The Vikings of Pern
A/N
Benden Weyr notices a crisis in the making, but they can't do anything about it because that would be against the rules. But there's always a way, and F'lar, Lessa, and F'nor will find it. This story takes place during the "All the Weyrs of Pern" time period. Rated K-plus; the language is all K.
The first sign of trouble came just after a Threadfall over Benden.
It had been a better-than-average battle against Thread; almost none of the stuff had gotten past them to the ground crews, and almost none of them had gotten Threadscored. F'nor's half-wing had been detached by F'lar to follow the last traces of falling Thread down the Benden Hold coast, while most of the other dragons and their riders returned to the Weyr, their job finished. F'nor's well-trained teams made short work of the remaining Thread, which drew them further south down the coastline.
Fallioth's S'koll wants to know if we can go home now, Canth reported to his rider.
F'nor looked around. The Threadfall had ended; there was no reason why they couldn't go straight back to Benden Weyr. But this side mission had taken them to territory they seldom covered, and he didn't want to waste a good training opportunity. "We'll make a quick landing at that little Seahold just ahead," he decided. "We'll make a fast inspection to make sure their Thread defenses are what they ought to be, let their children stare in awe at our dragons for a few minutes, then go home. What's the name of that Seahold?"
"Packtail Shoals," one of his riders shouted. It was K'neth, green Chocath's rider. "My brother fostered there as a boy."
"Thank you, K'neth," F'nor nodded. "Packtail Shoals Seahold, you're about to have company!" He gave the hand signal for a line-ahead formation, and his half-wing swiftly reformed itself and glided down to an easy landing in the village common.
S'koll was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "Where is everybody?"
The Seahold was deserted. Wooden doors creaked open and closed with the wind; aside from that and the wind itself, the place was silent. Nothing moved except bits of debris, blown along with the wind. There should have been women doing chores, and children playing between the houses, and old men catching what they could of the sun. Instead, there was nothing.
"K'neth, go check the harbor and tell me what you see," F'nor ordered. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, "Hello! Is anyone here?"
He got no answer but the wind.
"Everyone, spread out," he said. "Check the huts for any sign of where all the people went. Ask your dragons if they can see or smell anything out of the ordinary." He stuck his head into the nearest house. The place was mildly disheveled, but it was hard to tell if this was a sign of a struggle or the normal state of this home. Some kind of fish chowder in a pot had boiled over onto the wood-fired stove, then congealed when the fire went out. Clothes were hung on a drying rack in the corner, and a child's doll lay on a small cot near the adult-sized bed. Wherever these people had gone, it looked like they had left in a hurry.
The other riders reported similar findings. None of the dragons noticed anything out of the ordinary. K'neth came pounding up the trail that led down to the harbor. "The bay is full of fishing boats," he said. "I saw only two or three open moorings, so I'm guessing that most of their boats are still here. Their rigging is starting to get tangled. That tells me that they haven't been taken out in a few days."
"So, wherever the people all went, they must have gone by land," F'nor concluded.
"They might have gone by someone else's ships," S'koll suggested.
"Why would they do that?" F'nor countered. "That doesn't make any sense."
"This whole situation makes no sense," K'neth said. "An entire Seahold full of people – men, women, children, Uncles and Aunties – they're all gone without a trace! I can't even guess where to start looking for them."
"I'll tell you where we'll start," F'nor told him. "We'll start by notifying Lord Toronas. This is a Hold matter, not a Weyr matter. Tracking these people down is a job for the Lord Holder of Benden, not us. For all we know, he already knows about it. Maybe he even caused it, although I can't imagine how or why. We'll take a quick look at the surrounding countryside from the air, but we won't waste a lot of time at it. Our dragons are tired and so are we. We need to get home."
That was when they heard a small, frightened voice. "Dragonriders?"
F'nor whipped his head back and forth. "Who said that? Please let us see you."
A small dark-skinned girl, perhaps six or seven Turns old, hesitantly stepped out of one of the smaller homes. Her clothes and face were filthy and her dark curly hair was badly tangled. "Are you dragonriders?" she asked again, wide-eyed.
F'nor got down on one knee so he didn't tower over her. "Yes, we are dragonriders," he nodded. "My name is F'nor. What's yours?"
"Mervona," the girl quavered. "My father is Mervilio, and my mother is Andonna. My father owns his own fishing boat."
"Are you hungry, Mervona?" he asked. She nodded shyly. He pulled some dry in-flight rations from a belt pouch and held them out to her. She timidly approached him, then grabbed the food out of his hand with both hands and stuffed it into her mouth. He waited until she was done chewing before he tried to talk to her.
"Mervona, where did all the other people go?"
"I don't know," she quavered.
"Can you tell me anything about the day that all the people went away?"
She shook her head. "I was playing behind the house," she said. "I heard people shouting, and I was scared, so I ran away and hid inside my favorite hollow tree. When it was quiet again, I came back, and they were all gone."
"How long ago was that?" K'neth asked her.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Two days, or three days... I lost count."
F'nor shook his head. "Mervona, we can't leave you here all by yourself. Will you ride my dragon with me and come back to Benden Weyr with us? We can take care of you there."
The little girl looked frightened. "But what if my mother and my father come back and they can't find me?"
We'll leave them a note telling them where you are," F'nor promised. "S'koll, go into her house and find something to write with. Leave them a note saying that their daughter is at the Weyr."
"Would poor fisherfolk in the middle of nowhere have writing implements?" S'koll questioned him.
