‘And let Breide come bouncing up for something to tell Toric?’ The Harper snorted and began to look around, now that his eyes were accustomed to the dim light. Holding his candle high, Piemur took a few steps to his left, then uttered a suppressed ‘yipe!’ of discovery.
‘Your hunch pays off, Master,’ he said, striding to the wall. Candlelight illuminated a group of dusty rectangles pinned there. ‘Maps?’ With a reverent touch, Piemur brushed aside the accumulation of grit and ash to reveal a transparent coating that had protected its treasure for unknown Turns. ‘Maps!’
‘What did they use?’ Master Robinton whispered, softly brushing dust from another. ‘By the First Egg!’ He turned with incredulous disbelief to his journeyman. ‘Not just outlines this time, but names! Landing! They called the Plateau “Landing.”’
‘How original!’
‘Monaco Bay, Cardiff! The biggest volcano is Garben. It’s all here, Piemur.’
‘Even Paradise River!’ Piemur had been following the coastline with his index finger, making a zigzagging trail in the dust as he moved it eastward. ‘Sadrid, Malay River, Boca… and would you look at this, they hadn’t got as far as Southern!’
Zair and Farli flitting back from their own explorations recalled them from their wonder.
‘Quickly, Piemur. See if you can pry the nails up. We mustn’t let Breide find these!’ Robinton had his beltknife out and was working on one of the larger maps. The nails popped easily out. ‘Roll them up. We’ll give them to Zair and Farli to convey for us. Quickly. Take a strip off your shirttail to tie them. It would be premature indeed for Toric to discover what a relatively small portion of Southern he has actually acquired. Then we’ve got to see if there’s anything else important on this site.’
‘Breide was way off up at the other end, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, but he’ll have seen the rodmen leaving without us. He’s a suspicious sort.’
‘I’m amazed that he’s allowed here,’ Piemur said, tying up his three maps.
‘Better the rogue you know,’ the Harper said. ‘Zair! Take this to Cove Hold. Quickly now!’
Zair clutched the tube, as long as the span of one wing, settled it to a balance between his claws, and promptly disappeared. Piemur gave Farli her burden and instructions, and she followed the bronze.
Distantly the harpers heard someone calling them.
‘Let’s see what’s to be seen,’ Master Robinton said in an unnecessary whisper and moved to the door still half ajar.
‘What if there’s more that should be hidden?’ Piemur asked, but he followed.
‘If there is, I’ll think of something.’
They were in a corridor, with doors opening on to it. Quick glances inside each discovered nothing more promising than the usual discarded bits and pieces. At the end of the corridor there was a hall, filled with the debris of what must have been stairs before the collapse of the southern wall and seeping water had destroyed that end of the building. They both heard the unmistakable soft noises of tunnel snakes retreating.
‘Do you think snakes breed in here like hunches, Piemur?’ The Harper held his candle high, craning his neck to see up the stairwell. ‘How unusual! So much of what they built seems indestructible.’
‘Maybe this was a temporary building, something to do with the flying ships.’
‘I wonder what’s up there,’ the Harper said, gesturing for Piemur to add his light. They saw glimpses of white root tendrils and the glisten of wet walls but nothing informative.
‘Master Robinton!’ The strident shout made the Harper wince.
‘Let’s put a brave face on our disappointment, Piemur!’
As they retraced their steps, Piemur noticed a square placard on the door of the room by which they had entered the corridor. It came off easily. He held up his candle to see the usual bold letters, as bright as the day they had been first inscribed.
Breide came stumbling into the room. ‘Are you all right? Did you find anything?’
‘Snakes for the main part,’ Piemur replied glumly. ‘And this!’ He held up the sign, which read ‘OUT TO LUNCH.’
The Benden and Fort Weyrleaders, Lord Holders Jaxom and Lytol, and Masters Fandarel, Wansor, and Sebell met at Cove Hold to view the new maps. A damp cloth had cleaned away the dust and grit, and Master Fandarel was in awe of the clear film that had protected the surfaces. Some of the numerals that had been printed on the covering had apparently faded, though Piemur’s careful washing had not blurred others.
