Mistle slipped out of her mother's quarters and down the hall. It was silent in the Hold this time of night, but at least one other person would be awake.
Namul looked up from the leather bound tome he was reading from, several glowbaskets arranged to provide the best light.
"Lady Mistle, come on in." He waved her in, past the curled up green watchwher. He had been moved to larger quarters after the attack, and Namusk spent every night with him. The wher watched her as she entered, but her eyes glowed green with spots of blue. The familiar acquaintance he had always had with the Holder family had broadened into a friendship with the eldest daughter, as her recent bouts of insomnia had lead her to the company of the recovering wherhandler.
"I hope I'm not interrupting?" She asked, like she did every time.
"No, I was hoping you'd show up actually." He reached over and sorted through several correspondences, before handing her one, elegant script written on green tinted vellum. "It's official."
Mistle's breath caught in her throat, as she took the letter from him with a shaking hand. Carefully she opened it, and turned the letter into the lantern glow of Namusk's eyes, reading the official invite to Healer Hall.
"Oh. Oh... thank you!" She stopped herself from hugging Namul by hugging the softly crooning wher instead. "I'm going to Healer Hall, Namusk." She whispered happily to the green, who thrummed her approval. "A-and my mother, she can't stop this?" She looked at him, suddenly afraid to dare hope.
"Legally, any obligation you have to the Hold goes away with your father's death. Whomever takes over as Lord Holder can ask you to marry for the Hold's benefit, but you have no obligation at that point." Namul explained carefully. He had many long conversations with Harper Livra, Lithvu's replacement, to understand exactly what was expected of the Holder's family in this crisis.
Mistle's face fell, reminded of his murder. Namul instantly regretted his choice of words.
"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started.
"No, it's okay." She attempted a smile. "I know he was fond of all of us, but we were never close. None of us were." She absently pat Namusk's head.
"It's hard for someone who has lost a mind-companion to get close to people again." Namul offered softly. "Especially losing such a friend so soon after the death of his first wife."
Mistletoe nodded, her gaze returning to the letter.
"He really did love her, though, didn't he, in the end." It was less a question and more an observation. A number of witnesses had suggested that the Lord Holder actually stepped between Minket and the fatal blade.
"You mean your mother? Yes, I think we didn't credit the depth of his love for her." He agreed, and wondered, not for the first time, if that was the real reason Telgarsk was so taken with the Lady Holder.
"Or hers for him." Mistle sighed softly. "I feel... guilty, to be perfectly honest. I never really thought there was love between them."
Namul smiled sympathetically.
"There was once a dragonrider, who lost his green to a training accident. The then wher queen handler invited him to the hatching of her queen's last clutch." He smiled at Mistle's raised eyebrow. "He impressed the new wher queen, much to all of Pern's surprise."
"Is that why Fulsa wants to see more girls stand Hatching?" Mistle asked.
"Probably. It lends credence to the theory that genders don't have to match up. But the reason I brought it up is this, he never showed physical affection to his wher queen, because he was afraid iffin' he did, he'd lose her like he had his dragon."
"Who was this handler, and how long ago did he live?" Mistle asked curiously.
"The handler was named Larthan, L'than when he was a dragonrider, roughly halfway through the last Interval. He served as Wherqueen handler for almost seventy Turns. And he revolutionized handling as a profession. Like Fulsa, he believed that watchwhers were limited only by their handlers training. Being an ex-dragonman, he trained his wher in all the techniques he had learned for Threadfighting, and adapted them for WatchCraft. Much of what we do now comes from those techniques he pioneered. He also recognized in whers a potential in other crafts, and encouraged handlers to apply from other Crafts, in the hopes that they too would expand the uses for our lovable uglies." Namusk burbled at him, showering both of their minds with affection. "To be honest with you, I think only MineCraft has really utilized them to their whole potential, but I have hopes for the Fisherfolk. I heard recently one hold in Ista started bringing their watchwher onboard for night catches, and she helps drive fish into their nets."
"Hmmm. That's much to think on." She turned the folded vellum in her hands around again, reading and re-reading the words it contains, memorizing them. "Namul... how am I going to get to Fort Hold?"
