Chap. 318 The Wanted Poster

Chap. 318 The Wanted Poster

“How in the world did you move this horse all by yourself?” K’ndar asked, amazed.

“K’ndar. Really? Leverage, laddy. My block and tackle are in my stump. But I don’t need it, the forest provides, eh? See this tree, with the exposed roots? I call it a manyroot tree. Doesn’t it look like the insect, the manyleg? I always thought the tree looks like it’s tiptoeing, like it doesn’t want to get wet feet. I just wrapped a hefty vine through the gap, around the horse’s neck and there’s your field expedient block and tackle.” Rand said, a bit snidely. “Vika and Scar merely had to roll the beast over, as he was still warm and was propped up on the pack. But they left me with the horse flat out, blocking the trail. Poor lad,” he said, glumly looking at the dead horse.

“I would have helped!”

“I didn’t need it, K’ndar. I’ve been moving heavier things than a dead horse for most my life. I’m a forester, after all, I cut trees down. And then replant them, although the forest usually takes care of that. Did you see how stout my mare is? She’s clever at snaking some of the bigger trees out. Of course, these big ‘uns, it’s impossible to bring THEM out. Maybe one of these days I can convince a dragonrider to do that. Even so, had I left the horse in the trail, the scavengers would have taken care of it. A pack of them will clean this up in a day or two. By next week, all you’ll have is bones.”

“Are they wherries?”

“Nay, K’ndar, and frankly, I have no idea quite what they are. I’ve seen one on two occasions, both times it was just the tail end of it as it fled. They’re nocturnal. They’re saurians, not wherrys, although we do have a forest wherry that’s not as big as the domesticated ones, or the wild ones in the flatlands. The scavengers are about the size of a dog, highly suspicious, and very wary of humans. I’ll find tracks on occasion, and what’s left of their handiwork. They do a great service to the forest.”

“It’s not the musk lizard, is it?”

“No. There’s a lot of beasts in this rainforest that I’ve never seen, nor has anyone else.”

Yet another animal that until now, has been completely ignored by science, K’ndar thought.

“Poor horse,” K’ndar said, “He gave it his all.”

“Aye. If it hadn’t been for the horse dropping dead, I don’t think you dragonmen would ever have caught Scar and Vika.”

“I don’t know about that, Rand. Yes, the horse gave us time. But the way they talked, Scar had no idea T’ovar’s in custody. Remember, he said it might be two weeks before he showed up. Maybe we should have done that in the first place, just flown in in force.”

“Yes, but remember, Scar DID know T’ovar. They were professionals, K’ndar. People like them don’t have long careers by not being cagey. Scar was the smarter of the two. He would have bolted the minute he even thought he smelled a trap. And what fun would it have been to just fly in and risk getting shot at? Oh, I’ll never forget Vika’s face when all that junk fell out of the pack! I laughed til my sides hurt. Then F’mart, dry as a bone, saying “I don’t think that’s worth a hundred marks!” Hehehehehehehe!

“You sent Mushroom down to witness it?”

“Oh, aye, lad, I wouldn’t have missed it for all the money in the world. Aye. He got there about the time F’mart started on the pack. Was all that chatter planned?”

“No. In fact, it almost went sideways. By all rights, it should have been a colossal failure. We forgot to have F’mart remove his Weyrleader braid. He didn’t have a mark to his name, not with him, at least. And he said, after the whole thing was over, that he’d never fought a woman, and wondered if he could. “She wasn’t human,” he said, afterwards. He admitted that she scared him. For F’mart, that’s saying a lot.”

“He’s a fighter?”

“And a good one, although that’s not his job. He’s a dragonrider, first and foremost. We were classmates. He was a mouthy bully, he was always taunting me about how small Raventh is in comparison to his Kenth. One time he got so far under my skin I was about to take a swing at him. Only his body language warned me that every word he’d used was with the intent to provoke me into throwing the first punch. I listened to my brain instead of my bollocks and just swallowed the insults. I was glad, later on, when I saw him in a real fight. That’s when I understood discretion being the better part of valor. He would have handed me my head.”

“Sounds like he was a perfect asshole. And I saw how well he had Vika figured out. He played her greed like she was a guitar.”

“That part went well. They bundled up her body and D’mitran took it to Singing Waters Hold, because that’s where she and Scar committed most of the crimes we know of. Where they came from, nobody knows.”

