All the Weyrs of Pern (50 page)

Jaxom could understand Master Idarolan’s desire to settle that point in the hearing of his peers and the Lord Holders. In many seacoast holds, boys and girls grew up able to handle a small skiff adequately. Knowing one end of a ship from the other was no crime. What offended Idarolan was the audacity of Gomalsi, who was not trained in seamanship and had thought that he could sail that small craft safely from Ruatha to the eastern coast of Nerat, across the Currents and into some of the trickiest waters of the planet, risking Robinton’s safety every wave of the way.

Unlike the others, Master Norist stood proud and defiant.

“I did what my conscience dictated, to rid this world of that Abomination and all its evil works. It encourages sloth and dalliance among our young, distracting them from traditional duties. I see it destroying the very structure of our Halls and our Holds. Contaminating our Pern with vicious complexities that deprive honest men of work and their pride in workmanship, turning whole families away from what has been proved good and wholesome for twenty-five hundred Turns. I would do it again. I will do all in my power to destroy the spell this Abomination has placed on you!” He extended his arm and swept his pointing finger at every one of the Masters who sat in judgment on him. “You have been deluded. You will suffer. And all Pern will suffer because of your blindness, your lapse from the purity of our culture and knowledge.”

Two of his Masters and five of his journeymen cheered their master.

Jaxom could see the shocked expression of other Craftmasters. The Lord Holders were solemn to a man. Toric was plainly scornful whenever he looked toward either Sigomal or Begamon. Corman was disgusted and didn’t try to hide that any more than he had hidden his own distrust of Aivas.

The Neratian Holder did not choose to say anything in his defense. When Jaxom asked him again, he just kept on shaking his head and moaning and refused to speak.

“Lord Jaxom,” Master Oldive said, rising, “my colleagues have just handed me their opinion concerning the cause of the dead man’s state.”

“And?”

“There is sufficient bodily evidence to suggest that his end was due to a heart attack. There were no visible wounds or damage to his skull. His lips and nails, however, were blue, a common indication of heart failure.” Oldive cleared his throat. “His stomach contained a great deal of fellis, which possibly caused his heart to stop.”

“Under these circumstances, it would seem that the deceased met his death by misadventure rather than by the design of the defendants, so the charge of murder is no longer applicable.” Jaxom noticed the palpable relief of Halefor. “Has the matter of the premeditated abduction of Masterharper Robinton been established?”

He ignored the vehement affirmatives shouted, almost in chorus, from the audience. The Lords Holder duly raised hands, even Corman. Brand wrote down the count. Then Jaxom repeated the question to the Craftmasters. Every hand was raised, Idarolan’s as high as he could push his clenched fist in the air. “Then you may retire to the Great Hall to consider your verdicts.”

Master Robinton suddenly put his hand up. Surprised, Jaxom allowed him to speak. As the victim, the Harper had the right to be heard, as well as to face his assailants. Jaxom worried that Robinton might plead for leniency, which he thought would only exacerbate the problem—especially with a man as narrow-minded and vindictive as Norist had proved to be.

“For those of you who witness this,” Robinton began, speaking not to the Lord Holders or the Craftmasters but to the people outside the court, lining the walls, the ramp, and the roofs of the nearer cots. His voice was weak but true. He cleared his throat and started again. “For those of you here, let me say that Aivas has taught us nothing that our ancestors did not know. He has given us no machines and tools and conveniences that they did not have and use when they first came to Pern. He restored to all crafts only that knowledge which time had blurred or eradicated in Records. So, if that knowledge is evil, then we all are. But I do not think any of us here believes that we are intrinsically evil, or work evil in our crafthalls. For the Holds, he filled in the gaps in their separate histories, so that all know of their past and which of those who traveled to start a new life on Pern started each Hold. And they do not consider themselves evil, or spawned by evil men and women.” Master Robinton stared at Norist, who refused to make eye contact.

“For our Weyrs, he gave the promise of deliverance from a long, long struggle, a deliverance made possible by the abilities of our dragons, who were created by our ancestors, and the courage of their riders. They are not evil, or they would have turned the power of the dragons upon us and enslaved us all. But they have not.

