scufflings rising from the kitchen: no doubt the Warder rewarding the drudges for their efforts.

Then suddenly there was a screeching, and one of the women came running out of the upper hall and paused briefly at the top.

'She's dead ... dead ... dead ...' Her cry reverberated down the staircase and through the Hall, causing yet more crawlers to be loosened from their strands.

'Dead?' Fax whirled, watching the woman's hysterical progress down the stairs.

'Oh, dead, dead, poor Gemma. Oh, Lord Fax, we did all we could, but the journey ...' She ran to where Fax was sitting.

Casually, Fax slapped her and she fell sobbing in a heap at his feet.

Robinton saw F'lar reach for his dagger hilt. Women in the Weyr were rarely treated in such a harsh manner. It would definitely go against a dragonrider's grain. Robinton tightened his hands into fists, willing the bronze rider to relax.

The men were muttering, not all of them as happy to hear such news about their Lady as their Lord, who was decidedly pleased.

'The child lives,' cried a voice from the top of the stairs, and there was the drudge who had gone for the birthing woman. 'It is male.' Her voice was rough with anger and, perhaps, hatred.

Robinton was astonished to recognize the two emotions. Fax was on his feet, kicking aside the weeping woman, scowling viciously at the drudge. 'What are you saying, woman'?.'

'The child lives. It is male,' she repeated in a firm voice, belying her apparent age.

Incredulity and rage suffused Fax's face. The Warder's men stifled their cheers.

'Ruatha has a new lord,' the astonishing drudge continued, making her way down the stairs.

The dragons roared.

The drudge's eyes appeared to be focused on Fax as she made her way down the stairs. Robinton was altogether astonished at her sudden, assertive behaviour, as well as the robust quality of her voice. She even seemed oblivious to the roar of the dragons outside.

She didn't see her danger, as Robinton certainly did, when Fax erupted into action, leaping across the intervening space, bellowing denials of her news. Before the drudge could realize his intent, his fist crashed across her face. She was swept off her feet and off the steps, and fell heavily to the stone floor where she lay motionless, a bundle of dirty rags.

'Hold, Fax!' F'lar cried as the Lord of the High Reaches lifted his foot to kick the unconscious body.

Robinton had started forward too, but caught himself before he inadvertently dropped out of disguise.

Fax whirled, his hand closing on his knife hilt.

'It was heard and witnessed, Fax,' F'lar cautioned him, one hand outstretched, 'by dragonmen. Stand by your sworn and witnessed oath!'

In spite of himself, Robinton shook his head at such a challenge, made to Fax of all people.

'Witnessed? By dragonmen?' cried Fax. He gave a derisive laugh, his eyes blazing with contempt, one sweeping gesture of scorn dismissing them all -just as he had dismissed the Lord Holders and Masters in the Hall at Nabol 'Dragonwomen, you mean.'

But he took a backward step as the dragonrider moved forward, knife in hand.

Dragonwomen?' F'lar queried, his voice dangerously soft.

Glowlight flickered off his circling blade as he advanced on Fax.

That's right, F'lar, Robinton thought, remembering another scene all too vividly. But this young man had his temper well in hand, unlike his father, and he had the same lean, powerful build the younger F'lon had possessed.

'Women! Parasites on Pern. The Weyr power is over! Over for good,' roared Fax, leaping forward to land in a combat crouch.

Robinton spared a look at the others in the Hall. Fax's men were obviously looking forward to a good fight and the death of this unwary adversary. The dragonriders had spread out, circling, as if to keep the guards from interfering. Their expressions reflected confidence in the abilities of their wingleader, especially C'gan whose grinning face reassured Robinton.

Fax feinted, and F'lar neatly swayed away. They crouched again, facing each other across six feet of space, knife hands weaving, their free hands, spread-fingered, ready to grab.

