“Or the next Pass starts!” F’lon said bitterly. “Then it’ll be too late !”
“Or just right,” Robinton added, as he imagined the chaos and backtracking the return of Thread would cause among those indolent and incredulous Holders and Masters.
Towards the end of the next spring, Nip brought new reports on Fax’s activities.
“Man’s taken over another hold,” Nip said, slipping into Robinton’s room late one night, wearing his runner’s shorts. He was barefooted, carrying spiked running shoes in one hand. “It’s late, I know, but your glows guided my steps to your door again,” he added with a grin as he stopped by the chest where Robinton
stored wine-skins and glasses. The running shoes clattered to the floor.
“Which two holds?” Robinton said, gesturing to indicate that he’d need a drink too, to help swallow the news.
“Not big ones,” Nip said, “not greedy is our self-styled Lord of Three Holds. Just prosperous ones. And he plays no favourites…” Robinton said nothing, letting Nip vent his fury. “Just ventures a little ways into Telgar to nobble Radharc.”
“It’s not like Melongel to allow him away with that.”
“Ah,” and Nip held up a forefinger, “you hadn’t heard that Melongel’s ill?”
“No, I hadn’t.” Robinton sat up.
“Had a fall off a runner-beast…” “Melongel’s a good rider…”
Nip’s smile was grim. “So he is but not when the animal is fed something that sends it into convulsions and pins the rider under
him in its death throes.”
“How could Fax…”
“Who knows, but Melongel is lucky to be still alive.” “Clostan’s a very good healer…”
Nip nodded. “He is but he’s worried. Almost every bone in
Melongel’s body was broken. He may never walk again.” Robinton’s fist hit the table. “How could…”
Nip was rubbing his finger and thumb together, a very cynical expression on his face. “Fax buys loyalty and service… with the added incentive of fear. Who knows how he managed it? But I’d say he did. Which means there’ll be no opposition from that quarter Oterel’s a good lad but who would expect him to have to deal with this sort of crisis so early in his Holding?”
“How is Juvana?” Robinton owed her for her support when Kasia died.
“Working as hard as Clostan to save her spouse. They may bring it off yet.”
“Is it just your suspicion that Fax was behind the… accident?” Nip laughed. “Who else? It is so timely. Fax mardes the recently…” and Nip gave another false smile, “orphaned eldest daughter of the deceased holder on Tillek lands – no mention, of course, of any male siblings or relatives. On the Keroon side, he has a document that makes him the incumbent’s choice of
successor. I don’t think the present holder can count on seeing the Turn out.”
Robinton thumped the table again in frustration. “Can’t something be done?”
“Off-hand, since no one will give us a hand, no,” Nip said pragmatically.
“That man’s determined to own the entire west coast.
Slowly, by inches, he moves into an area, eliminating’, and here Nip drew a finger across his throat, “any opposition. He’s got three spouses now, more than a sane man would wish. Doesn’t the Charter restrict how many a man can have?”
“No,” Robinton replied thoughtfully, pinching at his upper lip.
“Actually it doesn’t deal with personal relationships at all – at least not the usual variety – though it is specific in the violation…” and
Robinton paused, “such as rape or other unwanted acts.” “Damned Charter was written by idealists.”
“Quite likely, but the Charter does work for the majority.”
Nip grimaced. “It’s the minority, the damaged and oppressed minority in Fax’s general area we’re talking about.”
Robinton shook his head. “I’ve done all I can with the Lord Holders.”
Nip leaned across the table, the expression in his eyes anxious and intent. “You’re the one good with words, Harper. Find some stronger ones before it’s too late.”
Robinton nodded, though both he and Nip understood the reluctance of any of the Lord Holders to act – singly or together.
What would it take to force them out of their comfortable – and, they hoped, impregnable – Holds to act? He shuddered. Fax had already committed many offences against the peace of Pern. He shook his head, unable to contemplate the kind of impetus needed.