"Write with your finger in the dust if you have to," F'nor snapped. "I don't want to prolong this adventure any longer than I already have. Canth, please bespeak Mnementh and tell F'lar what's going on here. S'koll, leave that message, then go home. The rest of you can mount up and return to the Weyr." He turned back to the girl. "Mervona, you're going to ride with me on Canth. He's the biggest brown dragon on Pern. He'll give us a safe, fast ride back to the Weyr."
She didn't answer, but nodded nervously. He held her hand and led her to where Canth waited. Her expressive eyes went even wider as they got closer to the dragon and she realized how big Canth was. By the time they got to the big brown's side, she wasn't willing to walk any further and F'nor had to pick her up and carry her. It took a few extra minutes for him to get both of them up onto Canth's back and get himself strapped in. He waited until he saw S'koll leave the house and climb onto Fallioth, then told Canth to take off as gently as he could. Mervona cried out as the ground fell away beneath them, then gasped in amazement at the sight of her village from the air.
"As soon as we find your parents," F'nor promised her, "we'll bring you back here. Now we're going to go between. It's very dark and very cold there. Can you be brave?" The little girl nodded soberly. F'nor gave Canth the mental picture and they flashed between, reemerging over the familiar sight of Benden Weyr.
F'nor's first task was to remove the riding straps so Canth could bathe and feed freely. Then he found a foster-mother in the Lower Caverns who could look after Mervona. Finally, he reported to F'lar and Lessa.
"That's very strange," Lessa nodded at the end of his tale. "But you're right – it's a matter for Lord Toronas, not for us. I'll write a summary of what you've told us and send it by messenger dragon to Benden Hold."
"Do you think the girl can tell us anything more?" F'lar wondered.
"I doubt it," F'nor said. "She's scared, but she hasn't lost her wits. I don't think she's holding anything back. She just doesn't know what happened to the people of her Seahold."
"She's in good company," Lessa said sourly. "We don't know either. Maybe I'll ask the Weyr Harper if there's another Question Song asking where all the Seaholders went."
"Are you planning to go back four hundred Turns to find them?" F'nor asked archly.
"That's not a bad idea," F'lar said suddenly. "We could time it back to the day when they all disappeared, and watch from a distance to see where they went."
"Not today, you won't," Lessa cut in. "The whole Weyr is bone-tired from fighting Thread. If you ask any of our dragons to time it, we'll probably lose a few of them." She whirled and pointed a finger in F'nor's face. "And don't even think of doing it yourself! The last time you appointed yourself to be the heroic fact-finder, we almost lost you, and Canth as well."
F'nor almost gave her an angry retort about how he was a better judge of Canth's fatigue than she was. But a quick mental check with his dragon confirmed Lessa's words. Canth had flown hard this Threadfall, and he had just enough energy left to kill and eat a herdbeast and then return to his sleeping ledge.
"I'd like to do it, just to spite you," he admitted, "but Canth isn't up to it. You know I won't risk him."
"I hope you wouldn't risk him," she countered, "but I know exactly how tired Canth is, because I just asked him. I count on the fact that he's got more sense than you have." Ignoring his irked expression, she turned back to F'lar. "I'll get that message sent to Lord Toronas. Then I'll speak to Mervona myself, just in case I think of a question that the others didn't think to ask."
"Good," F'lar nodded. "F'nor, you've done well. Now go off duty; rinse the black dust out of your hair; get some food; spend a little time with your dragon. You're not going to solve this mystery today, so work on recovering your energy or you'll be useless to me and everyone else."
F'nor opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. Lessa suspected that Canth was speaking to him, probably relaying a message from Brekke. After a few seconds, F'nor nodded, turned, and left.
Toronas' answer arrived the next day, neatly written on one of Bendarek's paper sheets. "Thank you for this information. This is the third small Seahold whose people have disappeared. Two of them were mine and one was in Nerat. I am looking into this. Please contact me at once if you find any clues."
Lessa passed the paper back to F'lar after reading it. "That is one worried-sounding Lord Holder," she commented.
"Why didn't he tell us about this before?" F'nor wondered.
"Because it's none of our business," F'lar said, a bit more sharply than he meant to.
"I abase myself with apologies," F'nor replied with a mocking bow. "But the fact remains that small Seaholds are being stripped of their people in our own backyard, and even if we aren't supposed to help, it would be neighborly to let us know about the problem. Some of the missing people should be on ground crews, so it does involve us in a way. Maybe we can find clues from the sky that would elude the Holders on the ground, and pass them on to Toronas without violating the separation of powers."
"Toronas probably picked up some of his father Raid's attitudes toward the Weyrs," Lessa said sourly. "He'd rather not deal with us any more than he has to."
"That kind of stubbornness will get his coastline depopulated before the Turn is over, if the problem keeps going at the present rate," F'nor answered.
"But what is the problem?" Lessa countered.
"Let's think about this for a minute," F'lar began. "I can think of no natural reason that could take people out of a village. Even if Thread somehow got them all, there would still be traces left behind. Either the people are leaving on their own, or someone else is making them leave."
"If they were leaving on their own," F'nor added, "they would take their own boats. Leaving them behind makes no sense – fishing boats are a Seahold's greatest treasure. So let's say someone is making them leave. Who would do that, and why would he do it?"
"Toronas says only Seaholds are being affected," Lessa went on. "That means there must be some connection with the sea."
"Either the problem comes and goes by sea, or someone wants something that comes from the sea," F'lar nodded. "Has someone from a Seahold found a treasure of some kind, like a gemstone that got stuck in someone's fishing net? Maybe our unknown problem-causers want to steal it."
"I've heard no news like that," Lessa said with a shake of her head. "Besides, if a tiny Seahold found something of great value, Toronas would probably demand it, according to his rights as Lord Holder, in exchange for fair compensation in marks or some other medium."
