A little filler chapter to keep us going.

20.11.198

Galanath circled lazily above the hillsides of Ruatha. He seemed to be enjoying spreading his wings and hovering, gliding on the winds of the winter's day, an unexpected bonus that it was warmer in Ruatha than in Benden.

H'ric peered down over his shoulder and saw several wagon trains making their way to Ruatha Hold.

"A gather," he said aloud, and Galanath looked downwards as well.

- shall we go and see the watchman?

Without waiting for an answer, the great bronze tipped his wings and began to glide down towards the prosperous Hold, carved out of the rockface generations ago, presumably when men still had the stone cutting tools to do it.

"I'm not dressed for a gather!"

Galanath did not answer, but descended to the watch tower heights, landing neatly in a place where H'ric thought dragons had probably landed since the first dragons had hatched.

- there have been notable dragonriders from here

"I'm aware of it. They have a proud name to uphold."

H'ric stripped off his helmet and gloves, and unwound his scarf as the watchman came hurrying towards him.

"Good day to you, bronze rider. Is there a problem?"

"No, none, I was patrolling and saw the people down on your gather field. It is a gather?"

The watchman nodded.

"The last one before the end of the Turn, I would think, bronze rider. The Lord Holder is below, will you go and greet him?"

H'ric assented to that, and Galanath tucked himself up more comfortably on the ledge, lidding his eyes. H'ric climbed down the stone staircase, smelling the food and drink from the gather.

He met the Lord Holder at the bottom of the steps. Lord Miccel stared at him, and then bowed abruptly.

"The Weyleader, Lord H'ric, is it not? I met you briefly at Fort, but I had to hurry away. What brings you to Ruatha? Problems?"

"I saw the gather, and wondered if I could guest myself on you for the day?" H'ric smiled as he said it, reviewing what he knew of this man, which was not extensive. As Lord Miccel had said, he had stayed only briefly at Fort, and had not cast a vote one way or the other.

"Of course, we would be honoured. Is the Weyrwoman with you?"

"She is at the Weyr - we had another twenty one eggs from Havenent's last mating."

Lord Miccel looked sharply at him. "You aren't on Search?"

"We thought we would look only to the Weyr children this time around," H'ric replied, and Lord Miccel shook his head.

"If you want to Search Ruatha you're welcome to do so. Call your Weyrwoman, if you like, and ask her to join us here? I'd be honoured."

"The honour would be ours, my lord, thank you."

"Ruatha has produced dragonriders down the generations since the first dragons were bred. Mardra of Fort Weyr came from here during the Eighth Pass." Lord Miccel looked hard at H'ric. "And where do you suppose they are now, all those dragonriders who should be helping you get ready?"

H'ric shrugged. "I would like to think they are ready and waiting somewhere, my lord, but I'll not know that until Thread comes."

Lord Miccel grunted in agreement.

"Those fools seemed to think it was finished. I'll believe that when I no longer see the Red Star in the sky at all, never mind coming too close for comfort. It's visible in daylight, even this far south, now."

H'ric nodded. "I know that, my lord, and I'm pleased someone else takes note."

"Come into the hall, and let me show you something."

They entered the great stone hall, and Lord Miccel indicated a woven tapestry.

"Its old, of course, done at the end of the last Pass, but the colours have lasted well in here - I don't allow any direct sunlight to fall on it."

"It's magnificent," H'ric said sincerely, viewing with awe the scenes of dragons and Holders united to fight Thread. "Are those ground crews? What are they using?"

"We don't know," Lord Miccel said regretfully. "Some sort of device to burn Thread on the ground, we presume, but if there was ever any knowledge of how they were made or used, it was lost in the last two hundred Turns. I blame the Smiths, myself, for not keeping proper records. Everyone knows the Harpers can sing the history of this world, but when it comes to complex gadgets like those, I'd prefer to see a written record detailing how to build another."

"I would as well," H'ric admitted as they turned to walk out of the hall. "I think because the Harpers have all the knowledge, it's unusual to see anything written down."

