A young weyrling dashed up to Yarrow. He was breathing hard. "F'lessan told – me – uh – you read lips?" She nodded and he continued hurriedly. "Uh, you're to come with me, Lady Holder – um, uh I guess I'm doing this wrong, sorry Lady Holder. . . ."
She smiled at him consolingly. "I think you have the wrong person, actually," she signed and when he didn't seem to understand she just pointed to herself and shook her head for emphasis. But he seemed to take that as her just not wanting to go with him.
"Please, Milady! You're, uh – requested. It's like a meeting."
Why would I be called to a meeting? She wondered, bemused.
Yarrow wasn't expecting any reply, but instantly got one from Visigoth. You and Mink are the new Lady and Lord of Southern, as of the death of Hannin.
Yarrow paled. No. . . she moaned inwardly, sinking down on the stones.
The boy with her seemed to understand at last that she hadn't known, and he tentatively reached out and squeezed her hand. She looked up at him. He was trying to look comforting. "It's considered a good thing, Lady," he said. "It's good."
Oh, I wish you could understand how not good it is,she thought. I'll never get away from there now. . . She could see a lifetime of having all those slovenly, horrid people at the hold insisting she was the stupid, improper one. Of Petia goading her forever, with that ridiculous son of hers allowing it. Of being forced to have his children, however that happened. She felt sick.
It will be all right, Visigoth sent her, but even he sounded doubtful.
You promised I wouldn't be there forever!
I did, B'nick sent her sadly. I'm sorry; we didn't foresee this happening.
I will not – I refuse to go!
You have to. It was quietly sent, but firm. He was obviously upset about this turn of events. At the moment, Yarrow didn't care.
She looked again at the boy, and stood up, taking a deep breath to steel herself. I will be gone as soon as I can go, I promise you that, she sent and blocked out anything that might be coming to her.
Yarrow and the boy went down a flight, up another one across the Bowl of the Weyr, and down a winding hallway to a fair-sized room. As she steadied herself on the stone wall outside, she felt the vibration she'd learned meant someone was yelling. Petia probably, big surprise.
She lifted her head and went inside. Petia was fairly purple in the face with anger, as she turned to see Yarrow enter. Mink was sitting very quietly beside her, looking like he was trying to will a hole into the floor. "Wonderful!" she yelled. "You are going to put THAT in charge in MY Hold?"
Yarrow could tell these were – almost – all Lord and Lady Holders, by the shoulder knots. Unlike Petia, they all seemed to be well-bred; every one of them stood and nodded heads in her direction, which made her feel both nervous and better at the same time. She wondered who the small fiery-looking older woman was who had clearly been arguing with the irritating woman as well.
The younger of the Lords, a tall man with sandy-brown hair brushed back, came over to her and bowed. "I am Lord Haligon of Fort Hold, Milady," he said formally, looking her right in the eye. "Seated by me is Lord Jaxom of Ruatha with his wife Lady Sharra, and with them is Larad of Telgar, Toronas of Benden, and on the other side of the table are F'lessan and Tai of Honshu Weyrhold, and F'lar and Lessa of Benden Weyr."
Yarrow nodded her thanks to him and he seemed to find that suitable. The young Lord seemed to have some sort of seniority there – but isn't Ruatha first? She thought confused, after wracking her brain as to why he might be taking charge, and received an inner chuckle from Visigoth. Yarrow was too flustered to ignore it. Her heart pounded as Lord Haligon guided her to a seat, next to Mink unfortunately. Well, I'll just have to make the best of it, she thought and took another deep breath.
When everyone was seated again, Haligon started speaking. "This is not your normal Council of Lords," he said slowly. Yarrow focused her attention on him so she could read his lips well enough. "We don't often include Weyrleaders, you see." He harumphed a little as he nodded toward the dragonriders. "This is, however, an unusual circumstance. Lord Hannin wasn't exactly made lord of Southern in regular circumstances, either. I know there was a fair amount of contention about it – " he stopped for a second, and looked like he was listening to something but was feeling a little impatient. "Lady Petia, would you be so good as to repeat that for the sake of Lady Yarrow?"