"The only way the Seahold could prevent that," F'nor continued, "would be for them to tell no one about it. In that case, our problem-causers wouldn't know about it either. I think we can cross ocean treasures off our list."
"Our list was pretty bare to start with," F'lar replied. "If we're going to get involved in any way at all, we're going to need more facts."
"Which Toronas probably won't give us." That was F'nor.
"But Toronas isn't our only option," Lessa burst out. "The message says that one of the affected Seaholds is in Nerat. Maybe Lord Ciparis will be more cooperative than Lord Toronas."
"He could hardly be less cooperative," F'lar said wryly. "He's a bit of a stickler for rank, from what I've heard, so I'll communicate with him and see if we can learn anything. In the meantime, all I can suggest is to tell all our riders to look for anything unusual while they're overflying the sea or the coast."
F'lar's attempt at contact with Lord Ciparis of Nerat Hold turned out to be quite fruitful, even though the news he got was not good. "It was a tiny Seahold called Tidal Tower, just south of Nerat's border with Benden," he told the others a sevenday later. "He found out about the attack when he sent a boat to collect his share of their monthly catch, and found nobody there. There were signs of a struggle and two dead bodies, both adult men. It appeared that they were killed by blows from an axe."
"Was anything taken from the village?" F'nor asked.
"Without knowing what was there in the first place, it's hard to say," F'lar answered. "But the houses were not searched or ransacked in any visible way. A handful of the fishing boats are missing, but most of them were left right where they were."
"Is there any way to know which of the Seaholds was attacked first?" Lessa wanted to know.
"We know that Packtail Shoals Seahold was attacked last," F'nor answered. "Mervona says her town was hit just a few days before we found her. Even though she lost track of the days, it couldn't have been very long, or she would have been a lot hungrier than she was. Aside from that, I don't think we can do better than guess. Does it matter?"
"If the attacks were progressing down the seacoast, then we could know which direction the renegades were going, and we could suggest that Lord Toronas put guards on the next likely targets," Lessa said. "We could even trace their course back and figure out where they came from. But if the attacks are spread out at random, which seems to be the case, then guessing is all we can do."
They were interrupted by M'nun, a blue rider from S'lel's wing, still in his flying leathers. "Your pardon, Weyrleader, Weyrwoman," he began, "but S'lel told me to bring you a report immediately. We were overflying the Crevice Cove Seahold on a training flight and we noticed that no one was moving in the village. We landed and found no one there, except for one dead man and one badly-hurt woman. They'd been attacked a day or two ago. S'lel said you would want to know about this."
"Crevice Cove?" F'lar repeated. "I'm not familiar with that one."
"It's a tiny place, with less than fifty inhabitants," F'nor said. "I think it's pretty far to the north."
"It's definitely in the north of Benden Hold," M'nun nodded. "It's almost into the territory where Thread freezes into black dust before it reaches the ground."
F'lar scowled. "I wonder why they didn't establish the place a little further north, so they'd be permanently safe from Thread. We would never have to fly against Thread over a place like that."
"I'm sure their first priority was choosing a good harbor for a fishing fleet, not making life easy for the Weyr," Lessa said. "Can we talk to the hurt woman?"
"Not at this time," the blue rider said, shaking his head. "As soon as we found her, S'lel had her wrapped in blankets and flown to the Healer Hall. She'll probably be there for a sevenday at the very least, and probably a lot longer than that. She's unconscious and can't talk to anyone."
"If the attack was that recent, then Lord Toronas probably doesn't know about it yet," F'nor realized.
F'lar nodded. "M'nun, please tell S'lel to pick another rider to bring this news to Lord Toronas. Don't do it yourself; I'm sure that you and your dragon need to rest."
"Thank you, Weyrleader," the blue rider said with relief. "I'll get that done right away." He turned on his heel and left.
"The plot thickens," F'nor said absently.
"And the body count rises," Lessa added. "These renegades need to be stopped, sooner and not later!"
"But it's not our problem to solve," F'lar reminded her.
"Lord Toronas doesn't seem to be doing anything about it," Lessa retorted. "Innocent people are dying while he wrings his hands and does nothing. If we don't do something, then who will?"
"Maybe we should get the Fishercraft involved," F'nor said suddenly. "It's definitely an issue that involves them, and if the raiders are coming and going by sea, then sailors in ships will be a better solution than guards on land."
"Now that's a good idea!" F'lar exclaimed. "Lessa, get in touch with Master Idarolan and tell him what's going on. I'll leave the details to you. Let me know as soon as you have something to report."
She had an answer for him in two days. "The Masterfisher says he'd heard some unconfirmed rumors, but nothing concrete. He's thankful that we contacted him."
"Is he going to do anything?" F'nor asked.
"He says he has three ships, one medium-sized and two small, that are crewed by men who know how to sail and how to fight. They're presently patrolling the coast of Southern Boll for renegades that Lord Sangel thinks might be there. He's going to reassign them to the east coast, because a real problem is more important than a possible problem, but it will take at least two sevendays for them to get here."
F'lar nodded. "He can't do much more than that. I'm glad someone besides us is taking this threat seriously."
"He told me something else," Lessa went on. "He asked us to keep an eye open for a ship called the Southern Shipfish. It was supposed to be going up and down the coast of Pern, showing all the Seaholds some new Fishercrafthall improvements in fishing nets, but it has disappeared without a trace."
"We'll look for her while we're out flying," F'lar agreed. "But why does he think the ship is still around? Missing ships usually turn out to be sunken ships, don't they?"
"He's confident in the ship's captain," Lessa said. "Master Lofoten has decades of experience on the sea, and his crew is hand-picked. The ship itself is brand-new, less than a year old. If something happened to her, it would have been a disaster of titanic proportions."
