Chapter 1

Petrilla hoped that the wrongfully accused woodcrafter, Hallon, would agree to be her bodyguard; he looked large and dependable! And his friend Voll did have a reputation as a clever and shrewd jewel thief and well as knowing how to appraise and cut stones.

And there was the matter of her grandmother's ring.

Petrilla had not chosen a life of crime lightly. Her mother had been a toy – not a willing one – of Lord Meron back in the days when Fax ruled; and she, Petrilla, had been the result. At least it had been before the time he had contracted the disease that killed him; Petrilla shuddered, having heard that it could be contracted too by an innocent unborn baby as well as by a sexual partner! Fortunately – in some ways – Meron had tired of Petara eventually and mother and child had returned to live quietly with Sulara, Petrilla's grandmother. There was precious little welcome from the rest of their kin; for whom Petara had become an overworked auntie. And then the winter ailment had struck, viciously, leaving Petrilla wondering what to do after the double loss of her mother and grandmother; and before she had even finished grieving her uncle had decided it was high time his bastard niece was wed.

It was during this traumatic time that Petrilla's ring had been stolen, whilst visiting High Reaches Hold to seek out a suitable bridegroom – suitable that is in the eyes of her uncle – and Petrilla had wept the bitter tears she had held in check for the grief of her loss.

The ring had been returned with a scrawled note on a piece of rag – 'sorry'. She still had the note. It was a reminder that some people were decent. Sometimes it was a reminder of which she needed tangible proof to convince her.

Petrilla knew gems and jewels; she had seen enough and heard them evaluated by Meron's various toys of the moment. The inference of what to do next was obvious if she wanted to avoid marriage.

Become Holdless and a thief.

It had been harder than that of course, after her dramatic disappearance right before the betrothal ceremony; she had needed to knife a man who wanted to use her and he had taken longer to die than she realised he would. That had been bad. Then she had a stroke of good fortune, falling in with the drunken, but eminently cheery and talented fence, Grissom and he had taken her as his assistant. Just his assistant. Plenty of people assumed he was bedding her; but in truth he treated the green young Holdless woman more like a daughter.

Never having had a father figure, and despising her male relatives, it had given Petrilla a different outlook on men; and she grieved sincerely when his liver finally failed and she had to keep him dosed with stolen fellis until he died.

She and taken over his business in its entirety.

Some had scoffed and refused to deal with a chit of a girl; some had scoffed and tried to cheat her. But by that time she had the joint backups of a lot of knowledge and a small, but lethal crossbow that Grissom had made for her and taught her to use.

It was a good living, but she was growing tired of having to threaten the men who would insist on getting fresh; every now and then it even became necessary to make a bloody example to make sure that 'no' was a word that stopped being too complicated for the men around to understand. And then she had sheltered from Threadfall in a cave with the honest-faced woodcarver, who claimed to have been dismissed for a theft he did not commit; and it was obvious from his friend's explanation that the young man was innocent of any crime bar being too handsome, and failing to pick up on the predatory signals of some tunnel snake of a Holder's wife who had him accused in a vindictive fit of pique. As for his friend Voll….Voll was another matter.

Voll was a thief; but a self confessed sentimentalist. And if it WERE he who had once returned her ring, an incident the repellent 'hard as diamonds' Jemus had scoffed about, that was a link….and looked almost like fate, if one were at all superstitious.

They knew her itinerary, hers and little Otillie, the child who had become separated form her Holdless parents.

Petrilla did not consider herself to be maternal, but something of the child's self contained distress reminded her of herself. And she had taken the child under her wing. After all, nobody but the Holdless looked out for the Holdless.

And Otillie made herself useful fetching and carrying and was a great help with the preparing of meals too. Petrilla had been almost sorry in a way when the boisterous Mulgan Trader Train turned up at Highspire Hold and brought with them the child's parents! She had been delighted for Otillie of course; and pleased too that she and her parents might have a better life when Morrity Mulgan invited them to join their train as their own family had been so depleted. Petrilla had been moved to ask how come their family had been so depleted; if it had been through carelessness she would have warned Otillie's parents off. But one could not quibble with losing one girl to marriage, and her sister and brother to Impression!

Petrilla had managed to get a small cave to herself in the High Reaches Holdless caverns – her crossbow had helped – for some of her clients liked a little privacy for their transactions. She had also managed to acquire the services of a fisherman to sleep across the door in return for her protection from a group of thieves who had tried to roll him. The poor fellow had suffered a bang on the head and could not remember who he was even; and the Main Hold folk would not let him stay in the healer hall there for fear he was lying. As if anyone with a bump that big was likely to be! Thought Petrilla; and if the healers had seen it before some officious little twat had taken the decision on himself they would have agreed! It was all down to the well organised activities of the self-styled Lady Holdless Thella that had put everyone on their guard. And right here, the recent thievery to sell to Southern and the Oldtimers had NOT helped.

