CHAPTER 9 Lust at First Sight and Some Gee-gee Fixing
T'lana was surprised and moved to find that a lot of people, even those she did not know well came up to her, often not knowing what to say, but slapping her on the back or embracing her. It helped her no end to restore the self-esteem that had been so badly scarred to know that so many people cared. She knew that it was partly because all riders and their dragons had a deep attachment to all the queens in the Weyr, but it was not only riders who came to her, and she knew from her 'inner ear' that the feelings ran deeper than that. It was a gratifying and unexpected development; and Talana felt loved on all sides.
L'rilly approached her white faced.
"Are you very angry with me?" She blurted out.
"Angry? With you? Why should I be?" Asked T'lana astonished.
"I told them you were pregnant – if I hadn't they might not have…." She tailed off.
"Shards and shells, what wherry teeth you talk, girl!" Said T'lana, hugging her friend. "For one thing you did it with the intention of helping; and for another since I was only niece and they had daughter, they might have decided I was expendable without the added bonus of a husband; and they might have been less careful over baby if they didn't know she existed." Her tone was matter of fact; L'rilly needed to be kept firmly out of hysteria. She added, "I thought you did really well, not showing how frightened you were – as we all were."
L'rilly hugged her and cried, and Talana soothed her and wished the girl were not quite so given to excesses of emotion, especially in the middle of the bowl. However, L'rilly soon calmed down and the girls went off arm in arm to help Pilgra.
oOoOo
Talana was still trying to throw Lanelly and R'cal together when he visited – a fact that passed him by and amused Lanelly – but fate intervened to spoil her plans.
R'cal had been wondering what would be for nooning food back at Tillek Hold when he saw the young woman. What had been a rather vapid prettiness when T'lana had first seen Atira the widow had blossomed as good food and a lack of worries had given colour to the girl's naturally pale face; and the lank brownish hair now flowed in a rich chestnut cloud about her oval face. She had just finished feeding her youngest child, leaning against a sleeping Joroth in the sun, and the little boy played with a ball nearby. The children too had become contented with plenty to eat, and easier to look after. A'ira was chatting to Camnath as he half dozed near Joroth, not expecting a reply, but for the company. She stood up as R'cal approached and smiled shyly.
"Good day to you, Blue Rider" she said politely. R'cal made reply and added,
"You Impressed the little Green there?"
"Yes, she is Joroth. I never really expected it even though Weyrwoman T'lana was so sure." She said, the joy of remembered Impression washing her face with a serene beauty.
"Hmph. Managing girl, T'lan." Said R'gar. "Do you have trouble with your mate over Impressing?" He waved a hand at the children.
"My husband is dead." She said flatly.
"Sorry." He grunted, embarrassed.
"He was a good man and a good provider until he would have that fardling porcine." She sighed. "I sometimes feel guilty because I wouldn't be here if he hadn't killed himself over the debt – and I've never been happier."
"No point being guilty over being happy." He said. "You weren't happy before?" she had, he noticed described him as a good provider rather than in more personal terms.
"I wasn't unhappy, Blue Rider." She hastened to explain. "But until I Impressed I didn't realise how happy anyone could be. And even just being at the Weyr – not being a possession of Clom's family to be married to who they thought suitable if they ever got around to it." He nodded; he had often thought that the lot of holdbred girls was a raw one.
A'ira was feeling quite confused. This man was handsome like so many dragonriders but there was something about him which attracted her in a way she had never known before; and she was breathing rather quickly. She glanced up at him and blushed fierily.
"Weyr attitudes are very different of course" she tried to keep her voice casual, especially seeing the visible effect her blush had on him. "I've had to slap a few faces."
"Do you always slap faces?" He too tried to keep his voice neutral and casual. Shards, what was wrong with him!
"I always have – before." She said and raised her eyes to his, face burning. R'cal gasped. By mutual consent they walked almost blindly to the unoccupied junior queen's weyr that was presently used for visiting dragons as soon as A'ira had arranged in a rather hurried way for one of the older weyr children to watch her little ones
oOoOo
R'cal was convinced that A'ira's dead husband had been an idiot. Her responses of astonished gratitude culminating in something that rivalled dragon driven passion showed that the man was a clod in bed. He held her, marvelling that she should want him, and that after so long he could feel again for a woman.
