amccaffrey.theskiesofpern-第15部分

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　　〃I　am　wondering　if　you　know　what　the　subjects　of　today's　Report　will　be？〃
　　〃Of　course　I　know；　and　what's　to　be　voted　on；〃　Toric　replied　with　some　heat。　〃I　had　to　sit　in　on　the　sharding　meeting；　didn't　I？　Boring　trivia；　with　the　Council　insisting　that　the　'original　intent'　of　the　Charter　be　followed。〃
　　Toric　did　not　approve　of　the　publicity　regarding　the　Charter：　a　document　so　old　that　it　should　be　regarded　as　an　artifact；　rather　than　guidance　for　this　planet's　needs…not　twenty…five　hundred　Turns　after　it　had　been　promulgated。　And　harpers　were　holding　〃discussion　groups〃　to　be　sure　children　and　drudges　could　recite　it　by　rote。　There　were　a　few　provisions　that　he　would　like　to　see　quietly　annulled　and　the　clauses　that　named　the　perquisites　of　major　landholders　extended。　He　would　live　to　see　the　last　day　of　this　Pass；　and　he　certainly　intended　to　exert　his　not…so…small　influence　when　the　Charter　was　reviewed…After…and　suitably　altered　once　dragonriders　were　no　longer　needed。　Toric　had　endured　many　boring　hours　to　be　sure　no　one　in　the　Council　slipped　in　any　more　surprises　on　him。　He　was　developing　a　few　surprises　of　his　own。
　　〃Is　that　all？〃　Hosbon　was　plainly　disappointed。
　　〃Oh；　there'll　be　the　usual　reports　from　Landing；　premises　and　promises。〃　Toric　dismissed　them　with　a　wave　of　his　hand。　〃The　availability　of　printed　texts　for　those　wishing　to　improve　themselves。〃　He　snorted。　〃I…〃　Then　he　stopped　himself。　〃And　you　know　that　any　'improvement'　will　stay　here；　in　Southern　and　in　Largo。〃　He　inclined　his　head　tactfully　at　Hosbon　as　he　recalled　Besic's　reason　for　Hosbon's　visit。　〃You　have　such　a　growing　number　of　craftsfolk　there。　We　wouldn't　want　to　lose　any　of　them。　Did　you　find　any　new　recruits　this　Turnover？〃
　　〃None　that　I　would　dare　tempt　from　here；　Lord　Toric；〃　Hosbon　said　with　oily　deference。　〃Not；〃　he　added　quickly；　〃that　we　don't　always　need　more。〃
　　Toric　merely　nodded。　Generally　he　approved　of　Hosbon。　The　man　came　of　a　Bloodline　that　had　produced　many　sensible　holders　who　knew　how　to　get　the　most　out　of　their　workers。　Looked　like　a　much　younger　version　of　his　sire；　Bargen；　even　to　the　pale　eyes　in　a　deeply　tanned　face　and　a　body　that　had　sweated　off　excess　flesh。　Anyway；　Hosbon　had　older　brothers；　and　now　that　he'd　had　a　taste　of　holding　in　a　decent　climate；　he'd　not　want　to　return　to　frigid　High　Reaches。
　　〃So　I　will　bring　back　news　of　this　meeting　and　the　Report　for　my　holders。〃　Hosbon's　lips　twitched　slyly。
　　〃As　well　you　do；〃　Toric　replied；　allowing　his　eyelids　to　close　briefly　in　acknowledgment　of　the　tacit　understanding。　Just　then　Ramala　emerged　from　the　Hold　entrance　carrying　a　tray　of　refreshments；　so　he　added；　〃We　will　discuss　it　later。〃
　　They　had　time　to　finish　the　klah　and　most　of　the　little　spiced　rolls　before　the　big　bass　Harper　Drum　boomed　to　announce　the　imminence　of　the　public　meeting。　The　deep　sound　echoed　off　the　cliffs；　reverberating　to　the　ships　at　anchor　in　the　deep　harbor；　vibrating　along　the　stones　of　the　Hold　and；　it　felt；　into　one's　very　foot　bones。
　　As　Toric　rose　and　strode　up　the　wide　shallow　stairs　carved　out　of　the　rock　path　that　led　to　the　cleared　space　on　the　height；　he　glanced　down　to　the　other　levels　of　the　Hold　plex。　In　small　groups；　holders　were　surging　up　from　the　wharves　where　numerous　small　craft　bobbed　beside　buoys　or　were　tied　to　the　pilings。　He　moved　through　the　crowd；　toward　the　platform　on　the　southern　edge　of　the　Gather　area　where　a　single　Harper　sat；　holding　the　traditional　scroll　that　contained　the　Report　he　would　shortly　read。　Toric　looked　from　right　to　left；　occasionally　awarding　a　brief　smile　to　those　who　deserved　his　favor。　Since　he　had　taken　over　Southern　thirty…one　Turns　ago；　twenty…four　self…sufficient　holds　had　been　established　under　his　direction　and　tithed　to　him。　He　could　see　representatives　of　each　holding…significantly　fewer　from　the　more　distant　ones…and　identified　the　shoulder　knots　of　many　journeymen　of　various　crafts。　With　an　all…too…fleeting　moment　of　satisfaction；　he　took　the　six　steps　to　the　platform；　two　at　a　time；　defying　anyone…especially　Besic…to　assume　that　he　had　been　the　worse　for　wear　earlier　that　morning。　