Jaxom, sweat pouring from his face and body, had the distinct feeling that he was under surveillance. But when he leaned on the pick for an occasional breather,.or lifted colonies of grubs safely to one side, he could see no one looking in his direction. The sensation bothered him.
The big one watches you, Ruth said suddenly.
Jaxom shot a glance under his arm at the mound where Toric and Master Fandarel were working and, sure enough, Toric was looking in his direction. Beside him, Lessa groaned suddenly, jamming her shovel blade into the rough-rooted grass of the mound. She examined her hands, reddened and beginning to blis- ter.
"It's a long time since these have worked so hard," she said.
"Use your flying gloves?" Sharra suggested.
"A few moments in them and my hands would swim in sweat," Lessa replied, grimacing. She glanced at the other work parties and, chuckling to herself, sank grace- fully to the mound. "Much as I dislike revealing this site to more people than necessary, I think we shall have to recruit strong hands and backs." She deftly captured a tangle of grubs and deposited them to one side, watching them tunnel back into the rich gray- black soil. She rubbed particles between her thumbs and forefinger. "Like ash. Gritty. Never thought I'd be dealing in ashes again. Did I ever tell you, Jaxom, that I was cleaning the fireplace in Ruatha Hold the day your mother arrived?"
"No," Jaxom said, surprised at this unexpected con- fidence. "But then, few people ever mention my par- ents to me."
Lessa's expression became severe. "Now I wonder why I called Fax to mind..." she said, glancing in Toric's direction and adding, more to herself than to Jaxom and Sharra, "except he was ambitious, too. But Fax made mistakes."
"Such as taking Ruatha Hold from its rightful Blood- line," Jaxom said, grunting as he swung the pick.
"That was his worst mistake," Lessa said with in- tense satisfaction. Then she noticed Sharra staring at her and smiled. "Which I rectified. Oh, Jaxom, leave off a moment. Your enthusiasm exhausts me." She mopped at the perspiration on her forehead. "Yes, I think some strong backs will have to be drafted. At least for my mound!" She patted it, almost affection- ately. "There's no telling how deep the covering goes. Perhaps," the thought amused her, "the mounds aren't big at all, just so overloaded. We may end up with nothing larger than a wherhole for all our digging." •
Jaxom, conscious of Toric's scrutiny, continued to dig, though his shoulders ached and his hands were hot and stiff with blister.
Just then, Sharra's two fire-lizards popped into the air, chirruping at each other as if they didn't under- stand what their friend was doing. They dropped lightly to the spot where Sharra had just planted her shovel and, with tremendous energy, they began to dig, their strong forepaws lifting the dirt to either side, their hindquarters pushing it farther out of the way. They had tunneled almost an arm's length while Lessa, Sharra and Jaxom watched in amazement.
"Ruth? Would you lend us your aid?" Jaxom called.
The white dragon obediently rose from his sunny perch and glided over to his friend, his eyes beginning to whirl more quickly with curiosity.
"Would you mind digging holes for us, Ruth?"
Where? Here? Ruth indicated a spot to the left of the fire-lizards who had not stopped their efforts.
"I don't think it matters where, we just want to see what the grass covers!"
No sooner had the other dragonriders seen what Ruth was doing than they called on theirs. Even Ramoth felt inclined to lend her aid, with Lessa giving her every encouragement.
"I wouldn't have believed it," Sharra said to Jaxom. "Dragons digging?"
"Lessa wasn't too proud to dig, was she?"
"We're people, but they're dragons!"
Jaxom couldn't help laughing at her incredulity. "You've got a jaundiced view of dragons, living among the Oldtimers' lazy beasts." He caught her about the waist, pulling her toward him before he felt her stiffen. He looked in Toric's direction. "He's not watching, if that's what you're worried about."
"He might not have been," she pointed skyward, "but his fire-lizards are. I'd wondered where they were."
A trio of fire-lizards, a golden queen and two bronzes, were circling lazily above Jaxom and Sharra.
"So? I'll just speak to Master Robinton to medi- ate..." oric has other plans for me..."
"Am I not included in your plans?" Jaxom asked, experiencing sudden shock.
"You know you are, which is why... we loved each other. I wanted you while I could." Sharra's eyes were troubled.
"Why should he interfere then? My rank is..." Jaxom took both her hands in =his and retained them when she tried to pull away.
"He doesn't think much of the young Northern men, Jaxom. Not after coping with fairs of younger sons in the past three Turns who are really," Sharra sounded exasperated, "enough to try the patience of a harper. I know you're not like them, but Toric..."
"I'll prove myself to Toric, never fear." Jaxom brought her hands to his lips, holding her eyes with his, determined by the force of his will to banish the unhappiness in her eyes. "And I'll do it properly, through Lytol and Master Robinton. You will be my lady, won't you, Sharra?"
"You know I will, Jaxom. For as long as I can..."
"For as long as we live..." he corrected her, grip- ping her hands tight enough to make her wince.
"Jaxom! Sharra!" cried Lessa, who had been far too engrossed in Ramoth's industry to notice their quiet exchange.
Jaxom felt Sharra's hands struggle but, having de- cided to confront Toric in all his arrogance, Jaxom was not about to defer before Lessa. He kept a tight hold on Sharra as they turned toward the Weyrwoman.
"Come and see. Ramoth has struck something solid. And it doesn't look like rock..."
Jaxom pulled Sharra up the slight incline to Lessa's side of the mound. Ramoth was sitting back on her haunches, peering over Lessa to look into the trench her forepaws had scored.
"Move your head slightly, Ramoth. You're in my light," Lessa said. "Here, take my shovel, Jaxom, and see what you think. Clear out a bit more dirt."
Jaxom jumped into a trench which reached to mid- thigh. "Feels solid enough," he said, pressing his weight down before he tapped with the shovel. "Sounds like stone?" But it didn't. The shovel thunked echo- ingly. Scrapping clear a long swath, Jaxom stepped aside for all to see.
"F'lar, come here! We've reached something!"
"So have we!" came the Weyrieader's triumphant reply.
There was a mutual inspection from one dragon-dug trench to the other which exposed much the same ma- terial, except that in F'lar's case the rocklike substance had an amber panel set into the curve of the mound.
Finally the Mastersmith raised his huge arms above his head and roared for silence.
"This is not efficient use of time and energy." A loud guffaw, almost contemptuous in agreement, came from Toric. "It is not funny," the Smith said at his most serious. "We will concentrate on Lessa's mound since it is smaller. Then we will work on Master Nicat's and then..."He pointed to his own choice as Toric in- terrupted.
"All in one day?" he asked, again with a tone of supercilious derision that irritated Jaxom.
"We will do as much as we can, certainly, so let us begin!"
Jaxom decided that the Smith chose to ignore Toric's attitude, an example for him to follow.
It also proved inefficient to have more than two dragons working on Lessa's small mound since it was scarcely longer than a dragon. So F'lar and N'ton urged their bronzes to help Master Nicat.
By midafternoon the curving sides of Lessa's mound had been unearthed to the original floor of the valley. Six panels, three on an arc of the curved roof, tanta- lized, but their surface, once undoubtedly transparent, was now badly scored and darkened. Attempts to see through to the interior were vain. Disappointing, but no openings were found on the long sides so one end was promptly dug out. The dragons, despite the gray- black dust that now dulled their hides, showed no sign of fatigue and considerable interest in this unli
kely task. And shortly the access was unearthed.
A door, made of an opaque form of the material used in the roof panels, slid across the opening on rails. The dirt-clogged tracks had to be cleared and dragon- hide oil applied to the runners before the door could be forced wide enough to permit entry. Lessa, all set to enter first, was restrained by the Smith's hand.
"Wait! The air inside is sick with age! Smell! Let fresh air in first. The place has been shut who knows how many Turns!"
The Smith, Toric and N'ton, set their shoulders to the door and forced it fully open. The air that flooded out was fetid, and Lessa stepped back, sneezing and coughing. Dim rectangles of tan light fell on a dusty floor, touched cracked and water-stained walls. As Lessa and F'lar, followed by the others, made their way into the small building, dust swirled under their boots.
"What was it for?" Lessa asked in a hushed voice.
Toric, unnecessarily ducking his head, for the top of the doorway cleared even his height by another hand's breadth, pointed to a far comer, to.the now-visible remnants of a wide, wooden frame.
"Someone could have slept on that!" He turned to the other corner, and then with a sudden movement that made Lessa gasp, he stooped and came up with an object which he then made a show of presenting to her. "A treasure from the past!"
"It's a spoon!" Lessa held it up for all to see, then ran her fingers over its shape. "But what's it made of? It's no metal I've ever seen. Certainly it's not wood. It's more like... like the panels, and the door, only trans- parent. But it's strong," and she tried to bend it.
The Smith asked to examine the spoon. "It does seem to be a similar material. Spoons and windows, huh? Hmmmm!"
Overcoming a sense of awe at being inside such an ancient place, everyone began to examine the interior, Shelves and cabinets had once hung on the walls, for marks of paint left outlines. The structure had once been partitioned into sections and there were distinct gouges in the tough material of the floor to indicate that large permanent objects had rested here and there. In one comer, Fandarel discovered circular outlets, leading down. When he checked the exterior, he had to assume that the piping went through the wall and underground. One, he maintained, was undoubtedly for water. But the other four puzzled him.
"Surely they can't all be empty!" Lessa said in a wistful tone, trying to hide a disappointment that everyone, Jaxom thought, was experiencing.
"One can assume," Fandarel said in a brisk voice when they had all left Lessa's building, "that many of these of the same shape were also living quarters for the ancients. They would, I feel, take all their personal things with them. I think we ought then to devote more effort to the larger or the much smaller places."
Then, without waiting to see if anyone concurred with his opinion, the Smith marched straight to the interrupted excavation of Nicat's mound. This building was square and once they had uncovered enough of the top to notice the same roof panels, they concen- trated their efforts on the inner end. The tropical night was quickly descending when they finally unearthed the entrance, but they couldn't quite clear the door tracks to open it more than a crack. They were barely able to make out some sort of decorations on the walls. No one had thought to bring glow baskets with them and this second disappointment drained the last of their energy so that no one even suggested sending fire- lizards for glows.
