“He had to send it by rider. From what the fellow told me, Chalkin’s sent messengers to Nerat and Telgar as well. He wants me, you'll see in the last paragraph, Irene,” and Bridgely pointed to that section of the missive, “to forward it by a reliable messenger to Lord Paulin, registering his complaint with the Council Chair. I suppose,” and his grin was droll, “I’ll get another one when he finds out about yesterday’s airlift rescue.”
“The man…” Irene paused, unable to find words. “When I think of how he’s treated those poor people And when he’s called to account, he'll probably whine that his guards exceeded their instructions…”
“…and he’s fired them all,” said Bridgely with a cynical shrug.
“Oh,” M’shall said brightly, “not all of them.” He scratched the back of his head. “Ah they wanted to know why they couldn’t get to ride a dragon if the riffraff could.”
“You didn’t, M’shall,” Irene exclaimed, her eyes wide with delighted anticipation, “drop them off on the way, did you?”
“No,” and M’shall shrugged with mock regret. “But I felt it might be wise to… ah, sequester? Yes, that’s the word, sequester certain of them should they be required to stand before the Council and explain exactly what orders they received.”
“Oh,” and Bridgely turned pensive.
“Oh, I was selective, you might say,” and M’shall’s face was grim. “I found out which had had a hand in those killings and took testimony against them from bereaved witnesses. Not even guards, acting under a Lord Holder’s orders, may execute without trial, you know.”
“Oh, indeed, and you’ve acted circumspectly,” Bridgely said, nodding with understanding. “Really, I don’t think this can wait until Turn’s End. And I shall so inform Jamson and Azury.”
“I’d be happy to take you myself,” offered M’shall, “and speak for the Weyr. In fact,” and the Weyrleader reached for Chalkin’s written message, “you could deliver this at the same time, Bridgely.”
“You are all consideration, Weyrleader,” Bridgely said, gesturing grandly and looking exceedingly pleased.
“My pleasure at any time, Lord Holder.” M’shall swept his arm in an equally grand gesture.
“Whenever you can spare a moment from your duties, Weyrleader?”
“Why, I do believe I can spare an hour or two now, since I perceive that it is an appropriate time to visit the western half of the continent.”
“Oh, will you two stop your nonsense and GO!” Irene said, laughter in her voice though she tried to look reproving. But their antics relieved the tension in the Weyr.
High Reaches, Boll Holds, Ista, Benden Weyrs, Ista Hold, High Reaches, Fort and Telgar Holds
“Now really, M’shall, Bridgely,” said Jamson, fussing with his robes as he shifted uneasily in his chair.
High Reaches was invariably a cold place and today, in Jamson’s private office, was no exception. The Benden Holder was glad he had riding furs on and made no attempt to open his jacket nor unglove his left hand after the usual handshake with Jamson. He noted M’shall did the same. “I cannot believe that a Lord Holder would treat the very people he depends on in such a way. Not in midwinter.”
“With my own eyes I saw it, Lord Jamson,” M’shall said in an unequivocal tone. “And I thought it wise to ask several of the guards to stay in the Weyr so you may learn what their orders were.”
“But here, Chalkin complains that you have not accorded him the courtesy of conveyance.” Jamson frowned.
“If you had seen what I have, Lord Jamson, you might find it hard to oblige him,” M’shall said, his face stark.
“Really, Jamson, don’t be such a prick,” Bridgely said, under no similar restraint of courtesy with his peer. “Nerat and Telgar are taking in refugees as well as Benden. You can speak to any you wish to, to determine the extent of Chalkin’s perfidy.”
“I’ll gladly convey you where you wish to go.” M’shall offered.
“I’ve my own Weyr,” Jamson said stiffly, “if I need transport. But it’s not the weather to be travelling about in unnecessarily at all.” Which was true enough, since the High Reaches Hold was cloaked in snow crusted as hard as ice on the ground.
“Agreed,” said Bridgely, trying hard not to shiver and wondering at Jamson’s parsimony with fires, or if the heating system in the Hold was another victim to technological obsolescence. “So you will grant that only a dire need would bring me out, asking you to change your mind about taking immediate action against Chalkin. People would have frozen to death on Bitra’s borders last night!” And he pointed vigorously eastward.
“He doesn’t mention that in this,” Jamson said, peering at the letter on the table.
“Doubtless he’ll circulate a longer letter on that score,” said Bridgely with deep irony. “But what I saw required me to give aid without any delay to meditate.”
“As you know, Lord Jamson,” M’shall put in, “Weyrs are also autonomous and may withhold services with sufficient justification. I feel perfectly justified in refusing him basic courtesies. Come, Bridgely. We’re wasting Lord Jamson’s valuable time. Good day to you.”
Before the astonished High Reaches Holder could respond to such peremptory behaviour, the two men had left the room.
“My word! And I always considered M’shall to be a sensible man. Thank goodness, G’don is a solid, predictable Weyrleader - One simply does not impeach a Lord Holder overnight! Not this close to Threadfall.” Jamson buried his hands more deeply into the sleeves of his fur-lined jerkin.
Azury was so shocked he did not even comment on M’shall’s dereliction of services.
“I’d no idea, really,” he said.
In direct contrast to High Reaches, Southern Boll’s weather was hot enough for Bridgely to wish he’d worn a lighter shirt.
Although they were well shaded from the morning sun on a porch decorated by a blooming plant with fragrant pink blossoms tangling in clusters, he had to open his collar and roll up his sleeves to be comfortable. Azury had ordered a fruit drink and by the time it came, Bridgely’s throat was dry enough to appreciate the cool tang.
“I know Chalkin’s not exactly… reliable, and Azury then grinned wryly. And I’ve lost sufficient marks in his little games of chance to wonder about his basic honesty. But…” and he shook his head. “A Holder simply doesn’t keep his folk in the dark about something as critical to their survival as Thread. Does he really think it won’t come? That we’re all foolish or stupid?”
“He is both foolish and stupid,” Bridgely said. “Why else did our ancestors bio-engineer the dragons? And develop a totally unique society to nurture and succor the species, if not for future need?” He glanced at M’shall who merely raised his eyebrows. “It isn’t as if we didn’t have graphic proof of the existence of Thread, which was part of our education. Nor tons of records annotating the problem. It’s not something we thought up to inconvenience Chalkin of Bitra!”
“Preaching to the converted, Bridge,” Azury said. “He’s ten times the fool if he thinks to brace the rest of the planet on this score. But,” and he leaned forward on his wicker wood chair which creaked slightly, “Holders can spin great lies.”
“And I can spot a whinge and a bitcher as fast as you can, Azury,” said Bridgely, moving to the edge of his chair which also reacted noisily to the weight shift. “Like this chair. You can interview any of those we’ve taken in… and the sooner the better, so you can judge the condition they were in before we rescued them.”
“I think I’d better have an eyes-on at that,” Azury told him.
He raised one hand quickly. “Not that I doubt you, but impeaching another Lord Holder is nervous-making.”