The　Harper；　Sintary；　had　been　suggested　by　Robinton　himself　as　suitable　for　the　position　of　Master　Harper　for　Southern。　Robinton　had　been　one　of　the　few　northerners　whom　Toric　had　respected；　so　he　had　not　appealed　the　appointment。　But　he　had　e　to　regret　that　decision；　for　Sintary　was　a　subtle　and　stubborn　man　who　took　his　position　as　Harper　so　seriously　that　he　had　agreed　to　no　changes　even　when　Toric　had　suggested　several　minor　alterations　to　the　traditional　teaching。　The　old　Harper　was　very　popular；　with　a　dry　sense　of　humor　and　an　ability　to　improvise　lyrics　about　local　incidents　that　made　him　a　very　difficult　man　to　discredit。　Toric　had　tried；　he　kept　hoping　that　an　opportunity　might　yet　arise　and　he　could　indisputably　be　able　to　send　Sintary　away。
　　With　a　curt　nod　at　his　intransigent　Harper；　Toric　turned　to　face　the　audience。　Holding　up　his　hands；　he　brought　conversations　and　laughter　to　a　halt。　Even　fire…lizards　stopped　their　flitting　about　and　disappeared　into　the　forest　curving　about　the　space。
　　〃Master　Sintary　needs　no　introduction；〃　Toric　said；　lifting　a　voice　that　had　once　carried　above　storms。　〃I　see　you　have　a　scroll　to　read　us　today；　Master　Harper。〃
　　Master　Sintary　rose；　giving　Toric　a　bland　stare　for　such　a　terse　introduction。　Toric　enjoyed　giving　subtle　jabs；　especially　to　harpers　and　dragonriders。　And　where　were　the　dragonriders　who　should　be　here？　Toric　glared　out　across　the　tanned　faces；　looking　for　the　Weyrleader。　If　K'van　hadn't　e。。。　Then　Toric　located　him　on　the　left；　where　trees　and　the　ferny　shrubs　of　this　highland　formed　a　bordering　park。　He　counted　at　least　fifteen　dragonriders　and　the　three　queen　riders！　Shards！　He　could　make　no　plaint　that　they　had　been　delinquent　in　performing　this　Weyr　duty。
　　Sintary　had　taken　two　steps　forward；　an　easy　gesture　of　his　hand　waving　Toric　to　the　other　chair　on　the　platform。　Deftly　unrolling　the　traditional　scroll　with　his　right　hand；　he　proceeded　to　read；　winding　it　up　with　the　skill　of　long　practice。
　　Toric　took　the　chair；　crossing　his　arms　on　his　chest。　He　was　almost　as　annoyed　now　as　he　had　been　this　morning　when　he'd　awakened。　The　dragonriders　were　in　attendance。　They…and　far　too　many　other　people…would　eat　of　the　feast　a　Lord　Holder　was　required　to　produce。　And　how　could　Sintary　make　himself　heard　so　effortlessly？　He　hadn't　even　raised　his　voice；　just　intensified　it　with　some　harper　trick。
　　To　occupy　the　time　it　would　take　Sintary　to　get　through　that　thick　scroll；　Toric　surveyed　the　polite　faces　below　him。　Spotting　his　brother；　MasterSmith　Hamian；　Toric　uncrossed　his　arms；　because　Hamian　had　assumed　a　similar　stance。　Hamian　and　his　new　Plastics　Hall。　Plastic　indeed；　when　he　should　be　working　metals：　especially　that　lode　of…what　was　it　called？　box…something…that　produced　very　lightweight　and　malleable　ore。　Toric　hadn't　encouraged　his　young　brother　to　pursue　his　Mastery　in　the　Smithcraft　only　to　have　him　fritter　his　skills　away　on　some　Aivas　nonsense。　The　summarily　exiled　MasterGlasssmith　Norist　had　been　right　to　call　the　artificial　intelligence　an　Abomination。
　　The　sun　was　now　midheaven；　and　even　in　his　loose　clothing；　Toric　was　beginning　to　feel　the　heat。　Packed　rather　tightly　together；　the　crowd　was　being　restless；　fanning　themselves　and　shifting　weight　from　foot　to　foot。　Those　who　had　no　one　to　leave　their　children　with　were　beginning　to　sidle　to　the　edge　of　the　crowd；　taking　the　fretful　whingeing　brats　away。
　　Was　the　Harper　speeding　up　the　tempo　of　his　recital？　Well；　why　not？　The　scroll　would　be　displayed　on　the　notice　board　when　the　reading　was　over。　He　caught　the　change　of　pace　and　heard　Sintary's　concluding　remarks。
　　〃Now；　I　can　start　taking　your　private　petitions；　which；　I　assure　you；　will　be　scrupulously　dealt　with。〃
　　Sharding　Harper　Hall；　meddling　with　what　was　Hold　business。　His　holders　had　no　right　to　plain。　They　worked　hard　and　they　got　what　they　deserved。
　　Toric　quickly　scanned　the　assembled　to　see　if　any　petitions　were　being　removed　from　belt　pouches　or　dress　pockets。
　　Sintary　finished　read