Sorry about the long delay in uploading - it's jam and wine season and I've been out picking the hedgerows. Unfortunately I don't think I'll produce any vintage Benden red! I love athletics, and I hope there's a flavour of competition in this chapter.
9.8 - 12.8.198
"Go Benden! Go Benden!"
The yells and shouts from the stands echoed around the bowl of the Weyr and the running track and infield that had been made for the Games.
"Go Telgar! Telgar-Telgar-Telgar!"
H'ric leaned forward in his seat, intent on watching the runners. Each wore the insignia of their Hold, and a number, and he could see the young runner from Benden Hold easing forward towards the line. H'ric found his heart was hammering with excitement as he gripped the rail in front of him, vaguely aware of others shouting and yelling around him. Lord Runanan was on his feet as the youth from Benden made a final effort and breasted the tape which fluttered around him as he ran on, slowing, staggering, pumping a fist in the air in victory. The race co-ordinators were checking on the minor places, as Sharama wrapped a thin cover around the winner and handed him the flag of Benden Hold to wave aloft to the crowds.
"Hmm. And it looks as if you don't give him enough work to do, my lord," Viril, Lord Holder of Bitra commented. "My word though, he did well!"
He joined in the cheer for the winner and discreetly consulted his betting slips. H'ric had been aware that some covert betting was going on, but so long as the outcome of the races was not compromised, he had allowed it.
Jiverny sat back with a smile of pleasure.
"That's three races for Benden, my lord, one for the Weyr and one for Telgar, so far today. I think you have been training in secret!"
"Is it anything to do with me if they choose to run everywhere?" Lord Runanan said with a virtuous expression, but a twinkle in his eyes. "None of my lads have come anywhere near those of Lemos in the throwing competitions! My land is too hilly."
Jiverny laughed and agreed, consulting the sheet the Games steward had handed her, checking the times of the races, the times of the presentations. Youngsters were running up and down the steps of the stands, providing cooling drinks and iced fruit confections; L'rens and Sicceth had flown north to the wild snowy wastes they loved so much, and brought back barrels of hard packed snow for the refreshments.
"Where's the trader's boy?" Lord Cantin asked, and Jiverny half rose, and pointed down to the bowl where Dawan and the others had gathered as runners for the youth races.
"D'you think he'll Impress at his first standing?" Lord Cantin asked her.
"It's possible, my lord, if we let him stand at the next Hatching. Although he's young in age, and slight in stature, he's a very mature youngster, which comes of leading such a wandering life, I suppose."
Lord Cantin nodded, and turned to his other neighbour, and H'ric glanced at Jiverny, who gave him a smile and a nod, and H'ric rose to announce the next race. His voice was amplified by the bowl's acoustics, as M'nas slotted the names of the competitors into the race board.
No need to tell anyone Galanath had prompted Tirith with the names, or that the dragons were taking an active interest in the races and games, H'ric thought. This was the third day of the Games, and so far Benden Hold seemed to have the upper hand, if the total of first, second, and third places were totalled. There was a board showing that total, and everyone cheered or groaned whenever someone they supported moved the placings up or down the board.
H'ric accepted a cold drink and sat sipping it as the racers lined up. He had had a hard time persuading the Holders that girls should be allowed to compete, and they were by no means fully represented in the races, but this was one of their contests, and Lord Viril leaned forward to scrutinise them, sitting back with a satisfied huff.
"I told her she should not compete," he said in satisfaction.
"Who would that be, my lord?" Jiverny asked.
"My daughter! My youngest daughter, and a right little tear-away she is - it comes of the foster family I placed her with - an unfortunate choice - but there wasn't a lot of choice at the time."
"She has not been fostered to a major Hold?" Lord Runanan asked.
"No. One of my holders, a steady reliable man with a strong hand over the youngsters. It doesn't seem to have helped."
"Is she as bad as that?" Jiverny asked with a hint of steel in her voice. "Surely she is only a young girl, my lord?"
Lord Viril shrugged. "My wife - my second wife - was ill for a number of years, and spoilt the girl by keeping her close at hand, not allowing her to join with the other fosterlings in the household. When my wife died, I put the girl out to fostering immediately."
H'ric closed his hand warningly over Jiverny's clenched fist, and shook his head slightly, and she sat back, her mouth set in a tight line. Lord Viril had lost interest and was watching the runners line up, and then they were racing. The girl with the insignia of Bitra was quite obviously the best, and raced home with space and to spare around her.
"Good girl!" Lord Viril crowed, and Lord Runanan laughed and tore up his betting slip, pointing to his girl who had come last, pulling up and hobbling. Sharama was there at once, with two helpers, and she was helped away.
"Weyrwoman - "
"Our healers will report to you as soon as they know if it is serious, my lord. Perhaps just a strain, or exacerbating some niggling injury?"
"Yes, that could be true. Hmm. That puts you second, Bitra! Well - we will see."
The girl from Bitra had vanished into the crowd of runners and helpers, but H'ric could see her distinctive yellow hair as she went into one of the tents, no doubt to take the chance to wash and change, ready for the presentation. This was a single race, not a heat for a final, but there were plenty of those to fill the time before the presentation.
- that is not the same girl
H'ric nearly spoke out loud, and then sent back to Galanath
- what do you mean? She won the race?
- no, another girl won the race and this one let her take her place
- they both have that colour hair?
