The Renegades of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  He tied Kesso up again, gathered some dry grasses to keep the runner occupied, and after testing the edges of his daggers, he made his way in the dawn-dark down to the river. A bridge, somewhat rickety and probably dating from the time the Lord Holders had attempted to storm Benden Weyr, provided him with a quick, dry, and quiet crossing. He caught sight not of the fire itself but of its glow on the rock face that sheltered it from the north-east. There was light enough now in the sky for him to pick a careful route. He soon crossed a narrow, twisting path and nearly slipped on some herdbeast dung. Judging that the faint path was safer than a more direct line, he followed it, climbing to a point higher than the spot from which he had seen the fire. Then he left the trace, parting the scraggly bushes with a care to thorns and stiff branches, and crept ahead a step at a time.

  He heard their voices—two men, and a voice he recognized as Thella’s. He could distinguish no words, nor could he get any closer, as the steep ridge before him was too smooth to be climbed and he could not see a way around it in the semidark.

  Hunkered down, he waited—until suddenly he realized that the voices had stopped. He moved as quickly as he could in the growing light, but when he reached his objective, the only evidence that anyone had been there was the warmth of the stone where the fire had been, and a few fragments of charcoal. The interior of the small cave was clean—far too clean, Jayge realized. He could see the river below him, and not a sign of travelers. Could his quarry have gone west, up and over the hill, and down to another concealed spot?

  Just as Jayge craned his neck to examine the slope above him, he caught sight of dragons emerging from the crater mouth of Benden Weyr, soaring majestically into the sky as if welcoming the sun’s rising with their own. His first encounter with a dragonrider had given him a warped opinion of them, but that had been tempered gradually as he met others when working ground crew. He had heard the high opinion in which Benden riders were held, and had actually ridden Heth to Thella’s hideout. The early morning flight before him was so beautiful that his whole perception of dragons and riders altered completely.

  Absorbed in that beauty, Jayge gave no thought to the possibility of his being discovered there. He watched until they had either returned to the Weyr or winked out between, an ability that the young trader found frightening even after surviving a demonstration of it on Heth. Then it occurred to him to wonder why the dragons, known to be long-sighted, had not reacted to his presence, sprawled there as he was across the rock face. They had not seemed to be alert at all. True, he had not moved, but surely Thella and her companions were on the move! Were the dragons even watching out for her? Clearly not. Those dragonriders were so secure in their bloody Weyr, they did not bother to keep sentries, he thought in disgust. And what was to keep Thella from brazening her way right into the Weyr and making off with Aramina?

  Jayge took the fastest way down, racing across the bridge and back to the cave, hoping that a dragon would appear to bar his way, his rider demanding to know who he was and the nature of his errand. But no one stopped him, and Jayge tightened Kesso’s girth with unusual violence. Vaulting to the saddle, he had the gelding galloping at full stretch up the valley to the tunnel that was the only surface entrance to Benden Weyr.

  There he met with resistance. And while he was somewhat reassured by the evidence that not everyone could enter the tunnel, he was irritated at the way his concise statement of danger to Aramina by Thella’s covert presence in the valley was questioned by every member of the guard, none of them dragonriders and all of them taking far too long looking over his warranty. Then his sketch of Readis, which he accidentally dislodged from his chest pocket in his haste to show his warranty, was picked up by one of the guards.

  ‘This guy was here yesterday. Kin of yours?’

  Jayge was paralyzed for a moment with shock. ‘He’s in Benden?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he be? He only wanted to deliver a packet of letters to Aramina, and she’s in Benden Hold.’

  ‘And you told him that? You smokeless weyrling, you consummate dimwit.’ Jayge was primed to elaborate on the antecedents of all six guards when the oldest man suddenly held his spearpoint right against Jayge’s throat.

  ‘State your business.’ The spearman pricked the sharp point encouragingly.

  Jayge swallowed both ire and insolence and, raising his hand, moved the point away from his neck, all the while staring back at the hard-eyed guard. ‘I must see K’van, Heth’s rider, immediately,’ he said more reasonably. He kept his tone urgent. ‘Thella was camped last night in the valley. I heard her this morning. And if she knows Aramina’s at Benden Hold, the girl is in grave danger.’