"So now we've got two mysteries instead of one," F'nor mused, "and neither one of them is for the Weyrs to solve."
"Could they be connected?" F'lar suddenly wondered. "It's a longshot, but could this missing ship be responsible for the attacks on the Seaholds?"
"I have to doubt it," F'nor answered. "One ship can't hold that many prisoners."
"What if they've got some kind of hidden harbor?" Lessa wondered. "They might have some place where they can anchor, unload the prisoners, and load provisions for another voyage."
"Still doubtful," F'nor said. "I got the impression that this missing ship sailed from the Fishercrafthall, which is in Tillek Hold on the west coast. If this ship was raiding our eastern coast, then they'd need a harbor here. I can't believe that there are any decent harbors that haven't already had Seaholds established in them."
"Maybe Master Idarolan can help there," F'lar added. "I'm sure he has maps of the entire coast of Pern. If there are any likely places for a ship to hide, he'll be able to point them out to us."
"I'll check with him," Lessa nodded. She wound up flying across the continent with Ramoth to meet with him. When she returned a few days later, she bore a large rolled-up sheet of paper with a hand-drawn map of Pern on it. The map showed the coastline of the entire inhabited Northern continent, but almost nothing inland.
"Master Idarolan asked the Harpers to help copy his master map," she explained as she unrolled it on the conference-room table. "That's how I got it so quickly. He's marked the location of every Seahold, and the locations of any bays that might shelter a medium-sized ship. Our dragons can overfly those locations during their training flights and see if there's any evidence of human activity."
"And if they find evidence, what then?" F'nor challenged her.
"We'll pass the information to Lord Toronas, or to Lord Ciparis if we find activity on the Nerat side," F'lar decided. "We'll also notify Master Idarolan. This still isn't our problem to solve."
"But we could solve it much faster than any of those others!" F'nor protested. "One quick pass with a half-wing of dragons and firestone, and their harbor would be reduced to ashes."
"Even if we were allowed to do that," Lessa said sharply, "what if their buildings are full of their prisoners? We don't want to burn them up, do we?"
"No, I suppose we don't," F'nor admitted. "But I still think we should be looking for ways for us to get involved. We've got dragons! We can see things from the air that the Holders and Craftsmen can't see! We can't just sit here in our safe, stony Weyr and wait for the next report of an empty Seahold and dead Seaholders."
"If you can think of something that doesn't violate the rules about how Holds, Halls and Weyrs relate to each other, then I'm all for it," F'lar decided. "In the meantime, we need to keep our eyes open, and our minds as well. We have no evidence that the missing ship is connected to the raids, so we'll treat them as two separate problems until we have a reason to think otherwise."
As they went their separate ways, F'nor caught up with Lessa. "Why is F'lar so worried about Lord Toronas' reaction to us getting involved in his problem?" he asked. "I'd think the Lord Holder would be grateful if we stopped the raids on his Seaholds."
"Toronas is his father's son," Lessa answered. "He won't let the Weyrs soar over him, no matter what it might cost him. I remind you that the tithes from Benden Hold are our biggest source of food and supplies. If we give Toronas an excuse to short-change us, he'll take it and run with it, and we'll all go hungry. F'lar is trying to avoid that."
"So F'lar and Toronas are playing social-political games, and the the big losers are the Seaholders," F'nor said bitterly. "I'll follow F'lar's rules, but I promise you, I'll be looking for loopholes."
"If you find one," Lessa said quietly, "let me know."
Four days later, they received a report from the Healer Hall. The injured woman was regaining consciousness for a few minutes at a time. The Healers were trying to ask her what had happened to her, but she would say only two words in reply: "Dragon ships."
"Does that make any sense?" F'lar asked.
"She couldn't mean literal dragons," Lessa thought out loud. "Could someone disguise a ship so it looks like a dragon?"
"A ship like that wouldn't be very seaworthy, I'm sure," F'nor replied. "It certainly wouldn't fool anyone. Could the woman be saying 'dragging ships' and we're misunderstanding her?"
"I guess that's possible," F'lar nodded. "Fishing boats drag their nets behind them. Maybe that's what she means."
"I'll ask Master Idarolan," Lessa volunteered, "but I never heard him use that term, the whole time I was talking to him before. It doesn't sound like a nautical term, and if this woman is a lifelong Seaholder, then I'm sure she'd use the correct words for things that pertain to the sea."
"So we've got another clue," F'nor mused, "and it doesn't help us a bit because we can't understand it. This is frustrating."
"Is there anyplace else where we can look for answers?" Lessa wondered.
"Yes, there is," F'lar said decisively. "I think it's time we paid AIVAS a social visit."
It was Masterharper Robinton's turn to oversee the day-to-day operations at Landing. He personally led them to one of AIVAS' small meeting rooms. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you," he said as he opened the door. "This sounds like an intriguing set of problems that you're trying to solve without actually solving them."
"Of course you're welcome to join us, Masterharper," F'lar nodded, and gestured for Robinton to precede them into the room. They closed the door and took seats.
"Good morning, Weyrleader F'lar, Weyrwoman Lessa, and Wingsecond F'nor," the almost-human-sounding voice said. "Please state the nature of your social emergency."
"We have several problems that we're trying to help solve," F'lar began. "The biggest issue is a series of raids along our eastern seaboard. Small Seaholds are being stripped of their entire populations, except for a handful of casualties. Nothing is getting stolen except for a few fishing boats from each Seahold. We're trying to work out who is responsible so we can help the Lord Holders to stop them."