Again Fax pressed the attack. F'lar allowed him to close, just near enough to dodge away with a back-handed swipe. Fabric tore and Fax snarled. He lunged immediately, faster on his feet than Robinton would have expected for such a bulky man. F'lar was forced again to dodge; this time Fax's knife scored across the dragonrider's jerkin.

Fax ploughed in again, trying to corner F'lar between the raised platform and the wall. Robinton caught his breath, hoping that neither would stumble over the unconscious drudge.

F'lar countered, ducking low under Fax's flailing arm and slashing obliquely across his side. Fax caught at him, yanking savagely, and F'lar was trapped against the other man's side, straining desperately with his left hand to keep the knife arm up. F'lar brought up his knee, at the same time making himself collapse. As Fax gasped from the blow to the groin, F'lar danced away; but Robinton could see blood welling up on his left shoulder.

Red with fury and wheezing from pain and shock, Fax straightened up and charged. F'lar was forced to sidestep quickly, putting the meat table between them and circling warily, flexing his shoulder to assess the damage.

Suddenly Fax seized up a handful of fatty scraps from the meat tray and hurled them at F'lar. The dragonrider ducked, and Fax closed the distance around the table with a rush. Robinton nearly cheered when F'lar instinctively swerved out of the way just as

Fax's flashing blade came within inches of his abdomen. At the same moment, the bronze rider's knife sliced down the outside of Fax's arm. Instantly the two pivoted to face each other again, but Fax's left arm hung limply at his side.

F'lar darted in, pressing his luck as Fax staggered. But the older man must not have been hurt as badly as F'lar assumed: the dragonrider suffered a terrific kick in the side as he tried to dodge under the feinting knife. Robinton's throat closed. Doubled with pain, F'lar rolled frantically away from his charging adversary. Fax lurched forward, trying to fall on him for a final thrust. F'lar somehow got to his feet, attempting to straighten up to meet Fax's stumbling charge. His movement took Fax by surprise. Fax overreached his mark and staggered off balance. F'lar brought his right hand over in a powerful thrust, his knife blade plunging deep into Fax's unprotected back.

Fax fell flat to the flagstones, the force of his descent dislodging the dagger so that an inch of the bloody blade re-emerged from the point of entry.

A thin wailing penetrated the silence. Robinton looked up to the top of the stairs, where a woman stood, cradling a swathed bundle in her arms.

'The new Lord Holder,' Robinton murmured. The guards on either side of him regarded him with surprise.

Do I come forward as MasterHarper now? he wondered, looking about to see who would take charge. F'nor, C'gan and K'net strode forward, ready to ring F'lar in case any of the guards wished to retaliate.

F'lar, wiping his forehead on his sleeve, half-stumbled to the still-unconscious drudge. He gently turned her over and, even from where Robinton stood, he could see the terrible bruise from Fax's fist spreading across her filthy cheek.

'Do any of you care to contest the outcome of this duel?' F'nor challenged. His hand carefully remained at his side, but he stood as if ready to seize his dagger at the first sign of attack.

Something about the drudge – her thin face, the set of her eyes – caught Robinton's attention. F'lar gathered the limp body up in his arms, the clump of dirty hair dropping downward. As the bronze rider swung her around Robinton got a second good look at her face and something stirred in his memory.

He blinked. No, he had to be mistaken. They'd all died. Everyone with any trace of Ruathan Blood had been killed that day. The girl couldn't possibly ... incredibly ... be Lessa? And yet... Ruathan Blood had produced many dragonriders and a few Weyrwomen, too. They had strong minds, strong ... powers?

And Robinton blinked again. That was what he had felt pulsing through the Hall, what had caused the dragons to roar and F'lar to act so outrageously in challenging Fax. And it made sense to the MasterHarper. Very good sense. She was why Nip thought Ruatha was subtly rebelling against Fax. She was a full Ruathan, and they had always had strong women in the Bloodline. Strong enough to be Weyrwomen, especially now, at this crucial time for Pern.

Вы читаете The Master Harper of Pern
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату