“You will have to get messages out to prevent people coming in,” Tolocamp said in a low voice when they were inside the Hall.
“I know that. I just have to figure out how. Without exposing animals or people.” Alessan swung to the left, into the Hold’s office where the bloody Records he did not have time to peruse were stacked in accusing ranks. Although the office had been put to use as sleeping space during the Gather, it was vacant but sleeping furs were scattered about, their owners apparently having left them in haste. Alessan kicked several aside to reach his maps. He finally located the small-scale chart of the Holding on which the roads were
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marked in different colors for trail, track, or path, and the holds similarly differentiated.
Tolocamp exclaimed in surprise at the fine quality of the map. “I’d no idea you were so well equipped,” he said with a want of tact.
“As the harpers are fond of telling us,” Alessan said, with a slight smile to sweeten his words, “Fort Hold happened, but Ruatha was planned.” He traced a forefinger up the northern trail, to the divid-ing tracks that went northwest, west, and northeast, reaching tr’enty holds, large and small, and three mineholds. The main western trail through the mountains wandered with occasional hazards into the plateau.
“Lord Alessan …”
He turned and saw Tuero at the door, the other harpers behind him in the corridor.
“I thought we might volunteer as messengers.” Tuero grinned, which made his long, crooked nose slant even more dramatically to the left. “That’s the subject of rather heated discussions outside. The harpers of Pem are at your disposal.”
“I thank you, but you’ve been as exposed as anyone else here. It’s the disease I wish to contain, not the people.”
“Lord Alessan”Tuero was smilingly insistent“a message can be relayed.” Tuero mimed putting something down quickly with one hand and taking it up in the other with a sharp pull. He walked quickly to the map. “Someone in this hold”he stabbed at the first one of the northern track“could take a message to the next one, and so on, relaying instructions as well as the drum call.”
Alessan stared at the map, mentally reviewing the inhabitants of the holds and cots. Even the farthest settlement, the iron minehold, was no more than three days’ hard riding. Dag would have taken the fastest runners. Squealer’s ilk, with him, but there would be beasts to make the first leg of the relay, and no risk to other stock if the runner returned to Ruatha. If the runner returned …
“And as none of us has any reason to stay away from your bounti-ful hospitality, you can depend on us to return. Besides, this sort of thing is our duty.”
“A very good point,” Tolocamp murmured.
“I concur. So, may I leave it to you, Tuero, to organize the contents of the messages and instructions to be forwarded by this relay system of yours? Drum messages went here, here, here, and here.”
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Alessan tapped the cardinal holds. “I doubt if they would have thought of communicating the bad news to the smaller places. Seven holds are capable of supplying runners for the relay, each covering outlying cotholds.”
“How fortunate that we are seven!”
Alessan grinned. “Indeed, Tuero. Let the harpers spread the news that heralds are available. Our drummer is still in the drum tower, I take itwell, then, his supplies are in those cupboards: ink and hide and pen. Let me know when you’re available. I’ve travel maps. I’ll arrange mounts. You’ll want to be quick about this business or risk sleeping out.”
“That’s no novelty for harpers, I assure you.”
“And you might discover, if you can, who else brought in animals from Keroon over the past few weeks.”
“Oh?” Both Tuero’s eyebrows lifted expressing surprise.
“Vander picked up new runners from a ship out of Keroon”
“The drum mentioned Keroon, didn’t it? We’ll find out. This win-ter’s lack of ice is not the blessing it seemed, eh?”
“Not at all!”
“Ah, well, it’s not ended yet!” With a quick courteous bow of his head, Tuero led his craftfellows off to the main hall.