“You wouldn’t? Can’t you understand? I’m in pain. Ag-
ony! Something inside is burning through my vitals. It won’t stop until it’s eaten me to a shell. I must have medicine. I must have it!”
“We must have the name of your successor.” Lord Oter-el’s voice was pitiless.
Master Robinton began to name the male relatives, his voice expressionless as he intoned the list. When he had completed it, he recited it again.
“You’ve forgotten one. Master,” Sebell said in a respectful tone. “Deckter.”
“Deckter?” The Harper turned slightly toward Sebell, his brows raised in surprise at being corrected.
“Yes, sir. A grand-nephew.”
“Oh.” The Harper sounded surprised, at the same time dismissing the man with a flick of his fingers. He repeated the list to Lord Meron, now mouthing obscenities as he writhed on his bed. Deckter was added as an afterthought. Then the Harper paused, looking inquiringly at Lord Meron, who responded with another flow of invective, demanding Oldive’s presence at the top of his voice. Again, the effort rendered him momentarily exhausted. He lay back, panting through his opened mouth, blinking to clear the sweat from his eyes.
“You must name your successor,” said T’bor, High Reaches Weyrleader, and Meron’s eyes rested on the man whose private grievance with him ran deepest. For it was Lord Meron’s association with T’bor’s Weyrwoman, Ky-lara, that had caused the death of both Kylara’s queen dragon, Pridenth, and Brekke’s Wirenth.
Sebell watched Meron’s eyes widen with growing horror as he finally realized that he would have no surcease from the pain of his body until he did name a successor, confronted as he was by men who had excellent reason for hating him. i
Sebell also noted that T’bor forgot to mention Deckter. So did Lord Oterel when he took his turn. Lord Bargen recited the name first, with a glance at Oterel for his omis-sion.
Sebell knew he would always remember this bizarre and macabre scene with horror as well as with a certain awful respect. He had long known that Master Robinton would use unexpected methods to maintain order throughout
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Pem and to uphold the leadership of Benden Weyr, but he had never expected such ruthlessness in the otherwise gen-tle and compassionate Robinton. He schooled his mind away from the stink and closeness of the room, from Mer-on’s pain, by trying to appreciate the tactics that were being used as Lord Meron was deftly maneuvered into choosing the one man the others preferred among his heirs by their seeming to forget Deckter half the time. For a long while afterward, the flickering of glows would re-mind Sebell and Menolly of those eerie hours while Lord Meron tried to resist the will of his inflexible peers.
It was inevitable that Meron would capitulate: Sebell thought he could almost feel the pulsing of pain through the man’s body as he screamed out Deckter’s name, thinking he had chosen to displease the men who had so tor-mented him.
The instant he spoke Deckter’s name. Master Oldive, who had gone no further than the next room, came to give
the man relief.
“Perhaps it was a terrible cruelty to inflict on anyone,” Master Oldive told the Lords when they left Meron in a drugged stupor, “but the ordeal has also hastened his end. Which can only be a mercy. I don’t think he can last another day.”
The other heirs, Hittet the most vocal, now barged in from the entry room, demanding to know why they had been excluded from their kinsman’s presence, berating the Lord Holders and Master Robinton for this unconscionable delay and finally remembering to ask if Lord Meron had indeed named an heir. When they were told of Deckter, their reactions were compounds of relief, consternation, disappointment and then incredulity. Sebell extricated Menolly from the knot of chattering relatives and guided her to the steps down to the Main Hall and out of the Hold where they could breathe the fresh, untainted air.
A considerable and silent crowd lined the ramp, held back by the guards. At the sight of the two harpers, they began to shout for news. Was Lord Meron dead? What was happening to bring Lord Holders and the Weyrleader