"Seaborne brigandage is not unique to Pern," AIVAS began. "There are many parallel examples from the history of Old Earth. Most such episodes centered on theft and looting. When people are taken away, it usually meant either taking hostages for ransom, or capturing slaves to be sold for profit."
"Those are both ugly," Lessa commented.
"I think we can rule out the possibility of hostages," F'lar answered. "There have been no communications with these renegades. If they want a ransom, then they're doing a very poor job of letting the rest of us know about it."
"If they're taking people as slaves, the question becomes 'why?'" F'nor mused. "They must have at least two hundred captives by now. Nobody needs that many forced laborers. The Cromcoal mines don't have a shortage of workers; I've heard of no Holders complaining about a lack of farmers."
"What about Southern?" Lessa asked.
"Southern has all the people it needs," F'lar replied. "We've had to put limits on who goes there; we certainly don't need to force people to go there! We're still missing some key pieces to this puzzle."
"This facility has no other information to offer," AIVAS added.
"All right," Lessa said to the speaker-box. "Maybe you have some information on dragon ships? We heard that term and we're trying to figure out what it might mean."
After a moment, one of the flat viewscreens on the wall lit up with an image of an unusual-looking ship. It had a single mast with a square sail, a low-lying clinker-built hull with smoothly curved lines, and a raised prow with something that looked vaguely like a dragon's head on the top.
"This is a dragon ship," AIVAS said. "The image is from old Earth. It shows a typical ship used by a culture that called themselves Northmen or Norsemen, but were popularly known as Vikings. They used ships like this one to travel to faraway lands."
"Did they do any looting or kidnapping in those faraway lands?" F'lar asked suddenly.
"They were much feared for their looting and kidnapping," AIVAS answered. "They sold their victims as slaves to augment their income from selling stolen goods. They used the money to buy land and acquire high-status women as brides."
"Why the dragon's head?" F'nor wondered.
"Old Earth had many legends and folk-tales about dragons," the artificial voice said. "Their significance to the Vikings is unknown, but they certainly believed in the existence of such creatures. The figurehead probably was a symbol of power, combined with the common motif of eyes looking ahead to protect the ship from mishaps."
"That may or may not explain what the injured woman meant," Lessa mused. "We don't have dragon ships on Pern."
"Unless someone added dragons' heads to their fishing boats and trading ships and turned them into dragon ships for some reason," F'nor speculated.
"Why would anyone want to do that?" Lessa asked him.
"If their plan was to kidnap people from the sea, then maybe..." F'lar thought hard. "Maybe they're trying to copy an old-Earth tradition to frighten people! AIVAS, has anyone else asked you questions about the Vikings and their ships recently?"
"This facility is not permitted to divulge that information."
Robinton stood up and spoke for the first time. "AIVAS, this is Robinton. I am authorized to ask you any question and receive an answer. Do you recognize me?"
"Your voice print is on file."
"Then I ask you, AIVAS, to tell us if anyone else has been questioning you about these Vikings."
There was a short pause. "A man named Errikydle questioned this facility about Vikings one month and four days ago. He asked many questions about how they sailed, their tactics when raiding, and their social order. He said he was seeking information for the Fishercraft. This facility could offer him only speculations instead of firm answers in many cases, because much knowledge of Viking lore has been lost to history."
"Errikydle," Robinton repeated. "Does that name mean anything to any of you?" They all shook their heads.
"If he's really from the Fishercraft, then I'm sure Master Idarolan will know him," Robinton said firmly. "If he was lying, then he could have been from anywhere."
"At least we know whom to ask," Lessa said. "Thank you, AIVAS."
"This facility exists to serve."
They all filed out of the room and shut the door. They thanked Robinton for his help, walked back to the outskirts of Landing where their huge dragons awaited, and took a fast flight to the Fishercrafthall.
"Yes, I know Errikydle," Idarolan told them. "He's a journeyman in my Hall who's never going to make Master. He's a fine navigator and a good leader of men, but he has no weather sense and he takes too many chances with his ships."
"Do you know where he is?" F'nor asked.
"As far as I know, he's on board the Southern Shipfish," the Masterfisher answered. "Master Lofoten chose him to be his first mate and navigator when he was picking a crew. If you find my missing ship, then you'll find your man. Has he done something wrong?"
"Let's just say he's a person of interest in our coastal-raider problem," Lessa told him. "We have no way of knowing whether he's done anything wrong or not, but we definitely want to ask him some questions."
"Please tell me if you learn anything... unsavory... about him," Master Idarolan said. "If he is involved in those raids, then he has no place in my Hall."
"We'll let you know," F'lar said with a nod as they returned to their dragons.
"We'll add the Masterfisher to the list of people to whom we're giving information because we can't do anything else," F'nor muttered sourly.
I am sure we can think of something useful to do, Canth said reassuringly.
"Do you have any ideas?" F'nor asked him as he strapped himself in.
I will think about it while I am resting this afternoon, the big brown said, and launched himself into the air.
"You'll think about it for ten whole seconds before you fall sound asleep, you big –" His thoughts were cut off as they went between.
It was F'nor, not Canth, who finally came up with an idea. "It's unbelievable," he said to F'lar and Lessa, "that renegades would be taking people away and not even touching their belongings. If we could find out what they're taking, it would probably be a clue to their intentions."
"We considered that before," Lessa reminded him. "The problem is that we don't know what's missing from the raided villages."
"My idea," F'nor went on, "is to borrow someone who lives in a Seahold, someone who will know what ought to be there. I'll take him to one of the raided holds and let him tell me what's missing. Then we'll have some more information that we can't seem to get any other way."
