The Renegades of Pern Read Online Free PDF

chores for him. Jayge hated a bully, almost as much as he hated someone who abused animals. And it had been a fair fight: the lad was two Turns older than Jayge and two kilos heavier.
    “I’ll match ye again when we come back, Gardrow,” Jayge cried, and managed to duck out of the saddle as the other boy wheeled his pony, lash swinging above his head for another attempt.
    “Unfair, unfair!” two holder boys yelled.
    That caught Crenden’s attention. He hauled his spirited mount back to his son. “You been fighting again, Jayge?” Crenden did not approve of any of the Lilcamp folk brawling.
    “Me, Father? Do I look like I’ve been fighting?” Jayge concentrated on looking surprised at the question. He had never mastered the air of genuine innocence that his sister could turn on.
    His father gave him one long, undeceived look and held up a scarred, thickened forefinger. “No racing now, Jayge. We’re on the move, and that’s no time for foolery. Steady in the saddle. We’ve a long day ahead of us.” Then Crenden let the runner have his head and moved forward to lead.
    Jayge had to fight down temptation when the holder boys begged him for one last race. “Just down to the ford? No? Then up over the spur trail? You’d be back before your father could miss you.” Even the stakes mentioned were good, but Jayge knew when to obey. He smiled and, with a sigh, turned a deaf ear, even though winning would have ensured him the coveted saddle. Then one of the wagons caught a wheel in the side ditch, and he and Fairex were called to help get it back on the track. When he looked over his shoulder to ask the boys to help, they had already scattered.
    Good-naturedly Jayge looped his towrope through the haul bar on the side of the wagon and urged his sturdy runnerbeast forward. The wheel came free all of a sudden, and clever Fairex danced out of the wagon’s way. Recoiling his rope and knotting it on the worn nub of his saddle horn, Jayge glanced back at Kimmage Hold, impressive in its bluff that overlooked the energetic Keroon River. On the other side the home herds grazed eagerly on the new grass. Sun warmed Jayge’s back, and the familiar creak and rumble of the wagons reminded him that they were moving on to Plains Hold where, he consoled himself, there surely would be someone who would underestimate Fairex. He would have that new saddle the very next time they passed the Platers.
    Ahead of him strode his father’s big mount, leading the way along the track by the riverbank. Jayge settled himself deeper into the saddle, stretching his legs in the stirrups and only then realizing that he would need to lengthen the leathers. He must have grown a half-hand since they pulled into Kimmage Hold. Shards, if he had grown too tall, his father might switch him off Fairex, and Jayge was not sure what his father would have him up on next. Not that any of the Lilcamp runners were slugs, but they would not fool other kids the way Fairex had.
    They had been several hours on the trail and were nearly ready for a nooning stop when the cry went up: “Rider coming fast!” Crenden raised his arm to signal a halt, then swung his big mount around and looked back the way they had come. The messenger, racing after them, was plainly visible.
    “Crenden,” the eldest Kimmage son cried, yanking his runner to a stop. His message came out in gasps. “My father says—come back—all speed. Harper message.” Hauling a scroll out of his belt and thrusting it at Crenden, the boy gulped, his face blanching, eyes wide with fright. “It’s Thread, Crenden. Thread’s falling again!”
    “Harper message? Harper tale!” Crenden began dismissively until he noticed the blue harper seal on the roll.
    “No, really, it’s not a tale, Crenden, it’s truth. Read it yourself! Father said you’d need to believe it. I can’t. I mean, we’ve always been told that there’d never be more Thread. That’s why we didn’t even need Benden Weyr anymore,