“The towers are full of guards—she shouldn’t even go,” Jefric said hotly.
The tent flap twitched and Jirana stepped out. She gave Jefric a dirty look, then said to Nerra, “Leave your weapons behind, my lady.”
“What?” Jefric said, aghast.
“The power of your words alone will win your victory.”
Nerra frowned, then turned to Jefric. “She’s right,” she said firmly. “If I’m to rule, then I need to rule with my voice.”
“Your voice won’t open the gates, my lady,” Jefric protested.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Xhinna said, reaching a hand down to ruffle Jirana’s hair.
When they were airborne, Jirana staying reluctantly behind, Jefric leaned forward from behind Xhinna and growled into her ear, “If anything happens to my lady, I’ll kill you.”
“If anything happens to her, it won’t matter what you do to me,” Xhinna replied.
Jefric was silent for a moment as he thought about what she’d said, then grunted reluctantly.
“The high tower, over there,” he said, pointing.
“No, the courtyard below,” Nerra called from her position in front of Xhinna. “If your little friend is right, that’s where I’ll get my support.”
Xhinna nodded and instructed Tazith to land.
“One thing, my lady,” she said as they closed with the ground.
“What?”
“It would be best if it did not become general knowledge that a woman rides a blue,” Xhinna said.
“Very well,” Nerra said after a moment. “Your voice is low enough that most will consider you a young man. Keep your helmet and jacket on, and none will see except what they expect to see.”
“That will work?”
Nerra laughed. “If it doesn’t, it’ll be the least of our worries!”
Quite on his own, as soon as they touched the ground in the courtyard, the blue let out a huge bellow, startling and alerting everyone in the courtyard.
“Now you’ve done it!” Jefric swore, sliding off the blue and drawing his sword in one fluid moment.
Nerra dropped to the ground in front of him and turned, raising her hand. “Sheathe your sword.”
The other two guards took up positions on either side of her, glancing warily as the courtyard came to life.
Tazith bellowed again, his voice echoing around the courtyard and into the Hold beyond.
Xhinna vaulted from his neck and moved toward the others in time to see Nerra straighten her shoulders and say something to herself. Xhinna thought she was quoting Jirana: “Your words alone.”
Catching sight of Xhinna, Nerra said, “Your blue is welcome to perch on the tower.”
Xhinna nodded and relayed the order to Tazith, who bellowed once more, added a warbling chirp of pleasure, then leapt into the night sky, beating his way easily up to the nearest of the courtyard gate towers.
With a nod, Nerra turned away from the Hold and toward the gates. She walked easily, ignoring the clatter of guards assembling behind her.
A guard moved from the gates toward her.
“Tormic!” Nerra called cheerfully. “I know the hour is late, but please open the gates.”
“Nerra?” the man said in surprise. He glanced around her, saw Jefric and the other two, then looked up to see Tazith peering down from the tower.
“Yes,” she said. “I would like the gates opened, if you please.”
Tormic’s eyes widened and he seemed to be struggling to find an answer.
“If you’d like, I’m sure Jefric and Nerritor would help,” Nerra said, motioning to the men behind her.
“But—but—”
“Tormic, our people need us—they need our aid,” Nerra said, looking the man straight in the eyes. “It is time for Crom to Hold once more.”
Tormic braced at her words and bowed once, deeply, before turning around and bellowing, “Open the gates!”
Nerra made a restraining gesture with her fingers to Jefric and the other guards, ordering them to maintain their positions as she moved forward with Tormic.
“Good evening, Javennor, I see you’ve drawn the short straw again,” she said to the nearest guard. When he returned her gaze with astonishment, she asked, “What happened, did you bet on the wrong horse?”
Tormic stifled a laugh even as Javennor’s eyes grew wider.
“We need the gates open, if you please,” Nerra said. “Or would you rather the dragon help?”
Javennor’s wide eyes strayed to Tazith above him and, jerking his head in a quick negative, he turned with Tormic toward the gates.
As simply as that, the gates swung open, revealing the resolute-looking group of Nerra’s men waiting beyond. Nerra called out to them, “Crom Hold, form ranks!”
In an aside to Tormic and the other gate guards, she added, “That means you, too.”
The gate guards hesitantly joined the armed band moving in from outside. Nerra stood in front of them for a long moment until she was satisfied that the ranks were properly dressed, then said to Jefric, “I shall meet my brother now.”
As the group marched by Xhinna, Nerra beckoned to her with an arm. “I’d like you to witness this, dragonrider.”
Xhinna dipped her head. “Of course, my lady,” she said, trying to deepen her voice to sound like that of a young man.
Together they marched to the Hold entrance. Jefric nodded to Tormic and the two stood at either side, pushing the double doors open.
Nerra walked straight to the end of the great hall and sat on the chair in the center of the raised dais there. She turned to Jefric. “Please invite Fenril to join us.”
It took a while to find Fenril and, based on the sounds coming from outside the hall, a certain amount of force, as well. At last he entered in stained nightclothes, one arm pinned behind his back by Jefric.
“I found him in the drudges’ quarters, my lady,” Jefric said, his voice filled with deadly rage. His mouth worked for a moment as he fought for words. “He was, ah, entertaining.”
“Brother?” Nerra said, glancing at the man standing before her. “Would you care to explain?”
Fenril whimpered, but said nothing.
Nerra flicked her gaze away from him, eyes blazing. It was a long moment before she could bring herself to look once more at him and say, “Brother, why is it that the people of our Hold have been denied the food they harvested, the food saved for such a terrible Plague as the one that passed through us nearly two Turns back?”
“Still,” Fenril mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“Still Plague,” Fenril said defiantly.
Nerra turned to Tormic. “Is this true?”
Tormic reddened as he stammered, “M-my Lady, Lord Fenril said that the Plague was outside the Hold, that we were in danger—”
“Not so,” Nerra said, cutting him short. “No Plague, except for that of empty bellies, starving people. And that ends now.”
“Our stores are running low,” Tormic said.
“We’ll share what we have,” Nerra said. “There are farms desperate for seed—seed that should have come from the Hold.” She turned back to Fenril. “Father, with his dying words, set upon me the charge of this Hold. You have denied it for these past two Turns and our people have starved from your neglect. What say you?”
“I—I—,” Fenril stammered, shaking his head. “Not right. D’gan would never support—”
“It is up to the Conclave of Lord Holders to confirm a Lord Holder, not a Weyrleader,” Nerra told him sternly. She waved to one of her guards, who moved to place a restraining arm on Fenril’s shoulder. “Until that time, brother, you will be kept under guard—”
“On what charge?”
“Treason,” Nerra told him calmly. “To the holders in your charge, to your father, and to me.” She nodded at the guard. Paying no attention to Fenril’s gabbled protests as he was led away, she turned to Tormic. “I need to see the Storemaster soonest.”