"Lot of stupidity there," Lord Miccel said. "Don't say I said so, especially since the Masterharper is here."

"Serellim is here?"

"Yes. I'm hoping he might honour us with a song or two, but I'm told he rarely performs now, if he ever did so."

"He must have learned as an apprentice and journeyman?"

Lord Miccel sniffed. "If he did, he's soon forgotten such humble origins! He's paying court to one of my sisters, but I don't know that I'll approve the match - let him get his pleasures in Harperhall, not drag any of my relatives there. Poor little Consicel has had her head turned, but she can't hold a tune to save her life - how would she cope living with music surrounding her day and night? No, I'm determined on this."

Lord Miccel detailed a young fosterling to escort H'ric, and he took a moment to ask Galanath to bespeak Haveneth.

- she comes already with Fineth

H'ric glanced aloft and the bronze dragon had just come out of between, circling down to join Galanath on the heights.

"Oh - is that another bronze, my lord? They're so big - will they both fit?"

"I'm sure they will, and they'll probably take the opportunity to go and bathe in your ice lake, it's quite famous, you know."

The boy shuddered. "I don't know how anyone could bathe in that, dragons included."

"But compared to the absolute cold of between, it's probably like warm bath water," H'ric said with a laugh as they waited for Jiverny and M'ris to come to join them.

"My lady. Bronze rider."

"My lord. Thank you for calling us - a gather - I do love a gather! Let me go and make myself known to the Lord Holder."

H'ric accompanied them, and Lord Miccel called for wine and cakes, and showed the other two riders the tapestry before he would let them go.

The three of them walked out of the hall and down to the gather field. Music was already playing where Harpers were performing on the stage, and the ground in front had been cleared for the dances that would happen later in the day.

"Oh, this is fun," Jiverny murmured. "Look - that's Ista's badge - I wonder who my father sent, and what he hopes to trade?"

"Would he have sent it by land?" M'ris asked.

"No, just across Big Bay and then up from Ruatha River Hold," Jiverny replied. "It's late in the season, about the last crossing, I would think."

They followed the Ista man, and he led them to a stall selling glassware, plain bowls with a swirl of colour in them, and goblets with the same swirl of colour in the stems.

"Those are pretty," H'ric said. "Is that a new technique, stallholder?"

"New to Ista, certainly. It's not been passed by the Crafthall, but it's good serviceable stuff for the table."

They bought several bowls and goblets and the stallholder promised to deliver them, wrapped, to the hall.

"Look there, leather work as well," M'ris said, and the three of them wandered around the stalls, looking and exclaiming at the work they found.

"Our own crafters can produce much the same, but without the prettification," Jiverny said as they paused to buy a drink and something to eat.

Lord Miccel was passing, a young woman on his arm, and the Masterharper Serellim was with them, and paused to look across. H'ric gave him a nod of greeting but did not speak, but Serellim excused himself to the Lord Holder and crossed to them.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Weyrleader. Lady."

"Are you? A gather is always an excuse for people to get out and about, Masterharper. I hear you will be singing later?"

Serellim scowled. "I have journeymen to do that for me. I'm here for pleasure, not for business."

"I would have thought your business to be the whole of Pern and its well-being," H'ric replied, with a smile to take the edge off his voice. "Do you have new songs? I'm looking forward to Yorus coming back with new songs."

"I've sent him to Tillek," Serellim said malevolently. "He's my journeyman, still, and he can do good things there."

H'ric gave him a half bow.

"As you wish, Masterharper. Fortunately he left us with a competent singer and player of instruments, so the children will be able to continue to learn their teaching ballads."

"And the question song," Serellim said. "Don't forget that one, Weyrleader. Where have they all gone, indeed? The Lord Holders and Craftmasters would have it they have suicided."

"Unlikely," H'ric replied calmly. "Where they are, I would not hazard a guess at present, but hopefully all will become clear."

"And if they do not return? Three hundred dragons to sear the whole of Pern free of Thread?"