  The spearman gave him a faint reassuring grin. ‘Someone who hears dragons has all the protection she needs. But if that raider female is in the vicinity, Lessa will wish to hear all about it. Ride through. I’ll inform them you’re coming.’

  Kesso did not like the tunnel despite the glows that illuminated it at frequent intervals. He sidled, spooked, and twitched his ears constantly at the echoes of his own rattling hooves. When he stumbled on the ruts made in the floor by hundreds of Turns of cart wheels, Jayge kicked him smartly to make him pay attention. Finally they came to a second, inner gate, whose guards waved him on through into a vast, high-ceilinged area furnished with platforms of varying heights for the unloading of any sized wagon or cart. From there Jayge was directed to a second, longer tunnel, its far end a mere circle of brightness. He trotted Kesso, disliking the sensation of being enclosed in rock. He kept hearing noises that reminded him a shade too much of the avalanche in Telgar, and he resisted the urge to gallop Kesso out of the place.

  Then he was out in the Bowl of Benden and gawking like the most ignorant back-of-the-hill hold apprentice. The immense crater was an imperfect oval—actually two coalescing craters, rather than a single one. The irregular sides loomed high and were dotted with the dark mouths of individual weyrs. Many of the protruding ledges already held dragons lolling in the sunlight. One whiff of the dragons’ scent, and Kesso threw his head up until Jayge could see the whites of his frantic eyes.

  A youngster came trotting up to him. ‘If you’ll come with me, Trader Lilcamp, you can put your runner where the dragons won’t scare him.’ The boy pointed to his right. ‘The blackrock bunker’s not too full right now, so there’s enough space. I’ll get him some water and hay.’

  Jayge had his hands full with the beast’s terrified behavior, and by the time they got safely inside, Kesso was lathered with sweat. Fortunately the acrid dusty smell of the blackrock masked dragonspoor, and Kesso, his fright forgotten, was glad to slake his thirst in the water pail. After checking that the hay was of good quality, Jayge left him to it.

  ‘Now, if you’ll come this way, Lessa’s waiting for you,’ the boy said.

  As Benden Weyr was an amazement to Jayge, Lessa was only slightly less of a surprise. He could feel the force of her personality as strongly as he had felt Thella’s, but there all resemblance ended. Despite her slight stature, Lessa carried herself with authority, gracious but firm. She was more courteous to a trader than he had expected, and she listened with such interest that he found himself telling her the whole story, from his first encounter with Thella and Giron, to that dawn’s surveillance, and his fears, assumptions, and anxieties—with one exception. He made no mention of Readis.

  ‘Please, Lady Lessa, bring Aramina back here before it’s too late,’ Jayge said, stretching his hand across the table to Lessa’s and then pulling it back as he realized his forwardness.

  ‘As soon as I learned of your errand, Jayge Lilcamp, I sent word to Lord Raid. They’ll keep her safe, I assure you.’ She gave him a radiant smile, then explained her method. ‘Ramoth, my queen, told Benden’s watch-dragon.’

  ‘But the girl’d be safer here,’ Jayge insisted, fretting. Anyone could walk into Benden Hold; anyone could find her out on a hunt.

  Lessa frowned just slightly, then leaned toward Jayge, putting her s
mall hand on his arm, strong fingers pressing in reassurance. ‘I do understand your concern. And I would prefer to have Aramina right here in Benden until she Impresses but… the girl does hear dragons.’ She grimaced in frustration. ‘All the time, and every dragon.’ She sighed extravagantly, then tilted her head slightly and smiled at him. Suddenly Jayge knew why so many people respected, even worshipped her, and he found himself smiling back at her, half-embarrassed by his reaction. ‘The conversations were driving her crazy.’

  ‘Not as crazy as Thella could,’ Jayge heard himself saying.

  ‘Tubridy at the outer gate said you had a picture of a man who purportedly had letters from her family,’ Lessa said.

  Jayge pulled his warranty from his pocket, opening it as if expecting to find the sketch folded up in it. Then he fumbled in his chest pocket, feigning dismay and annoyance and checking the other pockets in his jacket. ‘I must have dropped it. My runnerbeast did not like the tunnel, or the dragons.’ He attempted an ingratiating smile and an abashed shrug.