He grinned rakishly then.
"Fulsa and Telgarsk will take you, if you don't mind arriving in style."
B'ton woke feeling discombobulated. As he rose and made his way to the privy he asked Wubath to fill him in on what the events of the last two days. While he bathed and dressed, and set his bed furs out to air, the bronze spoke, recounting Shay's interview, from Graesth's point of view, the investigation by the Harpers and the Watch, and lastly of Masterweaver Thursk's death, retaliation for the role the Weaver had played in Redell's original exile. He spoke too of the discovery of Redell's network among the Holdless, for food, fuel, and other goods, including firelizard eggs. Worst, by B'ton's estimation, many of these 'Holdless' weren't. Either they were disaffected minor Holders whom had thrown their lot in with Redell, which in light of Benden's behavior explained why none of the other Weyrs had been approached to remediate that particular offense, choosing instead to follow a dynamic 'WherLord' for justice. And even among the truly Holdless, many of them had formed permanent holdings, completely unknown to the Lordholders on whose land they lived. B'ton found it most disturbing that many of these holdless Holds were build under the dense foliage of skybroom stands, although he had to credit the Holdless for recognizing that the Dragonfolk wouldn't abandon ground that they had been protecting for the last forty plus Turns. He rubbed his brow, walking out the Wubath's couch, to lean against the sunning bronze's haunch.
"How many?" He finally asked.
Three holdless Holdings in Telgar, two more in High Reaches, seven in Benden. Z'dis leads a Wing investigating other likely areas, Igen and Fort are helping, but only Ista seems likely free.
"How were they avoiding Threadfall?" B'ton asked looking into his dragon's whirling green-blue eyes.
They had firelizards and watchwhers, and all the buildings had thick slate roofs. And Pern has us. The bronze gently reminded him.
"Of course, forgive me." He rubbed the bronze's eyeridge.
"Watchwhers, huh?" He considered the plural. "I need to talk to Namul and Fulsa."
"Not before you have some breakfast. " Jurille chided, walking around Wubath's bulk, carrying a tray. Behind her, Weyrling J'than carried mugs of warm klah.
"Thank you, Sherashth, J'than."
"Our pleasure, Jurille." J'than grinned cockily and turned to run up his dragon's leg. Once snuggly in his seat Sherashth neatly sidestepped off the ledge, wings snapping open as they floated in an elegant spiral to the floor of the Bowl.
"Showoffs." Jurille chuckled fondly, offering the Weyrleader his klah.
"Thank you." He took the mug as his stomach growled. "They are using watchwhers." He said quietly, sipping the strong drink.
"Using them in ways we never credited them to. It's probably how we missed them all these Turns."
"And how many Turns is that?" B'ton mentally braced himself for worst news.
"The oldest of the unaffiliated holds is six turns old, but Redell was building his alliances at least eight Turns ago."
"Eight Turns?" It was worst than he thought. "How did he go so long without the Harpers finding out about him?"
"That's what Degal would like to know." Jurille replied grimly.
"How under the two moons did he evade our rumor gleaners for eight Turns?" Master Archivist Lindin demanded. Degal held up his hands.
"I don't know. I can hypothesis, speculate and present you multiple theories, but in the end - I don't know." He paused and let the admission sink into the harper masters he had convened in his private quarters. Unlike his predecessors, he kept all of his subcraft masters in the loop of his covert activities. Given that it fell to harpers to stand in as arbiters of justice in the absence of the Lordholders, Degal embraced a policy of open communication with his masters, as they sometimes heard things from their journeymen that that the 'rumor gleaners' (as the Master Archivist preferred to call his spies) missed.
"When the boy speaks of Redell, he most often calls him 'the lord', as opposed to the 'WherLord' he intially identified him as." Language Master Pilu said, looking up from the transcript Harper Lirva provided them. "Allow me to speculate, if the boy's speech patterns mimic those of the adults around him, then most of the holdless might refer to Redell as a lord. If that's the case, then our spies might well have mistaken that to be a reference to Lord Kestle, particularly since he too was once a wherhandler."
