“Please understand, Holder Toric,” N’ton began in a slightly rueful tone, “that I was not at the time concerned with anything other than finding Ramoth’s egg, but I noticed some mounds along that great inland lake that cannot be natural. I heard, from someone,” he said, jiggling his hand to indicate a faulty memory that Toric did not believe for an instant, “that the new zinc and copper deposits you’ve been working might have been worked a long time ago.”
No, it was not compensation he was getting, Toric reflected. No matter how smoothly their ideas were presented, his full cooperation was expected. Those bloody Oldtimers and that wretched queen egg had done him more damage than he had supposed! But he could make certain not to lose so much as a fingerlength of land he already held, or the riches above and below the soil. He also knew the place N’ton must have seen. Sharra had reported it to him the previous Turn. He had marked the huge lake and the three rivers that flowed from it on his private map. He must be very careful. He must seem to cooperate while sending reliable men and women to hold what ought to be his.
“There’s always been that rumor,” he said skeptically.
“More than a rumor,” Sebell said in that quiet unemphasized voice of his. “There are some ambiguous Fragments among the Harper Hall Records that indicate that the Northern Continent is the more recent settlement.”
“Recent?” Toric let out an incredulous guffaw.
“I believe you established a prosperous hold in ancient ruins on the western bank of Island River,” Sebell said.
“I wouldn’t call such old stonework ‘recent.’ ”
“May I make it plain, Toric?” Sebell said, leaning forward, his manner earnest and subtly ingratiating. “No one contests your holding. But we would very much like to extend our knowledge about our ancestors. It becomes a matter of intense Craft pride, you know. We’re supposed to keep the Records of Pern.” He gestured again to the distance-viewer Toric was fondling possessively. “We can learn a lot from the past that will assist us in our future.”
“I wholeheartedly agree, Master Harper,” Toric replied as earnestly as he could when he saw how little option he had.
“Naturally, I’d be glad to convey you to that place I have in mind, Holder Toric,” N’ton said with a boyish eagerness that Toric found puzzling.
But he accepted the offer graciously. With so much to plan and to manage, he had been forced to let his kin do the explorations. Hurried trips to Big Lagoon or Central Hold, and one sail down the Island River, had given him only a shallow glimpse of what he held. If he got on good terms with N’ton, who knew what else he might see? Dragonriders had an unfair advantage over any holder: quick, sure movement from place to place.
What was it that rascally journeyman had quoted to him before he left? “A dragon can’t go between to a place he’s never seen. Likewise a man can’t hold what he hasn’t beheld.” He caressed the distance-viewer again.
He rose then, pretending a geniality he did not feel. “I’ve a fair map of the area we’ve managed, over the Turns, to investigate afoot. It really is a relief to me to have a proper Weyr and good relations with my Northern neighbors.”
The morning after his arrival, Master Robinton was up early, to the disgust of his young friends who had enjoyed the evening’s festivities. Despite the restrictions imposed on him by Brekke, Menolly, and Sharra, he was determined to extend their knowledge of the south in all directions. For that purpose, he convened a meeting of Jaxom, Piemur, Sharra, and Menolly.
The Harper’s particular interest was in finding further evidence of the original inhabitants of the Southern Continent. He mentioned not only the ancient iron mine that Toric had found, but some unnatural formation that he himself had spotted with N’ton. Piemur grinned, betting with himself that Toric did not know about that. Had it happened when Master Robinton had voyaged with Menolly to Southern for personal talks with Toric?
The Southern holder had gone to Benden Weyr shortly after, and returned very pleased with himself. Thinking of the houses at Paradise River, Piemur vowed that he would speak to the Master Harper on that point as soon as he could get him alone.
Master Robinton’s plans called for a dual attack, both ground and aerial. He was adamant and enthusiastic as he ordered them to begin, once Jaxom had been pronounced fit by Master Oldive, who was due to arrive that afternoon. Piemur, because of his experience, would be in nominal charge, an arrangement to which Jaxom had no objections. Jaxom would fly Ruth ahead each day to settle a new camp and do an aerial survey, while the girls and Piemur followed on foot for more detailed examinations.
