[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

with him and remove competition."
"Humph!"
Robinton was relieved to note that F'lon did not dismiss that suggestion out
of hand. In fact, the bronze rider made a point of seeking out the lad who,
like any male his age, was gratified to be in a Weyrleader's company.
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What happened later that afternoon was so grotesque that afterwards
Robinton cursed himself, plagued with a sense of guilt that his idle remark
could have had such devastating consequences.
He saw the beginning: a lad wearing Fax's colours knocking into
Larad, at F'lon's side, and then irritably demanding an apology.
Larad was surprised and started to comply, but F'lon stopped him.
"You knocked into Larad, boy," F'lon told the lad. "You will apologize to
young Lord Larad. He ranks you."
"I'm with Lord Fax, Dragonrider." The boy's tone and sneer were contemptuous.
Robinton had not yet reached the little group when F'lon backhanded the boy,
cutting his lip.
"You will keep a civil tongue in your head and you will apologize to Lord
Larad, who is of Telgar Blood. I doubt you can claim even half-Blood rights."
"Kepiru? Who gave you a bloody lip?" And a heavyset man, also wearing Fax's
colours and the shoulder knot of a captain - though generally those were
reserved for ships' captains - pushed through those watching the encounter.
Robinton felt the tension in the air as he reached F'lon. "Now, what appears
to be the problem?" he said in his best conciliatory manner.
Larad gratefully turned to the MasterHarper. He was confused and highly
embarrassed.
"That... dragonrider' - the captain's tone was as contemptuous as Kepiru's
had been - "has struck my young brother, insulting our
Blood. The matter requires redress."
"Redress from your brother to Lord Larad most certainly," F'lon said,
bristling.
Robinton caught F'lon by the arm, pressing it hard to cool him down. He was
beginning to fear that this trivial incident had been contrived. The underfed
lad looked no more like a brother to the captain than Larad did.
"That's right. I observed the whole thing as I came," the harper said,
smiling pleasantly. "An accident." He leaned heavily on that word, pulling at
F'lon even as he felt the tension and anger building in the dragonrider's
body. "This is a Gather, a meeting of folk in good faith and for pleasant
purposes." He smiled winningly at the two in Fax's colours, but they were
having no more of his mediation than F'lon was.
Then, to emphasize F'lon's indignation, Simanith rose from his perch on the
heights and spread his wings, bugling.
"Larad requires an apology," F'lon insisted. "That lout deliberately knocked
into him."
"This is a Gather, F'lon," Robinton said urgently, scanning the growing crowd
for anyone he could call upon for assistance.
Looking beyond to see if he could spot Lord Tarathel near by, he was relieved
to catch a glimpse of Nip and jerked his head. He saw
Nip raise a hand in reply and dash off. "Accidents can occur when folk are
sometimes less careful in this relaxed atmosphere."
"Enough," F'lon said, shaking off Robinton's restraining hand.
"It was as deliberate as the slurs on dragonriders."
"Ha! Dragonwomen!" the captain said in a scathing tone.
That insult inflamed F'lon. "I'll show you dragonwomen," he said and drew the
knife from his belt.
The captain's knife seemed to appear in his hand with uncanny speed and
Robinton's fears increased. He made another attempt to gain control of the
situation.
"This is a Gather," he repeated, stepping between the two men who had eyes for
no one but each other.
"Out of the way, Harper," the captain snarled. "Your colour doesn't protect
you or him."
The crowd had backed away the moment the flash of steel was seen and formed a
circle around the five. The next moment, Kepiru barged out of the way and
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disappeared from sight.
"Move off, Robinton. This is not your fight," said F'lon, crouching as he
shoved Robinton out of the way.
"Wait! The Lord Holder has been summoned!"
"Then let him watch the Weyrleader die!" the captain cried, a
wild smile on his face. Crouching, he stepped sideways, not towards the
dragonrider but close enough to Robinton so that when he moved, it was the
MasterHarper his blade scored. Robinton clutched at his arm, blood oozing out
of the long gash.
F'lon let out an inarticulate cry of rage and rushed the captain.
"I'll see he regrets that, Rob!"
"Harpers, dragonwomen, much the same cowardly clutch."
"Keep your head," Robinton called to F'lon. He was too alarmed to feel pain
and was grateful when someone wrapped a kerchief around the bleeding wound.
Simanith continued to bugle, and the other dragons picked up the challenge at
the top of their lungs. If this didn't bring the other riders to help, surely
the calls would alert the Lord Holder and he would be able to stop the fight
before more blood was shed. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]