"Excuse me, Blue Rider – I don't know your name?"
"R'cal"
"I'm A'ira now"
"It's lovely. Like you." She blushed and said,
"I – was going to ask – because I'm so ignorant – is this something that we walk away from or can it happen again?"
He kissed her.
"I'd like it to happen again. Frequently. This is – special."
"I never knew it could be so good. Is that what they mean about dragons?"
He smiled, and shook his head, stroking her white skin.
"Dragons only enhance it when they're mating too." He told her, suddenly jealous of the idea of some young puppy flying Joroth.
"Can you fly Joroth do you think you old fool?"
"If you can fly her rider." Came the calm reply. "I'll need plenty of rubs and hot cloths when she starts getting ready though – and I think it would be as well to go into training."
A'ira was looking at him quizzically.
"Talking to Camnath?" He nodded, faintly amused that she had found out Camnath's name but not his.
"Checking to see if he thought he could fly Joroth when she rises." He said casually, clearing his throat. She wrapped her arms around him.
"I – I'd like that."
"Girl have you any idea how old the pair of us are? It's no foregone conclusion." She looked surprised.
"You look about the same age as Clom – something over thirty turns." He laughed sardonically.
"I'm older than that, A'ira. I'm R'gar's father – and he's thirty-three turns this summer."
She looked surprised, but not particularly bothered.
"You are more – athletic – than Clom" she murmured, blushing. R'cal found he had to prove it again.
oOoOo
Talana was taken aback, and a little chagrined to see Camnath with a very smug expression and his head proprietorially next to Joroth's. R'cal was nowhere to be seen, and A'ira's children were with young Mayana. T'lana reached out tentatively with her 'inner ear' and was astounded. She went to make klah and collect some sweet cakes to take in when her senses told her was an opportune moment.
A'ira blushed when T'lan came in with a tray, set it down and left; R'cal grunted.
"Suppose Camnath's been talking to her again, old fool" he grumbled affectionately. "Trust T'lan to know when I was wondering about whether to go get some klah." A'ira laughed ruefully.
"She does seem to know everything that goes on, doesn't she." She said, pouring him a mugful.
oOoOo
Talana was prevented from further interfering in R'cal's private life by the arrival dragonback of an illustrious visitor. Mirrith was bespoken by Brown Sralth who had conveyed him, and T'lana went out to meet Lord Holder Bargen. He spoke first as he swung down.
"Weyrwoman T'lana, how good to see you recovered." He said. "I hope you do not think ill of High Reaches for the incident?" T'lana held out her hand to him, shaking her head.
"It is a problem that needs to be addressed" she said frankly "But they were opportunists, not I think from the district, and you cannot then be held entirely responsible."
"I have of course punished the survivors in the worst way I could think of – and had the harpers tell of it to discourage others." He said. Talana nodded. She had already heard the drums speak of how the surviving kidnappers had been chained out during Fall, the worst form of execution available; and had wished that she had not been so quick to learn the drum measures. As someone with Rank now she would be expected to know some of the measures but not the full report that had gone to the Harper Hall. It had explained the rather grim expressions of the riders who had flown Thread that day; though she had sensed no dismay from them.
"It is a time when there needs to be a unified policy" she said carefully. Bargen snorted.
"Which is fine as long as you have sensible men who exchange information and aren't so fardling over proud that they prefer to hide a problem in case it makes them look bad." He shrugged. "Fools like Sangel will always whine about autonomy without seeing that greater communication and co-operation could only increase the ability to Hold autonomously."
T'lana hid a smile. He was almost quoting her comments to Lord Groghe during one of his little chats with her and L'rilly from her time in the Healer Hall. Evidently the shrewd old Lord Holder had taken her ideas on board and was now representing them as his own. Lord Bargen continued,
"I'm afraid I came to ask for your help again – your logic may work where I am baffled."
"I will certainly do what I can." Agreed T'lan, knowing that she would have to return one day to High Reaches Hold, and the longer it was put off the harder it would become.