  To his surprise, she spread out a sheet, much bigger than any of the ones Perschar had used, but which included all the sketches the craftsman had done, including a new pose of Readis, by no means as accurately drawn from memory as from life. The resemblance of uncle to nephew did not seem as pronounced—at least Jayge hoped that Lessa would notice none. Without hesitation, he pointed to Dushik.

  ‘I’d know that one anywhere,’ he said. He knew he was taking a chance but he was irrationally determined to save his uncle. How, he did not know—but he had to try.

  Lessa was looking at him oddly, her eyes slightly narrowed. ‘How did you come to have a sketch?’

  ‘Well, as I told you, I thought they’d make for Igen low caverns. On my own like that, I might just be told something holders, and dragonmen’—his smile was respectfully apologetic—‘might not get to hear. So I was given one of Perschar’s sketches to show. I’ve a score to settle with Thella and her friends.’ Jayge had no need to counterfeit the hatred and determination that welled up in him. Then he was startled to hear a dragon rumble nearby.

  ‘Private scores have a habit of getting out of hand, Jayge Lilcamp,’ Lessa said with a strange smile.

  Suddenly Jayge was reminded again of Thella. He shook the comparison out of his head and got to his feet as the Weyrwoman rose.

  ‘And getting in the way of more honorable qualities,’ Lessa continued. ‘You can leave this matter in Weyr hands. We’ll protect Aramina.’ A dragon bugled, and the noise reverberated. Lessa smiled dotingly. ‘You have Ramoth’s word on it.’

  ‘Does she hear everything?’

  Lessa laughed. It was an astonishingly young laugh.

  She shook her head reassuringly. ‘Your secrets are safe with me.’

  Jayge turned away to avoid her shrewd eyes and perceptive mind. He had never heard anything about dragons being able to hear everyone’s thoughts—just those of their riders.

  ‘Go across to the kitchen on your way out, Jayge Lilcamp. You’ll need a good meal to start your way back home.’

  Thanking her, he followed the boy out of the weyr but came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the golden dragon sitting on the ledge. She had not been there when he had entered. Her tail was wrapped around her front legs and her wings tucked flat to her dorsal ridge, but she was looking squarely at him as he came out.

  ‘She likes it if you speak to her. “Good morning, Ramoth” is appropriate,’ the boy suggested when he realized that Jayge had not moved.

  ‘Good morning, Ramoth,’ Jayge repeated in a dry voice and edged carefully toward the first step. The dragon loomed above him, and he had never felt so insignificant in his life. Although he was of reasonable height, he came no higher than her short foreleg. He swallowed and took another step. ‘Give my greetings to Heth, would you? I liked meeting Heth.’ Jayge knew he was babbling, but somehow or other his words seemed appropriate.

  ‘Really,’ the boy said, tugging his arm, ‘she won’t do anything.’

  ‘She’s bigger than I thought,’ Jayge said, speaking rapidly and in an undertone.

  ‘Well, she is the Benden queen. And,’ the boy added proudly, ‘the biggest dragon on all Pern.’

  Ramoth canted her head upward suddenly, rumbling at three dragons circling to land on ledges above her. Two of them answered her. Jayge took advantage of that distraction to go down the weyr steps as fast as he could, passing the boy on his way out. When he reached the Bowl floor safely, he took a deep breath and wiped his sweating forehead with one hand.

  ‘C’mon, you’re to have a meal. Weyr food’s good,’ the boy said encouragingly, catching up.

  ‘I think I’d rather—’

  ‘You can’t leave the Weyr without a decent meal,’ the boy insisted. ‘Look, Ramoth’s curling up for a snooze in the sun.’

  Lessa’s reassurances lasted only until Jayge’s first overnight camp. He had been heartened to see sweep riders quartering in the distance, farther down the roadway. Then the overlapping branches obscured his sight of them. He fretted until almost dawn, sleepless, remembering each word of his interview, trying to allay his doubts about dissembling to the Weyrwoman herself, and trying to puzzle out her warning about settling private scores.

  He wished he could see some way of getting Readis free of his association with Thella. And who was the third man he had heard? Dushik? Or Giron? He rather doubted it was Giron, not that close to a Weyr. Dushik was reputed to be the more formidable opponent.