Leaning against the half-open panel, Lessa gave a tired laugh and looked down at her muddied condition.
"Ramoth says she's tired and dirty and wants a bath."
"She's not the only one," F'lar promptly agreed. He made a vain effort to close the door, then laughed. "I don't suppose anything will happen overnight. Back to Cove Hold."
"You'll join us, Toric?" Lessa asked, cocking her head to look up at the big Southerner.
"I think not this evening, Lessa. I've a Hold to man- age and cannot always please myself," he said. Jaxom saw the Southerner's eyes on him, the implication obvious to Jaxom. "All things being equal, I'll return tomorrow for a time to see if Fandarel's mound proves more profitable. Shall I bring more strong hands and spare your dragons?"
"Spare the dragons? They're enjoying themselves hugely," Lessa said. "/ need the relief. What do you think, F'lar? Or should we draft some Benden riders?"
"I can appreciate that you'd like to keep this for yourself," Toric went on, smoothly, his eyes on F'lar.
"This Plateau will have to be available to everyone,"
F'lar said, ignoring Toric's implication. "And since dragons enjoy earth-moving..."
"I'd like to bring Beneiek with me tomorrow, F'lar," said the Master Smith, rubbing his gray-mudded hands together and flicking oS the dried pellets off his clothes. "And two other lads with good imaginations..."
"Imagination? Yes, you'll need a lot of that here to make sense out of what the ancients have left for you," Toric said, the faintest hint of scorn in his tone. "When you're ready, D'ram?"
For some reason Toric's manner toward the old Weyrleader was more respectful than to anyone else. At least to Jaxom's sensitive ears. He was inwardly seething over Toric's insinuation that he did not man- age his own Hold but pleased himself. He seethed be- cause it was a valid accusation. Yet why, Jaxom sought to console himself, would anyone have expected him to return tamely to Ruatha, which prospered under Lytol's expert management, when all the excitement in the world was happening here? He felt Sharra's fingers curl around his arm, and he reminded himself of his own analogy between Toric and Dorse.
"I'll have a job getting Ruth clean," he said with a rueful sigh as he undid Sharra's fingers from his arm and clasped them tightly, drawing her with him to
Ruth.
As the dragons broke from between over the Cove, the Harper's tall figure was visible on the beach, his impatience to hear of their explorations echoed by the fire-lizards who did dizzy spirals about him. When he saw the state the group was in, and how impatient they were to swim clean, he simply divested himself of his clothes and swam from one to another, hearing their reports.
It was an altogether deflated group that sat about the fire that evening.
"There's no guarantee, is there," the Harper said, "that even if we had the energy to excavate all those hundreds of mounds, we'd find anything of value left behind."
Lessa held up her spoon with a laugh. "No intrinsic value, but it does give me a tremendous thrill to hold something my hundred-times ancestress might have used!"
"Efficiently made, too," Fandarel said, politely tak- ing the small object and examining it again. "The sub- stance fascinates me." He bent toward the flames to scrutinize it. "If I could just..." and he reached for his belt knife.
"Oh, no you don't, Fandarel," Lessa said in alarm and retrieved her artifact. "There were other bits and pieces of the same stuff discarded in my building. Ex- periment on them."
"Is that all we are to have of the ancients, their bits and pieces?"
"I remind you, F'lar," Fandarel said, "their discards have already proved invaluable." The Smith then in- dicated the spot where Wansor's distance-viewer had been sited. "What men have once learned to do, can be releamed. It will take time and experimentation but..."
"We've only begun, my friends," said Nicat, whose enthusiasm had not been daunted. "And as our good Smith says, we can leam even from their discards. With your permission, Weyrleaders, I'd like to bring some experienced teams, and go about the excavations methodically. There may have been good reasons for the rank system. Each file might belong to a different craft or—"
"You don't believe, as Toric suggests, that they took everything with them?" F'lar asked.
"That's irrelevant," Nicat said, dismissing Toric's contentions. "The bed, for instance, was unneeded because they knew they could obtain wood wherever they went. The little spoon for another, because they could make more. There may be other pieces, useless to them, which might very well form the missing elements of the Records which did come down to us, in whatever mutilated fashion. Just think, my friends," Nicat held up on
e finger along his nose, closing an eye conspiratorially, "the sheer quantity they had to take from those buildings after the eruption. Oh, we'll find things, never fear!"
"Yes, they had to take great loads from those build- ings after the eruption," Fandarel murmured, frowning as he lowered his chin to his chest in deep thought. "Where did they take their possessions? Certainly, not immediately to establish Fort Hold!"
"Yes, where did they go?" F'lar asked, puzzled.
"As far as we could tell from the fire-lizard images, they headed toward the sea," Jaxom said.
"And the sea wouldn't have been safe," Menolly said.
"The sea wouldn't," F'lar said, "but there's a lot of land between the Plateau and the sea." He stared at Jaxom a moment. "Can you get Ruth to find out from the fire-lizards where they did go?"
Anne McCaffrey - Pern06 White Dragon Page 42