“You remember the back staircase, Paulin?” Vergerin asked, taking the broth as well and pulling up a straight chair for himself.
“I do. Was that where the marks were hidden?”
“Yes, in one of the steps.” Vergerin chuckled. “Chalkin must have forgotten that I knew about that hidey-hole, too. It’s been a life-saver, both to return unnecessary tithings and to buy in supplies. One thing Chalkin did do correctly was keep records. I knew exactly how much he had extorted from his people.” Jamson cleared his throat testily.
“Well, he did, Lord Jamson,” Vergerin said without cavil. “They hadn’t even enough in stores to get by on this winter, let alone have reserves for Fall. I’m still unloading what we couldn’t possibly use from what Chalkin had amassed.” Vergerin gave a mirthless laugh.
“Chalkin would have weathered all fifty years of the Pass from what he had on hand… but none of his people would have lasted the first year. Let alone have the materials to safeguard what they could plant out. Bitra being established after the First Fall, there were no hydroponics sheds although the tanks are stored below.” Jamson gave another snort.
“And the gaming”?
“Have you curtailed that?”
“Both here and elsewhere,” Vergerin said, flushing a little. “I haven’t so much as touched dice or card since that game with Chalkin.”
“What about his games men?”
Vergerin’s smile was grim. “They had the choice of signing new contracts with me - for I will not honor the old ones or leaving. Not many left!”
S’nan barked out a cackle of a laugh. “Not many would, considering the hazards of being holdless during a Pass. You have done well, Vergerin.” He nodded in emphasis.
“You’ve had a second chance, Vergerin,” Jamson said, waggling his finger, “so see that you continue to profit by such good fortune.” He had finished the broth and now stood. “We will go on a quick survey of the holds, if you please.”
“Of course,” and Vergerin rose hastily, pushing back his chair. “By horse.”
“No, no.” Jamson dismissed that. “You’ve no need to accompany us. Better if you don’t.” “Now, Jamson,” Paulin began, for it was discourteous of the High Reaches Holder even to suggest Vergerin stay behind.
“Certainly, as you wish.” Vergerin motioned them to pause at the map and indicated directions. “We’ve managed to complete all the necessary repairs on the holds adjacent to or not far from the major link roads. Those high up have had to wait on supplies. I can’t overdo my welcome at Benden Weyr, though M’shall has been far more obliging than I thought he’d be.”
“It’s to his advantage to oblige,” S’nan said stiffly, at the merest hint of criticism of a Weyrleader.
Jamson had opened the door into the Hall and stopped so short, staring at the opposite wall, that Paulin nearly walked up his heels.
Jamson muttered something under his breath and, pointing at the wall, turned to Vergerin.
“Why under the sun are you hanging his portrait there?” he demanded, almost outraged.
Paulin and S’nan peered in the direction indicated.
And Paulin had to laugh.
“When did Iantine get a chance to redo it?” he asked.
Vergerin, who was also broadly grinning, answered “I got it yesterday,” and he walked across the Hall to stand beneath it. “I think the likeness is now excellent.”
There was a moment of silence as they all viewed the portrait, now altered to an honest representation of the former Bitran Lord close-set eyes, bad complexion, scanty hair and the mole on his chin.
S’nan sniffed. “Why would you want his face around at all, Vergerin?”
“One, to remind me to improve my management of Bitra, and two, because it’s traditional to display the likenesses of previous Lord Holders.” He gestured up the double-sided staircase where hung the portraits of previous incumbents.
Jamson harrumphed several times. “And Chalkin? How’s he doing?” Paulin shrugged and looked to S’nan, for only dragon riders could get to the exile’s island.
“He was supplied with all he needs. There is no need to exacerbate his expulsion by further contact.”
“And his children?” Jamson asked, eyes glinting coldly.
Vergerin grinned, ducking his head. “I feel they have improved in health, well-being and self-discipline.”
“They stood in great need of the latter,” Paulin added.
“They may surprise you, Lord Paulin,” Vergerin said with a sly smile.
“I could bear it.”
“As the branch is bent, so it will grow,” Jamson intoned piously.
“Come this way,” Vergerin said, putting a finger to his lips to indicate silence.
He led them down the corridor, towards what Paulin remembered as one of the gaming rooms. They could hear muted singing: Paulin instantly recognized the melody as one of the College’s latest issues.
As they got closer to the source, he heard the words of the ‘Duty Song.’ Jamson gave another one of his harrumphs and sniffed.
Carefully Vergerin opened the door on a mightily altered room.
The students - and there were far more of them than Paulin had expected - were seated with their backs to the door. The teacher - and Paulin was surprised to recognize Issony back at Bitra - gave an additional nod to his head to acknowledge their presence as he continued to beat the tempo of the song.
Children’s voices - even those who couldn’t carry the tune - are always appealing; perhaps it is the innocence of the tone and the guilelessness in their rendition of the song’s dynamics.
Even Jamson smiled, but then the verse they were singing was about the Lord Holder’s responsibilities.
“Which ones are Chalkin’s?” Paulin whispered to Vergerin.
He pointed, and only then could Paulin pick out the children in the front rows: the girls on the one side and the boys on the other.
They were much better clothed than the others but no less attentive to their teacher, and singing lustily: the older girl had the most piercing voice. Somewhat like her mother’s, Paulin thought.
Vergerin motioned for them to withdraw, grinning.
Issony’s been right that those youngsters needed competition.
“The holder kids need no incentives; they want to learn, and Chaldon is determined not to let mere holders get better grades than he. Oh, there’s still whinings and pleadings and tantrums, but Issony has my permission to deal with them.”
“And he does. Most effectively.”
“Nadona?” Paulin asked.
Vergerin raised his eyebrows. “She’s learning much the same lessons as her children, but she’s not as quick a study, as Issony would say. She has her own quarters,” and he inclined his head towards the upper levels. She stays within.”
“And leaves you to get on with the real work?” Paulin asked in a droll tone.
“Exactly.”
“Hmm, yes, well, that’s it here, I think,” Paulin said, and then made much of fastening his riding jacket to indicate his willingness to depart on the inspection tour. “Do you agree, Jamson?” Jamson harrumphed, but the fact that he did not have questions Paulin took as a good sign.
When they left the house, men and women were busy putting on the flame-thrower tanks.
“I’ve scheduled a drill. Have to make up for lost time, you know,” Vergerin said by way of explanation. Jamson and S’nan exchanged such fatuous glances that Paulin did his best not to laugh out loud.
Vergerin caught his eye and winked, then bade a polite farewell to his guests before he returned to the ground crew.
“Well, he obviously learned a thing or two,” Jamson said in a sanctimonious tone as they went down the steps to the waiting bronze dragon.