The young people were quite content to fall in with his scheme, happy to do anything that would keep Master Robinton pleasantly occupied while his strength returned. Master Oldive, after examining the Harper, lectured them on how to help Robinton in his recuperation. Despite his enthusiasm, the Masterharper was still weak and vulnerable to another attack, so they promised to do all they could to protect him from himself. Jaxom, however, was declared fully recovered.
Despite the good intentions of his nurses, Master Robinton was full of projects, all of which he fully expected to see carried out. He was especially excited when Mastersmith Fandarel and Master Wansor arrived from the Telgar Smithcrafthall with Wansor’s new distance-viewer, the most recent product of the Starsmith’s experimentation. It was a tube as long as Fandarel’s arm and thick enough so that he needed two hands to surround it; carefully encased in leather, it had a curious eyepiece set not on its end, where Piemur thought it ought to be, but on its side.
Wansor, in an explanation that explained very little to his rapt audience, told them that the distance-viewer was designed somewhat along the same principles as the ancient instrument, found in one of the unused rooms of Benden Weyr, that made small things appear larger.
That very night a viewing took place, the instrument mounted on a frame erected on a high point of the stony eastern tip of the cove. And what they learned in their first clear view of the Dawn Sisters made, in Piemur’s eyes, the discovery of Paradise River insignificant. For those stars were no stars at all! They were man-made objects—and very likely they were artifacts of those mysterious Southern ancestors. Perhaps they were even the actual vehicles that had brought those ancestors to Pern in the beginning. And when Piemur got his turn to gaze through the device, he felt his heart leap at the splendor he glimpsed.
12: Southern Continent, PP 15.10.19
“YOUNG LORD JAXOM, with Piemur, Sharra, and Menolly, has found a vast settlement, buried under volcanic ash and dirt,” D’ram announced excitedly. He had brought the news to Toric immediately, a sign of the growing mutual respect between Weyrleader and Southern Holder.
Toric hid his dismay as he read through the lengthy message that D’ram had brought from Master Robinton. He had swallowed his chagrin the previous month when he learned that the cove had been claimed for the Masterharper. One small cove Toric could allow without regret, however beautiful the place was rumored to be. With the help of Piemur’s maps and more eager dragonrider assistance than he really wanted, he had made other advantageous discoveries. For the first time, he had been able to fly over a good deal of his own holding—and he could begin to appreciate how large the continent was. But it had also been made tacitly clear to him that he could not have it all. The latest discovery made clear that “one small cove” was the thin edge of a big wedge.
He would have liked to digest the news without the presence of the new Masterharper, Sebell, but they had been trying to reach an understanding about which and how many new settlers Toric would permit in his hold. He was going to have to remind the Benden Weyrleaders of the promise made to him two and a half Turns before—and hold them to it. Aware that Sebell was watching his reactions, he expressed amazement at the new discovery.
“I shall, of course, convey you there myself,” D’ram replied, looking more like an eager weyrling than a seasoned leader. “I saw that mountain peak when I was in Cove Hold. I saw i
t, and never realized how significant it was.”
“ ‘When man came to Pern, he established a good Hold in the South,’ ” Sebell murmured, his eyes shining almost reverently, “ ‘but found it necessary to move north to shield.’ ”
Toric snorted at such ambiguous nonsense, although he had to admit that the first part of the Fragment did seem to be true. Had they held the entire South? “I’ll get my flying gear, D’ram.”
“Oh, no, not now, Toric,” D’ram said, grinning. “It’s late in the night there now. I assure you, we shall leave here in an appropriate time to arrive when the interested persons have gathered tomorrow morning. But I’ve matters to organize. And so must you. I’m as eager to go as you, Holder, believe me.” D’ram’s smile faded as he saw the concern on the Masterharper’s face. “Sebell?”
“I just don’t like so much excitement for my Master. He’s not fully recovered.”
“He has Menolly in constant attendance, as well as Sharra,” D’ram assured him. “They won’t let him tire himself.”
Sebell gave an uncharacteristic snort. “You don’t know Master Robinton as I do, D’ram. He’ll wear himself out, puzzling through the whys and wherefores of this.”