As an additional precaution Petrilla had rigged up a curtain she had made a few turns previously; she had collected every bead and bell she could lay her hands on and purchased part of a shipment of light bamboo-cone stems to cut into short lengths and hollow out; and she had strung the whole lot on strong twine hung from a bamboo pole. By driving nails over an entrance way she could balance the pole on them and secure the ends; and it became impossible to come in without making a noise by disturbing the beads. And because it was not solid she could see figures lurking behind it too.

There were two there now; and Petrilla lifted her crossbow.

She was relieved to recognise her visitors; it was Hallon and Voll, and she felt much cheered. With a big man like Hallon, if he had come to accept her job offer, she need never worry. She smiled.

"Hallon!" she said "And Voll! Good to see you!"

The two men ducked in through the tinkling curtain that masked off this little cave; it was impossible to pass through it without making some noise.

"Clever precaution, Lady Petrilla" said Voll.

Petrilla shrugged.

"A woman on her own needs warning of the approach of anyone" she said, tucking her little crossbow out of sight now she knew who had approached her. "Have you come to accept that job?"

Hallon looked uneasy.

"I – well, I didn't tell you all the truth" he said, uncomfortably "Though I didn't myself outright lie."

"No, he left that to me" grinned Voll "Because I don't blush when I lie the way he does!"

Hallon blushed furiously!

"And are you now planning to tell me the truth?" asked Petrilla. She was wondering what was going on; though somehow she was not as uneasy as logic told her she should be. Instinctively she LIKED this pair!

Hallon nodded in answer to her question.

"When you presided over the shelter we discussed briefly the fact of the Weyr extending the dragonrider oath to protect to actively helping people" he said "And I can tell you that Dand was picked up by Mirrith and her Rider and now has a wooden leg. I carved it. It's not the first I've carved; Bronze Rider D're has one of mine too, among others."

She surveyed them warily.

"And yet Voll is vouched for as a known jewel thief - by the boy Jemus whom I know full well" she said.

Voll shrugged.

"I fell foul of the Weyr, and found things had changed since I was incarcerated; and I liked what I found. They thought me not incorrigible and gave me a second chance – in return for helping people like, well, young Ottillie. The Mulgans have Weyr connections, that Bronze Rider D're is Morrity's own nephew. And Dand too, and kids born to thievery that could do with a hand up and into a better life. It's too late for young Jemus" he said sadly.

"Hard as diamonds" murmured Petrilla. "He might just be protesting that to hide insecurity, you know."

Voll brightened.

"I can hope so" he said softly. "I'll try to get to see more of him, see if I can break through."

"And what does the weyr want of me?" asked Petrilla, looking at the large woodcrafter "And where do you really fit in, Hallon?"

He grinned.

"I came to the Weyr as Weyrwoodcrafter and then I Impressed Melth" he looked soppy for a moment as he pulled up his overtunic to display his knots.

Petrilla's eyes widened.

"Bronze Rider! Ottillie was right then! She said afterwards to me that she though you walked like a man used to respect! An illustrious personage indeed to take an interest in the affairs of us scum!"

H'llon frowned.

"No!" he said. "There are doubtless scum amongst you; but to my mind, most Holdless are either those who like their independence – like you, I'm guessing – or those who are unlucky. Either in being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or from an overly harsh ruling by some Holder who has not thought through, or cares less about, the consequences of his decree. And I'd like to offer you the chance of Impression, if you'll take it: I'linne, who I guess is kin of yours, has, and Meliandra's considering it. Ipominea's too young yet."

She raised her eyebrows.

"You recognise my kinship? And there was I thinking I was the lucky and pretty one!"

H'llon frowned.

"All of those girls have lovely eyes and they're a lot prettier when they're not half starved of food and wholly starved of affection" he said stiffly. "I'll not listen to you abuse my fosterlings!"

That surprised her.

"My apologies, Bronze Rider" she said. "No offence was meant – merely a passing sympathy that they resemble our sire more than I do. I'm a bastard; not that my mother had any choice in the matter. And here I'm Queen of my cavern, not available as a drudge or a suitable pawn for marriage maintained on sufferance. And for the reason that I am what I am and I am what I choose, I will not come to the Weyr, for I relish my independence."

