With a grace and agility envied by many younger and fitter men, Fandarel slid from the brown neck and landed lightly on his feet. In a moment he was down on his hands and knees, knife blade scraping aside mud and caked dirt to examine the material of the dam. He shook his head.
"Plascrete, Aivas said," he muttered to himself as the others in his party joined him. Evan, the journeyman who often translated his designs into solid reality, was a self-contained man who hadn't so much as blinked when he took instructions from "the talking wall." Belterac was nearly as grizzled as Fandarel; he was wise in his craft, and the steadiness of his work habits offset the apprentice Fosdak, who was erratic and troublesome but strong as a draft animal. The last was Silton, a useful and diligent young man who had shown some of Master Terry's dogged perseverance. "They built this of plascrete," Fandarel went on. "Stuff that will last for millennia. And it has. By the shell of the first Egg, it has!"
The three dragons were as interested in the dam as the humans were: they walked along the wide top, their wings folded to their backs, and suddenly V'line laughed and said aloud that his bronze Clarinath wanted to know if there would be time for a bath. The water looked so clear and clean.
"Later, please," Fandarel said, continuing his inspection of the edifice.
"Amazing construction," Evan murmured, scuffing the surface with his heavy boots on his way to the lake side of the structure. He peered over the edge. "Water levels are marked, Fandarel. Can't have been high in Turns, though it has been from time to time."
Then he walked to the ravine side and pointed downward and to his left. "There, Master, that's where the ancients had their power station."
Fandarel squinted, shielding his eyes with one huge hand, then nodded in satisfaction as he saw the remains of the building. Something had smashed into it from a height. Probably the same debris that had breached the dam, crashing down on the place with tremendous force.
"D'clan, if you and Pranith would be good enough to take us down there," Fandarel said, pointing. "Evan and I will go first to be sure it is safe enough."
D'clan and Pranith obliged, finding sufficient room to set down by the ruins. All that was left of the structure were the heavy girders that had supported the roof of the power station, and the inner wall, which looked to be cemented to the naked rock. But the floor, despite a thick carpet of pebble-encrusted dirt a full knife blade deep, had remained impervious to the passage of time.
"Those strong young backs can clear this, Evan," Fandarel said. "D'clan, can you wave the others down here? Then the dragons may have a swim."
"They spend more time in the water than in the air," D'clan complained. "They're more likely to wash the hide off 'em, if they're not careful. A hide-damaged dragon's no good between." But his tone was more affectionate than captious.
While the others started shoveling away the mud, Fandarel and Evan made careful measurements of the area to be enclosed, then calculated where the new power wheel would be situated. With deft lines, Evan made a preliminary sketch of what the finished installation would look like. Fandarel, watching over his shoulder, nodded approval. Then he looked about, squinting up at the high, smooth face of the dam and the hillsides.
"Now," he said, satisfied with his analysis of the site's needs, "we go back to Telgar, to assemble the components." He grinned at Evan. "It will be a novel thing, will it not, to work from proper plans?"
Evan merely raised his eyebrows. "Can't be but more efficient that way."
"My dear F'lar," Robinton said reassuringly to the Weyrleader, who was patently disappointed at his failure to gain the full backing of the Lord Holders, "Aivas impressed Larad, Asgenar, Groghe, Toronas, Bargen, and Warbret, plus Jaxom. Seven out of sixteen's not bad for a start. Oterel's doddering, and Corman always needs time to mull things over. If the various projects for which you will need workers here continue to clear out that beggars' cave of Laudey's, he'll back you." Robinton put one hand on F'lar's shoulder and gave it just a little shake. "F'lar, you so desperately want to eradicate Thread. That's your first responsibility. Managing their Holds is theirs, and sometimes, as we both know, they forget the wider view. Yes, K'van?" The Harper had been aware that the young Southern Weyrleader was hovering in the background. "Have I been monopolizing F'lar when you need a word with him?"
"If I might intrude..." K'van said.
"My glass is empty." With a raffish grin, Robinton took himself back to the food-laden table in search of a wineskin.
"Was Lord Toric asked?" K'van said hesitantly.
"Yes, indeed, he was, K'van." F'lar drew him to one corner of the room, where they were less likely to be drawn into the lively discussions of the other Weyrleaders. "I charged Breide in particular to let him know."
K'van managed a fleeting grin-they both knew that Breide's main function at Landing was to report to the Southern Lord Holder everything of interest. Breide's conscientiousness often served up such quantities of trivia that Toric obviously did not bother to read the reports.
"He's trying to get enough men over to the island to shift Denol and his kin." Everyone knew that Toric was furious about the attempt by a band of rebels to take over the island he claimed as part of his Hold.
"I'd've thought he'd accomplished that already," F'lar said in surprise. "Toric can be very determined."
K'van's grin was sour. "He's also determined to have the Weyr's help."
F'lar started angrily. "There's no way he's to have that, K'van!"
"And so I've told him, time and again. The Weyr is not there for his convenience."
"And?"
"He doesn't take my no as final, F'lar." K'van faltered and he gave a helpless shrug to his shoulders. "I know I'm young to be a Weyrleader..."
"Your youth is not a relevant factor, K'van. You're a good Weyrleader, and I've had that assurance from the older riders in your Weyr! "
K'van was young enough to flush with pleasure at hearing such praise. "Toric wouldn't agree," he replied, twitching his straight-held shoulders.
F'lar could not deny the fact that K'van's slim, youthful build would put him at a disadvantage in a confrontation with the tall and powerful Southern Lord Holder. At the time K'van's Heth had flown Adrea's queen, Toric had been enthusiastic about having a Benden-trained Weyrleader. But he had not had rank rebellion in his Hold at that point.
"At first," K'van went on, "he wanted the Weyr to take his soldiers to the island. When I refused, he said that he'd be satisfied that I'd done my duty to the Hold if I told him where the rebels had made their camp. His argument was that we overfly the island during a Pass so we'd see where they were, and that information would assist him in suppressing the rebellion. When I refused, he started to harass some of the older bronze riders, suggesting that I'm too young to know my duty to the Lord Holder."
"I trust he's had no joy on that score," F'lar said sharply.
K'van shook his head. "No, they told him that such action was not a Weyr responsibility. Then-" The young Weyrleader hesitated.
"Then?" F'lar prompted grimly.
"He tried to bribe one of my blue riders with the promise of finding him a suitable friend."