Lorana’s politeness startled the woman, who reappraised the group. “Well, you’d probably be as bothered as the rest of us with all that hammering,” she said and leaned closer to them. In a whisper she added, “Most of the lads are out in the valley where the noise is less. You’ll find food and wine out there, too. It’s a bit like a Gather.”
The walk from the new hold to the valley inland was not long, but Lorana found the going difficult.
“You’ve still got your sea legs,” Tanner informed her. “You’ll be a bit wobbly for the rest of the day, probably.”
Colfet looked at the sun and frowned. “Won’t be much of that left, soon.” He asked Tanner, “When did you plan to head out?”
Tanner considered the question and looked at the sky. “The offshore breeze won’t start until after sundown,” he replied. He held up a hand to forestall Colfet’s protest. “I know it will be a rough night, but the winds in Nerat Bay can be fickle, particularly near the shore, and I’d rather get away while we can.”
“You want to ride a storm out of here?” Baror asked in shock.
Tanner nodded. “After the storm there’ll be days of windless dead calm and thick morning fogs,” he told the northern sailors. “I don’t want us caught in either.”
Colfet considered what Tanner had said for a moment and nodded firmly. “Don’t get much windlessness up north, but we know all about fog.”
Baror shuddered. “I couldn’t stand being stuck in the same place for days on end, praying for a wind.”
Tanner nodded in agreement. “Then let’s be off, get our Gather, and get gone with the night airs!”
“There it is, Talith!” J’trel called as they burst into the afternoon sunshine at the new sea hold. “Look down there, see it? That must be their Dock Cavern, and you can see all the tents-practically a Gather-of the people waiting to move in the new Hold. And-look!-there’s the Wind Rider!”
J’trel asked his dragon to bank sharply to the right on their way down, craning his head over the dragon’s neck to get a better view of the hold. In his earlier conversation with Captain Tanner, he’d heard a lot about the new sea hold-it was all any of the seafolk would talk about-and some of what he’d heard had disturbed him.
Oh, he was sure that the Benden Weyrleader must have been told that Nerat was settling a new hold, and from what he’d heard about M’tal, he knew that Weyrleader would insist on all the proper procedures being followed in building and founding the new Hold. But-where were the shutters for the windows? And didn’t that main hold door look a bit too wide? What if the wind blew Thread up against the hold doors and someone opened them too early? J’trel shuddered at the thought.
“Talith, put me down on the sand, please,” J’trel requested. Talith, who had heard more of J’trel’s ruminations than the old dragonrider realized, rumbled in agreement and turned toward the widest part of the shore. “I want to see this hold and talk with its holder before I find Lorana.”
At the hold entrance, J’trel was nearly bowled over by a group of lads trudging through with wheelbarrows full of chipped rock.
“Out of my way, you old git!” the first one yelled as he swerved to dodge J’trel.
The second one, following, went wide-eyed as he recognized J’trel’s distinctive garb. “Genin, you fool! That was a dragonrider!”
Genin spared a backward glance at the dragonrider and said loudly, “So? He’s too old to do any useful work-probably doesn’t even know how!”
Talith bugled angrily from the shore and Genin jumped, tripped over his feet, and toppled his wheelbarrow over. His face turned livid with rage as he sprang up, shouting at J’trel, “This is all your fault, old man! Why don’t you go back to your Weyr?”
J’trel stopped and turned back angrily. He sized up Genin as he approached. The lad was burly and muscled from years working nets and hauling sail; cropped blond hair topped a beefy face with eyes set with the look of a bully.
As Genin rushed at the dragonrider, his companion dropped his wheelbarrow and grated, “Genin, no! He’s a dragonrider!”
“Stay out of it, Vilo!” Genin said, his voice rising as he threw himself at J’trel-
Who wasn’t there. The bully fell with a jarring thud onto the hard stone as his lunge for the dragonrider met empty air.
With a tight grin, J’trel noted that the oaf had winded himself. In other circumstances, J’trel would have left matters at that, but a crowd was gathering. The dragonrider felt the heat of anger burning within him-and an echo from Talith at the shore.
Rough hands parted a way through the crowd and a dark-haired man appeared. “Hold! Enough of this-oh, dragonrider! I didn’t know! I-”
“I will settle with this one,” J’trel said, his words harsher and thicker than he had intended. The dark-haired man’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest. J’trel, hands raised in readiness, turned his attention back to the winded bully.
“Everyone stand back, give them room!” the dark-haired man shouted at the crowd, which obediently drew back.
What are you doing? Talith asked. You are not young anymore. J’trel could hear the dragon’s wings as Talith launched himself into the air.
This is a question of honor, J’trel said. Thread comes soon. Holders must respect dragonriders. Talith accepted the answer reluctantly, taking station and circling watchfully high above the crowd.
The distractions had given Genin time to recover. Just as J’trel turned back to deal with him, Genin threw himself at the dragonrider.
Genin had heard enough as he was recovering to realize that he would be outcast from the Hold. Always quicker to anger than to thought, the bully roused himself to revenge. He grappled the dragonrider at the waist, intending to snap the old man’s spine.
The shock of the assault took J’trel off his feet. He fell back under the weight of his attacker. Agony ran along nerves from his waist. With a shock, echoed high above by his bugling dragon, J’trel realized that the tough was planning to kill him. As Genin dragged him up in a bear hug, J’trel grabbed his head in either hand and dug his thumbs into the holder’s eyes.
Genin dropped J’trel with a shriek, his hands covering his eyes. J’trel took a sharp ragged breath, stepped back and shot a brutal kick to Genin’s groin with his right foot. The impact staggered the holder. Landing on the foot he had kicked with, J’trel followed immediately with another kick to the chest. Pain lanced up the dragonrider’s foot as the blow jarred through his body. Genin collapsed facedown into an inert lump.
Even though both his waist and foot hurt him abominably, even though he was sorely winded and dearly wanted nothing more than to sprawl on the ground gasping for air, J’trel forced himself to take one deep calming breath, stand squarely, and look commandingly for the dark-haired man.
“I am J’trel, rider of Talith,” he said, turning slowly to catch the eyes of everyone in the crowd. “I request the courtesy of this Hold.”
“I am Rinir, my lord,” the dark-haired man said instantly, bowing. He frowned at Genin, and continued nervously, “I assure you-”
J’trel cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I am looking for someone off that ship. Where is the crew?”
“I met them earlier, my lord,” a woman said, coming forward to stand next to Rinir. “They’ve gone over to the tents.”
J’trel glanced skyward and ignored the crowd as Talith responded to his silent request. The crowd followed his glance and ran out of the dragon’s way as Talith landed daintily beside his dragonrider. With a final, curt nod to Rinir, J’trel mounted and signaled Talith to take them to the meadow.