"As you probably know, the Hold hosts race meetings – not perhaps so prestigious as those once held at Ruatha, but certainly enjoyed by all – at which skill in breeding and riding both are tested. Of course there are those who make their living solely on betting; and whilst it looks like laziness to win from someone else's industry, the truly successful are very skilled and knowledgeable, were often jockeys themselves once and are frequently excellent runner healers. Many hire out in the winter months as help in stables and this enables them also to study form for their craft." He paused. "This gives you some background and explains that there is an immense subculture surrounding racing."
Talana nodded, patiently.
"I know something of the background, my lord. My foster father breeds runner beasts for racing. He's not big time, but I picked up something of the atmosphere in my childhood."
Bargen brightened.
"You'll know then that some people seem to feel the need to tamper to win?"
"Drugging, hoof clogging, burs under saddles, drugging bribing and threatening jockeys – yes I know the tricks."
Bargen blinked at her matter of fact knowledge of the more common fixing tricks, and went on:
"We have a problem with tampering – and I want to get rid of it. In the last year or two, someone's been getting greedy; and sometimes we've even had favourites failing but there doesn't seem anything wrong with the runner or rider. There's certainly been no smell of the usual preparations used about the mouth of either. There is also an owner – one Arvik – whose beasts are, well shall we say unpredictable. His rider, Nanral has been accused of throwing races before now; but it's almost impossible to prove. The runners are good stock – but it doesn't always guarantee a win even if Nanral is riding to his best. I hate to accuse a man, but…"
"Then I shall certainly come." Said T'lana. "This could prove quite exhil – er, tricky."
oOoOo
Talana sent a note to Sarel via M'kel outlining a request for his aid, and explaining why shy could not come herself, it being rather a long way Straight; and her foster father returned with the blue rider, almost pathetically eager to help T'lana in any way he could; and also greatly looking forward to an opportunity to attend a major race meeting. She noted that he had a pouch full of all the marks he could muster and she knew that he would be doing some judicious betting. Talana explained the problem; and Sarel was pleased that she felt his opinion worth asking.
"This unreliable jockey" he said "Might be working for himself – or another, including the owner."
"I was going to ask a stupid question – but the point of losing with your own runners would be that you had bet secretly more against them than for them, wouldn't it?"
He nodded.
"The other skulduggery is probably unrelated, but I don't think it would have reached the proportions that Lord Bargen told you of unless it was well organised. It's sheer greed. If you're good you don't need to resort to tricks to live on the gees."
oOoOo
When Talana swooped in to land – well away from the runners – the attendant gather was already well under way. She sent Sarel to mingle and pick up what he could; and set out herself to admire the lithe runner beasts and reacquaint herself with the scene. She soon picked out the owner Arvik whose jockey Nanral had such a poor reputation; for Lord Bargen was having stiff words with him. Arvik replied,
"You may be sure, my lord, that Nanral will ride to his best ability. I have spoken to him most seriously about it; and his continued employment rests on it." He smiled, confidently. "High Flyer is a good runner, though she'll have a fair competition against Darkstar and Happy Prancer; it could go any way." Bargen grunted and nodded, moving off.
Sarel returned with some information.
"There is a man here I've seen before – his name is Grathel, and he's got a slightly unsavoury reputation. He takes bets for his living and calculates odds; there's a nasty pair go round with him to guard him, but word is they beat up bad debtors for him too." He pointed out a foxy little man, neatly, even nattily, dressed with soft looking hands. At his back were two unpleasant looking characters. One was big and muscular with the slack jaw of one whose brain never engages in activity if he can avoid it and cruel eyes that brought a shudder from Talana as it reminded her of the renegades. The other was taller, better dressed and appeared to be keeping his eyes moving continually about, on the watch. His gaze met hers, and she read the appraisal in his eyes, not so much of her womanhood as an instinctive acceptance of her as a possible threat. This man was dangerous. She let her eyes slide past as though the meeting of eyes was accidental, and turned, giggling to Sarel, imitating the foolish daughters of the wealthy. She felt the eyes leave her and relax.
"The tall one is trouble." She said. Sarel nodded, having realised her manoeuvre.
oOoOo
Talana made an effort to mingle with the owners, a feat made easier by her well dressed appearance and obvious knowledge about racing. She praised the points of the favourite, Darkstar, as her owner, one Tragen, led her to the cave complex where the runners waited for starter's orders. He grunted, but was obviously pleased.