“The evil that was done to me by these men was brought on me for the worst of reasons: to force others to destroy our link with our past, our chance of making this world what our ancestors hoped it would become—peaceful, prosperous, pleasant. I have done none of these men harm,” Robinton went on, a wave of hand indicating Sigomal, Begamon, and Norist, “nor wished them harm, nor wish them harm now. I pity them for their fear of the unknown, of the unusual, for their violence and unthinking narrowness of vision and spirit.”

Master Robinton then looked at the three abductors. “I forgive you for myself; but you took marks to do evil, which is a great wrong. And you were ready to silence a Harper, and that is a greater wrong, for when speech is restricted, all men suffer, not just I.”

He sat down, almost as if he could not stand any longer, but when Menolly would have gone to his side, he shook his head.

Groghe bent across Warbret beside him and whispered to him and Bargen; Toric, who couldn’t hear, stepped around the table to be where he could. Ranrel, Deckter, and Laudey followed his example. Nessel looked exceedingly uncomfortable with Asgenar on one side and Larad on the other, while Sangel and Toronas disputed a point.

The Craftmasters also huddled close together, Fandarel in the center, his voice lowered to a harsh rumble. Morilton spoke only once and then was silent, though he listened intently to the others. He was representing the Glasscraft on the tribunal, as none of the other Glassmasters had been willing to accept the onus.

“My lords and masters, you may retire if you choose,” Jaxom repeated.

“We’re well enough here,” Groghe said loudly.

Thinking that Robinton might be the better for a glass of wine, Jaxom poured it, then sipped from it himself before passing Robinton the glass, with a reassuring grin. Master Robinton made a little show of distrust but then, after raising the glass to Jaxom, drank eagerly and smiled approval—a little byplay that sent a ripple of applause and laughter through the waiting crowd and succeeded in reducing somewhat the tension that had been building.

“I find that what I resent the most,” Robinton said in a guarded aside to Jaxom, “is that people might think I could no longer handle my wine, to see me sprawled asleep like that so early in a Gather.”

“We have come to a decision, Lord Jaxom,” Groghe announced. The Lord Holders resumed their seats.

“And we,” Master Idarolan, said standing up.

“What is your decision, Lord Holder Groghe?” Jaxom asked.

“Sigomal and Begamon have proved themselves totally unacceptable to this Council; they must not govern their Holds. They are dishonored. In the first part, to plot and carry out a punitive action in another Hold or common property, which is the designation of Landing; and in the second part, to abduct a person against his will for purposes of extortion against the best interests of the planet and all of us.”

Sigomal took his censure with some dignity, but Begamon began to sob, falling from the bench to his knees.

“Sigomal’s third son, Sousmal, is known to most of us, and it is our decision that he should temporarily manage Bitra Hold until further notice by the Council of Lord Holders. As Begamon has no children old enough to Hold in his stead, we appoint his brother, Ciparis, as temporary Lord Holder, also until further notice. Gomalsi is to be exiled with his father for his part in the first attack on the Aivas installation, for his part in the abduction, and because, by setting himself up as a captain of a seagoing ship without qualifications, he has offended all members of the Fishercrafthalls. We suggest that one of the islands in the Eastern Ring be designated the place of exile.”

Sigomal groaned, and Gomalsi bit back a cry of protest.

“Master Norist is also stripped of his rank, as are the other Craft members of this conspiracy,” Idarolan said. “All are to be exiled. The same place would doubtless give them the company of like minds.” He turned to where the other Glasscraftsmen were standing in the crowd. “It is the decision of this body that you must accept Master Morilton as your Craftmaster until such time as we, your peers, decide that you can choose, without prejudice, a man with a more open mind and forward vision than Norist.”

Lytol nodded at Jaxom, whose task it was to pass judgment on the other scofflaws. Jaxom had never had to discipline a man for the rest of that man’s natural life, but he thought again of the anguish he had felt on that wild ride to rescue Master Robinton.

“Exile!” he announced. Most of the men accepted that, though two of the younger ones looked so desperate that Jaxom added, “Your families may accompany you into exile, if they so choose.”

