The Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  “He wants you now!”

  “He’ll get me a lot sooner if you go tell him I’m coming. Now, get out of here!”

  Mirrim gave him one more long hard look, brushed past Sharra and stomped up the stairs to the kitchen.

  “You are my true friend, Sharra,” Jaxom said. “Mirrim irritates me so! Menolly told me that once Path had flown, she’d improve. I haven’t noticed any sign.”

  Sharra was peering at Ruth, who was still fast asleep, not even an eyelid twitching.

  “I know what you’re going to ask . . .” Jaxom said with a laugh, holding up a hand to forestall her words. “No, nary a dream.”

  “Nary a fire-lizard either.” She smiled at him, shaking her head and retying her hair thong. “You were smart to come here and rest. There’s none up at the Hall. Fire-lizards popping in and out, from Cove to the plateau, nearly hysterical! No one can make any sense out of what ours say or the Southern ones tell them. And it’s not as if some of the Southern ones hadn’t known we were here.”

  “And Master Robinton thinks Ruth can sort it all out?”

  “He just might.” She regarded the sleeping white dragon thoughtfully. “Poor darling, he’s exhausted with all he’s done today.” Her rich voice was a tender croon and Jaxom could have wished her words included him. She saw him looking at her and flushed a little. “I’m so glad we got there first!”

  “So’m I!”

  “Jaxom!”

  At Mirrim’s shout, she moved back hastily.

  “Scorch her!”

  He grabbed Sharra’s hand and ran with her toward the Hold, nor did he relinquish her hand when they entered the main Hall.

  “Was I asleep an afternoon or a whole day?” Jaxom asked her in an undertone as he saw maps, charts, sketches and diagrams pinned on the walls and propped up on tables.

  The Harper, his back to them, was bending over the long dining table. Piemur was occupied in sketching something; Menolly was looking at whatever absorbed the Harper, and Mirrim stood at one side, bored and irritated. Fire-lizards peered down from the crossbeams. Every now and then, one would flick out of the room and another would swoop in the window to take its place. An aroma of roasting fish filled the air as a sea breeze began to clear away the day’s heat.

  “Brekke’s going to be furious with us,” Jaxom said to Sharra.

  “With us? Why? We’re keeping him completely occupied at a sedentary task.”

  “Stop mumbling, Sharra. Jaxom come over here and add your mark to what the others have told me,” Robinton said, skewing his body about to frown at them.

  “Sir, Piemur, Menolly and Sharra have done a lot more exploring than I have.”

  “Yes, but they don’t have Ruth and his way with fire-lizards. Can he help us sort out their conflicting and confusing images?”

  “I’m certainly willing to help, Master Robinton,” Jaxom said, “but I think you might be asking more of Ruth and those fire-lizards than they can do.”

  Master Robinton straightened up. “If you’d explain?”

  “Granted that the fire-lizards seem to share violent mutual experiences like . . .” Jaxom pointed in the direction of the Red Star, “and Canth’s fall, and now, of course, the mountain. But these are all momentous events . . . not everyday routine.”

  “You did locate D’ram here in the Cove,” Robinton said.

  “And lucky at that. If I’d asked about men first, we’d never have got an answer,” Jaxom replied with a grin.

  “There was scarcely more detail to go on in your first venture.”

  “Sir?” Jaxom stared in stunned amazement because the Harper’s drawl had been so deceptively mild, with just a slight emphasis on “first,” yet the implication had been unmistakable; somehow the Harper knew Jaxom had rescued the egg. Jaxom shot an accusing glance at Menolly, whose expression was slightly perplexed as if the Harper’s subtle reference surprised her, too.

  “Come to think of it, I had much the same information from Zair,” Master Robinton continued smoothly, “but not the wit to interpret it as cleverly as you did. My compliments, however belated,” he inclined his head and went on as swiftly as if this were just some passing matter, “on the way you handled the feat. Now, if you and Ruth can turn your fine perceptions to today’s problem, we can save ourselves endless hours of vain effort. As before, Jaxom, time is against us. This Plateau,” Robinton tapped the sketches before him, “cannot remain a secret. It is the heritage of everyone on Pern—”

  “But it’s in the east, Master Robinton, which is to be dragonrider land,” Mirrim said, her tone almost belligerent.