H'llon, mollified, nodded.

"I wondered if you would feel that way" he shrugged. "The offer will remain open indefinitely should you ever change your mind. And I certainly hope you'll feel like visiting your sisters and getting to know them properly. You could claim to trade to the Weyr where they're less likely to recognise distinctive stones, say."

She laughed.

"You've got that story all well worked out even if you can't lie on your own behalf. Was there anything else you wanted of me than to offer me a dragon and some sisters who might or might not acknowledge the relationship?"

"They would acknowledge it" said Voll "They're nice girls. They resented his more scheming and nasty mistresses, like the one I robbed blind, but they'd not resent one of his involuntary acquisitions, nor any sibling of any relationship if they weren't snooty at them. As for what more we want, that's plenty. Information; and we'd pay for that. Information about dangerous renegades that give the rest of the Holdless a bad name; knowledge about certain people we track – there was a trader killed a baby to keep him quiet for example, that the Weyr tracked down, that Hold wouldn't for the mother being a loving wench – tracing stones perhaps for friends of the Weyr, and we'd see a reward was offered: knowledge of what Lords and Holders need to be kept an eye on for not fulfilling their duty, knowledge of renegade dragonmen – all sorts! And then there's our orphan hold; if you'll take orphans under your wing to pass them on to us, we'd see you remunerated for your troubles!"

Petrilla looked thoughtful.

"You've certainly got your feet well under the Weyr table, Voll – 'we' and 'us' and 'our' being thrown about. I don't suppose you'd use the first person plural if you hadn't been made welcome. That gives me pause for thought about the Weyr; I've always been wary of it because of my dear caring father."

"Huh, a fig for the old bugger" said Voll.

"Seconded" said H'llon. "He's dead; and nothing to do with you really."

She nodded.

"As to expenses, unless there's a serious expense – a healer, say – having the odd extra pair of hands around pays for feeding quite adequately" she said. "I was half sorry to see Ottillie go, though glad for her; I got quite fond of her. I really don't see it would be a problem to bring in other orphans."

"It's the cripples who get abandoned who'll need more care" said H'llon "And the Weyr is quite ready to pay you a stipend as an orphan finder in the field, lest it break into your er, usual profits. Some WILL need more care, and there's no reason you shouldn't claim to sell them to the Weyr. Everyone reckons we're mad anyway. Some will be all right; Dand's pretty capable and old enough to make up his own mind. I'm thinking of kids like an apprentice of mine; she was just seven turns when she lost her foot in her father's saw mill, and he was happy to give her away to a trader – D're Mulgan as it happens, then Daire – to hide the evidence. She has a wooden foot." He was clenching both teeth and hands at the memory.

Petrilla nodded.

"And I guess I know that you are truly genuine in your care by that reaction" she said softly "Though I liked you before, and I'm rarely wrong. I'll be sorry not to have you as a bodyguard. What about you cutting stones for me, Voll?"

He grinned.

"If they come from those rich enough to lose them, I'll take my pay for my work as their contribution to the Weyr orphan fund!" he said.

Petrilla laughed.

"Then that's a deal too. Do you help adults too?" she looked at H'llon. He shrugged.

"If they let us" he said. "We got Shayam reinstated with Lord Bargen; and we stole Voll well enough."

She grinned.

"Stealing a thief? I like that. Come, follow me" she got up and went to the entrance curtain "A fellow I've been half looking out for, and him to sleep across my door in exchange, has no memory of who he is. And in the absence of knots to prove his identity they won't take him into the Hold proper."

H'llon growled something about 'foolishness'. It had a few less repeatable words in it.

"Not really" said Petrilla. "How can they know he's not dissembling? He could be a vicious renegade for all they know. And there's been enough of it to the East by all accounts, bold and violent raids and inside men to pass information first."

"Holderfolk don't have dragons at their beck and call to discern lies from truth" said Voll dryly. "You be too quick to judge 'em, H'llon."

H'llon flushed and shrugged.

"Anyone can wear any knots to get into places" he said "And if they can act the manner get away with it. It's no proof of person really. But I guess I'm used to people who can judge others even without dragons checking truth."

"Ar, and that's why you be Bronze Rider and all your friends Riders of some sort too" said Voll. "It's them fine instincts."

"And trained observation!" protested H'llon. "We logicators work hard to train all out senses to pick up false notes – as can anyone! For someone in power not to do so is sheer laziness!"

"Sheer stupidity more like" said Voll "And that's always issued in big barrels at birth, like the marks the more to the higher, present company excepted M'lady."

