The Renegades of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Page A

for my mastery. Southern Hold women marry when and where they choose.”
    “And Toric had better remember that!”
    “With you reminding him whenever marriages occur, how could he forget? Now,” he said, blocking her not-so-playful blow, “can I please have something to take the tang of sea from my throat? We’d rough enough weather crossing the Currents that I shouldn’t have to take the rough of your tongue the moment I climb the steps home!”
    “Ramala’s been squeezing fruit since I went for your shorts. And look, here’s Mechalla to greet you. Bring her with you.” Grinning slyly, Sharra slipped away from her brother’s side to allow the first of the girls who had grieved at his departure to flirt with him on his return.
    No one clouded that evening with any mention of the morning’s meeting with the Weyrwoman; the entire hold immediately got to work to settle the newcomers so that all could enjoy Hamian’s return. Even the scruffiest of the new arrivals, having survived Toric’s scrutiny, were determined to make the most of so much food and honest hospitality. Even Saneter put aside the thick rolls of messages, most of them dealing with the exiles, to enjoy roasted meat on the strand.
    “Any murderers in this lot, Saneter?” Toric asked, guiding the harper down the beach away from the feasting. People were still gorging themselves, and Toric wanted to know how well his private assessments of the new settlers jibed with the official reports.
    “Only one,” Saneter replied, “and he claimed self-defense.” The harper was not convinced, having spotted the rather surly-looking fellow off to one side, shunned by other passengers. “Fifteen were apprentice-level, and two more got as far as journeymen in their crafts, and were turned out of their places for constant pilfering and theft; one was caught selling Crafthall goods at a third of their worth.”
    Toric nodded. He was desperate enough to take any help to clear Southern lands, even to the extent of circumventing the Benden Weyrleaders’ restriction on any intercourse between the interdicted Southern Weyr and Hold. So Toric was smuggling people in from the North. Some desperate holdless folk heard whispers that he would not turn them away from the Southern shores, but he was getting too many useless folk for his trusted settlers to absorb quietly. He needed more skilled men, trained in hold and hall management—and he had to keep his illicit settlers from the Oldtimers’ notice.
    “Two were caught stealing unmarked herdbeasts. There are, however, some honest settlers,” Saneter continued, hurrying on to the good news. “Four couples with good crafts, and nine singles of varied backgrounds, some of them with very good recommendations. Hamian vouches for four of the men and two of the women. Toric, I’ll say it now and get it off my chest: you should apply to the Masterharper.”
    Toric snorted. “He’d tell Benden—”
    “And the Benden Weyrleaders, if you approached them with Master Robinton, would be the first to assist you. They wanted to explore this whole land,” Saneter said, sweeping his arm wide, “and they would have, if the Oldtimers hadn’t—well, you know all that.” He broke off. “But some young, eager,
trained
holder sons who know they’re not going to get any place north during a Pass would certainly see the advantages to coming south. Even if we have to sneak them in when the Oldtimers aren’t looking.” Saneter gave Toric a quick glance to see his reaction. Toric’s head was down, and Saneter could tell nothing from his profile.
    “You certainly don’t have to mention what you’ve already discovered. I haven’t, I assure you, Lord Holder,” Saneter went on. “But if ore is to be useful to you as a trading medium, it’s got to be known. As I’m sure Hamian told you, the Mastersmith is desperate for all the iron, nickel, lead, and zinc he can get. Mine production in the north is at full