There were two maps of the Southern Continent, each with different legends on them: the largest one was inscribed with the ancient names and showed clearly defined areas. A second showed the terrain in great detail, including hill and plain contours, and river and ocean depths. The third and smallest continental map, the labels done in minute lettering, had superscriptions of numerals below each name. The fourth map was of ‘Landing’ itself, with each of the squares named and other sections marked INF, HOSP, WRHSE, VET, AGRI, MECH, and SLED REP. A fifth plate, which Piemur and N’ton suggested could represent the area to the south of the grid, indicated underground caves. The last one showed several sites, one clearly labeled MONACO BAY, another the pointed peninsula just east of Cove Hold, and the third Paradise River. The wide strand along the sea on both sides was covered with figures in orange, yellow, red, blue, and green.
‘Ah, yes, Paradise River,’ Master Robinton said in a fond voice and then cleared his throat. Piemur closed his eyes and held his breath. He was at the meeting only because he had been with the Harper when the maps had been found. ‘Lovely place. Piemur, we really must trace that river to its source.’
‘Oh?’ Lessa said, looking up from the maps to give her old friend a long look. ‘You are supposed to be taking it easy, Robinton.’ A worried frown creased her forehead.
‘Well, it’s really not that far away, as you can see for yourself,’ Robinton replied, sounding slightly annoyed as he used finger and thumb to measure the distance between Cove Hold and Paradise River. ‘And I am also supposed to be supervising excavations and artifacts.’
‘The excavations at the Plateau,’ Lessa stated, eyeing the Harper suspiciously.
‘It was Piemur who found these fascinating ruins on his way here,’ Robinton replied, looking abused. ‘Inhabited.’
‘Inhabited?’ everyone echoed.
‘Inhabited?’ Lessa asked pointedly, her eyes wide.
‘Only a pair of shipwrecked northerners and their baby son,’ Piemur began and saw from the gleam in the Harper’s eye that he had made a good beginning. He glowered back before he returned Lessa’s enquiring stare. He was not certain why he was to become the culprit in the matter. He looked across the table at Jaxom, who shrugged helplessly. Lytol merely watched, his face unreadable. ‘A resourceful couple. They’ve survived two Turns or more.’
‘These illegal sailings…’ Lessa began, scowling and sitting back in her chair. She crossed her arms, emphasizing her dislike of such adventuring.
‘Not at all,’ Piemur replied. ‘They were on an authorized voyage from Keroon Beasthold, bringing Toric—I mean, Lord Toric—some breeding pairs. Five people survived the storm, but injuries killed one before they found out his name, and two died of fire-head the following spring.’
‘And?’ Lessa’s foot tapped, but Piemur noticed a gleam of interest in F’lar’s eyes and a sympathetic grin on N’ton’s face. Fandarel listened, one eye on the ambiguous chart before him, while Wansor could be heard tutting happily to himself, his nose a scant fingertip from the map he was assiduously studying.
‘They repaired some dilapidated buildings they found on the riverbanks and have done pretty well for themselves, I think,’ Piemur continued. ‘Knocked together a little skiff, tamed some runnerbeasts, planted a garden’
Jaxom leaned forward on the table, keenly interested.
‘Paradise River?’ Lessa closed her eyes and uncrossed her arms to throw them up in an exasperated gesture of surrender. ‘And
you like them, Robinton, and want them to hold?’
‘Well, someone will have to, Lessa,’ Robinton said, looking abashed. ‘If you ask my opinion…’ He glanced at Lytol and Jaxom for support.
‘I haven’t.’ Lessa glared at Jaxom and Lytol in a clear order not to encourage the Masterharper.
‘I think too much is being made of “permission” to come here,’ Robinton went on, ignoring her sarcasm. ‘Master Idarolan has, it is true, issued warnings that all shipmasters must report Southern landings to him. But just look at the breadth of land here. This big map—’ He rapped his knuckles on the largest continental map. ‘—shows us just how much inhabitable land there is.’
‘And no Weyrs,’ F’lar put in sardonically.
Robinton waved that aside. ‘The land here protects itself.’
‘D’ram’s worrying himself to the bone over the Plateau and Cove Hold as it is,’ Lytol said, speaking for the first time.
‘The young Lilcamps have been careful to shelter both themselves and their beasts,’ Robinton went on, ‘in buildings they’ve restored from ancient remains.’
‘What kind of remains?’