He saw Sharra’s slight smile and Lessa’s approving nod.

“The convicted will be returned to their quarters and tomorrow will be taken to their place of exile. From this time onward, they are holdless, craftless men and no longer protected by the Weyrs.” Jaxom raised his voice over Begamon’s frightened babble. “This court is adjourned.”

Guards closed in around the condemned, and judges and jury filed into the Hold.

Somehow food had been prepared to serve the unexpected numbers who had come to Ruatha. Sharra told Jaxom in the few moments they had for private conversation that everyone had been exceedingly helpful, Hold, Hall, and Weyr, in accumulating enough provisions to send none away hungry.

“You were, by the way, my love, magnificent,” she added. “It was a terrible case to have to judge, but given the evidence and the admissions, no one can fault your decision. The sentence was fairer than they deserved.” Her face set in angry lines, and she clenched her fists. “When I saw the bruising Master Robinton sustained . . .”

“He’ll be all right?” Jaxom wondered if maybe he had been too forbearing, though he could not have ordered a death sentence. Had Master Robinton died—or had Biswy not died of heart failure—he might have had to decide differently.

Lord Groghe sought him out then, to reassure Jaxom that he himself, had the offenses happened in his Hold, would have done exactly the same. To Jaxom’s surprise and a certain sad gratification, Lord Corman also approached him later in the evening.

“Well handled, Jaxom. Only thing you could have done under the circumstances.”

The Keroonian Holder did not remain for the evening meal, nor did he ever visit Landing again. But from then on he neither prevented his holders from using the new products nor objected when young folk asked to go South to study. Of Aivas-developed items, Lord Corman purchased only paper, remarking once in his harper’s hearing that Bendarek had discovered a form of paper on his own before “the machine” had awakened.

The next morning three Fort Weyr wings arrived at Ruatha to convey the convicted to their place of exile. Delivery of the letters the men had written to their families was promised. Those wishing to join their menfolk would be brought to the island as soon as they were ready.

Master Idarolan had chosen the exile site. “Not too large, not too small, with good fishing and some game, though wherry makes a dull diet. Plenty of fruit and root vegetables. They’ll have to work to survive, but that’s no more than we must do.”

“Threadfall?” Jaxom asked.

Master Idarolan shrugged. “There’re a few caves, and you’re taking care of the future of that problem. They can endure it or not as they choose. There’s also an old volcano and evidence that the island has been inhabited before. It’s far more hospitable than Far West Continent, where they’d have only sand and snakes.”

When the men were mounted on the dragons, they were handed sacks with basic tools and a few supplies. Then the wings took off
between
.

Jaxom felt enervated as never before, his spirits sunken to a bleak nadir. But as Ruatha’s Lord Holder, he had to respond with courtesy and civility to others who were acrimonious in their opinions and harbored considerable rancor for the guilty. Those he admired most among the Lord Holders said little or nothing.

Asgenar and Toronas departed to assist young Sousmal at Bitra. On their way back to Cove Hold, D’ram and Robinton would drop Lytol off at Nerat Hold to apprise Ciparis, who had previously acted as Begamon’s Steward, of his new status.

Brand and his understewards were busy arranging for transportation for the many visitors, seeing to travel supplies for those who had exhausted their own and directing the drudges to clear up the debris and repair the damage caused by the large crowd.

Jaxom was perversely grateful when Sharra, looking extremely torn between her responsibilities, asked him if she was needed to help.

“You’re wanted back at the laboratory on the
Yokohama
?” he asked.

“Oldive and I both.”

He gave her a brief hug and a kiss and nodded. In a way it would be a relief to be able to sort out his thoughts without infecting her with his dejection.

“I’ll spend some time with the boys,” he said. “I’m not needed right now for anything at the
Yokohama
or Landing.”

That was not essentially true, and Sharra knew it. She gave him a quick stare, but then she smiled sadly, kissed his cheek, and left him alone in their quarters.

From his window, he watched her and Oldive mount on the young blue who was now on duty at Ruatha—and that, unfortunately, reminded him of G’lanar.

I am here,
Ruth said softly from his weyr in the Hold.