Toric had no time to feed dogs but his sons did.
"Here're their papers," the handler said. He fumbled in a clean but well-mended jacket, and passed Toric a sheaf. "Master Ballora guarantees fertility or you can return the dogs."
"Can you manage to get them to my hold?" Toric asked, eyeing the man. Any one of the dogs stood higher than the handler's knee: heavy collars as well as choke chains, paired up on three thick leather leads.
"Up to top, turn second left, up the wide stairs and Lord Toric's Hold is directly in front," the man said in quick phrases and then grinned, showing very white and even teeth.
"Get going then, and you're responsible if you lose one or any get damaged or do damage." Toric gestured him to be off.
"Come!" The dogs followed their handler down the gangplank, shoving a little with their shoulders to be closest behind him. At his order, they moved in front of him.
Toric watched as the dogs led the man up the stairs without pulling at him. Toric approved. He must remember to oversee his sons while they were getting accustomed to the beasts. Maybe, he'd keep one pair by him. Might be prudent. Ballora had offered him watchwhers. He couldn't stand the look of the creatures, and they were really only good watchers at night. They had to be blooded at birth to recognize the legitimate members of a Hold.
He pretended to read the dogs' papers as the rest of the passengers began filing off the ship, assessing the newest arrivals at Southern. More ragged ones who were unlikely to devote any time to that newest fad, sky-watching. If things fell out of the sky, they fell, and there was more water on Pern than land. What were really needed in the sky were more accurate weather satellites. That spaceship had only its southern array and the worst winds came down out of the north, which was what had happened two Turns ago and his coastline had been sharding ruined. Dolphin warning hadn't given anyone enough time.
He shifted his feet and glared as the last man off the boat led a small girl and encouraged three boys to move quickly now. Then the captain and the Runner Stationmaster emerged, the latter hefting the heavy message sack to his shoulder. The captain smiled and the Runner murmured something and made his way to the gangplank. He saw the Lord Holder and nodded courteously.
"You've nothing for me, Runner?"
"No, Lord Toric, or I would have had it to hand the moment I saw you come on board."
Toric swore under his breath, pursing his lips. The Runner Stationmaster angled past Toric, onto the pier, and up the stairs to the new Runner Station at Southern.
Sharding Fifth! He'd had no message since their meeting at Telgar. Fifth had indicated there were many men and women who obeyed his directions but not who or where they were; only the most discreet shared his theories about the Abomination and Master Robinton. Very prudent of Fifth but sharding infuriating for Toric. He consoled himself with the fact that there were plenty of men like that Ruathan renegade that he could recruit, but it meant starting out again. Dorse had been almost worth every mark Toric paid him.
Of course, he could approach Kashman! Now there was a man who had a legitimate grievance with the high and mighty Lord Dragonrider Jaxom. Toric might be able to work on that. Gain another freethinking man in the Council.
He also had had no word from Master Esselin about the meeting with Fifth that he had set up. Surely the old fool could do thatmuch correctly. Unless, of course, Fifth had decided to take the marks and disappear. Toric rather thought not. The man's obsession would keep him fueled for the revenge he sought. Kashman might be a willing associate even if he'd been only a child when the beloved Robinton had been alive.
That was when he saw the thin woman, at one side of the wharf, watching him, standing in a very awkward position, one hand in front of her clasping the elbow of her other arm. He swaggered down the gangplank, knowing she waited to speak to him, Lord Toric. There was only one person she could be: Dorse had described her in unflattering terms, but had grudgingly admitted that she was meticulous with details, uncompromising in her devotion to Fifth, and determined to destroy all Abominations if she had to do it single-handedly.
And here she was, Toric thought, seeking him out. Did she intend to take Dorse's place? Or Fifth's? Whichever, he could control her as he had Dorse, as he hoped to manipulate Kashman. She'd be very useful in Toric's scheming. Dorse had once said that she had a knack of recruiting the disgruntled to their cause. At the very least, she could give him the names and whereabouts of those already "persuaded." She'd be convenient to use as an emissary to Keroon Hold.
He smiled at her as he approached. She met his glance squarely, her face a mask, her body motionless, facing him as an equal. Toric kept his smile, but thought that he had better make sure she didn't consider herself an equal in any respect to Toric, Lord Holder of Southern!
Neither saw that the dog handler paused at the top of the stairs and observed their meeting.
The dog handler remained in Southern Hold long enough to instruct Toric's twin sons in how to care for and use the commands to which the dogs had been trained. During that sevenday, he listened but heard nothing about any untoward incident at Landing or any word about Master Esselin's demise.
When Toric set off with Fourth to some destination along the coast, Pinch summoned Bista to him. She had been inconspicuous among all the fire-lizards that darted about Southern. He met with Sintary in Southern's Harper Hall and gave the Master a sketch of Fourth, asking him to keep an eye out for her. Then he sent Bista to Sebell, requesting a dragon to convey him back to the Harper Hall.
It took two days to recover from the party. Lessa had managed to talk F'lar into staying overnight as a snowstorm had blown in over Benden from the Eastern Sea and she wanted to stay warm. T'lion, who had helped build the ramp, talked one of the Monaco harpers into coming along for the celebration: Jubb had a guitar, Sparling a fiddle, Riller a drum. Keita sang a fine light soprano, Sagassy a rich contralto, and everyone, even Tai, laughed when F'lessan tried to sing the chorus with them. He didn't try to dance but F'lar partnered everyone, including Tai, though she excused herself from other invitations on the grounds of her sore leg and sat with F'lessan when he wasn't busy trying to keep his bronze dragon from walking up and down the ramp. But it was a fine evening.
The next morning both rider and dragon were so lame that Tai complained that they'd used up two whole pots of numb-weed between them to ease their aches. Keita decided that she was redundant and asked T'lion for a ride to the Healer Hall. She'd send more numbweed.
The third morning saw the last of the party cleared up. Sagassy said they'd enough food left over for several days and she'd best get down to her hold. Tai offered to fly her back, with the favorite pots and pans that she'd brought up to Honshu to help out. Suddenly F'lessan had his weyrhold to himself. Taking a cup of klah out to the terrace, he sat, watching Golanth snoring, head on his forepaws.
His color's good, F'lessan thought and firmly turned his mind to wondering when Erragon would bring that new console so he could start working for his living. Which brought him right back to what he didn't want to think about! The facts that he would never lead a wing again and that Golanth might never fly Zaranth. Thathe didn't like-especially since Zaranth was a young dragon and would need a good male to keep her content. He, F'lessan, certainly didn't wish to share Tai with another rider-any other male. She enjoyed being with him now, relaxed, eager, and he wasn't going to have her response to him destroyed by some heavy-handed rider with no sensitivity for her marvelous, intricate personality. He felt himself getting quite roused by the very thought. And they had work to do, both of them, on the prints: they weren't half through that job. That was the channel he should concentrate on. The stars! The stars were important. Sky-watching was important work. He didn't need to fly to do that. He did need Tai to do that job properly. Truth be told, she knew a lot more about astronomy than he did, though he was catching up. They'd need more people in Honshu to help with that project. He couldn't keep up with Erragon's four hours of sleep a night. The daytime work, listing all the positions, seeing if there were other traces of the orbit from wherever Master Idarolan was working. Weren't there good men in Crom and Southern Boll already involved? He should meet with them. He should organize his life on a new basis-shouldn't he?