"That might actually explain some of the discrepancies in the rumors coming out of Telgar these past few Turns." Glenbe, the mathematics master pointed out. Of all the masters he had been most keen when the discrepancies first cropped up, almost four Turns ago. In hindsight, Degal wished he had paid more attention to Glenbe's nagging suspicions. But who would have thought the slightly nearsighted mathematician with a near phobia of unknown women would have such a keen sense for spywork?
"Fulmar with the help of Telgar Weyr has already sent guards to the three holdless holds. According to reports, they were abandoned, and only within minutes of the dragons' arrivals." Degal explained.
"How did they escape? Surely at least one such holding should have been caught unaware." Lindin grumbled.
"They all had firelizards or watchwhers, right?" Instrument construction Master Stubru suggested. A taciturn harper might be an oxymoron, but Stubru's observations, as often as not pithy in nature, were always spot on. Degal nodded.
"Both. Apparently Redell requires dragon kin in his allies. Watchwher kennels have been found in all holdings, and the dragons report being watched by fire lizards."
"Hmm... he's setting up his own communication system." Glenbe suggested in the startled silence. The other masters gave him a collective puzzled look. "Think about it. Every one of his allies has a firelizard, something they realistically can't expect to get even trading for it, at a Gather. Redell doesn't just have a watchwher, he has two queens. Not only can his queen provide clutches for barther, you said his wher can and habitually does go between - do we know if his wher is breeding? Might be where the additional watchwhers are coming from."
"Weren't two watchwher eggs unrecovered several Turns back?" Jefis, the instruction master asked.
"Two winters ago. It's why the WherHold relocated to that island off of Nerat." Degal nodded.
"Wasn't there concern that one of the eggs was a queen?" Jefis pointed out.
"It was a concern, but most think Redell's bronze hatched from that egg." Degal explained.
"What if he got away with both a queen and a bronze? Or even two bronzes? Multiple firelizards will impress the same person, how do we know watchwhers won't?" The silence following Glenbe's questions was damning, to say the least.
A brown firelizard popped into the room and looked around, landing when he spotted Lindin. Crooning, the lizard staid still as the Archivist untied the message tied to his back.
"News from Bukset?" Degal asked. Many harpers found it expedient to have a firelizard, but only a few had managed to impress any of the larger colors.
"Bukset has found a map. He and Wingleader Z'dis are going to follow up on it - if it's what he thinks it is, there could easily be thirty unaffiliated Holdings." She explained, scanning the note. They used a written language known as short hand for field operations. "Also, they found watchwher shells."
"How old?" Degal asked, frowning.
"He doesn't say, but if those missing eggs hatched two springs ago, they would be old enough to breed now, if whers mature at the same rate as dragons. " Lindin explained, pulling out a thin strip of parchment to respond.
"I was under the impression that watchwhers mature faster, being smaller than their larger cousins." Pila remarked, earning a couple raised eyebrows. She smiled faintly. "You forget, Pijac is at Silent Cove, and the wherhandler is deaf."
Pijac, her daughter, had been permanently assigned to Silent Cove, a tiny holding on the southern Istan coast where a majority of the Holder's were deaf. Regular correspondence with her daughter had earned Pila the curious position of knowing odd tidbits of knowledge. Degal once jokingly threatened to make her the Master of Trivia.
"We should ask the Wherqueen handler to join this venture." Stubru suggested.
"And the Telgaran wherhandlers. " Glenbe added.
"Can't. Namul was badly injured a fortnight ago and still recovering." Degal sighed.
"What about his mate? I understand Telgarsk looks to her." Glenbe persisted.
"Honestly, my preference for Namul stems from the fact that he was Searched and enjoyed tutelage at Fort Weyr. I don't know if Fulsa's knowledge is equal to his." Degal explained patiently.
"And do we know if the Wherqueen handler's matches that?" Jefis asked.
"She should be. She was Weyrbred before joining the BeastHall." Lindin pointed out.
I have to go to California for a memorial service at the end of the month, so have an early chapter. As always, please let me know if I've misspelled or used improper grammar anywhere.