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"It's such a relief to talk to you," C'gan would say. "You're the only one else who cares a tu
"He's afraid ..." C'gan paused to be sure that Robinton was aware of his total disgust, "to a
"How are the sons progressing?" Robinton wished he had more contact with F'lar and F'nor, and not only because they were F'lon's lads. He could have wished for one of them as his. He had once wished that Camo wouldn't survive his first Turn, as so often happened to babies. But the child prospered, as much because his mother was so devoted to him, carrying him about with her long after Camo should have been walking independently. It was hard sometimes, Robinton knew – he forced himself to the task – to ask others about the welfare of their children: like prodding a sore spot to be sure it was still tender. So, resolutely, he promised himself that he would go to the next Nerat Gather. He would hope to entice his father to leave Half Circle and meet him there. If C'gan were to drop a hint to the two lads, he could meet them too.
"Grand boys, and F'lar's got his head screwed on better than F'lon ever did," C'gan said proudly. "And they believe! They believe! I see that they do. Not that they'd dishonour their father's memory by forgetting," he added. Then he sighed. "We' ve had more losses. I've never seen so many empty weyrs and that lazy--' He closed his lips over whatever he might have called Weyrwoman Jora. "I ca
Robinton wondered too. Over three thousand strong the six Weyrs had been at the end of the last Pass. Now, unless he mis-counted, there were barely three hundred. And not all of them able to fly Thread. Even C'gan was fast approaching an age when he and his Tagath would be considered liabilities to a fighting wing.
The refrain of the Question Song briefly hovered in his mind. "Gone, gone ahead..." How?
Robinton had more urgent worries than puzzling answers to an old song. His greatest pleasure was in watching Sebell's development as an apprentice. In another Turn, he'd probably walk the tables.
With distressing regularity, he heard tales of Fax's mistreatment of his folk, and how few now made their escape. He kept up pressure with the Lord Holders as often and as adroitly as he could. But one could pipe a tune only so long before no one heard it as more than noise.
Nip made reports. Robinton even received a brief note smuggled in from Bargen, repeating the promise to reclaim High Reaches as the legal Bloodline heir.
Then Nip appeared late one night, exhausted from having run most of the last day from Nabol.
"He's doing ... something ..." he gasped as he hung on the door into Robinton's quarters.
The harper got the man into the nearest chair and poured him some wine.
"Clever as sin, he is," Nip said, after a long pull of the wine. "I didn't notice they'd disappeared, and then I didn't know where they could have gone. But half the barracks at Nabol are empty. He didn't even let the other half know where their mates had gone." "Which way?"
Nip shook his head. "I must have been watching the wrong places, that's for certain, and I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I thought I was on to his little ways."
"What ways?"
"Strike and grab." Then he sat bolt upright, his face stricken.
"Ruatha! I should have gone there! Warned them."
"Ruatha!" Robinton cried in the same moment.
"Get me a ru
"I'll go with you."
"No, Rob. I can hide in the shadows, but there's too much of you ..."
"I'm going!" The Harper was changing into old clothes, dark ones, warm ones, and he tossed a spare fur vest towards Nip, who was shivering with the midnight chill now that he was no longer moving.
Robinton paused long enough in the kitchen to dump travel rations into a saddlepack and leave a brief note for Silvina, and then they were out of the door, startling the watchwher who whined at their appearance and followed them the length of his chain.
They roused the beastman and had him saddle Big Black for Robinton, and a fast Ruathan ru
Riding and periodically walking their mounts to rest them, they made the Red River by early morning. Urging the tired animals, they kept them moving at whatever pace they could manage until they turned a bend in the road and saw Ruatha Hold ahead of them.
Despairing, Robinton surveyed the hideous dawn-lit scene.
Ropes still dangled from the fire heights of Ruatha Hold – ropes which had allowed Fax's men to approach without arousing the watchwhere Where had the watchman been? Robinton wondered.
Or had he been bribed not to hear? Why had the watchwher not given an alarm? A row of bodies lay crumpled on the stone of the courtyard; long bloody lines showed that the dead had been dragged out of the Hold, down the steps, and to this resting place. Men were coming out of the Hold laden with clothing and the fine furniture which Lady Adessa had brought with her. He saw a knot of frightened people being driven from their cots into the beast-hold, saw men riding off in other directions on ru
Distant shouts and a thundering sound made Robinton look back at the dreadful carnage. The fields were being emptied of their ru
They got the best speed possible out of their exhausted mounts on their way to the nearest of Groghe's border checks, where they roused the startled guards and told them to light the beacons to spread the alarm. Then they changed to fresh mounts and sped back towards Fort Hold. There, while Nip charged up the stairs to the Drum Towerut of the Hold, down the steps, and to this resting place. Men were coming out of the Hold laden with clothing and the fine furniture which Lady Adessa had brought with her. He saw a knot of frightened people being driven from their cots into the beast-hold, saw men riding off in other directions on ru