“It’ll do him good, Sebell,” D’ram replied. “Keep his mind occupied. Not that he would interfere with your Mastering, but an—” He changed word midthought. “An older man needs interests that involve him in life. Don’t worry, Sebell.”
“At least about your Master’s health,” Toric said sardonically. “He’s got both Menolly and Sharra, hasn’t he?”
D’ram realized that his mention of Toric’s sister had not been as circumspect as it might have been, just as he also remembered that Menolly was Sebell’s wife. “I’ll leave you to the reading and collect you in six hours’ time.”
“Isn’t there a lad from Ruatha Hold in this new batch of dimwits?” Toric asked Sebell when D’ram had left. He wanted to settle the latest arrivals immediately.
“Yes.” Sebell skimmed over the careful lists he had helped Toric make of abilities and ambitions. “Dorse: comes with a good recommendation from Brand, steward of the Ruatha Hold.”
“I don’t remember him offhand.”
“I knew him from Ruatha,” Sebell began in a tone that Toric was coming to identify as discreet. “You can trust Brand’s warranty. Says he does well if overseen.”
“Anyone does well overseen,” Toric said in a derisive tone. “What I need is someone who can initiate and carry through.”
“There’s a very competent man, Denol—came here from Boll on Lady Marella’s recommendation. Brought many of his family with him. Crop pickers by occupation, but they’ve settled in here well and obey him implicitly…”
“Ah, Denol. Yes, I know the man you mean. Well, then, give him a gaggle of these Northern louts, have him take his kin with him to that new holding at Great Bay, and we’ll see what he makes of it.”
“Send Dorse with him?”
“Not yet. I’ve something else in mind for that lad.”
As the bronze Tiroth emerged from between just east of Two-Faced Mountain, the volcano dominating the plain on which the settlement had been discovered, Toric tugged at D’ram’s sleeve and inscribed circles with his gloved finger. He wanted a good look around. Clearly he was not alone: two dragons were still airborne, and four more sat on the ground below, Ruth’s white hide standing out among them. Groups of people were wandering aimlessly around, and Toric wondered just how many had been informed of the amazing discovery. A positive rainbelt of fire-lizards, soaring and diving, was exulting in a cascade of sound that Toric could hear even through his padded helmet as a swarm swooped in greeting to Tiroth.
He bitterly resented the fact that the news had been spread with such a lavish hand. Southern had been his! It was enough that he had had to spend much of the past month delegating holdings to Northerners who would probably kill themselves with either enthusiasm in the heat or their ignorance of Southern dangers. He had been forced to recognize that the Southern Continent was not his to dispose of. But was it really Benden’s, either?
He shook his head. One man could only Hold so much. Fax’s depredations in the north had proven that. He had not made Fax’s greatest mistake, controlling by fear. Greed, he knew, served as well for holdless men and women. But such speculations were useless at the moment, so he concentrated on the truly awe-inspiring panorama that spread below him as Tiroth circled slowly over an incredible sweep of meadow, broader and deeper than any expanse Toric had seen before.
The mountain dominated the scene. Its eastern lip had blown out, and the three smaller volcanoes crouching on its southeastern flank had also erupted at some time. Lava had flowed down, south toward the rolling plains. Was that what his fire-lizards had been screaming about recently? Toric was rarely aware of his dreams, but lately he had recalled vivid ones, totally incomprehensible. A man should not be plagued by fire-lizards in his sleep—yet there he was circling over the very site that matched their mental images.
He had no doubt that the plain at the foot of the volcanoes had once been inhabited. The morning sun threw outlines in bold relief. Such outlines could not have been the result of natural forces. The mounds, with straight lines setting them apart from one another, were formed in squares and rectangles. There was row upon row, square upon square of mounds, some large, some small; those nearest the lava flow had collapsed, proving that not even the ancients had been impervious to the planet’s restless internal forces. Rather stupid, Toric thought, to have built out in the open, totally vulnerable to Thread and volcanic eruptions.
