Chapter 10

J'nara recovered consciousness in a rough cavern. She lay on a straw filled palliasse. A screen across the corner imperfectly concealed a bucket that was presumably to serve as a necessary. A man sat on a stool in the doorway; he was the same man who had offered her a mug of klah, she remembered, telling her that he had another for her man.

J'nara sat up – and wished she had not. Her head ached and the room swayed in a most disconcerting manner. Quickly she reassured Rillith whom she could feel close to panic, telling her it would be all right. She swallowed hard to hold bacl the nausea, shutting her eyes until her vision cleared, firmly shutting off her discomfort from her little dragon.

The man on the stool spoke.

"Awake? Take it easy, love. We ain't going to hurt you – if all goes well." he said.

J'nara's eyes flashed back open in fury.

"Do you seriously expect to get away with this?" she flared. He shrugged.

"Sure, sweetie. It's been done before. So long as your man does as he's told, you'll be just fine and with him again before supper tomorrow."

J'nara was horrified! Surely, though, M'gol would not submit to any threat – even if it meant her life? She was sure that he would not. A green rider was not like a Queen Rider – for the loss of a Queen would affect the whole Weyr! M'gol could afford to act as he saw fit and if necessary risk her life and Rillith's. . He may feel a partiality for her; but he must also know that she would not want him to shirk his duty, and she was confident that he would not do so. She prepared herself resignedly; but her eyes flashed scorn on her captor.

"Do you really think that you can force a dragonman to do your bidding by threatening a junior weyrling?" she asked, looking down her nose.

The man stared and laughed.

"Dragonman? Weyrling? You've certainly had some strange dreams from that fellis, sweetheart!" he yawned and stretched. "Bit of a different rider you've been imagining, have you?" he leered.

J'nara was confused, not least by the fellis still in her system. She felt for her rank knots in sudden panic, to reassure herself that Rillith and M'gol were not a dream – although of course, Rillith was there, in her thoughts all the time. By this time she had pushed the mass of her hair off her shoulders revealing the distinctive triangular knot of a weyr, dark blue in one strand for High Reaches, green in the other for Rillith's colour.

Her captor's jaw sagged helplessly and he turned grey.

"Ohhh…you mean…?" he whispered in horror. Then he shouted angrily, "Stupid dragon bitch! You did this! You covered your knots to flirt with that fardling jockey – and you'll fardling well stay here so he does as he's told, see?"

"I see." Her voice came from between. "Although I'm nothing to him."

"I – I'll let you go anyway – whatever!" his voice was wheedling. "Only it's important…"

J'nara watched him, eyebrow raised, half-closed eyes looking down her nose, deliberately copying the expression R'gar assumed when a guilty weyrling was busy talking himself into a corner.

Apparently it worked on adults too.

"My boss will kill me if I let you go…or if he finds out that you're dragonfolk! He's got a load of marks riding on that troika race….Morill has tothrow it, he has to! Jermod's man isn't as good so he has to eliminate Morill…it wasn't my idea, dragonlady. I'll see you have every comfort…"

J'nara found herself cynically amused at the sudden change of attitude; and her mind was working furiously. Jermod was a Ruathan name; but of course many Runnerholders were of Ruathan extraction.

"And if Jermod finds out who I am?" she asked.

He whimpered.

"He'd not hesitate to kill you, lady – and me as well for making the mistake, and to offer to the dragonmen as a scapegoat."

"What would have happened to me if I'd been the holdbound lover of Morill you thought me if he did not comply?" she asked. The man never knew how much his fate rode on the answer.

"I wouldn't have killed her – you – her, honest, lady! I don't hold with killing, I didn't know how ruthless Jermod was until I'd been with him a while, and now I'd be killed if I tried to chicken out! He uses me to look after hostages, he says it's all I'm fit for!" J'nara felt almost sorry for the pathetic creature, but motioned him to come to the point. He went on, "I know a sea captain… he carried Jermod and his beasts too… he's happy to make trips to Southern…they pay for drudges there."

J'nara was hardly sure if slavery to the Oldtimers constituted an improvement on quick death! However, at that moment, two firelizards appeared from between. The brown disappeared again, the bronze chirped encouragingly to J'nara and set off for the door.

"My people are looking for me." Said J'nara calmly. More calmly than she felt, it must be admitted, but it had the desired effect of further disconcerting the man.

"H-how…lizards need a visualisation. I didn't see no lizards with you!" he stammered.

"Idiot. They can take visualisations from dragons. MY dragon." J'nara said scornfully as she worked it out, sending thoughts to Rillith of what a clever darling she was! "Surrender to me. I'll tie you up and I'll ask for clemency for you. You HAVE been relatively courteous after all – and you have told me a lot."