“Did they know T’ovar was Lord Toric’s man?”

“I don’t know.”

“I tell you, lad, they weren’t novices. They’ve probably been terrorizing people all over Southern for years.”

“Yes.”

“HOW in the world did F’mart knock her dagger aside? She was quick as lightning! By all rights, it should have stuck him. I didn’t see him move his arms or anything.”

“Kenth, his dragon, knocked it aside. Dragons can do telekinesis. Fire lizards, are naturals at it. In fact, that’s how I learned of that talent. Siskin taught Raventh how to knock things like arrows away.”

“All the time?”

“I don’t know if they can purposefully do it, although I’ve heard that a dragonrider at Honshu has a disabled dragon who flies only when other dragons ‘lift’ him. In my case, Raventh can only do it as a reaction, to something that can hurt him, like a crossbow bolt shot at us-which is precisely how he learned he can do it.”

No. I can do it anytime, now. I just had to learn how Raventh said.

“Amazing. That knife of hers! Is it still down there, by the caves?”

“No,” K’ndar said, “I picked it up. It’s of a make I’ve never seen before. And sharp? I didn’t want to take the sheath off of Vika’s body, so I cut up the old boot that was in the pack and wrapped the blade with it. It cut through that leather like a hot knife through butter.” He pulled it out of his pack and handed it to Rand.

“Careful,” he warned, “I mean it when I say it’s sharp.”

Rand unwrapped the knife. “I’ve never seen such intricate lines on metal. It’s almost as if they’re painted on, but they’re not,” he said. The blade was a dull, gray color, with ripples and lines extending from the handle to the tip. He placed the flat of the blade on his forearm, then slid it up his arm.

“Woof. It’ll give you a shave, for certain,” he said, eyeing the hairs that had been cut by the blade. He hefted it, then handed it back.

“I like it, but it’s a little too light for me. I want a knife with a bit more weight to it. Although this one, it looks like it was made for both work, and for throwing. And my arm hairs show the blade hasn’t been dulled a bit. That handle, it’s skybroom, if I am any judge. And relatively new. I don’t think it’s the original handle.”

“You’re the forester. I believe you.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

K’ndar balanced it in his hand. It felt as if it were made for him. I have a dagger, he thought, but it’s not of the quality of this one. I really want to keep it.

“I’m not sure, Rand. If I were superstitious, I’d probably get rid of it. I hope I don’t have to. It’s almost as if the knife WANTS to be in my hand. I don’t know if it’s an artifact. The metal? I don’t know a thing about metallurgy, but the metal is unlike anything I’ve seen before. If it’s from the Ancients, then I’m obligated to turn it in. If it’s not, it’s a good knife. It’s well balanced. It almost asks me to throw it! If it’s legal to keep it, I will.”

“Do you think it is?”

“An artifact? No. But I think whoever made it is a master.”

So, tell me. That young man, F’mart? He’s not really a weyrleader, is he?”

“He is. He’s Kahrain Weyr’s Weyrleader.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, absolutely true.”

“Unbelievable. Vika was right, he is very young.”

“He’s barely twenty, if I recall correctly. His dragon flew the weyr’s queen. That’s how weyrleaders are chosen.”

“Huh. Without any consideration of whether the man is capable?”

“Correct. And often, the human fails at the job.”

Rand shook his head. “So odd. What a disaster it could be.”

“True. The former weyrleader wasn’t the best. M’rvin had issues, he was alternately morose and cheerful like he was drunk. You never knew what he would be like today. He was verbally abusive at times. I almost quit the weyr, because of his abuse. One day, after I’d hired on at Landing, he resigned his position and left. Not long after that, Mirth, the gold, rose to mate for the first time in two years, and Kenth mated her. Everyone was astonished, everyone but Kenth, I suppose. Many of the dragonriders left Kahrain after that, in many cases because they didn’t think they could trust a boy as weyrleader. They failed to realize that Siena, the Weyrwoman, had unofficially been in command for over a year, while M’rvin descended into what most of us believe was depression. And wisely, F’mart listens to Siena. She has brains she hasn’t used yet.”

Rand laughed. “Is F’mart still a bully?”

“Amazingly, no. He’s turned out to be a decent person, if a high strung one. Still, he’s not the man to take on in a fight.”

“How did that happen? Bullies usually stay bullies until someone cuts them down to size.”