‘These.’ From a cabinet behind him Robinton produced a sheaf of sketches; Piemur recognized Perschar’s work. The Harper skidded each sheet down over the map, casually describing the scene. ‘The beach as seen from the verandah of the house. The house—it has twelve rooms—as seen from the eastern strand, with Jayge’s boat. Another view of the harbor with the fishnetting—Jayge cobbled up nets from material he found in one of the storehouses. This is the storehouse. You can just make out the beasthold. Ah, this is looking south from the verandah. And another of the western bank and some of the ruins. This charming little fellow playing in the sand is young Readis.’ By the clever order in which Robinton was presenting the pictures, Piemur guessed his intention. ‘This is Jayge—son of the traders Lilcamp-Amhold. Quite a reliable train. He plans to bring over some of his Bloodkin. And this is his wife!’
‘Aramina!’ Lessa snatched up that sketch before it could settle to the table.
F’lar gave an exclamation of surprise and looked over her shoulder, a startled expression on his face. ‘Robinton, you have some explaining to do!’
Seeing that Lessa had gone quite pale under her weather-tanned skin, Piemur quickly poured out a cup of wine for her. She took it absently, her narrowed eyes on the Harper.
‘Do calm yourself, my dear,’ Robinton said. ‘I’ve been trying to think of a way of breaking this good news, but there have been so many demands on your time and energy, and so much has been happening over the last few months…’
‘You’ve known Aramina was alive for months?’
‘No, no. No, only a few days, in fact. Piemur met them months ago, before he got to Cove Hold. The very day that—’
‘That Baranth flew Caylith,’ Jaxom put in when the Harper faltered. Glancing sharply at Piemur, the young Ruathan Lord Holder added, ‘A lot happened that day, too.’
‘Piemur wouldn’t have known about Aramina, my dear Lessa. He wasn’t even north during that period. But she confided in me, if you’ll listen.’
Lessa was quite willing to hear everything that Aramina had told the Harper, though she was furious that Benden had been allowed to believe the girl dead. The heat in her eyes suggested that her first meeting with Jayge and Aramina might include some recriminations.
‘She no longer hears dragons,’ the Harper said gently when the retelling was done.
Lessa sat very still, except for her fingers, which tapped out an uneven rhythm on the armrests of her chair. She looked up at F’lar, then across to N’ton; her gaze flicked from Jaxom to Lytol’s expressionless face and rested on Fandarel, who looked back at her without concern.
‘And she is happy with this Jayge?’ the Weyrwoman asked.
‘One fine son already and another baby due.’ When Lessa discounted that as a measure of contentment, the Harper continued. ‘He’s a resourceful and provident man.’
‘Jayge adores her,’ Piemur said with a broad grin. ‘And I’ve seen the way she looks at him. They could do with some company, though.’ As neatly as the Harper could have done it himself, Piemur suggested the possibility of what had already been accomplished. ‘It’s been pretty lonely. Even for Paradise!’
‘How big is Paradise?’ Lessa asked. There was noticeable relief as she appeared to relent.
Piemur and N’ton both reached to pull the appropriate chart in front of Lessa.
‘Not as much as this is marked, certainly,’ Piemur said, tapping the squared-off section. The site actually extended much farther east and west; the map went as far as the bend in the river that Jayge had mentioned.
‘A rough estimate,’ Lessa suggested, a half-smile turning up the left-hand side of her mouth. She knew very well that Piemur could provide a reasonably accurate one.
The Masterharper handed over his copy of the witnessed hold map. ‘Here!’
‘Does this establish a precedent, old friend?’ Lytol asked quietly.
‘A better one, I feel, than the method Toric employed.’ He held up his hand to ward off Lessa’s rebuke. ‘Different circumstances now obtain. But very soon now, you Weyrleaders, Craftmasters, and Lord Holders must decide which precedent to follow. Toric’s or Jayge’s? In my opinion, a man ought to be able to Hold what he has proved.’
Master Wansor’s rather squeaky voice broke the silence that followed Master Robinton’s quiet challenge. ‘Did they have dragons then?’
‘Why?’ Realizing that she had spoken more curtly than she had meant to, Lessa softened her bluntness with a smile.