Faced by imminent capture by angry dragonmen, the man was only too willing to comply! Everyone knew that weyrfolk took care of their own, and he had visions of being flown to the Red Star and left there! Thus, when M'gol came storming in ready to do battle, he found J'nara sitting calmly on the stool with her captive bound before her.

"You're late." She said.

M'gol's mouth dropped.

"Well I'll be…my brave love!" he declared.

J'nara promptly spoiled her act of coolness by throwing herself into his arms and bursting into tears! M'gol held her tenderly against his chest and murmured soothing and platitudinous nonsense into her hair. It was tickling his nose; and he was wondering how much longer he could manage not to sneeze whilst simultaneously enjoying the sensation of being held close by J'nara: when she pulled back to look up at him; though she did not let go of him!

"The main villain is an owner called Jermod. This man is afraid of him. I've promised to ask for clemency as he has been very co-operative."

M'gol snorted.

"Drugging and kidnapping you? In my book that calls for the sort of clemency that involves merely having me ring his fardling neck!" he said forcefully.

J'nara sighed with contentment at these lover-like remarks, but felt bound to correct her beloved as she leaned against him.

"He's no killer. Just gone the wrong way. Be nice."

M'gol turned a steely eye on the kidnapper, whose eyes were rolling in terror, so terrified he could not utter a sound!

"You know, don't you" said M'gol conversationally, "What I'd do to you if you had hurt my woman?"

The man swallowed and nodded. Sweat ran from him. M'gol smiled.

"Aren't you lucky that she's nice – and you're not such a fool or villain as your boss?"

The man fainted in sheer relief!

While M'gol escorted J'nara back to the dragons, H'llon, Kren, Z'kan and Morill took their prisoner quietly and by back ways to Lord Bargen: they had no wish to alert Jermod or his associates! Kren and Z'kan returned at once to the cave to lay in wait for any confederates bringing food or as relief guards; and H'llon explained the whole to the Lord Holder with the objective succinctness he had cultivated as a proper way for logicators and bronze riders to bear witness.

Lord Bargen was horrified: he had no wish for his Hold to get the reputation for assaulting weyrwoman! H'llon, however, made it quite plain that it was not the status of the kidnappee that made any difference but that the kidnap had taken place at all!

"Although in fairness" he added "I think I must put the request that Bronze Rider M'gol will probably want to participate in the capture of Jermod with the view to enacting violence upon his body before you pass judgement."

Morill, standing at H'llon's shoulder, found his mouth dropping open in surprise to find that Mathengol – M'gol – was not just any rider but a BRONZE rider; and he swallowed hard several times.

Bargen was in something of a quandary. He wanted to see justice done; but he also wanted to hush up he fact that once again a weyrwoman had been abducted!

"Perhaps it would be fairer to hand this man over to the Weyr." He suggested cautiously.

H'llon shook his head implacably.

"That could only be seen as arbitrary, My Lord, and would cause resentment." He said. "He must be seen to be meted punishment by you – if nothing else as a deterrent to others! Far be it for dragonfolk to steal your prerogative. I only asked on M'gol's behalf as he is my friend. It was an improper request. I apologise." He bowed.

Bargen did not grind his teeth. Quite. H'llon was proper beyond the bounds of what was convenient. Anyone less correctly behaved would have leaped at the chance!

"Thank you, Bronze Rider." He managed, between his teeth.

"You're always welcome, My Lord!" said H'llon, happily, noticing nothing untoward in Barge's manner..

"Perhaps the Bronze Rider, as he is in disguise, would like to assist some of his fellows – like jockey Morill here – in bringing the man to me – as my deputies." Bargen thawed enough to make the offer. After all, if it had been his lady…

H'llon smiled sunnily.

"He'd be delighted, My Lord" he agreed.

"It were better" suggested Bargen craftily "That the witnesses true identities not be brought out – after all, the abduction was staged to bring about race fixing. The message to be sent is that such is unacceptable and to introduce the lady J'nara's name would only cloud the issue."

H'llon nodded seriously.

"And there would be those who would say that action was only taken because a weyrwoman was involved." He said. "I know, My Lord, that this is untrue, because you care about ALL your people. But people have nasty minds" he finished mournfully.

Lord Bargen smiled. His day was going to be just fine after all.

"Quite so." He agreed equably.

Proper and upright young men were not such a handicap after all. The lad had been more concerned about the kidnap than who the victim was: Bargen was pleased he had recalled that. Bronze Rider H'llon was almost dangerously honest and honourable: but he was open to manipulation too save face!