- they dyed their hair to match each other so that the girl could race
- should I make a fuss? This one should not have the prize
- they arranged it so
H'ric sat back and consulted his lists, seeing the name of the Bitra girl as Avenil. He scribbled a note on his wax tablet, and passed it to one of the boys coming down the stairs with a drinks tray, to be passed on unopened to Sharama.
- there is a reason, I hope, and I'll find it out.
- she was a good runner
- indeed
The next race was a final of hurdles and water troughs, and Benden Hold was favourite for this. H'ric watched as P'tar and V'nel lined up with the others; the two dragon riders had come through last in their heats, and if no one was betting on them, H'ric still hoped they would do well.
"An interesting course," Lord Nathin of Lemos commented. "Is it based on anything?"
"Just the normal obstacles anyone working the land might encounter," Jiverny said with a smile. "Boulders and streams and such like. You'll agree, my lord, working the land builds muscle?"
"I would concede that. Your riders though - what exercise do they get?"
"Riding a dragon is hard work," Jiverny replied, maintaining her smile. "You have to compensate for the movement of the dragon, as riders do when they go over the jumps, and there's a deal of hard work in scrubbing and cleaning and oiling such a huge creature. Besides - those two riders were with the Weyrleader in the recovery period, and I imagine he put them to some hard work in building cabins and harvesting hay crops."
Lord Nathin glanced at H'ric.
"Hmm. Hasn't done the Weyrleader any harm, by the look of him. I used to help out at my foster-father's hold - I appreciate hard work."
"You were fostered?"
Lord Nathin shrugged. "Only for a few years, my lady, to get a feel of the land, so my father maintained. More to get me away from my elder brother, I think, we fought over everything, including the inheritance of the Hold."
"And you won?"
"No, my lady, he lost, because he caught a winter chill and wouldn't let it be treated," Lord Nathin said, his voice reverting to its usual sour tones. "Stupid fool! Leaving me to pick up the pieces of what he'd been busily trying to ruin - but that's old history - ah - they're off - no, don't race ahead of them, you idiot! Save yourself for the last burst!"
Leaning forward, he shouted encouragement and annoyance in equal measure at his competitor, and as he had predicted, the man was blown before the end, and P'tar surged forward, his long legs covering the ground in the last burst as he took the ribbon. A shout went up from the riders, echoed by the watching dragons, and H'ric hoped the beasthandlers had their charges out of earshot.
"Anyone would think they had won," Lord Nathin said as he sat back with a snort. "What wing is he in? We'll see a lot of him about the Hold I expect? Looks a likely sort of man."
"Thank you, my lord, yes, he's in my Wing, and he's overflown Bitra and made himself familiar with its landmarks for going in and out of between."
The placing for the Weyr had risen satisfactorily now, and the contests were coming to an end of the day, with presentations to be made, and H'ric and Jiverny excused themselves to go and attend those. Jiverny's father had sent a lot of silverware for the original Games, and some of those trophies were passed on with the names of the new winners engraved on them, but there were also new trophies, some of glass, some of wood, to be presented, all with a name plaque on them, engraved as soon as the winners were known.
- she is hiding in the lower caverns
- why?
- there is a man who has recognised her and chased her
- send B'rnel for her
"What was all that about?" Jiverny asked in startlement. "I caught something about a girl being attacked?"
"Not attacked as such," H'ric replied. "At least - not so far. Come over here and I'll tell you."
They found a quiet corner and H'ric told her about Galanath's conclusions.
"She could merely be disobeying her father and be ready to return home to that foster family?"
"Whoever she replaced could be in big trouble."
"Yes, I suppose so. Lord Viril looks quite capable of putting a worker to death if he was offended enough."
"Which is why B'rnel is finding the girl and protecting her."
They had to go out into the bowl then for the presentations, and H'ric stared hard at the girl from Lemos with the dyed hair, a crude douse in some sort of bleach, by the look of it, to give her that straw colour, although her own hair was light coloured. Perhaps Lord Viril's daughter had brown or black hair and had dyed it accordingly. H'ric handed her the intricately carved wooden goblet with the plaque, wondering if she had asked for the simple inscription - Avenil of Bitra - rather than a family name.
H'ric and Jiverny spoke to each of the winners, and then crossed to the lower caverns, ostensibly to check on any minor injuries Sharama might be treating. Behind them, drudges were already running out to clear the tracks and tidy up, and the audience were beginning to look forward to the evening meal.
Sharama looked up and nodded a welcome to the two Weyrleaders.
"Nothing untoward today, a couple of sprains and a few headaches, probably from too much good Benden red!"
H'ric glanced around, seemingly casually, and saw B'rnel leaning against the door to one of the smaller rooms. He and Jiverny made their way to the rider who jerked his head.
"Mima's in there with her. I warn you, she's in a towering temper!"
"Who? The girl? Why - "
"No, Mima is in a temper! She'll tell you."
H'ric and Jiverny went into the room and Mima glared at them. She seemed almost to have spread protective wings, H'ric thought, and he recognised how angry she was.
"We've not come to haul her off to her father, Mima," he said quietly. "Just to know what's going on, presumably because it's more than a simple case of disobedience?"
"I claim your protection, Weyrleader," the girl called out from where she was seated on the side of a bed. "A dragon rider can champion anyone with a just grievance! I ask you to intercede for me with the Lord Holder of Bitra!"