  “Of course it is, my dear child,” the Harper said soothingly. “Now if Ruth could charm the fire-lizards enough to focus their memories . . .”

  “I’ll certainly try, Master Robinton,” Jaxom said when the Harper regarded him expectantly, “but you know how they are about . . .” and he pointed skyward. “They’re nearly as incoherent about the eruption.”

  “As Sharra put it, the dream eye is unfocused,” Menolly said, grinning at her friend.

  “My point exactly,” the Harper said, bringing the flat of his hand down hard on the table. “If Jaxom, through Ruth, can sharpen the focus, maybe those of us with fire-lizards can get distinct and helpful images from their minds, instead of this confusion of perspective.”

  “Why?” Jaxom asked. “We know the mountain erupted. We know the settlement had to be abandoned, that the survivors came north . . .”

  “There’s a lot we don’t know, and we might find some answers, perhaps even some equipment left behind, just as the enlarging viewer was left in those deserted rooms at Benden Weyr. Look how that instrument has improved our understanding of our world and the heavens above us. Maybe even some models of those fascinating machines the old Records mention.” He pulled the sketches over the map. “There are a lot of mounds, great and small, long and short. Some would have been for sleeping, storage, general living: some quite likely workhalls . . .”

  “How do we even know that the ancients did things the way we do?” Mirrim demanded, “storage, and workhalls and such.”

  “Because, my dear child, neither human nature nor human needs have changed since the earliest Records we have.”

  “That doesn’t mean they left anything in the mounds when they left the Plateau,” Mirrim said, frankly dubious.

  “The dreams have been consistent in some details,” Robinton said with more patience for Mirrim’s obstructionism than Jaxom would have accorded him. “The fiery mountain, the molten rock and lava raining down. People running . . .” He paused, looking expectantly at the others.

  “People in a panic!” Sharra said. “They wouldn’t have had time to take anything with them. Or very little!”

  “They could have come back after the worst of the eruption was over,” Menolly said. “Remember that time is western Tillek—”

  “That’s precisely what I had in mind,” the Harper said, nodding approval.

  “But, Master,” Menolly went on, confused, “the ash spewed out of that volcano for weeks. The valley was eventually level with ash,” she made a flat gesture with her hand, “and you could see nothing of what had been there for the debris.”

  “The prevailing wind on that plateau is southeast, and strong,” Piemur said, and his gesture was one of sweeping clear. “Didn’t you notice how strong it is?”

  “That’s precisely why something was left for us to see from the air,” the Harper said. “I know it’s just an off-chance, Jaxom, but my feeling is that the eruption caught the ancients completely unaware. Why, I can’t comprehend. Surely people who could hold the Dawn Sisters in the sky in a stationary position for who knows how many Turns ought to be wise enough to identify an active volcano. My surmise is that the eruption was spontaneous, totally unexpected. The people were caught going about their daily tasks in cot, hold, crafthall. If you can get Ruth to focus those disparate views, perhaps we could identify which of the mounds were important from the nu
mbers of people coming from it, or them.

  “I am not able to get to the Plateau to do my own exploring, but nothing prevents my brain from suggesting possibilities of what I’d do if I were there.”

  “We’ll be your hands and legs,” Jaxom offered.

  “They’ll be your eyes,” Menolly added, gesturing to the fire-lizards on the crossbeams.

  “I thought you’d see it my way,” the Harper said, beaming fondly on them all.

  “When would you like us to try?” Jaxom asked.

  “Would tomorrow be too soon?” the Harper asked plaintively.

  “All right by me. Piemur, Menolly, Sharra, I’ll need you and your fire-lizards!”

  “I can arrange to come, too,” Mirrim said.

  Jaxom caught Sharra’s closed expression and realized that Mirrim’s presence would be as unwelcome to her as to himself.

  “I don’t think that would work, Mirrim. Path would scare the Southern fire-lizards away!”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Jaxom,” Mirrim replied, brushing aside that argument.

  “He’s right, Mirrim. Look out in the Cove right now. Not a single fire-lizard that isn’t banded,” Menolly said. “They all disappear the minute they see any other dragon but Ruth.”