"That's not a bad idea," F'lar nodded. "I suspect that Lord Toronas won't loan any of his people to us, on the grounds that we have no business poking our noses into his Seaholds. Maybe Lord Ciparis will be more accommodating."
Lord Ciparis was, indeed, more accommodating. He suggested that F'nor might find someone willing to help in Half Circle Seahold. F'nor approached them on a day when the fleet was preparing to sail. Holder Yanus would not give up any of his sailors because he needed them in his fishing fleet; he wouldn't give up any of his women because a woman's place was in the home, not investigating a crime. And so it was that F'nor left Half Circle Seahold accompanied by Elgion, Half Circle's Harper, a young man who had learned much about Seaholds since he had been assigned there. F'nor had to promise to bring Elgion back before the rising of the next sun. The Seahold children's education could not be neglected, after all.
Elgion closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "The air just feels thicker and heavier in Half Circle," he sighed. "I know there's no good reason for that, but I love every chance to breathe the air in other places. Can we fly straight to where we're going, without going between?"
"Yes, if we visit Tidal Tower in Nerat, as opposed to the Seaholds in Benden Hold," F'nor nodded.
"That will be twice good," Elgion said. "If Holder Yanus asks me where I went today, and I can tell him I never left Nerat, he'll approve. I'll get both fresh air and fewer problems as a result."
It took them less than an hour to reach Tidal Tower Seahold. The entrance to its small but deep harbor was marked by a tall rocky spire, stained at its base from rising and falling water; thus its name. Its stone cots and fish storehouses were built on raised rocky foundations to protect them against surging waters during storms. Those cots were utterly empty now.
Canth landed on the wood-topped stone pier and let the two men dismount. They strode into the empty town, looking all around. Pern had rid itself of superstitious fears, so they had no worries about being ambushed by ghosts or vengeful spirits. They just wanted answers.
F'nor didn't say anything as they went from cot to cot. Elgion touched nothing, but looked intently at everything in sight. They examined every building in the Seahold; it took them just over an hour because there weren't many buildings to examine. At last, they left and walked down the dock to where Canth waited for them.
"Did you notice anything unusual?" F'nor finally said.
"Yes," the Harper replied. "I didn't see any valuables in any of those houses, but that might not mean anything. Hard-working fisherfolk often can't afford valuables; maybe the raiders stole them, or maybe there was nothing to steal. But one thing strikes me as odd. Sailors usually wear water-repellent outer clothing, with a layer or two of warm clothing underneath. I saw the water-repellent coveralls in most of the homes, but there was not one item of warm clothing left in any of those cots."
"Wouldn't they be wearing that warm clothing as a matter of course?" F'nor asked him.
"Not all of it," Elgion replied firmly. "They always keep at least one warm sweater ready in case their other clothing gets soaking wet. It often does, too. They need that change of warm clothing... but in this village, everything warm is gone."
"Maybe that means something, and maybe it doesn't," F'nor said thoughtfully. "I'll pass the word to the people who need to hear it. Thank you, Elgion. You may have helped us solve a huge mystery."
"We're even, F'nor," Elgion answered. "You gave me a chance to get out of Half Circle for a while. I don't get many breaks like that."
"Maybe I can extend that break," F'nor grinned. "Holder Yanus wants you back before sunrise, and we're nowhere near sunset yet. How would you like to dine at Benden Weyr tonight?"
"Yes!" Elgion exclaimed without a moment's thought.
"We'll expect a song out of you," F'nor warned him. "Of course, you won't have to sing alone. You can play duets with Oharan, the Weyr Harper. I think he'll appreciate having another Harper around for the evening."
"Not half as much as I'll appreciate spending some time with people whose faces aren't formed into a permanent scowl," the Harper replied. "I'll gladly sing for my supper!"
The evening meal at Benden Weyr was a happy affair. They had to fly Thread in the morning, but nothing dampened their mood tonight. Elgion played a borrowed gitar, Oharan beat his hand drum, and they both sang the songs that dragon riders liked. For Elgion, it was a relief to get away from sea chanteys and children's Teaching ballads; for Oharan, it was a pleasure to play with someone else who knew how to play; and for the Weyrfolk, it was a delight to hear a new, different voice singing their favorite songs. F'nor took Elgion home well before midnight, so there would be no chance of Yanus finding fault with his Harper in the morning.
They made no progress on the mystery the next day. All of them were tired after fighting Thread all morning, and F'lar was mildly shocked because, for the first time in months, Mnementh had acquired a mild Threadscore on his tail. They met to discuss Elgion's discovery a day later.
"These renegades don't want to get cold," F'lar began.
"Or they don't want their prisoners to get cold," Lessa added.
"Either way," F'nor decided, "we can rule out searching anyplace warm. What kind of cold places can we search for? I think most of the northern Seaholds are too small to hide a group that big."
"The cold places in Pern are in High Reaches, Crom, Telgar, Lemos, Bitra, and Benden," F'lar thought out loud. "I can't imagine any of their Lord Holders allowing prisoners or slave laborers across their borders. Whatever is happening, it's being done completely outside of Pernese society."
"What about Southern?" Lessa asked. "If you go south far enough, it starts getting cold there. Could Lord Toric be involved somehow?"
"I don't like the man, and I mistrust his ambition," F'lar said tightly, "but I don't think even he would stoop that low. He wants people who are completely loyal to him. Prisoners and slaves would never offer their loyalty to their captors. We can cross him off our list."
"I think our list is just about empty," Lessa sighed.
F'lar suddenly looked thoughtful. "Empty..." He grabbed a nearby map of Pern's Northern continent, overlaid with marks that showed the patterns of Threadfall. He ignored those marks and focused on the coastline. "There's a big swath of empty land to the north of Benden that was never claimed by any Hold," he said. The other two gathered beside him to see what he was talking about.