Wansor blinked at her. ‘Because I don’t see how the ancients got about such vast holdings. There are no tracks or trails listed. The coastline or river situations would be easy enough to reach, but this Cardiff isn’t near a river and not very close at all to Landing. I suppose the mining facilities marked here at Drakee’s Lake used to be one of the rivers, but that isn’t specified, or a seaport marked. I really don’t understand how they kept in touch unless they had dragons.’
‘Or other flying ships?’ Jaxom asked.
‘More efficient sailing vessels?’ N’ton suggested.
‘We have found many broken parts that were beautifully crafted,’ Master Fandarel said, ‘but not a single complete motor or engine or other mechanical device that requires such pieces. Not in the oldest of the Records in my Hall. We have found three immense disabled vehicles that the fire-lizards inform us once were airborne. I do not think their design would be efficient over short distances—too awkward and heavy. The tubes in the rear suggest that their motion was upward.’ He tilted his hand and massive forearm in demonstration. ‘They must have had other vehicles.’
‘This is so exasperating,’ Lessa exclaimed, scowling. ‘We cannot do everything at once! You may be reasonably safe from Threadfall in the South, but every wing is vital in keeping the north and all its people protected. We just can’t move everyone South!’
‘Once everyone moved north,’ Robinton said, beaming at her. ‘To “shield.”’
‘Until the grubs spread themselves to protect the land,’ F’lar added, laying one reassuring hand on her shoulder.
‘While the Weyrs protected Hold and Hall,’ N’ton put in.
‘We have such a lot to learn about this world,’ Robinton said quite happily.
‘There are answers somewhere.’ Master Fandarel sighed heavily. ‘I would be content with just a few.’
‘I would be content with one!’ F’lar said, looking out the window to the moonlit scene. Jaxom nodded in sympathy.
‘So, the Paradise River Hold is confirmed to Jayge and Aramina Lilcamp?’ the Harper asked with sudden briskness.
‘It is much the better precedent to follow,’ Lytol agreed. ‘I shall, if you wish, suggest this at the next Conclave.’
‘That’s going to be a full meeting,’ F’lar said wryly, but he nodded.
‘Why is it that what is forb
idden,’ the Harper said drolly, ‘is all the more exciting?’
‘You can take it from one who knows,’ Piemur made bold to add, ‘that the Southern Continent has a way of making or breaking you.’
‘Just what is it doing to you, Master Robinton?’ Lessa asked in her sweetest and most dangerous voice. But she smiled, and the smile was genuine.
The news of a second hold gradually filtered to the North, to be commented on by Lord Holders and Crafthall Masters. There were those who delighted in Jayge’s elevation, and some who found his new eminence distasteful for a variety of reasons. Toric was one such, but he slowly overcame chagrin and resentment. In the North, a gaunt, scar-faced woman swore savagely when she heard, kicking her saddle across the narrow interior of her cave dwelling, throwing about her other belongings, and damaging the breakable without relief to her fury and bitter disappointment.
When her temper had abated sufficiently for her to think clearly, she sat down by the ashes of her fire and the spilled kettle that had contained her evening meal and began to plot.
Jayge and Aramina! How had he found the girl? Surely Dushik would have been on guard. She had had cause to doubt Readis’s loyalty ever since she had killed Giron, who had become a useless handicap in their desperate flight from her hold. Readis had openly opposed her plan to abduct Aramina and then, suddenly, he had acquiesced, a reversal she had not trusted. But once down that pit, the girl had been as good as dead. How had that wretched little trader man rescued her?
Her mind seethed over that now indisputable fact. Aramina had been rescued and was alive and well in the south, enjoying prestige and comfort while she, Thella, had nearly died from a noxious and debilitating infection that had left her scarred. Had either Dushik or Readis reached the appointed meeting place, she would have fared much better. As it was, it had been weeks before she had recovered from the fever.
Weak and unable to focus her mind on her plans, Thella had drifted, carefully avoiding holds until she found herself a secluded valley in Nerat, where quantities of food easily gathered had somewhat restored her to health. She had been appalled at the scarring on her face and the wisps that were all that was left of her once luxuriant hair. All Thella’s misfortunes could be traced back to that whelp spawned by an insignificant trader, who had prevented her from finding a miserable girl who could have made life so much more predictable.
The Renegades of Pern Page 31