M'gol, Z'kan, Kren and Morill moved in on Jermod. They had rods of office in their tunics and violence in their hearts.

"Jermod." M'gol spoke softly enough, and the man turned.

"Who wants me?"

"I do." Said M'gol, grimly.

"And you are?"

"Acting for Lord Bargen" M'gol smiled brightly and showed his rod of office.

"And what has that to do with me?" Jermod was brazen.

M'gol held up a finger and wagged it as he tutted.

"you know, old boy" he knew how much that appellation of Z'kan's grated – "you're a naughty boy. And a very stupid one."

Jeermod affected a sigh.

"If you have something to say, come to the point. Stop passing ridiculous insults or I'll have you thrown out."

M'gol chuckled evilly and tutted again.

"You're naughty because you kidnap women; and you're stupid because you kidnapped the wrong woman. That wasn't Morill's girl you ordered taken – it was mine. And I'm a lot bigger and meaner than Morill."

"You begin to bore me." Said Jermod. He called to his men. "Throw them out." He ordered. "Those batons are fakes. They're bluffing."

Z'kan and Kren turned to deal with the men; the rods they carried were very effective at adding to the power of their blows. Morill used his to poke the melee at random.

M'gol picked Jermod up by the neck of his tunic.

"And now, old boy" he said "You and I are going to discuss how much you revolt and disgust me before I hand you over. Fight."

"I don't fight." Jermod said sullenly. M'gol shook him before letting go.

"Fight!" he reiterated. Jermod sat down on the floor.. M'gol looked down on him with contempt.

"You can only fight women I see." His voice dripped with loathing. "Or wait – you don't even have the courage to fight women. You get your bullies to do it." He turned away in contemptuous rage; for he would not hit a man who did nothing but sit on the floor!

His senses told him to turn; and the icy burning pain of the blade missed his heart and his vitals as Jermod uncoiled like a spring to strike upwards with his belt knife. M'gol reacted instinctively, grabbing the wrist of the runner owner and twisting.. Jermod yelled in pain as radius rolled over ulna and one of them cracked under the strain. M'gol continued to twist until the man was forced screaming to his knees.

The others had more or less finished their battle; the fight had been beaten out of the bully boys who had already been demoralised from the fight of the previous day. Kren was busy tying them up. Morill turned and stared in horror at the blood on M'gol's tunic.

"Oh bejays!" he moaned, swaying.

"Don't go passing out on me now!" snapped M'gol. "Just pretend I'm a runnerbeast that met with an accident and tie this fardling wound up. No, tie this fardling crook up first!"

Z'kan moved in to take charge of Jermod, motioning Morill to see to M'gol. As Z'kan took not the slightest notice of Jermod's shrieks and protests, the man soon subsided into muttering dark imprecations while Morill packed M'gol's wound to staunch the blood. Kren asked

"Are you all right?"

M'gol nodded, wincing.

"Does it hurt? - yes. A great deal." He said. "Did it hit anything vital? – no, I'm fairly sure it didn't. do I want nubweed? Definitely."

Kren grinned weaky and went to find nubweed for his dragonrider friend!

Lord Bargen's justice was carefully thought out.

He had already stripped the thieving steward of his rank and set him to work without pay until he had paid off all he had stolen. The fate of these men was to be as meet, he hoped.

Jermod was stripped of all possessions he had with him; and Bargen awarded them to Morill to be shared out amongst those jockeys who had previously suffered threats, beatings and threats to family as restitution. Jermod was also to be sent back to his home Hold in Ruatha bound and under escort with a formally worded request to Lord Warder Lytol that he may very well wish to undertake further investigations in his own territory. The thugs and accomplices were sentenced to work ten turns each without pay and were distributed amongst wronged owners whose jockeys had been hurt or frightened into losing. J'nara's captive was given the sentence of only five turns; and was turned over to Tragen as he was well known a fair master.

Bargen also dispatched men to bring before him the captain of the ship on which Jermod had travelled. He wished to look further into the allegation that things and people had been smuggled to the Southern weyr. The coincidence of time made him suspicious that this might be the answer to the question of who the crooked steward had been selling goods to!

Generally speaking, the injured parties felt the ending was satisfactory. What the criminals thought probably could not be repeated before civilised folk!

