Permanence (3): A Change in the Wind

Writers: Eimi, Yvonne
Date Posted: 10th March 2006

Characters: Cyrek, Daigoro
Description: Cyrek and Daigoro try to start sorting out what is left of Amythest Cliff Hold
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 11, day 2 of Turn 3

It had started raining again a candlemark after the earthquake. Maybe more.
Cyrek tucked the oiled jacket a little tighter around Mariss' shoulders before reluctantly leaving her in the shelter of a small shed that had withstood the earthquake and was far enough away from the cliff that if another landslide occurred, it wouldn't be reached.

He hoped.

The weather echoed his mood; bleak, grey, but the air was tinged with the sweet smell of spring. He deliberately turned his back to the ruined Hold and stared resolutely at the mud that squished around his boots as he headed toward the road, where one of his assistants had said the Vintner Hall's Hallsecond was waiting beneath the umbrella of a tree. "Cyrek," Daigoro said, walking towards the steward, his face streaked with soot, ash, dirt, blood and rain. "What can we do?"

Everyone kept asking him that. Why were they asking him!? The gentle rain felt like a shower of rocks, and he briefly wished that he was buried somewhere in the rubble, too. He ran his hands over his face, feeling old.
Ancient. "I don't know."

"What do you know at this point?" the Hallsecond asked, laying his hand on the steward's arm. It was obvious the man was under great pressure.
Understandable considering the state the Hold was in. "Where is the Lord Holder?"

"In _there_," Cyrek said bitterly, flinging an arm out to point at the Hold.
The east Wing, where the Lord and his family lived, was completely gone save for a few standing outer walls and brave sandstone pillars. A pile of rubble laced with golden wood and blue slate from the roof, with hints of colour like blood where ripped tapestries and furniture lay broken. "I have no hope for Alalir." His voice broke when he said the Lord Holder's name.

"Shards," Daigoro breathed. "And the family?"

"I don't know." Cyrek tore his gaze away from the Hold and forced himself to stare into the orchard. How were the trees still standing, when the Hold wasn't? He fought off the urge to check over his shoulder to see if Mariss was still where he'd put her, to make sure that she was still safe... "I-
the Hall. How is the Hall?"

"Part of the second floor on the north east corner fell into the kitchens.
We lost a few of the staff, and Master Fielton's young wife." Daigoro had been truly sad for Fielton's loss. Despite the jokes and the snide remarks, everyone had been relieved that he had found someone to love. What would happen to the Hallmaster now?

"But the building is still standing, and sound?"

Daigoro nodded. "All but the northeast corner. I haven't yet been to the Woodsmith Hall, but I hear they have a few small fires and some injuries, but the building is fairly stable. Last I heard they were still sounding it. Has word been sent to the Weyr yet?"

"I don't know." But there were no dragons in the sky... Cyrek shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. "No. I'll send Trouble. But your Hall...
there's nowhere here for people to stay. Your Hall will need to take in the-
the injured, and the women and children. My daughter. She doesn't need to watch us dig out-" He bit his tongue, unable to say 'survivors', or 'the dead'.

The Hallsecond nodded. "Hopefully the word will be good from the Woodsmith Hall and more can be housed there. But we need the Weyr's help. We'll need more healers, masons if they have them, dragon brawn and more hands. There are still bodies to be found in collapsed cots and the Vintner Hall kitchens."

The Steward sighed. Shards, he was so tired of this... of the rain and the mud and the fallen stones and the blood... He was tired of having to be the one in charge, when all he wanted to do was sit with his daughter. "I'll send for help to the Weyr. You can- please arrange with the Woodsmith Hall to accept our injured and get them out of the rain," he said, belatedly remembering that Daigoro was a Vintner and not one of his men to order about. "Anyone that you can spare from your own Hall please send to me here.
I can't find Vivvi..." Shards and shells- he hadn't thought about the Headwoman until that moment. He swallowed the sudden knot in his throat.
"Blankets, bandages and water - if you can arrange a refuge at the Woodsmith's Hall send it there to meet the wounded."

"We also need to find a way to feed all these people," Daigoro said practically. "I'm afraid the burden will fall to the Woodsmith Hall and the cots. Our stores and your are both buried under rubble along with our kitchens. All these men working will need their strength. Perhaps we can ask the Weyr if they can perhaps spare a bit for us? And the Minor Holds?" Shards, he hadn't even thought of all of Amythest Cliff's _Minor_ Holds...

Cyrek called Trouble to him with a thought, and the bronze appeared hissing from /between/. The Steward held out his arm and the flit landed clumzilly on it, digging in his claws to keep his balance.
"Daigoro - talk to the Woodcraft Hall for me first, and find a place for Mari- the Holders out of the rain. Can I trust you to arrange that, and to organize the move?" Small red stains were appearing on Cyrek's sleeve where Trouble's claws had pierced the skin.

"Yes of course," the brewer nodded.

"Then please do it. I'll contact the Weyr and sort the rest of it out." He didn't know how, but he would. Food, shelter, somewhere for them to go...
the Minor Holds, perhaps? He'd have to write to them as well and hope that there was someone there to receive his message. "Sir, may I also suggest contact one of the nearby Holds? Perhaps they can be of assistance."

"The other Holds...?" Cyrek said, confused. There was Amethyst Cliff and it's minor Holdings... there _was_ Amethyst Cliff... he shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Sharding rain. "The- yes. Perhaps over the mountains..."

"Amber Hills perhaps? Perhaps they can lend us some assistance, if they are not as bad off as we are."

Amber Hills... "Of course. I'll send Trouble there next." Cyrek hesitated, then turned almost apologetically to Daigoro. "Do... you have a pen?"

Daigoro blinked a couple times. "No. Not with me. But can send someone back to the Hall for one. Or I'm sure in one of the cots..."

"And paper. I have no paper." Cyrek suddenly grinned - he, a Steward, with nothing for writing messages! It seemed terribly funny. "Shards, this is a mess."

"That it is," Daigoro said giving the steward a squeeze on his shoulder, trying to smile, though he couldn't quite see the humor in it all. "All right, I will get to work then."

"Yes. Work," Cyrek said vaguely. He needed to find paper, and a pen.
And check on Mariss to make sure that she was still all right. Once there were dragonmen here he could send her to a Weyr, where she'd be safe. Or another Hold. Why hadn't he thought of that before? The wind changed then, carrying with it the warm scent of spring mixed with the smoke and charred stench that wafted off the remains of the Hold.

That was why. It was hard to think with death so close by.

Last updated on the March 10th 2006

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Permanence (3): A Change in the Wind