The Renegades of Pern (30 page)

“Not many,” the Harper answered, also glancing at the Weyrleaders.

“I knew,” Sharra said, “and so did Brekke. Jaxom worried about that egg the whole time he was fevered.” She gazed up at the boy proudly.

They made a handsome pair, Toric thought inconsequentially.

“Not that it matters now,” Jaxom said. “What does matter is, do I now have your permission to marry Sharra and make her lady of Ruatha Hold?”

“I don’t see how I can stop you,” Toric had to admit, sweeping his arm up in irritation.

“Indeed you couldn’t, for Jaxom’s boast about Ruth’s abilities is valid,” F’lar said. “One must never underestimate a dragonrider, Toric.” Then he grinned, softening the implicit warning. “Especially a Northern dragonrider.”

“I shall bear that firmly in mind,” Toric replied, letting chagrin color his voice. Indeed, he
had
become far too complacent about the distinction. “Especially in our present discussion. Before these impetuous youngsters interrupted us, we were discussing the extent of my Hold, were we not?”

He turned his back on his sister and her lordling and gestured to the others to return to their temporary hall.

13

Southern Continent,
Nerat Hold, PP 15.10.23

T
WO DAYS AFTER
Jaxom had triumphantly returned to Cove Hold with Sharra, and Toric had concluded his Holding agreement with the Benden Weyrleaders, contingent on confirmation by the Lord Holder Conclave, Piemur managed to find an opportunity to tell Master Robinton about Jayge and Ara.

“Another ancient settlement? Restored and lived in?” Astonished, Master Robinton leaned back in his great chair. Zair, asleep on his desk in the sun, woke up, blinking. “Bring me the relevant map.” He tossed Piemur the key that unlocked the drawer in which his secret documents were kept. Masterscrivener Arnor had had his most discreet and accurate journeyman make three copies of all the maps found on the walls of the “flying ship,” after which access to the ship had been restricted to Master Fandarel’s most trusted Mastersmiths. “How kind of you, Piemur, to save something to amuse me just when it was beginning to be humdrum again,” Robinton went on.

After Piemur had shown him the location of Paradise River, the Harper pored over the map a long time, murmuring to himself and occasionally grimacing. Well accustomed to his Master’s ways, Piemur filled Robinton’s goblet with wine and put it by his right hand. Piemur had been officially reassigned by the new Masterharper Sebell as journeyman to Cove Hold. He did not bother asking the new Masterharper if Toric had refused to have him back, or if Master Robinton had specifically requested him. What mattered to Piemur was that he was back with Master Robinton where, despite the old man’s wistful complaints, things were never dull—especially since, having been given a clean bill of health by Master Oldive, the Harper had great plans for further exploration.

“A vast and marvelous land, Piemur,” Robinton said, taking a sip of his wine. “And when one thinks of the plight of the holdless in Igen low caverns, those terrible rock cells in Tillek and High Reaches . . .” He sighed. “I think—” He broke off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I let them talk me into retiring too soon is what I think.”

Piemur laughed. “You’re no more retired than I am, Master Robinton. Merely looking for a different kind of mischief to get into. Let Sebell cope with the Lord Holders, Craftmasters, and Weyrleaders. I rather thought you liked delving into the mounds?”

The Harper’s gesture was testy. “If they’d find anything! Fandarel and Wansor have the best part of what has been discovered so far and are happy as gorged weyrlings with those totally undecipherable star maps. The few empty bottles—albeit made of a very curious substance—and broken mechanical parts simply do not stimulate my imagination. I want to know so much more than what the ancients threw away or left behind as too bulky to dismantle. I want to know their style of living, what they used, ate, wore, why they moved North, where they came from originally, how they got here, apart from using the Dawn Sisters as vehicles. That really must have been a staggering voyage. I want to reconstruct Landing and . . . Just how much was left there at—what did you call it?”

“Paradise River? You’d best judge yourself,” Piemur said, at last getting his suggestion in edgewise. The journeyman was certain that once the Harper had met the resourceful and thoroughly likable Jayge and Ara, he would sponsor them—certainly against any claims Toric might make against them. “They’ve a stoutly built and pleasant house; they’ve tamed wild stock and made do with what they could find and put to use. As you can see, they’re far away from Southern’s boundary.” Journeyman and Master shared a smile, and then Piemur ventured a question. “What, may your humble journeyman ask, is going to determine who holds what and where from now on?”

Master Robinton eyed his journeyman closely. “A very good question, humble Journeyman Piemur.” He winked. “But not my problem.”

“I’ll believe that when watchwhers fly.”

“Seriously, I’ve been provided with this magnificent residence”—the Harper’s eyes sparkled—“sufficiently far away from stress and strain to preserve me. I cannot offend the many who built it for my use by leaving it even if I could talk a dragonrider into taking me North now and then.” He frowned. “Lessa took too narrow an interpretation of Oldive’s advice.” He sighed and, glancing out his window at the turquoise sea, smiled with resignation. “And I am nominally in charge of excavations above.” Then he said more briskly, “Of course, if Weyrleaders or Lord Holders care to ask my opinion—” He ignored Piemur’s derisive snort. “—I would remind them of the long-standing tradition of autonomy: Hall, Hold, and Weyr their own masters except when the safety of our world is at stake.”

“There’s been a lot of traditions lying about in shards these days,” Piemur remarked dryly.

“To be sure, but some were long past their usefulness.”

“Who decides that?”

“Necessity.”

“Does ‘necessity’ decide who gets to hold what where?” Piemur asked acerbically. Privately he felt that Toric had been granted far too much by the Benden Weyrleaders, even if, at that time, Lessa had also been bargaining for Jaxom’s happiness with Sharra. He had the feeling that Master Robinton agreed with him on that score.

“Ah, we’re back to your young friends again, are we?”

“That’s where we started, and no more diversions, Master Robinton.
I’m
asking you for your ‘opinion’ on this matter. And, with you in charge of
excavations
and other ancient puzzles, I feel you should meet Jayge and Ara and see what they’ve found!”

“Quite right.” The Harper drained his wine, rolled up the map and stood. “As well Lessa assigned old P’ratan to Cove Hold. He’s discreet and willing enough if I don’t ask him to do too much,” he said as he reached for his riding gear. “Why do you call it ‘Paradise River’?”

“You’ll see,” Piemur replied.

Jayge was hauling in his net when he saw the dragon in the sky.

It came gliding in from the east. He watched it in awe for all of a minute as astonishment and then anxiety made him relax his grip on the full heavy net. As it slid from his grasp, he recovered enough sense to snap a buoy on the last strand so he could retrieve the valuable net later. In another moment, he had hoisted the skiff’s sail, seen the fresh offshore breeze fill it, and wondered if he could possibly beat the dragon to the shore.

Maybe, just maybe, Aramina was still asleep. He knew she only heard dragons when she was awake, and he had left both his wife and the boy fast asleep when he had crept out to catch the dawn run of fish. If he could just warn her. While she heard fire-lizards—they both did—and had laughed about their recent astonishing images, she generally found their meaningless chitter more amusing than disturbing.

The green dragon, an old beast to judge by her whitened muzzle and the puckering wing scars, carried three people. She appeared to be taking her time about landing, circling slowly down. It even seemed as if she had timed her landing with Jayge’s arrival at the strand. Just as Jayge hauled up the rudder-board, one of the passengers dismounted and came running down to the beach, unlatching his helmet. Piemur!

“Jayge, I’ve brought the Masterharper. P’ratan kindly conveyed us on Poranth.” Piemur spoke quickly, smiling to reassure Jayge about the unexpected visitors. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right for you and Ara,” he added, lending a hand to help Jayge pull the little skiff above the high-tide mark on the sand.

Movement on the verandah of the house attracted Jayge’s attention, and he caught just a glimpse of Ara collapsing in a faint.

“
Ara!
” he cried, and without even a nod in the direction of the two older men, he pelted up to the house and Ara’s unconscious body. Hearing a dragon after all those years must have given her a terrible fright.

He had laid her on her bed and Piemur was offering her a cup of Jayge’s brew by the time the Harper and the dragonrider had joined them in the house. Readis, bawling with fright at the sight of the strange faces, turned rigid in Piemur’s arms when the journeyman attempted to comfort him. Then he abruptly stopped his squawling. Piemur caught the direction of his look and saw Master Robinton making such absurd grimaces that the baby was too fascinated to howl, his tear-filled eyes fixed on the Harper.

When Ara regained consciousness, she stared white-faced at the visitors. Jayge felt her relax only a fraction, and somehow the pressure of her fingers on his arm suggested to him that she knew neither of them.

“Ara,” he told her in urgent reassurance, “P’ratan’s Poranth has brought Piemur and Master Robinton. They mean us to have what we’ve got here. It’ll be our hold. Our own hold!”

Ara kept staring at the men, who were attempting by their manner and smiles to reassure her.

“I can appreciate the shock, dear lady, to be confronted with visitors so unexpectedly,” Master Robinton said. “But today was really the first opportunity I’ve had to come.”

“Ara, it’s all right,” Jayge reassured her, stroking her hair and patting her fingers where they clutched frantically at his vest.

