There was such a look of total dismay and fear on the lad’s face that Jayge wondered if his father could possibly have misread the message. Thread! The very word caused Jayge to squirm in his saddle, and Fairex danced under him in response. He soothed her and argued with himself. His father would never let anything happen to the Lilcamp train. He was a good leader, and they had wintered profitably. Jayge’s pouch was not the only one that was reassuringly plump. Still, it was hard not to be scared. His father’s response had surprised him. Holder Childon was not the sort to play jokes; a straight man, he said what he meant and meant what he said. Crenden had often described him so. Childon was a good deal straighter than some holders who looked down on trains as feckless folk little better than thieves, too lazy to carve out a hold for themselves and too arrogant to be beholden to a lord.
Once, when Jayge had been in a fearful brawl and his father had given him a thorough hiding, he had justified the fight by saying that he had been defending his Blood honor.
“That’s still not a reason to fight,” his father had said. “Your Blood is as good as the next man’s.”
“But we’re holdless!”
“And what’s that to mean?” Crenden had demanded. “There’s no law on Pern that has ever said a man and his family had to have a hold and live in one place. We can’t invade another man’s property, but there’s land no one’s even set foot on all around us. Let those who are weak or scared shiver in four walls…not that we’ve to worry about Thread anymore. But, lad, we’ve been holders in our time, in Southern Boll, and there’re Bloodkin living in it still who’re glad to claim us as relatives. If that’s all you need to keep from brawling, take no taunt on that score.”
“But—but Irtine said we were only one step above thieves and pandlers.”
His father had given him a little shake. “We’re honest traders, bringing good wares and news to isolated holds that can’t always get to a Gather. We travel from inclination and choice. This is a broad and beautiful world we live in, Jayge, and we’ll see as much of it as we can. We spend long enough in one place to make friends and understand different ways of doing things. That’s far better, to my mind, than never moving out of one valley all your born days, and never hearing a new way of speaking or a new way of doing. Keeps the brain blood circulating; shifts ideas and opens eyes and hearts.
“You’re old enough to know how welcome we are at every hold the train stops at. You worked along with us at Vesta River Hold, extending their upper story, so you know we’re not lazy folk. Now, hold your head up proud. You’ve a good Bloodright. And don’t let me catch you scrapping again because someone teases you into it. Fight for a good reason, not such a damfool prideful reason. Now, you’ve taken your punishment. Get to your bedroll.”
He had been only a kid then, but now he was nearly a man and had learned to ignore silly taunts. That had not stopped him from using his fists and his naturally agile body, but he had learned which fights to get into, and how to protect himself well enough to avoid the too visible marks of a brawl. And pride in his Bloodline gave him an air of confidence that only a real fool would challenge. Jayge liked the kind of life his family led: never staying long enough in one place to grow weary of it. There was always something new to see, new friends to make, old ones to reencounter, and, for the time being, races to be won on Fairex.
The trail turned abruptly south, skirting a granite outcropping and affording a wide view of the other shore and the low foothills that would culminate in the immense Red Butte. Suddenly Jayge was conscious of the odd sky to the east, a lowering, threatening gray. He had seen plenty of bad weather in his ten Turns, but never something like that. Glancing toward his father, he saw that Crenden had also noted the strange sky, slowing his mount’s walk to study the grayness.
Suddenly Readis, Jayge’s youngest uncle, came tearing up from the rear, shouting at Crenden and pointing to the cloud. “That came up sudden, Cren. It’s like no weather I’ve ever seen before,” Readis cried. His mount circled Crenden’s as both men scanned the horizon.
“Looks like a local storm,” Crenden said, marking the discernible edges of the cloud.
Jayge had joined his father by then, and the first wagon was slowing, but Crenden waved them on down the track.
“Lookit!” Jayge’s arm shot up, but Crenden and Readis had also seen the flashes of fire that proceeded in bursts along the edge of the cloud. “Lightning?” He was unsure himself, for he had never seen sparks that flared and remained airborne like that. Lightning always connected with the surface!
“That’s not lightning,” Crenden said. Jayge saw the color drain out of his father’s face, and his runner began jigging under him, snorting with fear. “And it’s been awful still. Not a single wherry or snake around.”
“What is it, Cren?” His brother’s uncertainty was making Readis nervous.
“They warned us. They did warn us!” Crenden hauled his runner up on its hindquarters, yelling at the top of his lungs and gesturing with his head for Readis to get to the rear. “Get moving! Get ‘em rolling! Challer, whip ‘em up. Get that rig moving!” He kept turning his mount, his eyes scanning the wooded hillside. “Jayge, get down the track. See if there’re any ledges we can shelter under. We’ve got to find some shelter. If even half of what they say about Thread is really true…we sure the flaming hell can’t stay out here in the open!”
“Couldn’t the lighter wagons make it back to the Hold?” Readis asked. “Borel’s team’s fast. Dump everything. Put the children in it and go like hell!”
Crenden groaned, shaking his head. “We’re hours down the track. If I’d believed the message…” He pounded his saddle horn with his clenched fist. “Shelter. We’ve got to find shelter. Go, Jayge. See if there’s any shelter at all.”
“Then timber, Cren, slanted against the wagon…” Readis suggested, his mount sliding about the track and narrowly missing the edge overhanging the river.
“Thread eats wood, too; that’d be no use. Stone, metal…water!” Crenden stood in his stirrups, pointing down to the river that frothed along its rocky bed.
“That?” Readis responded. “Not deep enough, and far too fast!”
“But there’s a pool, a big one, near the first cascade. If we could make that…Jayge, scoot along. See how far away that pool is. Challer, whip up that team and follow Jayge as fast as you can. Readis, unhitch the beasts from that timber wagon. We can’t save it, but we’ll need the beasts. Move out! Whip ‘em up!”
Jayge dug his heels into Fairex’s side. Why did they have to be caught on this part of the track? On the one day’s trek through forest and hill that could provide no real shelter? He knew the pool his father meant—it was a good fishing spot, and it would be deep with all the winter rains shedding from the hills. But a pool? That was no real shelter from Threadfall. Jayge knew the Teaching songs as well as any kid of Pern, and it was stone walls and stout metal shutters that one needed during Threadfall. As the track rose to the crest of a hill, the deep basin came into view, its waters sparkling invitingly. Thread could devour flesh. How deep did one have to be under water to be safe?