  “It’s ridiculous. I have three of the best-trained fire-lizards in Pern . . .”

  “I must agree with Jaxom,” the Harper said, smiling with sincere apology to the Benden dragongirl. “And, though I quite agree that yours are undoubtedly the best-trained fire-lizards in Pern, we don’t have time for the Southern ones to get used to Path.”

  “Path needn’t be in evidence—”

  “Mirrim, the decision has been made,” Robinton said firmly, with no trace of a smile now.

  “Well, that’s plain enough. Since I’m not needed here . . .” She stalked out of the hall.

  Jaxom noticed the Harper’s gaze following her, and he felt acutely embarrassed by her display of temperament. He could see that Menolly was also disturbed.

  “Is her Path proddy today?” the Harper asked Menolly quietly.

  “I don’t think so, Master Robinton.”

  Zair chittered on the Harper’s shoulder and his expression changed to chagrin. “Brekke’s come back. I was supposed to rest.”

  He half-ran out of the hall, turning briefly at the door to put his finger to his lips as he quickly ducked into his room. Piemur, his expression bland, took a step sideways to fill the space so precipitously vacated. Fire-lizards zipped into the room. Jaxom spotted Berd and Grall.

  “Master Robinton really should have rested,” Menolly said, nervously twitching sketches across the table surface.

  “He wasn’t exerting himself,” Piemur pointed out. “This sort of thing is bread and meat to him. He was going out of his skull with boredom and with Brekke fussing over him when you weren’t. It isn’t as if he was up on the Plateau, digging about . . .”

  “I told you, Brekke,” F’nor said, his voice carrying from the porch as he and his weyrmate mounted the last step, “you worried for no reason at all.”

  “Menolly, how long has Master Robinton been resting?” Brekke asked, coming right up to the table.

  “Half a skinful,” Piemur replied, grinning as he pointed to the wine on the back of the chair, “and he went without a protest.”

  Brekke gave the young harper a long and searching look. “I wouldn’t trust you for a moment, Harper Piemur.” Then she looked at Jaxom. “Have you been here all afternoon, too?”

  “Me? No indeed. Ruth and I slept until Mirrim woke us.”

  “Where is Mirrim?” F’nor asked, glancing about.

  “She’s outside somewhere,” replied Menolly in a voice so devoid of tone that Brekke glanced at her apprehensively.

  “Has Mirrim been . . .” Brekke pressed her lips in a thin, disapproving line. “Drat that girl!” She looked up at Berd, and he immediately darted from the hall.

  F’nor was bending over the maps now, shaking his head with pleased surprise.

  “You lot work like twenty, don’t you?” He grinned at all of them.

  “Well, this part of the twenty has done quite enough work,” Piemur said, stretching his arms until his joints cracked. “I want a swim, to wash the sweat from my brow, and the ink from my fingers. Anyone coming?”

  Jaxom’s acceptance was as enthusiastic as the two girls’ and, with F’nor’s jocular complaint about being deserted ringing in their ears, they all made for the beach. Jaxom managed to grab Menolly by the hand as Sharra and Piemur pelted around the bend.

  “Menolly, how did Master Robinton know?”

  She’d been laughing as they raced down the path, but now her eyes darkened.

  “I didn’t tell him, Jaxom. I didn’t have to. I don’t know when he figured it out. But the facts all point to you.”

  “How?”

  She ticked off reasons on her fingers. “To start with, a dragon had to return the egg. Only way. Preferably a dragon who was totally familiar with Benden Hatching Ground. The dragon had to be ridden by someone who wanted earnestly to return that egg, and who could find it!” The last qualification seemed to be the most important. “More people will figure out it was you now.”

  “Why now?”

  “No one in the Southern Weyr returned Ramoth’s egg.” Menolly smiled up at Jaxom, and put her hand to his cheek, giving him an affectionate slap. “I was so proud of you, Jaxom, when I realized what you and Ruth had managed to do! Prouder even because you didn’t noise it about. And it was so critical just then for Benden to believe that a Southern rider had relented and restored Ramoth’s egg . . .”