"Of course we must prioritise those lands that tithe direct to us," Jiverny murmured with a smile and shrug. "You can see how it must be, Masterharper? Benden first, then Bitra and Lemos, but hopefully the stone slopes of Fort, and your own stone roofs, will ward off the rest of the Fall."

Serellim stared at her, and his complexion turned pasty grey.

"You are proposing to leave - to leave - the whole of Pern unguarded?" he sputtered.

"Not at all. As the Weyrwoman says, prioritising will be the order of the day. The Lord Holders will have ground crews out with agenothree - I presume you will have the same, at the Hall?"

"But - with the farming lands denuded - famine - you cannot be serious!"

H'ric glared at him.

"I am perfectly serious, Masterharper. The Lord Holders and Craftmasters have made their position clear, and mine is just as clear. My duty as a dragon rider is to save all that I can of Pern, but throwing three hundred dragons around the sky, scurrying hither and thither after Thread, will not be in our best interests. We attack in groups, Masterharper, and fly definite patterns against Thread. What befalls the rest of Pern where we cannot reach - is going to be out of my control. Good day to you."

They walked away, leaving the man behind staring at them.

"He manoeuvred the Lord Holders and the Craftmasters into denying Thread at that conclave," H'ric said furiously. "But when I tell him I cannot protect the whole of Pern, he thinks better of it!"

"You told him no more than the truth," Jiverny said, and then they had caught up Lord Miccel and his sister Consicel, and M'ris escorted her to the dance floor, calling for a dance tune from the players, who obliged, and the dance floor began to fill.

"That M'ris," Jiverny said with a laugh and a shake of her head to Lord Miccel. "Your sister will come to no harm with him, I assure you."

"It might do her good," he replied. "She can't dance, you know, she can't hear a tune."

Jiverny turned to watch.

"But she can hold the beat, and M'ris will do the rest," she said with a smile to him. "Have you seen the glassware my father sends to the gather? Simple stuff, but it's selling very well."

"I'm glad of that. Since that conclave I've been in contact with him about those mountains of his, how to get better cultivation on the southern slopes." He fell silent, gazing out at the land around them.

"I will lose all this to Thread, will I not?" he asked quietly.

"I cannot tell you, my lord, if that will be so," H'ric replied formally. "We will do our best, you can be assured of that."

"I know you will. Come, what sort of gloomy talk is this for a gather? Will you do me the honour of a dance, Weyrwoman?"

With a laughing look at H'ric Jiverny allowed herself to be swept away by the powerful Lord Holder, and H'ric stood watching with a pleased smile, which lasted until a journeyman harper sidled nervously up to him.

"Ah - Lord H'ric - Weyrleader - this for you."

He proffered a scroll, and H'ric took it and unrolled it, scanned it quickly, and then stared at the nervous young man.

"Journeyman Grance. You are to be our new harper?"

"The Masterharper has indicated it to be so."

H'ric fingered the scroll, unsurprised to find the ink still damp. He examined the smudge on his finger, and handed the scroll back.

"Keep that, harper, because there's precious little new parchment or hide at the Weyr, you'll need to write small but legible."

"I'm - to come - really - with you - "

H'ric stared hard at him.

"Didn't you know?"

"The Masterharper came up to me just now - I'm supposed to be playing this evening at the gather then going back with him. I'm one of his special journeymen."

"And now you are my harper," H'ric said with a grim smile. "I take it you have nothing with you but the clothes you stand up in?"

Grance nodded unhappily, and H'ric took him by the elbow.

"We'll soon fix that. Come along."

"Where - where - are we going?"

"Harperhall of course. M'ris! Where is your flying gear? In the hall? I'm just borrowing it."

H'ric towed the reluctant harper into the hall and made him climb into M'ris' flying gear which swamped the smaller slighter man. Then H'ric forced him up the stairs to the heights where Galanath, alerted by his rider, was waiting. Fineth watched as H'ric pulled Grance up to sit on Galanath, and tied the harness around him and gave the signal for flight.

"But - I thought - I'd walk - or take a runnerbeast - Weyrleader - noooooo - "