D’ram looked back at him with an unspoken query, and reluctantly Toric nodded. He was honed with eagerness to see what Benden proposed to do about the discovery. And to see who else had gathered to view this wonder. Toric was not often impressed, but today he was awed.
Tiroth deposited them on the plain, not far from the distinctive figure of Mastersmith Fandarel, towering above the diminutive Benden Weyrwoman. Toric strode toward them, nodding to Masterminer Nicat, Mastersmith Fandarel, F’nor, and N’ton.
As he greeted F’lar and Lessa, he glanced sharply over at the small knot of younger folk standing beyond, noticing that Menolly and Piemur acknowledged his presence. He decided the tall young man standing by Sharra must be Jaxom, Ruathan Lord Holder, still a boy, much too young and insignificant for his sister. He would put a stop to that immediately—as soon as he was through dealing with Benden’s encroachment on his continent. He returned his attention to F’lar.
“Actually, Toric,” F’lar was saying, “it was young Jaxom who made this discovery, along with Menolly, Piemur, and your sister, Sharra.”
“And quite a discovery, it is, too!” Toric replied, seething inside. Smoothly he steered the discussion to the question of the ruins themselves. Soon he found himself caught up in the excitement as, shovel and picks in hand, he joined the others in attacking the mounds.
With its thick grass cover and dry, grayish soil the ground was not easy to break, but Toric, working alongside Mastersmith Fandarel, soon made good headway. The Southern holder was in excellent condition, but quickly found that he had to extend himself to keep up with the indefatigable and powerful Craftmaster. Toric had heard about the man’s energy: now he believed it. He used the infrequent rests he permitted himself to observe the impudent young scut who had kept Sharra away so long. Weyrless lordling boy, he thought. A few scowls would send him scurrying.
The next time he took a breather, he saw that Jaxom’s runt of a white dragon and some of the fire-lizards had joined in the digging. Dirt was being shifted at an amazing rate. He called his own fire-lizards to him just as Ramoth, Benden’s proud queen, began to assist at the small mound that Lessa had chosen to excavate. Toric redoubled his efforts beside Fandarel.
Lessa and F’lar, each working at separate mounds, were the first to reap any results of their hard work, and everyone rushed to see. Toric followed the crowd, but he was confident that all
the digging would prove to be wasted effort. All previous evidence suggested that the ancients would have stripped everything before they left their settlement behind. He took only one look into each dragondug trench. What he saw was the same rocklike substance that had been used in the mine building he had found, except that in F’lar’s an amber panel was set in the curve of the mound. Uninterested, he stood to one side while the others argued about what to do next. Finally the Mastersmith took charge: they would unite their efforts and concentrate on Lessa’s mound.
Toric was disgusted that people he had admired should be so caught up by vain hopes. But he found that he, too, could not turn his back on the project, even supposing he was able to talk D’ram into leaving. There was always the chance, despite all his previous disappointments, that there was something left behind, and he could not miss that. It would show him what to look for in the other mounds Sharra and Hamian had discovered, the ones whose existence had not been reported to the world at large.
Late in the day a door was discovered, and amid much excitement, the mound was entered. And, as luck—good or bad, Toric wondered—would have it, Toric was the one who found the strange spoon, made of a smooth, clear, and incredibly strong nonmetal substance. Lessa was thrilled, and as they all enthusiastically trooped out to excavate another mound, Toric wished he had not encouraged them. Night had fallen before they quit for the day and he could make his escape. When Lessa invited him to join them overnight at Cove Hold, he summoned up as much politeness as he could manage and declined, calling for D’ram to give him a ride home.
That night Piemur composed a message for Jayge and Ara. With all the new wonders of the excavation to fully occupy the Halls and Weyrs, he was more sanguine about the couple’s safety. If they had found the only remaining settlement of the ancients, he would have felt compelled to mention it, out of Hall loyalty, to Master Robinton. But there was plenty of time for that—he could wait until the excitement about Two-Faced Mountain died down. In his message, Piemur told Jayge briefly that a huge settlement of great antiquity had been found and that he would try to visit them again soon. He sent Farli with the note.
The Renegades of Pern (dragon riders of pern) Page 27