The man in whom Petrilla had taken an interest sat on a rock, dully contemplating the world through perplexed eyes.

"Friend fisherman, this man may be able to help you" said Petrilla, crisply.

H'llon studied the man with care.

"Beyond that you are at least a journeyman fishcrafter out of a small Hold on the Island of Ista, with caring kinfolk close to you but with a need to be careful with marks I can tell nothing about you" said H'llon gravely.

Petrilla and the fisherman stared; Voll, more used to the logicators, grinned.

"Well, good sir, I don't know that much about me, though 'Ista' do seem to ring a bell" said the fisherman.

"How did you see all that at a glance?" demanded Petrilla.

H'llon shrugged, blushing in embarrassment at her wonder.

"His gansie is faded but obviously orange in hue, Ista's colour, with the distinctive rows of numbweed-leaf pattern popular as a pattern on all garments from there. My friend from Ista has a gansie very similar" he added. "Though his knots have been torn off there's a shred of cords where they ripped still sewn for security to his gansie. There's a strand of turquoise for the fishcrafthall, and the other strand seems to have orange, white and brown. Orange and white designate Ista Hold itself, the addition of a third colour suggests a small Hold beholden to Ista. The number of rope calluses on his hands show a lot of hard work, as do the rub marks from ropes on the inside of the sleeves of his gansie. The sleeves look to have been turned once, and patched with leather; hence by his hard work he's at least a journeyman, for an apprentice his age would hide his knots and just wear Hold knots for shame. The repairs show a caring kinswoman but one that has to look at both sides of a mark twice."

"It's my favourite lucky gansie" said the fisherman suddenly "It's the last one my mother knit for me before she died" he looked surprised "So I know something about myself!"

"That's good" said H'llon. Anything that can jog your memory has to be good."

"They found him in a boat with the mast gone by the board and a welt on is temple" said Petrilla. "After the Healers were done with him he couldn't tell the Steward's men anything so they shuffled him down here."

"A welt on his head and the fools still didn't believe him?" said H'llon scornfully "I'll be having words with Nordar, Lord Bargen's steward, about that; the steward here is under him. Nordar's a good man and he'll not like to know that he's got idiot underlings!"

"O'course" said Voll "We could be seeing the likes of Shayam being overzealous account o' being afraid of people stealing again….if you complain official like you might get him Holdless again afore he's settled back. 'Tain't allus so easy, my friend."

H'llon sighed and his shoulders sagged.

"No. No, you're right, friend Voll. It isn't always easy. People seem to swing from one extreme to another; I wish everyone would just get on with their duty with the occasional use of what they have between the ears!"

Voll laughed.

"Trouble is, H'llon, you're expecting them to HAVE stuff between the ears; and living in Holds do tend to erode that for not having to think much!" he said.

The fisherman leaped to his feet hearing the honorific contraction, bowing quickly.

"H'llon? Me Lord, I didn't know you was a dragonman, I am sorry!"

"Fardles" said H'llon, waving him down. "I'm incognito, so, er, stow that, as I think you fisherfolk say. We've a Rider from Ista in the Weyr, my friend with the gansie; Petrilla, I think the best thing to do is to take this poor fellow back to the Weyr and see if my friends can't fathom out more about him."

Petrilla nodded.

"I'm also thinking he'd have a better time of it there than being made the butt of jibes here" she said.

H'lln started seething again, and Voll hastily took his arm.

"Underdogs pick on them even worse on their luck" he was explaining as he led both fisherman and young Bronze Rider away. "Those who are down get to feel less down by putting others further down."

"I know. I don't have to like it though" growled H'llon testily.

It had been almost an afterthought that prompted Petrilla to ask if H'llon could find out anything about her amnesiac fisherman friend; and she had been amazed at how much the young man deduced just by looking at the man! She felt much easier in her mind when H'llon and Voll took the poor fellow away, though it did leave her without a night watchmen; but she was surprised and gratified when, just a few hours later, a bronze firelizard appeared out of Between cheeping cheerfully and landed in her arm, bending his neck politely to allow her to untie the note on his collar.

It read,

"Fisherman is Kershaw, restored to his sister, regaining memory, many thanks, H"

"No reply really" she murmured to the little bronze firelizard, wondering if he could understand her.

His answering cheep seemed to be an acknowledgement and he took off immediately and vanished Between!

Petrilla shook her head wonderingly.

They seemed quite clever little beasts! If she was to work for the Weyr it might be worth asking if she might have one…Voll had sported a pair of greens, after all, and H'llon seemed to have a veritable fair!