"Aye, she's a good little mover." He acknowledged. "As her sister Darkspeed was. Looks like her too but for the star here on her forehead."
Further conversation Talana could not get from him; chatting generally to aficionados she discovered that Tragen was reckoned a taciturn old so and so; and rumours suggested that he'd once beaten a man to death over alleged drugging. She found Deever, owner of Happy Prancer a much more jovial man, willing to talk about the mare endlessly, citing her bloodline for generations. By his sly winks and comments she deduced that a little tampering never bothered him much, providing it fell within his rather elastic bounds of morality; and since these latter also seemed to include the taking of pretty girls to hay lofts she left him before he had tired of her company.
Arvik also seemed jovial enough, though he complained that the jockeys just weren't any good these days and lamented Nanral's occasional lack of skill. It occurred to Talana that his protests were a little overdone. However, he let her look at High Flyer (out of Windkin by Dragonracer) and glumly admitted, as though reluctant, to faults that Talana could not see. She was taken aback to see, as she thought, Darkstar led into Arvik's paddock until she saw that the runner had no blaze on the head.
"Is that Darkspeed?" she asked.
"Yes – yes. Bought her to breed off. Good bloodline. Pity about the joint disease." He said. "Look, excuse me miss, but there's a lot to do. Perhaps I'll see you after the race?"
oOoOo
Talana had a lot to think about. She was keeping an eye on Grathel's tame thugs, whose names she discovered were Breilin and Kettol. Privately she named them Slugfast and Slinker to suit their characters, and hoped to catch them out at something. However all that happened was that Slugfast – Breilin – picked a fight not long before the big race was due to start right in front of the ready caves; and as a crowd gathered she briefly lost sight of Kettol.
"Slinker is right for him" she grumbled; though she soon relocated him near the stable boy leading Darkstar out. The runner passed her and Talana thought of the dairy at her old home, a sudden clear picture of it in her mind. There was a sharp, sour smell that had evoked the memory…
oOoOo
The runners were under starter's orders – were away! The harper singing out the order told the story. Happy Prancer in the lead, Darkstar and High Flyer behind…High Flyer gaining…what was wrong with Darkstar? The runner was just so slow! High Flyer from Happy Prancer – and It's High Flyer, High Flyer takes the High Reaches trophy!
Tragen was staring, stunned.
Talana came up to him.
"Your stable boy" she said, "What are his origins?"
"Eh? If it's any business of yours, he's Grathel's youngest son. Mad keen on runners. Wanted a good training. I like to see keen youngsters."
"We need to see lord Bargen – and don't let that runner out of your sight. Take the bridle yourself and don't let go."
Tragen opened his mouth to blister the impudent girl who was giving him orders; caught her eye and thought better of it. Something had happened; and the Runnerholder was a shrewd enough man not to ask stupid questions of those who seemed to know what they were talking about.
oOoOo
Lord Bargen watched as Talana washed away the star on the runner's forehead. Tragen exclaimed in angry horror,
"But – that's Darkspeed! She should never run now – it would be too cruel!"
Talana nodded.
"Grathel and his heavies are in league with Arvik, to whom you sold Darkspeed. While Breilin made a diversion in fighting, Kettol helped the stable lad to swap the runners, painting out one star and painting in the other. The joint disease ensured that the runner would lose."
"How did you guess about the painting?" Asked Bargen.
"As the false Darkstar passed me I smelled something that made me think of dairies – Lime was to make the walls white. It washes in and out quite readily – and was sufficient if not studied closely to fool even the owner because of the remarkable likeness of the sisters."
"I shall have the culprits brought to me right away." Said Bargen. "I have already given orders that no-one is to leave. Thank you Lady Talana for stopping this source of embarrassment."
"Yes, I think my lord that you will find that this team has been responsible for most of your troubles. It was a great combination; one of the owners able to win or lose as he saw fit, with Grathel cashing in on the inside knowledge, especially if any runners that were real dangers to Arvik's beasts were – neutralised – in some way. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to enjoy the rest of the races!" said Talana
A/N Tragen is going to reappear in later stories… he was too good a character to waste!
