me.”
“There is provision in the Charter,” Paulin began.
Jamson of the High Reaches stared with wide and disbelieving eyes at Paulin.
“Only if he believes in the Charter . . .” Bastom said.
“Oh, Chalkin believes in the Charter all right,” Paulin said sardonically. “The patent conferring the title of ‘Lord Holder’ on the original major northern stake-holders is what gives his line the right to hold. And he’s already used the Charter to substantiate his autonomous position. I wonder if he also knows the penalty for failing to prepare his hold. That constitutes a major breach of the trust . . .”
“Who trusts Chalkin?” G’don asked.
“. . . the trust that holders rest in the Lord of their hold in return for their labor.”
“Ha!” said Bridgely. “I don’t think much of his holders either. Useless lot on the whole. Most of ’em kicked out of other holds for poor management or plain laziness.”
“Bitra’s badly managed, too. Generally we have to return a full half of his tithings,” M’shall said. “Half the grain is moldy, the timber unseasoned, and hides improperly cured and often rancid. It’s a struggle every quarter to receive decent supplies from him.”
“Really?” Paulin said, jotting notes down. “I hadn’t realized he shorted you on tithes.”
M’shall shrugged. “Why should you know? It’s our problem. We keep at him. We’ll have to keep at him over this, too, you know. Can’t let him get away with a total disregard for the upcoming emergency. Not every holder in Bitra’s useless, you know, Bridgely.”
Bridgely shrugged. “Good apples in every basket as well as bad. But I’d really hate to have to cope with the problem come springtime and Thread falls. Benden’s too near Bitra for my peace of mind.”
“So what is the penalty for what Chalkin’s doing? Or, rather, not doing?” Franco asked.
“Impeachment,” Paulin said flatly. “Impeachment!” Jamson was aghast. “I didn’t know—” “Article Fourteen, Jamson,” Paulin said. “Dereliction of Duty by Lord Holder. Can you give me a printout on that, Clisser? Perhaps we all should have our memory refreshed on that point.”
“Certainly,” and the Head of the College made a note in his folder. “In your hands tomorrow.”
“So your system’s still working?” Tashvi asked. “Copies of the most important official documents were made in quantity by my predecessor,” Clisser replied with a relieved smile. “I’ve a list if you need any handwritten but legible.”
Paulin cleared his throat, calling them to order. “So, my Lord Holders, should we proceed against Chalkin?”
“You’ve heard him. What option do we have?” M’shall wanted to know, glancing about the table.
“Now, wait a minute,” Jamson began, scowling. “I’d want to have incontrovertible proof of his inefficiency as a Lord Holder as well as his failure to respond to this emergency. I mean, impeachment’s an extreme step.”
“Yes, and Chalkin’ll do everything he can to slide out of it,” Bastom said cynically.
“Surely there’s a trial procedure for such a contingency?” Jamson asked, looking anxiously about. “You certainly can’t act without allowing him the chance to respond to any charges.”
“In the matter of impeachment I believe that a unanimous agreement of all major holders and leaders is sufficient to deprive him of his position,” Paulin said.
“Are you sure?” Jamson asked.
“If he isn’t, I am,” Bridgely said, bringing one fist down firmly on the table. His spouse, Lady Jane, nodded her head emphatically. “I haven’t wanted to bring it up in a Council before—” Bridgely began.
“He’s very difficult to confront at the best of times,” Irene said, setting her lips in a thin line of frustrations long borne.
Bridgely nodded sharply in her direction and continued. “He’s come as near to bending, or breaking for that matter, what few laws we do have on Pern.