The usual disclaimer for any writer of Pern fanfiction, that I own nothing but the characters in my story.
The task doesn't grow any less for the Weyrleader, it seems. Such a vast continent, so few dragons, and he will need all the help he can get.
1.10.195
The three riders snapped out of between over Telgar Hold. South of the Weyr, but still in the mountainous valleys that hid unexpected rich grassland meadows and fast flowing streams, the Hold was built snugly into a sheer rock face with a wide apron of stone paving in front of it.
They circled down, hearing the sound of a horn warning the Hold of approaching visitors.
"I like that idea," B'rnel called across. "Much like the drums from the Harper Hall, eh?"
H'ric nodded as he studied the defences of the Hold. There was far too much woodland all around on the mountain slopes for his comfort, but at least the stone facades and walls were bare of greenery.
They landed on the stone pavement and H'ric came down from his dragon, aware that he was still far too angry and wary. He stood, therefore, stroking Galanath as he calmed himself and reassured his dragon.
- he was angry for those people you love
"Did he seem so?"
- yes, and also because he remembered you
"I'll have to write to him, I suppose, and try to answer his anger."
He stepped forward then to greet the steward of the household.
"Weyrleader. The Lord Holder Lacalan bids you welcome, and I am here to escort you to him."
"He is not well?"
"Alas, he is not in the best of health."
H'ric allowed himself to be led into the great hall, nearly the size of the queen's weyr at Benden, he realised with a shock. The walls were covered with elaborate tapestries and he paused to view them, seeing dragons depicted as well as the normal scenes of the hunt and of farming and craft work.
"These are very beautiful," he said, and the steward nodded, scarcely glancing at them, as if they were so familiar he almost forgot their presence.
"Woven over the Turns by the ladies of the household," he said, and took them up a staircase and around to the front of the building.
The room they entered faced south down the valley and the afternoon sun warmed it through a double layer of glass which H'ric noted at once. The room was half bedroom and half sitting room, and the man on the couch watched them come forward.
"You will excuse me not rising, Weyrleader," he said, and H'ric was surprised at the rich quality of his voice, having seen him as aged and infirm.
"Of course, my lord," H'ric said, crossing to the couch and bowing in respect.
"Sit down, all of you. Lobet! Wine and some food for our guests."
H'ric sat down on the upholstered chair and wondered if he could arrange for some extra cushions for his own chair in his weyr, realising how very stark those quarters were, but perhaps only by comparison to a place such as this.
"You wrote to me to inform me you are the new Weyrleader - you came from Crom, I'm told? A miner's son? You could have claimed protection from me, you know, when your parents died."
"As I told Rathan, up at the abandoned Weyr, I could hear dragons."
"Rathan was at the Weyr?"
"He said he was looking for outlaws and the holdless."
The Lord Holder gave a breathless laugh, shaking his head.
"Oh, he's cool! He is holdless himself, now. He killed a man in the mines, and rather than wait, he ran."
H'ric stared at him, stunned.
"Are you - sure - my lord? He wore your livery!"
"Did he? Well, he won't wear it for long. But here is my son - Cantin, I have been telling the Weyrleader of Rathan's crimes and defection."
"To be sure, sir, and I will fully brief the Weyrleader later, if I may, in case he catches sight of him again?"
"Yes, that would be best. Ah - wine - this is not best Benden, I don't have any of that left, but this is passable, quite passable."
H'ric saw the eye signals between eldest son and steward, and guessed there was something amiss here. He was aware of the three dragons outside, moving restlessly on the stone pavement, and forced himself to be calm as he listened to the Lord Holder talking about the harvest they were having, assuring the Weyrleader of his support and the tithe he would be able to manage.
They drank several glasses of wine before the Lord Holder seemed to droop on his couch and slide into a doze, and then Lord Cantin rose and signalled, and in silence he led the three from the room, allowing servants to go in and tend to the Lord Holder.
"Come into here - a flask of water, if you please, served in here."
H'ric was aware his head was buzzing, and was thankful the wine had not been a heavy Benden red, but some sort of country wine.
"My father is not a well man," Cantin said abruptly. "His mind wanders. Rathan is the name of a guard in his youth, not the present very efficient guard - I presume you met him?"
"Thank you. I had hoped that was true. Rathan was patrolling around the empty Weyr and recognised me as being a miner's son."
Cantin nodded. "He's a very efficient guard, and he patrols endlessly against those he sees as holdless, or a danger to the Hold."
"He seemed upset at the thought of Searching?"
"There is a queen egg? Our bloodline is one of the oldest on Pern, and we do produce queen riders on occasion. You must of course send your riders to Search when the time comes."
He too outlined the tithe they would be sending to Benden, which was quite different to the amounts his father had mentioned. He also admitted he was planning on a gradual increase as the Pass neared, so that his people would be used to the heavier tithes when the time came.
"But you are only one Weyr," Cantin said diffidently. "I hesitate to raise the matter, Weyrleader, but how will you cope?"
"I don't know," H'ric said frankly. "I plan to put a wing of riders in every one of the abandoned Weyrs, but they can of course only do so much. Your ground crews, with the agenothree sprayers, must be alert to cover any Threadfall on your lands."
"Yes, I understand that. I have the smith crafters working on making more of the sprayers, and also on some sort of shields and foot-guards to wear when searching for Thread burrows."
He shuddered, much as Lord Arun had done, and stared out of the window at the sunlit afternoon.
"It does not seem possible that it will be I who commands in this Pass," he said at last, turning back to them with a rueful smile. "But then - Lord of the Hold, your charge is sure. In thick walls, metal doors, and no verdure. Isn't that how it runs in the Duty Song?"
"It is indeed, and you have room for everyone in this building if necessary?"
"We do, and will have provisions and water stored away. Is there anything else I can show you in the Hold? Or are you bound for home again?"
"We will be going back to Benden, yes."
They stood up and Lord Cantin walked to the main doors with them, showing them the thick metal and stone shutters on all the outer windows, and the glass panes set in metal frames, even the chimneys shielded by metal caps.
"I will be ready, Weyrleader," he said.
"I believe it, my lord, and I thank you for your support."
"We must aid each other, especially in this waiting time before a Pass."
"Some of the other Lord Holders don't believe Thread will come?"
Lord Cantin shrugged. "That's for their consciences, Weyrleader. I do the best I can with what is set before me. A good journey to you."
Mounted again, H'ric gave the signal for rising, and the dragons flapped strongly upwards, catching a thermal, coming together to share a sharp picture of Benden with their riders in order to go between and reach the Weyr safely.