the thrust. "Master Tirone has returned from that mediation. By the mountain trail."

  "Then he missed the additions to our Hold?"

  "He may have. Certainly he missed the guards."

  "I almost wish he hadn't," Uncle murmured, a gleam in his eyes. Then he touched my arm warningly and I turned to see Anella, followed by her parents, sweeping into the Great Hall.

  Her grand entrance was spoiled by her flaming cheeks and her father's stumbling pace. The man had not been drunk, I was later informed, but had a crippled foot. But I was in no mood to be charitable or compassionate. He, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed throughout the next few minutes.

  Anella, dressed in a heavily embroidered gown totally unsuitable for the mourning of the Hold or for a family dinner, mounted the three steps to the dais and walked firmly to my mother's chair. Uncle Munchaun's hand restrained me now.

  "Lord Tolocamp wishes me to read this message to you." Her voice was strident in her effort to be heard and to project her new authority. She unrolled the message and held it up in front of her eyes, which bulged unbecomingly as she shouted at us.

  "I, Lord Tolocamp, quarantined from active participation in the conduct of Fort Hold in these unsettled days, appoint and deputize Lady Anella as Lady Holder to ensure the management of the Hold until such time as our desired union can be publicly celebrated. My son, Campen, will actively discharge under my direction any duties required of the Lord Holder until such time as I am no longer immured.

  "I solemnly charge all of you, under pain of disgrace and exile, to observe the quarantine of this Hold, and to refrain from contact with any others until such time as Master Capiam, or his delegate Masterhealer, rescinds the quarantine restrictions. I require obedience to all restrictions made by me to ensure the safety and health of Fort, Pern's first and largest Hold, Obey and we prosper. Deny and we fall."

  She turned the sheet toward us and pointed to the end. "His signature and ring mark are here to be verified." Then she insulted us again. "He charges me to discover which of you ventured perilously close to the internment camp today." Her bulging eyes swept the lot of us.

  Just as I stepped forward, so did Peth, Jess, Nia, and Gabin.

  "Do not anger me," Anella cried. "Lord Tolocamp only told me about one of you."

  "We all must have had a look at one time or another," said Jess, speaking out before I could gather my wits. "I've never seen an internment camp."

  "Do you not understand? There are sick people there!" Anella's face turned pale with fright. "If you catch the plague, you will infect the rest of us before you die."

  "Just like our Lord Holder," came a voice from somewhere in her audience.

  "Who said that? Who spoke so vilely?"

  There was no answer, only a shifting of boots on the flagstones. Even I could not identify the speaker, to congratulate him, or her. My private wager would fall on Theskin.

  "I will know who spoke!" Anella ranted on a bit more, but she would never learn the answer, having shattered any chance she might have had of gaining the trust and confidence of those in the Hall that night. "Lord Tolocamp will hear of the snake at his bosom!"

  She glared about the Hall one last time, then yanked at the heavily carved chair that my mother had filled so adequately. She was not strong enough to shift it, and a twitter greeted her attempt. Her mother signaled peremptorily to a drudge to assist her daughter. When Anella finally seated herself, her mother sat down beside her, the husband on her left. Those of us who ought to have taken our places on the dais declined to do so, and with a bit of angling, all were accommodated at the trestle tables. "Where are Lord Tolocamp's children?" she demanded when we were arranged. "Campen!" She pointed at him, for him she knew by sight. "Theskin, Doral, Gallen. Assume your places."

  She paused briefly; I could see her eyes blinking and an irritated twitch to her mouth. "Nalka? Is she not the oldest living daughter?"

  Uncle Munchaun nudged me. "You'd best go, Rill, even misnamed, for your father will know if you insult her so publicly."

  I knew he was right. As I rose, I saw Anella's mother murmur something to her.

  "And there is a harper in this Hold, is there not? We honor the harper."

  Casmodian rose, bowed, and managed a smile.

  "Why did you seat yourselves below?" she demanded as Campen and Theskin mounted the dais steps.

  "With all due respect. Lady Anella," Theskin said with a wry smile, "we thought your family would require the seating here."