"That land is bare and useless," F'nor noticed. "Rocks, ice, tundra... there isn't anything there that anyone wants."
"You might be mistaken there, F'nor," Lessa countered. "There's unclaimed land there. Everyone wants land."
"Can people live there?" F'nor asked. "I guess they could get enough fish from the sea to survive, but what about the other necessities of life? Can they find materials to build houses? Can they induce the Crafthalls to send a Healer and a Smith there?"
"Those are good questions," F'lar decided, "and we're going to get some answers. Lessa, I want you to go back to the Fishercrafthall. I want to know if Master Lofoten was disgruntled about anything. Ask if the crew were malcontents as well. F'nor, we aren't going to fly Thread for a sevenday. For the next three days, take your half-wing and patrol the northern seacoast. Look for ships with dragon figureheads. I'm going back to visit AIVAS and ask some more questions."
They gathered after three days to compare notes. Lessa had verified that Master Lofoten thought he deserved to be the Masterfisher, and hadn't taken it well when Idarolan had been chosen instead. Nearly every man in his crew was also disgruntled about some perceived slight. F'lar had gotten some facts of his own about the Vikings of Old Earth, specifically, the climate in the parts of the world where they lived.
"Those Viking people came from cold lands," he told them. "If our raiders are trying to copy the Vikings, then they must be living in the far north. F'nor, did you find anything to support that idea?"
"I sure did," he answered. "On one training flight, we overflew three fishing boats that looked like they had dragons for figureheads. As we spiraled down, they saw us and ran to remove the figureheads, so we couldn't tell for sure what they were. We flew next to them and asked them about the figureheads, and they acted like they had no idea what we were talking about. We couldn't do more than that without breaking the rules for Weyrs and Holders, but they looked very suspicious to me and my riders."
They put their facts together and came up with a plan.
"We're going to search that entire far-northern coastline," F'lar decided. "We'll fly at high altitude so we can see as far as possible. One group of dragons and riders will go as far as they can, then stop and send a mental picture of their location to the second group. That group will fly until they reach their limit, then send the picture to a third group. By leapfrogging, we can survey the entire northern shore without exhausting all of our dragons. I think we can do the job in three days if we get all of the browns and bronzes in the Weyr involved."
"And if we find something, what then?" Lessa asked.
"We'll take our facts to the Lord Holders," F'lar answered.
"Lord Toronas may not do anything with our information," F'nor pointed out. "He has hardly been a paragon of activity since these raids started, and he's sure to be offended that the Weyrs are meddling in a Hold matter."
"Maybe he won't do anything," F'lar said, "but the other Lord Holders will. If I'm right, then this is a matter that every one of them will feel strongly about. They'll hold a quick Conclave, they'll vote to take action, and that will be the end of the problem."
It took a day and a half of steady searching before the riders of Benden Weyr found something. F'lar got the report as he was relaxing before supper, but he quickly dressed for flight and called for Mnementh. He was not a bit surprised when Ramoth and Canth and their riders joined him in the air.
"Are you going somewhere important?" F'nor shouted.
"I think you already know the answer to that," F'lar shouted back. "Here's the picture I got from one of our browns. I think we're about to solve our mystery!" They flashed between and emerged over the sea. To their left was a forbidding-looking rocky coastline. Just ahead were four brown dragons, who wheeled and closed with Mnementh to report.
"You can't see it from this angle," S'koll told them, "but if you fly straight for about twenty dragonlengths, you'll see the entrance to a small natural harbor. It's nearly invisible from sea level; only a dragon rider could hope to find it."
"Are there signs of human habitation?" Lessa called.
"I see smoke rising," S'koll answered. "I haven't approached the harbor to see what's in it."
"Then let's approach," F'lar said. Their dragons turned and sailed easily over the headlands that blocked their view of the harbor.
They were stunned at the size of the settlement. But they were not at all amazed to see that the ships in the harbor had dragon heads mounted on their prows. As they slowly overflew the little village, some of the people ran and hid, but most of them waved their arms to get the riders' attention. Some even jumped up and down, which wasn't easy in their heavy cold-weather clothing.
"I'm sure they want us to take them home," Lessa called to F'lar.
"We would have to call up the whole Weyr to do that!" he shouted back.
"We can't just leave them here!" F'nor cut in.
"I'm afraid that's exactly what we have to do," F'lar said sadly. "As we keep reminding each other, this is a Hold matter. But I don't think the Lord Holders will make them stay here very long."
"Can't we at least overfly them and tell them that help is on the way?" Lessa nearly pleaded.
"Yes, we can definitely do that much," F'lar nodded, and they proceeded to do so.
Three sevendays later, the three of them met to discuss the outcome of the situation they had uncovered. They had taken their facts to the Lord Holders and, true to F'lar's prediction, they had acted with commendable speed. They contracted with the Fishercrafthall to provide them with a few good-sized ships, which they had filled with a mixture of guards and soldiers from each of the main Holds. This invasion force had descended on the hidden northern harbor in a manner that would have made the Vikings of Old Earth proud. The fight was over quickly and with very little bloodshed. Master Lofoten was one of the few who chose to fight. He had outfitted himself with a helmet with herdbeast horns on it, and he shouted, "For freedom!" as he charged at the Holders' men with a two-handed axe. Lord Asgenar's forest rangers took him down with arrows before he could hurt anyone.
"Lofoten never got over the disappointment of not becoming the Masterfisher," Lessa began. "He desperately wanted to be in charge of something. He hit on the idea of claiming some unclaimed land and calling himself the Lord Holder of it."