“I think Kenth, his bronze, had a long talk with him. Bronzes are almost always leaders, very serious, no nonsense, and highly ethical. I have never heard of a dragon bullying another. All our dragons are ethical, I have to add, but bronzes take their status as alpha males very seriously.”

“And browns? Like Raventh? Or Mushroom?”

K’ndar smiled, feeling Raventh in his heart.

“Well, Raventh is me. So whatever you think I am, ethical, or whatever, that’s Raventh, and much of what I am is because of him.”

He remembered the first moments of Impression, when a squalling, stumbling hatchling Raventh met his eye and immediately claimed his heart and mind for his own. That instant bond, that unwavering trust in the other is so much of who I am that I cannot imagine being without it. I will never, ever be without you, he thought.

Raventh smiled in his heart.

Not seeing his inward look, Rand checked the manyroot tree for damage from the vine. Finding none, he straightened up. “Let’s get Scar pulled off the path. That shouldn’t take long. Afterwards, come on down to my stump, K’ndar. I’ll put on some klah.”

“I’ll help, of course, but I have to head out. Raventh is waiting for me. I’m beat, we have another couple kilometers to get back to your stump, my feet are still wet after my dip in the creek and I’m growing the blisters to prove it, I still have to return the pack to Landing, report to Raylan or SOMEBODY about Scar and Vika. Then I have to write up my report of the day.”

“Whinge whinge whinge,” Rand teased.

“Aye. I’ll own it. Anyway, the tack from Vika’s horse is with the pack. I’ll leave that with you, if you’d like. He’s worn out, Rand, he lost every shoe he had. I think, though, given a few weeks rest on that grass by the caves, he’ll recover. He’s fairly young.”

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll let his feet grow out, all it’ll take is a bit of trimming. He won’t need shoes here. He can take shelter in the caves if need be, and there’s a creek that runs clear and cold nearby. Do you have any plans for him? Is he carrying someone’s brand?”

“Nothing on his hip and I looked under his mane for the freeze brand. Not a mark on him. None. If you’d like him, I can’t think of anyone who’d complain.”

“Thank you, lad. I would like him. Maybe I’ll ride my mare down there and leave her with him to keep him company. She won’t let him roam, she’s plenty sharp about predators, and all I’ll need do is whistle to have her return. She’s a mare. The boys obey the girls. He’ll follow her.”

“What about your friend, the farmer? How is he doing?”

“I sent Mushroom up to his place after you left. He’ll be okay. He’s bruised and battered, but he knows Mushroom, and even waved at him and called out “Tell your master I’m okay!” I don’t think he knows about lizards sending images.”

They pulled Scar’s body off the trail.

“What do we do with it?” Rand asked.

“I really don’t know, Rand, I’ve only once transported a dead man and Landing was at a loss of what to do with the body. And that man had been a staff member of Landing. But Scar? I don’t know. Who knows who Scar was beholden to? He was probably born Holdless. Where was he from? We’ll never know, now. Nor do I care.”

“I’m not about to bury this monster, K’ndar. He didn’t deserve such respect. I seriously doubt he has any family members to contact. Who would admit to him being family? Scar was an alias, I’m betting, seeing that he had one across his face.”

“I don’t have any sympathy for a dead murderer. But it’s no use leaving his kit here.”

“His boots are brand new. I think they might fit me.”

“Have at it. No sense wasting things.” K’ndar felt odd, as he removed the pouch from the man’s waist. Am I stealing from a dead man? Not that you didn’t have it coming, you evil bastard, and it was fitting your partner killed you.

The pouch felt heavy. It was full of money. A LOT of it. Tucked inside was a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it. Centered on the page were drawings of Scar and Vika.

“Look at this, Rand. I told you they had a price on their heads?”

He handed it to Rand.

Rand chuckled and began to read it aloud.

“REWARD. For the apprehension of criminals Scar, a man, and Vika, a woman. Said criminals are wanted for numerous crimes against the people of Pern to include: murder, abduction, horse theft, theft, trafficking in artifacts and electronics, burglary, assault, armed assault, and enslavement. Beware: both are considered armed and extremely dangerous. Lord and Hold are unknown. Last known location: Singing Waters Hold, Southern Continent.

Contact Landing, or any Hold, Craft or Weyr with information as to their activities and or whereabouts.”

