Free The Renegades of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Page A

down on his luck, and that quick and strong . . . she wished she had not promised to accompany the herder.
    Then, because she knew such courtesies were expected at a Gather even between new acquaintances, she bought a second round of wine. Drink made a man unwary. She also made certain as she dropped a halfmark in the vintner’s wine-stained hand that the herder saw that she was well marked herself.
    She bought several more slabs. “For my nooning,” she told the herder, who then assured her that he would provide her with that meal.
    “I thought you said we’d be at your croft by the moonset,” she said, giving him a quick stare.
    “To be sure, to be sure,” the herder hastily agreed. He said no more as she folded the meat into the pocket of the waterskin.
    But she had caught a note in his voice, an air about him, that she distrusted, though she was quick enough not to give him any clue of her suspicion. He bought them both more wine, and she let most of hers leak out of her cup while she pretended to match him sip for sip. Winking at Thella, he paid the vintner to fill his travel bottle. She was beginning to find him tedious indeed.
    Well, no one was likely to miss him when she took him out, so she set off with him, leaving the Gather site, passing the encampment which by then was nearly as merry as the square, and joining the wide track by the river, which sparkled in the light of Timor Moon. Belior, the speedier moon, was just beginning to rise. Soon the way would be as bright as daylight and considerably kinder to the eye.
    They had gone along the track for some minutes before senses sharpened by the adversity of the last months told Thella that they were being followed. They were well beyond even Igen’s own beastholds and the cots that ranged on either side of the main Hold. There were no travel lanterns in either direction anymore. She judged the follower to be on their left, taking advantage of the slope and the sparse groundcover.
    “What a magnificent night!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out and swiveling on one heel so that she got a good circling turn. Yes, there was someone to their left about four lengths behind them.
    “Yes, yes,” the herder agreed. “And Belior just rising. We must hurry.”
    “Why?” Thella demanded, deliberately acting contentious, as if she were slightly inebriated from all the wine he thought she had drunk. “We’ve made a good Gather, I’ve new boots”—she slurred her speech—“and if I hadn’t so far to go, I’d’ve stayed longer with such good company. Whoops!” She feigned a stumble on the stony track. As she rose, she came up with her belt knife shoved up one sleeve and a smooth stone in the other hand.
    “Easy now,” the herder said, ranging himself on her right side, hands outstretched as if to support her. He spoke more loudly than he needed, and she knew it was not the wine that caused it.
    Ahead of them a rocky spur jutted out, causing the track to veer back toward the river. So, someone thought they could drop her. Well, she would see about that.
    They were in the shadow of the shell when she heard the faint scrape of shoe in sand. Every sense alert, she waited a fraction of a moment longer, then grabbed the herder and yanked him over just as a body hurtled through the air, dagger flashing in the moonlight. She grinned as the herder cried out once, the assailant’s knife slicing his throat. Then she acted, her own knife on the nape of the attacker’s neck, pricking his skin as she shoved a knee in his back and pushed his head down, half smothering him in his victim’s cloak and travel bag.
    “Don’t!” a muted voice cried. Slowly he held out his knife hand, letting the dripping blade fall to the ground.
    “Easy now. Don’t make me nervous,” she said, roughening her voice. She grabbed his wrist and, when he made no resistance, flipped his arm back and up, twisting it tight against his shoulderblades. She could feel the thick muscles