  Though courteously spoken, Theskin's words were nonetheless a gibe, and she was not too dense to know it, even if she had no adequate retort. No one mentioned that she had not named all of Tolocamp's surviving mature children, so Peth, Jess, and Gabin made a merrier meal than we others did.

  Bravely, Casmodian sat next to the father. I think they were the only two to converse that evening at the head table. I know I tasted nothing of even the little food I forced myself to eat. Unfortunately, now I had time to think of all I had not done for my mother, of my uncharitable absence from the last moments my sisters had had at Fort Hold. I seethed, too, with fury at the usurper and vowed that I would not lift a hand to assist her in her new role. How convenient that she couldn't even remember my name properly. If I judged the temper of the Hall correctly, she would have no help from anyone, even in such a small matter as the correct nomenclature of Lord Tolocamp's children.

  I drank more wine that evening than is my custom, or perhaps it was because I also ate so little. It was enough to finish the meal and slip from the Hall to the kitchens, to be sure that this new Lady Holder had not countermanded my order about the broken meats. Then, by the back stairs, I sought my own room and the solace of sleep.

  Chapter 5

  3.15.43

  The drums woke me at dawn, for in my giddiness I had forgotten to plug my ears. Then the message woke me up completely, Twelve Wings had flown Thread at Igen and all was well.

  How could twelve Wings have flown out of Igen Weyr when half the dragonriders were ill of the plague and the Weyr had already suffered deaths? They could not have mounted more than nine Wings if their casualties had been accurately reported, and there would be no advantage to prevaricate at this terrible moment.

  I rose and dressed, then descended to the kitchens to surprise the drudges brewing the first of the many urns of klah. Its aromatic smell was a restorative all by itself, and the first fragrant cup was the best one of any day, heartening me all the more in my grief and dismay. I was stirring the porridge when Felim appeared, his face first brightening, then falling into a suitably lugubrious expression as he advanced on me.

  "I was obliged to send basketsful of untouched food to the camps. Lady Nerilka. Wasn't the dinner well enough?"

  "Few of us had the heart to eat, Felim. It is no insult to you."

  "She complained that I did not offer sufficient choice of sweets," he told me, offended. "Has she any idea of the handicaps under which I labor? I cannot chop and change midday. There isn't a single apprentice or journeyman able to provide a choice of sweets on an hour's notice in such quantities as are needed in the Hall these days."

  I murmured phrases to soothe his damaged self, esteem, more out of habit than a desire to redeem Anella in his eyes. A disgruntled cook could cause real problems in a Hold the size of Fort. Let Anella learn by her mistakes, and discover just how much hard work it was to be Lady Holder.

  It was then that I realized the truth of her announcement. She was Lady Holder, and due all the courtesies and honors that had been my mother's.
Well, there were certain private possessions of my mother's that would not fall into her hands. I said a few pacifying words to Felim, to ensure a decently cooked meal this evening, and rushed to my mother's office on the sublevel.

  There I quickly removed all her private journals, her notes about this personality and that worker, we girls had long known her to jog her memory by these entries, and had done our best not to figure in them very often. They would be invaluable reading to Anella and hideously embarrassing to us, not only to have our childhood peccadilloes revealed, but also the problems of the second story occupants. Mother had some gems and jewelry that were hers in her own right, not Hold adornments, which should by rights be divided among the surviving daughters. I doubted Anella's probity in distributing them, so I chose to undertake that task as well.

  If Anella thought these things had been removed, she might search for them, so I hurried along the back passages to the stores and hid the two sacks of journals and the small parcel of jewelry on the top of a dusty shelf. Anella was hands shorter than I.

  I was on my way back when Sim intercepted me.

  "Lady Nerilka, she is asking for a Lady Nalka."

  "Is she? Well, there isn't one in the Hold, is there?"

  Sim blinked, confused. "Doesn't she mean you, lady?"

  "She may indeed, but until she learns to call me by my proper name, I am in no way obliged to answer, am I, Sim?"

  "Not if you say so, Lady Nerilka."

  "So return to her, Sim, and say you cannot find Lady Nalka in the Hold."

  "Is that what I do?"

  "That is what you do."

  He lumbered off, muttering under his breath about not finding Lady Nalka, any Lady Nalka, in the Hold. That is what he was to say. No Lady Nalka in the Hold.