Lord Bargen had strongly intimated that Morill was to take the greater share of Jermod's goods than any other jockey; both as part payment for his sorting out of the fair distribution, and as a reward for having the moral fibre to come forward over the matter. Northfork personnel were getting quite a few citations for moral rectitude, what with Tragen's helping out of the young couple in the avalanche and now this! Bargen wanted it known that he rewarded those who helped the smooth running of the Hold and helped other people. He had added, rather waspishly, that he could hardly be expected to sort out crimes and problems if the victims refused to approach him over them! The result was that Morill was by most people's standards now a wealthy man, with three mares and a stallion all of good blood, each probably worth a minimum of fifty marks for their pedigree! Indeed, some of the other four compensated jockeys were talking about setting up stables of their own, alone or maybe clubbing together. There were unsettled valleys that Bargen would be glad to grant, for he held that there was more fun to be had at the races, and therefore better business from it, if there were many small owners rather than fewer big concerns.

Morill had turned down an offer to join with other jockeys; he found himself perplexed about how to handle his good fortune.. He decided to lay the matter before his fellows at supper, as was Northfork custom, eliciting advice from all from Tragen to the stable boy Keeran. He banged on the table for attention.

"You all know I'm the proud owner of several runner beasts." He declared, holding up his hand for silence as clapping broke out. "And I would not be but for the aid of Kren, z, er, Zakan and Marthengol." He looked around the table. "Now I know that Tragen took on Zakan and Marthengol to look out for trouble" – it was the story they had agreed on, and was not exactly a lie; and M'gol's idiocy act had rather slipped. Morill continued, "So they have their lives to return to and no interest in investment. However, I'd like it witnessed that anything good that comes out of this I'll go equal shares with Kren."

There was thunderous applause and Kren turned pink.

Morill waited for the noise to subside and banged his spoon again.

"WILL you let me finish?" he said testily. "I'm just coming to the point!"

"Hurry it up – I want my bubbly pie!" heckled one of the grooms. Morill glared at him.

"Kren and I are agreed that, not only do we not understand business, we are also Tragen's men." He continued. Tragen tried not to look moved; and failed, having to clear his throat several times. Morill went on "so we're in a bit of a quandary about what to do. We hoped someone might have a bright idea."

M'gol cleared his throat.

"I have a suggestion." He said tentatively.

"Suggest!" said Moril with an expansive gesture.

"It seems to me that the animals you own, and their later value as stud, might balance the expertise of Tragen should he run the business and arrang matings. If all costs were equally shared, then all profits could be equally shared. If you added a wing to Northfork you could be semi independent: and if you put in time to care for and ride Tragen's beasts, his men could share time with yours. I don't know if that's good business sense: but it seems to me good common sense." Suggested M'gol.

"And there's precious little of that about." Said Tragen. "Well, lads, it would suit me if it suits you. Does it seem fair? A third share to me in return for doing all the boring bits. And we will also save by buying in winter feed and leather in larger quantity to split between us."

Kren and Morill laughed at Tragen's sally about doing the boring bits, and on an exchange of looks they nodded. The deal was quickly shaken upon!

"it is a good solution, Marthengol." Said Tragen.

M'gol grinned.

"Always happy to solve a Morill dilemma!" he quipped; then flung up his arms laughing to protect his head as jockeys and grooms leaped to pummel him for the atrocious pun!

Race day could almost have been anticlimactic; save that it was always a big event, full of noise and colour. The weather itself obliged, the sky a delicate eggshell blue and the strong, high altitude sun finding diamond sparkles in the myriad icicles that hung from every overhang. The snow gleamed invitingly, and informal races were soon underway down convenient slopes as soon as any youngsters could get away and cadge the use of anything that would slide!

The racetrack had been marked with flags as the surface was deep under snow; and it was soon thronged with chattering, laughing groups of people, snugly but brightly clad! Hot pie sellers wandersd around the crowds, doing a roaring trade; woodcrafters sold carven replicas of famous racing beasts; bookies took the marks of the ounters, many of them dragon riders. T'bor had been known to comment dryly that it was more than good business sense to hold the Gather on Thread free days: because on race day you'd be hard put to find a dozen smokeless weyrlings to combat it, let alone a full wing!

M'gol enjoyed the races. He enjoyed them the more because Rillith permitted J'nara another day's absence, despite the alarums of the previous day! So, when M'gol was not needed to help Tragen out, the blonde girl snuggled happily within the circle of his arm.. Rillith was safe with Luruth; and if B'lova could not cope with Teegan, there was always Lanelly! There seemed no point toJ'nara to continue to try to dissemble her feelings for M'gol after having thrown herself on him the day before! And if she got hurt, well, that was the way it would have to be. She'd always have Rillith, after all!

M'gol had no intention of any short term affair with J'nara. To his utter surprise he found the prospect of domesticity quite satisfying!

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