Nerilka's Story Read Free

yet another chamber completed in his modest hold—my father had turned him off. Had my opinion been sought, I would have accepted. Amilla had unkindly remarked that I would have accepted anything at that point. She was quite correct, but only because I liked Garben anyway. He was half a head taller than I. That had been five Turns ago.
    Suriana had known my situation and my disappointments and had repeatedly expressed the hope that she could talk Lord Leef into permitting me to make an extended visit with her at Ruatha. She was certain that once she was pregnant, he would accede to her request. But Suriana had died, and even that glimmer of hope had been dashed, even as she had been dashed to the ground by the untrained young runner she had been riding. Racing, more likely, I often thought in my bitterest moods. She had confided in me that Alessan had managed to breed some startlingly agile runners when his father had ordered him to produce a sturdier, multipurpose strain. I had only the details that were made public: Suriana had broken her back while riding, and had died without regaining consciousness despite all that the hastily summoned Masterhealer could do. Master Capiam, who was generally willing to discuss medical matters with me, since he knew me to be as competent as my rank allowed me to be, had been markedly silent about the tragedy.

 
    Chapter II
     
    3.11.43–1541
     
     
     
    H EARTBREAKINGLY ENOUGH, THE new Ruathan tragedy began at precisely the same hour in which I had learned of Suriana’s death, as the Harper Hall’s drum tower vibrated with Capiam’s quarantine command. I was measuring spices for the kitchen warder, and only the sternest control kept my hand from trembling and spilling the expensive spice. Exerting the same control, for the warder did not understand drum code and I wished an edible dinner that night, I finished measuring his requirements, carefully closed the jar, placed it exactly in its habitual spot, and locked the cabinet. The drum message was being repeated for emphasis by the time I had reached the upper level of the Hold proper, but the second message differed in no particular from the first. I could hear Campen bellowing for explanations from his office as I left the Hold.
    Fortunately, so many other people were racing toward the Harper Hall that my indecorous haste went unnoticed. The courtyard of the Hall was filled with anxious apprentices and journeymen, harper and healer. There has always been excellent discipline in the two Crafts, so there was no panic, though some anxiety was evident and many questions circulated.
    Yes, there had been calls for Master Capiam from more than just Keroon Beasthold and Igen Sea Hold. Telgar had asked for his presence and counsel; it was rumored he had been taken dragonback to Ista Gather and from there to South Boll at Lord Ratoshigan’s express orders, conveyed by no less than Sh’gall, the Fort Weyrleader, on bronze Kadith.
    The moment Master Fortine, accompanied by Journeywoman Desdra of the Healer Hall and Masters Brace and Dunegrine of the Harper Hall, appeared on the broad stairs, all fell silent.
    “You are naturally anxious about the drum message,” Master Fortine began, clearing his throat ostentatiously. He is a good theoretical healer, but has none of the ease that marks the Masterhealer Capiam. Master Fortine raised his voice to an unnecessarily loud, high pitch. “You must realize that Master Capiam would not invoke such emergency procedures without due cause. Would all harpers or healers who attended either Gather present themselves immediately to Journeywoman Desdra in the Small Hall. I will address all healers immediately in the Main Hall, if you would be so kind as to assemble there. Master Brace . . .”
    Master Brace stepped forward, adjusting his belt and clearing his own throat. “Master Tirone is from the Hall mediating that dispute in the mines. In accordance with custom, as Senior Master, I assume his