  “Hey, Jaxom, Menolly, c’mon!” Piemur’s roar distracted them.

  “Race you?” Menolly said, turning and dashing for the beach.

  They weren’t to have much time for their swim. Master Idarolan’s ship reappeared, the blue full-catch pennant flying from its foremast. Brekke called them to help gut enough fish for the evening’s meal. She wasn’t certain how many of those now at the Plateau would return to Cove Hold for dinner but cooked fish could be served in rolls the next day, she said, cheerfully ignoring the protests. She sent Mirrim off with supplies for Master Wansor and N’ton, who planned to make an evening of star-watching or, as Piemur said irreverently, the Dusk-Dawn and Midnight Sisters.

  “And what do you bet Mirrim tries to stay there the night, too, to see if Path does keep away the Southern fire-lizards?” Piemur asked, a slightly malicious grin on his face.

  “Mirrim does have well-trained fire-lizards,” Menolly said.

  “And they sound just like her when they scold everyone else’s friends,” Piemur added.

  “Now that’s not fair,” Menolly said. “Mirrim’s a good friend of mine . . .”

  “And as her best friend you ought to explain to her that she can’t manage everyone on Pern!”

  As Menolly prepared to take umbrage, dragons began popping into the air over the Cove, and with their bugling no one could hear anything else.

  The dragons were not the only ones in good moods. An atmosphere of intense excitement and expectation pervaded the evening.

  Jaxom was grateful for his afternoon’s nap, for he wouldn’t have missed that evening. All seven Weyrleaders were there, D’ram with some private news for F’lar’s ears about the affairs in the Southern Weyr, and N’ton, who stayed only part of the evening since he was sky-watching with Wansor. There were also Mastercraftsmen Nicat, Fandarel, Idarolan, Robinton, and Lord Lytol.

  To Jaxom’s surprise, the three Oldtimer Weyrleaders, G’narish of Igen, R’mart of Telgar and D’ram now of Southern, were less interested in what might lie hidden in the settlement than N’ton, T’bor, G’dened and F’lar. The Oldtimers were far more eager to explore the broad lands and the distant range than dig to unearth their past.

  “That is past,” R’mart of Telgar said. “Past, dead, and very much buried. We have to live in the present, a trick, mind you, F’lar, that you taught us.” He grinne
d to remove any sting from what he said. “Besides, wasn’t it you, F’lar, who suggested that it’s useless to muddle our brains thinking how the ancients did things . . . that it’s better to build for ourselves what is useful for our times and Turn?”

  F’lar grinned, amused to have his words returned. “I suppose I’m hoping that we’ll find undamaged records somewhere, filling in the holes in what came down to us. Maybe even another useful item like the enlarger viewer we discovered in Benden Weyr.”

  “Look where that got us!” R’mart exclaimed, whooping with laughter.

  “Undamaged instruments would be invaluable,” Fandarel said, very solemn.

  “We might just find you some, Master Robinton,” Nicat said thoughtfully, “because only one section of that settlement sustained much damage.” He had everyone’s attention. “Look,” he drew out a sketch of the general site, “the flow of lava is to the south. Here, here, and here, the cones of the mountains broke, and the flow followed the slope of the land, away from much of the settlement. The prevailing wind also carried the ash away from the place. From the little digging I did today, I found only a thin layer of volcanic debris.”

  “Is there only this one settlement? When they had a whole world to occupy?” asked R’mart.

  “We’ll find the others tomorrow,” the Harper assured them, “won’t you, Jaxom?”

  “Sir?” Jaxom rose, half-startled by his unexpected inclusion in the main discussion.

  “No, to be serious, R’mart, you may be quite correct,” F’lar said, leaning forward across the table. “And we really don’t know if the eruption made the ancients leave the Plateau immediately afterward.”

  “We won’t know anything until we’ve entered one of those mounds and discovered what they left behind, if anything,” N’ton said.

  “Go carefully, Weyrleader,” Master Nicat told N’ton, but his glance took in everyone. “Better still, I’ll send a craftmaster and a few steady journeymen to direct the excavations.”

  “Show the tricks of your craft, eh, Master Nicat,” R’mart said. “We’d better learn a thing or two about mining, right, Masterminer?”