“Jayge,” she said in a low, constricted voice. “I didn’t hear her!”

“You didn’t?” Jayge thought to keep his voice low. “You didn’t?” he repeated with more confidence. “Then why did you faint?”

“Because I didn’t!” In that pained reply, Aramina managed to convey her conflicting emotions to Jayge.

He pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently and murmuring over and over that it was all right. It did not matter if she did not hear dragons anymore. She had no need to. And she must not be afraid. No one would censure her. She must relax and compose herself. Such a shock was not good for the baby.

“Here! This’ll help,” Piemur said, again offering the cup of fermented drink. “Believe me, Aramina, I know how it can be when you don’t see anyone else for Turns and suddenly you’ve got callers.”

At the use of his wife’s full name, Jayge looked up in wary surprise.

“I recognized you from a sketch that was circulated after your disappearance,” the Masterharper explained kindly. He was jouncing Readis on his knee, and the toddler was gurgling with delight.

“My dear child,” he went on when Aramina had recovered sufficiently. “It will be the best of all possible news that you are alive and so well, here in this fine Southern Hold. We all thought you dead at the marauders’ hands!” There was a hint of rebuke in the glance he gave Jayge but none in his voice for Aramina. “I’ve had more surprises these past few weeks than ever in my lifetime. It’s going to take me Turns to absorb it all.”

“Master Robinton is very interested in ancient ruins, Jayge, Ara,” Piemur said. “And I think yours have more to offer than the empty ones up on the Plateau.”

Still amusing the baby, Master Robinton went on eagerly. “Piemur mentioned that you have found and are using articles of obvious antiquity, besides this most unusual dwelling. I saw the nets, boxes, and kegs, and I am amazed. The Plateau settlement will take us Turns to dig out, and so far we’ve found no more than a spoon, while you . . .” He gestured with his free hand to the various items he could see in the main room and included the dwelling itself.

“We haven’t been able to do much,” Ara said modestly, her courage restored. “Once we had the house finished—” she broke off apologetically and looked anxiously at Jayge. He was sitting beside her, one arm lightly around her shoulders, the other hand clasping hers.

“You’ve done marvels, my dear,” Robinton corrected hem firmly. “A skiff, fishing; we saw the animal pens and your garden—the undergrowth you’ve cleared!”

“Haven’t you been troubled by Threadfall?” P’ratan asked anxiously, speaking for the first time.

“We stay out of it,” Jayge replied with a wry grin, then smiled apologetically at the startled dragonrider. “I’m of trader Blood and survived the first Telgar Fall. So I’m used to being holdless.”

“We never know just how our lives take shape, do we?” Master Robinton remarked, smiling with great good humor.

Jayge offered their guests klah and slices of fresh fruit, and bread Aramina had baked the previous day. She apologized for the texture, saying that she had not quite worked out the right grinding stones. Then she insisted on joining the Harper and the green rider on a tour of the other buildings on the river banks. Readis was persuaded to leave Master Robinton and go with his father and Piemur to salvage the nets and any fish they still contained.

“Impressive, truly impressive,” Robinton kept saying as they moved from one place to the next, touching a wall, checking a door’s closure, scuffing his boots on the floor. P’ratan said little, but his eyes were round, and he kept shaking his head in wonder, regarding Aramina with some awe. “Quite an extensive place. There must have been at least a hundred people living here, working the fields, fishing and—” He waved his hand distractedly. “—doing whatever else they did to create such durable materials.”

When they reached the shed that was being used as a beasthold, he leaned against the rail, another remnant of the ancients’ manufacture. “And you say you tamed all these animals yourselves?” He smiled at her as a little queen swooped gracefully to land on her shoulder. “Do you hear what they say?”

He spoke kindly, but Aramina flushed and ducked her head in momentary embarrassment. “They talk a lot of nonsense,” she said so disparagingly that the Harper sensed that recent fire-lizard conversations might have distressed her. “They
are
very good, minding Readis when we both have to be out of the hold. And Piemur showed us that they can be far more useful than we thought.” She slid open a high, wide door in the biggest of the buildings. “This is where we found most of the useful stuff,” she told them just as Jayge and Piemur rejoined them. With a brief apology, P’ratan wandered back to his green, who was basking on the sand.

“What we need,” the Harper said, planting his fists on his belt, “is an accurate rendering of the settlement.” He looked around the dim storehouse, at the pile of nets and the tumble of crates and barrels. “Where each building is, the state of it—a list, if you wouldn’t mind, of the items you’ve made use of, what’s left! I think I must send for Perschar. He finds it tedious to draw straight rows of empty buildings.”