  Jayge drove himself and Kesso hard down the trail, eschewing more comfortable lodging in the interest of pressing on. Someone at the Weyr had kindly tied a sack of grain to his saddle so that he could feed the hardworking Kesso properly. He stopped only to buy travel meal and more grain before moving on. He kept looking for any signs of other recent travelers, although it would have been too foolish of Thella and the others to move on the well-used road.

  Then he knew what he would do when he reached Benden Hold. He would ask to see the black-haired girl. She had seemed sensible enough to take him seriously. He would show her the sketch of Readis and warn her about him. Dushik was ferocious enough so that people would automatically be wary of him. But Readis looked respectable and he had a clever tongue in his head. Too clever by half. Still, Blood loyalty had compelled Readis to draw Thella’s raiders off the train, and Jayge had to do as much for his uncle.

  He was tired, still wet from the previous day’s rain, and hungry on an exhausted, foot-dragging mount when he arrived at Benden Hold. To his immense relief, activity around the Hold seemed to be normal. He asked for Master Conwy, who was surprised to see him but who welcomed him cordially.

  ‘Have there been any strangers asking for… the girl who hears dragon?’ Jayge asked immediately.

  ‘Aramina?’ Master Conwy’s bushy eyebrows lifted. ‘So, you’re the one who rode all the way to Benden Weyr to warn them. Lad, you’d only to tell me that was your worry. We’d’ve sent the watchdragon up and spared you a long journey.’

  ‘Then I wouldn’t have seen Thella’s band camped near the Weyr.’

  Master Conwy nodded as one did to a nervous person, deftly took Kesso’s reins from Jayge’s hand, and began shooing him into the beasthold, helping Jayge unsaddle and stable the tired beast. ‘That’s true enough, but you did see them and, I hear, spoke to the Weyrwoman at length.’

  Jayge’s hopes flared briefly. ‘Then the dragonriders found Thella?’

  ‘No, but not for want of trying. And we’ve guards out in plenty and every holder on the lookout, as well.’

  Jayge paused in the act of placing his saddle on the partition between the two stalls. ‘The mare I brought to you was in the next stable. Where is she?’

  ‘Out. Aramina went—with two guards—to help with a staked burden beast. She’s very good with animals and they sense that—’

  ‘You let her leave the Hold? Shards, man, you’re as mad as they are up at the Weyr! You don’t know what Thella and Dushik are like
! You’ve no idea what they’re like! They mean to kill the girl!’

  ‘Now, see here, lad, leave go of me. And I don’t take that kind of language from anyone.’ Master Conwy pulled Jayge’s hands from his shirt. ‘You’re tired, lad; you’re not thinking straight. She’s safe. Now you come with me, have a bath and something to eat. She’ll be back shortly. Won’t take more than a few hours.’

  Jayge was trembling with stress, and since Master Conwy sounded so certain of Aramina’s safety, he allowed himself to be persuaded into the hold and the bath. It was only when Master Conwy’s eldest boy brought him hot klah and fresh bread smeared with sweetsauce to eat while he soaked off the travel dirt that he realized that Aramina was the black-haired girl he had so admired. Fortunately the food distracted his thoughts from the girl, thoughts that had been taking a decidedly erotic turn. He concentrated instead on the disquieting fact that the dragonriders had not flushed out the fugitives. They were hiding, biding their time until the alertness of the Hold and guard relaxed. Thella was good at waiting—witness the way she had built those deadfalls, spaced to catch every wagon. But she could make mistakes. She had made another in building a fire that could be seen, and had been.

  ‘Jayge Lilcamp!’ Master Conwy charged into the bath, throwing a towel at Jayge, then dragging him out of the water when he did not move fast enough. ‘You were right, and we were shamefully slack. Gardilfon just now came up the Hold road, driving his tithe beasts. He had sent no word to the Hold about a burden beast, certainly not to Aramina, and he’s seen no one on this road since dawn.’

  Hurriedly drying himself and fumbling with the clothes the Beastmaster flung at him, Jayge heard the rumble of the Hold drums, his blood pounding as much to their beat as to the heat of the bath he had just left. His boots were clammy and mud-caked, but he crammed his feet in.