"Kind of like what Lord Toric did?" F'nor asked.
"Toric was granted his lands by the Lord Holders in Conclave," Lessa replied, "and everyone who went to Southern is there because they want to be there. Lofoten knew he wouldn't get many volunteers to live in such a remote, miserable place, so he took his people away by force. His prisoners included the Healers, Smiths, and other tradesmen who lived and worked in those Seaholds, so they could meet his new Hold's needs. He planned one or two more raids to fill out his population; then he was going to announce the existence of the brand-new Northern Hold, with himself as Lord Holder, as a fait accompli. No one could dispute him because the land is officially unclaimed."
"How was he going to keep all his unwilling subjects from running away or sailing away at the first opportunity?" F'nor wanted to know.
"They couldn't run because the nearest civilization was uncounted miles away, across cold, forbidding terrain, with no food or water, and also with no maps," F'lar took up the tale. "Anyone who tried to escape would freeze to death before he got two days away. As for sailing ships, he kept his fishing boats on a tight leash by limiting how much fresh water they could take with them. Some of them might have escaped if they caught a favorable wind, but the winds set out of the southwest in that part of Pern. There was no place for them to go in that direction. If they went southeast, they might – I repeat, might – have wound up in the Western Islands. That's where we send people for exile; no one wants to go there. Most of the people there admitted that staying in the Northern Hold and making a Seahold of it was a better fate than dying or becoming exiles. So they stayed."
"Are they going to stay, now that they're free to go?" was F'nor's question.
"Most of them want to go home as quickly as they can," F'lar replied. "A handful don't mind the cold, and they say that the waters there are teeming with fish. The Northern Seahold is open for business, but now, its citizens have chosen to live there. Master Idarolan is going to put out the word in every Seahold that, if someone wants to get away from the crowds and make a new start in life, he can take them to a place that might suit them."
"I know one family that has already made that decision," Lessa added. "Mervona, the little girl whom F'nor brought back here, kept having bad dreams about her empty home. Her parents think that a clean start in a new place will help her get back on an even keel."
"What's going to happen to the ones who committed these crimes?" F'nor wanted to know.
"They'll get a fair trial before the Lord Holders," Lessa said, "but there isn't much question about their guilt or innocence. They kidnapped too many people, and all of their victims are eager to testify. The ones who did the killing will get the maximum punishment."
"The others should be sent to the Northern Seahold as punishment," F'nor said viciously. "Let them freeze!"
"They were already willing to freeze in exchange for freedom," F'lar corrected him. "If we give them what they already wanted, what kind of punishment is that? It would also be cruel to their former victims. If those so-called Vikings don't deserve the Western Islands, then they can dig Cromcoal for a few Turns. Just being inland, out of sight of the ocean, is a punishment to men who love the sea. Add some hard labor, and I think justice will be served."
"Then I suppose the only question left is who's going to be the Holder of this new Seahold," F'nor thought out loud. "No, don't tell me, I know – it's a Hold matter, not a Weyr matter!"
"That's actually an interesting question," Lessa answered. "That part of Pern isn't part of any of the existing Holds, and none of the Lord Holders is willing for the others to gain land outside his traditional boundaries. Lord Jaxom suggested, as a compromise, that the Northern Seahold be left under the Fishercrafthall's jurisdiction. The other Lord Holders accepted it because it gave no one an advantage."
"They have no food and no business except fish up there, so it makes sense," F'lar added. "Master Idarolan will probably promote a senior journeyman to Master in Lofoten's place, and send him to head up this new endeavor."
F'nor was incredulous. "You mean the Lord Holders are actually going to do something untraditional?"
"It sure looks that way," Lessa nodded. That was when green rider K'neth entered, greeted them politely, and handed F'lar a rolled-up sheet of paper. He read it avidly.
"This is from D'ram at Landing," he told them. "He's concerned that Lord Toric might be expanding his boundaries beyond what the rest of Pern agreed on. He wants to know if there's anything we might do to help expose Toric's schemes for the South."
"Doesn't he know that the Weyrs can't intervene in Hold business?" F'nor said, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. His tone was almost sarcastic.
"Please don't bruit this about," F'lar decided, "but based on what we just went through, I think we're going to make some changes to the old rules about where we can and can't get involved. Pern can't afford to go on the way we've been going, with the Weyrs shut out of the decision-making processes that affect hundreds or thousands of people. We've already had some strong influence on the way things are done among the Holds and Halls; it's ridiculous to pretend that we won't do it again." He turned to K'neth. "Send a message back to D'ram. Tell him that this Weyr is going to do more than just expose Toric's schemes. We're going to thwart them!"
"Lord Toric won't like it," Lessa warned him.
"Then Lord Toric can meet up with Lord Toronas, and they can sip Benden wine together and complain to each other about how Benden Weyr doesn't know its place," F'lar said firmly. "I know that the Halls will be on our side, and I suspect that a few of the younger Lord Holders, like Asgenar and Jaxom, won't complain very loudly."
"Lord Ciparis of Nerat won't complain, either," F'nor added. "He's very grateful that we helped him get his people back and his Seahold up and running again."
"Then it's settled," F'lar said. "From now on, Benden Weyr will be a force for progress and order in this world. Our dragons will find new roles, and we won't wait for the end of Thread to find them!"
F'nor raised his hand. "Can those new roles wait? Canth says he's worn out from our Northern expedition and he'd like to rest a bit."
Lessa smiled. "That's one role that dragons will never outgrow, the role of 'lazybones.' Fortunately for you, Ramoth could use some rest as well."
They all retired to spend time with their dragons. No matter what else changed on Pern, a rider's love for his dragon would never change.
The End