Yarrow looked at Petia expectantly, and had the pleasure of the other lady looking flustered. "Certainly, Lord Haligon," she said staring straight at the girl. Her eyes narrowed. "I was simply informing the Lord of Fort here that upon the untimely death of Lord Toric, my deceased Lord and I were the only cousins willing to take on the huge responsibility of holding at Southern! More to the point, I should now add that there is really no reason for dragonriders to be here – interfering in Hold business – when no matter what was thought when Hannin took Hold, he did take Hold. My cousin never stood for such practices and neither will I -" she whirled around at something, looking more furious.
Weyrwoman – Lessa, Yarrow remembered – was saying, ". . . he had to sometimes, when he was stepping outside his own bounds, as you must be well aware – since you were so close after all." She must be quite a Weyrwoman, Yarrow thought. "No, I'm not worried, Hannin; Yarrow's looking right at me, she's smart enough," she said. Her eyes were sparkling with pep, as her father used to call it. Yarrow had never met a Weyrwoman before and wondered if they were all like that. "Now, Lady Yarrow, the contention is this; Lord Holders are wondering if Hannin was after all a legitimate lord – you will be quiet, Lady Petia! – and so therefore if Lord Mink and yourself have the right to take Hold after him." She cocked her head as if waiting.
It's a valid enough question, Yarrow realized with some irony. She sighed and nodded to Lessa that she understood. Um, can you hear me, Weyrlady? She sent nervously to the slight, intense woman, and was rewarded with a look of shock. Lessa blinked and nodded.
Nobody told me, girl – not even that son of mine – my dragon Ramoth says you don't know, his name's F'lessan.
Oh. Thank you. I've tried to help you as best I can, but. . . .
Don't worry. This really is an unusual Council. Actually, regardless of how Hannin came about it – and here the Weyrwoman grimaced as if she was thinking of something unpleasant. Yarrow noticed Lord Jaxom had a similar look on his face, and even Haligon looked uncomfortable. She suddenly realized that Lessa was saying some things aloud at the same time as she was sending her thoughts to the girl -no matter how he did, well normally this would be where you and Mink would just take Hold as his heirs, and we dragonfolk would not be present at all. But. . . there was a time in the past – or two – when something close to this happened. It's rather – bad – for the world to have anything like it again.
Yarrow blinked. "Yes, we just wanted to clear a few things up, my dear," F'lar was saying aloud to her. She nodded dumbly. "Haligon, you mentioned something about lost records surfacing?"
She looked over at the lord of Fort again. He nodded. "Absolutely," he said. "I received these today, actually – Lady Petia, Lady Yarrow might like to know that?"
Petia was turning purple again. I could take this all day, Yarrow thought trying not to burst out laughing as she looked at the older woman. Petia's teeth were clenched as she said, "I said, there is no way you could have gotten hold legitimately of records from Southern. . . ."
Your friend B'nick was doing rescuing over there today, Lessa informed Yarrow. He found some interesting documents while – looking for survivors.
Yarrow winced. I should have been able to find those, whatever they were! You – Milady Dragonrider, um you might not be aware but my parents were sent to Southern to find. . . .
Relax, we know, the weyrwoman sent her. He actually didn't find a thing; we just wanted to have her on her toes.
Good – um, timing? She thought, and received a chuckle.
Haligon was speaking again. "Well, you see, they were in the hands of your dying Lord when he was found in the rubble," he said. "Now, B'nick was determined that they get to us; they were clearly Holder business." He nodded toward the dragonriders. "We owe you folk so much. . . yes, Petia, we do, despite what your 'cousin' thought." He cleared his throat again. "Now, it appears that you and Hannin came to Southern Continent six years ago, via a craft that Lord Toric sent out toward the Eastern Ring Islands – we can't actually charge him with a crime, since he isn't here, but you see the horrible implication. . . ."
Yarrow had the satisfaction of turning, shocked, to Petia, and seeing the woman pale. If that isn't true, then –?