Rand nodded.”The artist got them right, these drawings almost breathe. Pretty brazen, to carry one’s own wanted poster.”

K’ndar smirked. “If they’d not have put them both on the same poster, I wouldn’t have put it past either one of them turning the other in for the reward. I didn’t take them as being particularly loyal to each other.”

Rand bent to remove the boots from the dead man’s feet. K’ndar did a quick count of the money in the pouch. The coins were from all over Pern.

What to do with all this money? I could keep it and not a soul would know.

Well, Rand would know, but only if I told him. And he hasn’t indicated any desire to know what’s in the pouch.

Rand put one of the boots next to his own. “Shards,” he grumbled, “They won’t fit me. That’s a shame, they’re very well made and all broken in, it appears.” He straightened up and saw the look on K’ndar’s face.

“What? They’re just boots,” he protested.

“Here,” K’ndar handed the pouch to Rand.

Perplexed, Rand took it, looking inside. And gasped.

“K’ndar! It’s full of money!”

“I know. It’s yours.”

Rand’s mouth worked, at a loss for words. Finally he found them.

“K’ndar. This is too much. I don’t deserve it.”

“Rand. If it hadn’t been for your help, your knowledge of the forest, of so much! we would never have bagged either one of them. Leaving Scar here means no one needs to dispose of his body-or his things. This is, after all, not Hold lands. I will report his death, of course. And as I was working here under Landing’s jurisdiction, I don’t think I’m due it. Even if I am, consider it the reward.”

He wondered if he had the authority to make these decisions. And decided he didn’t care. Had Scar been captured alive, he would undoubtedly have claimed “no hold, no lord, no home.” He would have been a problem, where to put him? Holdless people were under no one’s jurisdiction. Although he knew plenty of people who would be more than happy to behead Scar and plead their case to the Lord afterwards.

“I don’t want the money. I’ll be happy with just the horse.”

“Why not?”

“Because by rights, I have to give the money to Lord Toric.”

“Why?”

“Well, he IS my Lord Holder, and T’ovar was his man. I’d bet these boots he knew T’ovar was dealing with Scar and Vika. I’m not afraid to admit I have no wish whatsoever to answer to Lord Toric how I got anything. I’d rather do without the money than deal with him.”

“He’s not your Lord Holder.”

Rand gawped. “K’ndar, have you taken leave of your senses? Of course he is.”

K’ndar’s heart surged with glee. Yes, now I know, giving him the money is the right decision. “Rand. Weren’t you listening? One of the tasks I did just before this cataloging project, was to conduct a comprehensive survey of the Holdlands here on this part of Southern. After we turned in our data, Lord Toric was called in front of the Council to, um, ‘explain’ how he was encroaching on lands not his, illegally extending the borders of his lands, even onto lands owned by Lord Dorn. I don’t know how that was resolved, if it has been. But I DO know that Lord Toric does NOT hold these lands. Neither, for that matter, does Lord Dorn. These are dragonrider lands. Lord Dorn’s lands end at the caves. That creek you mentioned? It’s the demarcation line. This forest, the jungle, all of it, belongs to dragonriders. The survey proved it.”

Rand looked doubtful. I’m afraid to believe him, he thought, but why would he lie? “If it were anyone else but you, K’ndar, I’d think you were pulling my leg. I’m living on dragonlands?”

“Yes. As is your farmer friend. At the moment, there’s nothing that says you have to tithe to anyone. This whole forest, the jungle, the savannah on the other side, where the farmer’s field begin-it’s dragonlands. Which weyr is responsible? Will each weyr have its own lands? What happens when a weyr disbands? Or a new one is created? I don’t know. Up until recently, we dragonriders were fully involved fighting Thread. Now that that’s gone, we’re trying to decide just what to do with the lands bestowed on us by Aivas, and the Charter. It’s a thorny issue at the Council and I’m just a lowly dragonrider. Nothing has been decided other than the boundaries of the current Holds. I don’t know if individual dragonriders will be able to own a part of the lands. I don’t know! Maybe in the future, you’ll be asked to tithe, because the weyrs will never be fully independent.

But, as everyone else has gone home, at this moment, I am the ranking dragonrider here. So I’m saying you can have the money. If you feel like it, maybe share it with the farmer.”

“Are you sure? These are dragonlands? Not Landings? Or Torics or Lord Dorn’s?”

“They’re dragon lands. You are beholden to no one, not even me.”