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dragonriders had spread out, circling, as if to keep the guards from
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interfering. Their expressions reflected confidence in the abilities of their
wingleader, especially C'gan whose grinning face reassured Robinton.
Fax feinted, and F'lar neatly swayed away. They crouched again, facing each
other across six feet of space, knife hands weaving, their free hands,
spread-fingered, ready to grab.
Again Fax pressed the attack. F'lar allowed him to close, just near enough to
dodge away with a back-handed swipe. Fabric tore and Fax snarled. He lunged
immediately, faster on his feet than
Robinton would have expected for such a bulky man. F'lar was forced again to
dodge; this time Fax's knife scored across the dragonrider's jerkin.
Fax ploughed in again, trying to corner F'lar between the raised platform and
the wall. Robinton caught his breath, hoping that neither would stumble over
the unconscious drudge.
F'lar countered, ducking low under Fax's flailing arm and slashing obliquely
across his side. Fax caught at him, yanking savagely, and F'lar was trapped
against the other man's side, straining desperately with his left hand to keep
the knife arm up. F'lar brought up his knee, at the same time making himself
collapse. As
Fax gasped from the blow to the groin, F'lar danced away; but
Robinton could see blood welling up on his left shoulder.
Red with fury and wheezing from pain and shock, Fax straightened up and
charged. F'lar was forced to sidestep quickly, putting the meat table between
them and circling warily, flexing his shoulder to assess the damage.
Suddenly Fax seized up a handful of fatty scraps from the meat tray and hurled
them at F'lar. The dragonrider ducked, and Fax closed the distance around the
table with a rush. Robinton nearly cheered when F'lar instinctively swerved
out of the way just as
Fax's flashing blade came within inches of his abdomen. At the same moment,
the bronze rider's knife sliced down the outside of
Fax's arm. Instantly the two pivoted to face each other again, but
Fax's left arm hung limply at his side.
F'lar darted in, pressing his luck as Fax staggered. But the older man must
not have been hurt as badly as F'lar assumed: the dragonrider suffered a
terrific kick in the side as he tried to dodge under the feinting knife.
Robinton's throat closed. Doubled with pain, F'lar rolled frantically away
from his charging adversary. Fax
lurched forward, trying to fall on him for a final thrust. F'lar somehow got
to his feet, attempting to straighten up to meet Fax's stumbling charge. His
movement took Fax by surprise. Fax overreached his mark and staggered off
balance. F'lar brought his right hand over in a powerful thrust, his knife
blade plunging deep into
Fax's unprotected back.
Fax fell flat to the flagstones, the force of his descent dislodging the
dagger so that an inch of the bloody blade re-emerged from the point of entry.
A thin wailing penetrated the silence. Robinton looked up to the top of the
stairs, where a woman stood, cradling a swathed bundle in her arms.
"The new Lord Holder," Robinton murmured. The guards on either side of him
regarded him with surprise.
Do I come forward as MasterHarper now? he wondered, looking about to see who
would take charge. F'nor, C'gan and K'net strode forward, ready to ring F'lar
in case any of the guards wished to retaliate.
F'lar, wiping his forehead on his sleeve, half-stumbled to the
still-unconscious drudge. He gently turned her over and, even from where
Robinton stood, he could see the terrible bruise from Fax's fist spreading
across her filthy cheek.
"Do any of you care to contest the outcome of this duel?" F'nor challenged.
His hand carefully remained at his side, but he stood as if ready to seize his
dagger at the first sign of attack.
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Something about the drudge - her thin face, the set of her eyes
- caught Robinton's attention. F'lar gathered the limp body up in his arms,
the clump of dirty hair dropping downward. As the bronze rider swung her
around Robinton got a second good look at her face and something stirred in
his memory.
He blinked. No, he had to be mistaken. They'd all died.
Everyone with any trace of Ruathan Blood had been killed that day.
The girl couldn't possibly ... incredibly ... be Lessa?
And yet... Ruathan Blood had produced many dragonriders and a few Weyrwomen,
too. They had strong minds, strong ... powers?
And Robinton blinked again. That was what he had felt pulsing through the
Hall, what had caused the dragons to roar and F'lar to act so outrageously in
challenging Fax. And it made sense to the
MasterHarper. Very good sense. She was why Nip thought Ruatha was subtly
rebelling against Fax. She was a full Ruathan, and they had always had strong
women in the Bloodline. Strong enough to be Weyrwomen, especially now, at
this crucial time for Pern.
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