It's been a suspicion for quite a bit, my dear, Lessa sent. Before he died, Lord Toric was known to be trying to find the Eastern Ring Islands as a source of new workers. He never liked the idea of dragonriders settling on the Southern Continent, never really liked the idea of AIVAS and all the new technology. You were at least taught what the Abominators are?
Yes. Yarrow knew that one. It was hard to grow up on Pern – anywhere on Pern, really – without knowing of those horrible people. But – even if Hannin and Petia came from there, it doesn't mean that they killed Lord Toric. I mean, why would they kill someone who helped them?
She looked at Lessa, whose eyes were sparkling, as she nodded slightly. You really are the daughter of Harpers.
She looked back at Petia, who was still pale. "All right, all right," the woman stammered, not sure whether she need look at Yarrow or not. I really like this; you haven't been made to look my way when talking before. "I admit; we were brought over by Toric. But – he is our cousin! I'm not making it up," she said. "Mink, please believe me." That was one word Yarrow would never have thought she'd see from the self-styled Lady of Southern.
Mink looked up at his mother, a little uncertain. Then he looked over at Yarrow. "I don't really want to be Lord Holder anyway," he signed and said, grimacing. She nodded. I know, I know what you wanted to be one day.
It's unfortunately impossible now, at least for the moment, a male voice came into Yarrow's head and she stared around the table, looking for the source, found Lord Jaxom's eyes twinkling at her. "I know what it's like to want to be two things at once," he remarked, casually. "When I Impressed Ruth – well, that came out all right." He leaned forward. "My point is, Lord Mink, in this age, you can be a few things at once." He grinned at Yarrow. "Now, though, since we have to have a legitimate ruler of Southern and Toric's heir isn't here – where is Lord Brevis anyway?" he remarked, looking around. Yarrow did too and found everyone shaking heads. She saw Jaxom sigh. "Lord Mink – you do realize that he'd have seniority and better validity to the claim if he were present."
Yarrow saw Mink nod, looking uncomfortable again. "He can have it if he wants – no, Mother, he really can. I – really don't want this! And – I want to have stuff clear anyway. NO, Mother, I do. We weren't the only ones to come here to Southern." He ticked off on his fingers, while still looking at Yarrow. "There was Stine of Boll, I think, he used to be a Healer apprentice, and there was um, Potch from Fort Hold – I'm sorry, Lord Haligon, I really am – and there was someone named Bossil but I don't know who he was, he was kind of quiet and disappeared not long after he got here. . . and Stine who Cousin Toric had as a bodyguard for awhile before he and Potch went to work for Lord Brevis, and someone named Jorga who worked at our little place for awhile and then she was working at Southern really recently. . . ."
Yarrow, shocked, looked around the table and saw people nodding grimly. She saw Petia's face had a pinched, anxious look to it. Jorga? Who works in the kitchens and makes that horrible stew? She thought, feeling ill.
"Thank you, Lord Mink," Haligon said. "Well, then. We need to prove the validity of your Holding, of course, but like I said we need someone at Southern, or what's left of it – I think that's very unlikely, and not a bit impolite, Petia." He nodded to Yarrow. "Considering recent events, my dear, I think it's fair we declare your marriage annulled, at least."
Mink nudged Yarrow and made her look at him. "It actually wasn't legal, Milord," he said though he was still looking in her eyes. "She was forced into it. By both my parents!" He gulped. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and cleared his throat, saying a little louder, "I don't want to force you to continue there, whatever is decided in this format. I – didn't even want to live in the Islands! I was born there."
Yarrow looked over at Haligon who nodded. "That's a good point you bring up," he mentioned. "My father was always very firm on doing right by people – and there probably have been a number of youngsters born in the Eastern Ring who were innocent of what their parents did. We should probably look into that. For now, though – Lady Yarrow, is it true what he says?"
She bit her lip and nodded, looking down, then up at the lord of Fort. I don't know how I'll find out what I need to if I leave, though, she thought.
She looked uncertainly at Mink. "It's the only home she has now, though," he remarked. "You are welcome back there if you want – if I'm Lord, at least."
Funny how you've changed attitude. Several hours ago, all you wanted to do was leave Southern. Then again, me too.