“Don’t even think about it, Toric,” Piemur said and shivered. That possibility had been so frighteningly imminent.
“For a little while there, I saw everything I’ve worked twenty Turns to accomplish about to be ruined.” Another sweep of Toric’s arm knocked a glowbasket from the wall bracket and spilled its contents over the Records. Piemur grabbed them out of the way and closed the basket, stamping at the spillage. “I’m going to set a watch on those Oldtimers, Piemur. I’ll have Saneter draw up a roster. I can’t let something else happen. I was hoping to have a few words with F’lar…” Piemur nearly choked at that bit of arrogance. “No, I guess this wasn’t the time for it,” the holder added with a rueful shake of his head. “That Masterharper of yours has good ideas. I’d like you to get in touch with him about this.” Toric turned to look sharply at Piemur.
The boy cleared his throat and scratched his head, avoiding Toric’s eyes. He did not wish to mention Master Robinton’s now tenuous influence on the Benden Weyrleaders.
“I took a close look at the dragons, Toric, and honestly, I think time is on your side. Stealing the egg, and I agree with you that they did even if Benden couldn’t prove it, took almost every ounce of strength they had. I think you’re absolutely right that we should keep a discreet watch on them. It’d be easier if the fire-lizards would go anywhere near the Weyr, but Farli’s still chattering about dragons flaming her. Have yours?”
“I haven’t had time for fire-lizards today, with full-grown Northern dragons breathing firestone stench in my face,” Toric replied acidly.
“So this time we inform Benden Weyr the moment suspicious behavior starts,” Piemur went on blithely, hoping to talk Toric out of any plans that included Master Robinton. “I want to tell you, Toric, I really admired the way you handled yourself with N’ton!”
“Thank you,” Toric said sarcastically.
“You’re welcome,” Piemur snapped back in the same tone. Then he grinned smugly and remarked with calculated insolence. “You’d have been in far worse case if Saneter and I hadn’t stood your witness!”
At that reminder, Toric reacted, first with a hard stare and then with a bellow of laughter. “Yes, you and old Saneter did come across, and for that I am genuinely grateful, Journeyman Harper.”
“Indebted, in fact,” Piemur suggested with a wry grin.
“Now, another thing…” Toric—the laugh had relaxed him a little—sat on the edge of his worktable, arms folded across his chest, his right hand fiddling with the holder knot on his shoulder. “You’ve ridden dragons. Just how much do you think they saw?”
Piemur snorted. “Shards, Toric, they were looking for a place an egg could harden, or for Oldtimer browns and bronzes. They wouldn’t have noticed anything else in the state they were in. Well, T’bor might have, but you’ve been mighty careful where you’ve allowed all our new arrivals to site their holds.” Piemur grinned slyly. “Hamian’s mine would appear to be basically the same from the air, all the other adits look like the holes in the ground they are; the wharf and hold on Island River shouldn’t be visible from the sky; Big Lagoon Hold is large, that’s true, and there’d have been fishing ships out in that direction…” Piemur shrugged. “Maybe later T’bor or F’nor, someone familiar with Southern, will ask some awkward questions. I doubt it. The interdiction still holds. They came to retrieve the egg. It got back all by itself. They left.” Piemur was beginning to suspect who might have returned the egg, but he had absolutely no evidence with which to prove it.
“And we still have those bloody Oldtimers to deal with.” But there was less force in the kick Toric gave the table leg.
“They haven’t hindered your plans all that much, now, have they?” Piemur said drolly. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I’d bide my time, Toric.”
“You’re with me, then?”
“If today didn’t prove that, I don’t know what will,” Piemur said, cocking his head to one side. He liked Toric, admired him, but he did not entirely trust him. Which was fair. Toric did not completely trust Piemur, especially not too often in Sharra’s company. Piemur had noticed how Toric tried to keep them apart; the holder had just given Sharra her long-sought permission to go on an adventurous trip south, beyond Hamian’s mines. “So, if we’re back to normal tomorrow, I’d like to see what’s beyond that headland east of Island River. Maybe even get as far as the cove that Menolly found when they were storm-lost.” He noticed the alertness in Toric’s eyes. The holder had not liked that inadvertent excursion; he had always been suspicious of just how far Menolly and the Masterhaper had gone, though he could never deny that they had been storm-driven, and that only Menolly’s sea skills had kept the small boat afloat. “A dragon can’t go between to a place he’s never seen,” Piemur reminded the Southerner. “Likewise, a man can’t hold what he hasn’t beheld! How about it, Toric?”
Stupid led the way out of the brushland, pushing through the tangle with his sturdy front end, his hide too tough to be pierced by branch and thorn. From above, Farli was giving directions, and Piemur thrashed at the vegetation with the thick blade Hamian had forged for him.
He came out on a beach that sloped down to the sea, a pale green expanse of water ruffled with whitecaps from the onshore breeze. He sighed at the splendid view, then looked back the way he had come, at the thick trees waving their fronds and leaves. He took a redfruit from the pack on Stupid’s back, nicked it expertly with his chopper, and sucked at the sweet, thirst-quenching flesh. Stupid complained. He chopped off a hunk and fed it to the little runnerbeast, who munched contentedly.
But when Piemur turned to look down the narrow bay, he froze. He could not believe his eyes. He fumbled for the small distance-viewer he had wheedled away from Master Rampesi, who had just received a more powerful device from Starmaster Wansor; it had not done him much good with his nighttime star-gazing, but it had been useful in surveying terrain. When he had focused it, there was no doubt that smoke was rising languidly from the chimney of a good-sized building, high up on the riverbank. It was roofed, big, and had a wide porch, probably on all four sides, with steps leading up to it on the two sides visible to him. Other buildings, large and small, were positioned nearby, making it a sizable settlement. A small sloop was drawn up on the shore, although he could see the stumps of pilings jutting out into the river that might once have been a pier, and fishnets hung on a rack to dry. Colored fishnets! Even through the distance-viewer, he could make out the yellows, greens, blues, and reds.
“There isn’t anyone in all this part of the world, Stupid. There just isn’t. I haven’t seen anyone in months. Toric certainly doesn’t know. Shipwreck?” Piemur searched his memory. There had been quite a few Shipwrecks—and the number was growing. “That’s what they are. Shipwrecked. And colored fishnets? Toric won’t like this.”
A pair of fire-lizards appeared overhead, but they did not fly low enough for him to get a close look. Farli joined them in the usual aerial dance. He had seen numerous fire-lizard nests along the coast, even some unplundered golds. But Toric had definitely stated that there would be no more trade of eggs with the north. Farli swooped to his shoulder, wrapping her tail about his neck and chittering unintelligibly about men and lots of things piled on the beach.
“Houses are not piles,” Piemur stated firmly. But the incident with the northern dragons had taught him to pay attention to Farli’s incomprehensible statements. For the last few days she had been trying to tell him something that she had learned only recently. Eventually it would all make sense to him, just as he had deciphered her comments about the Black Rock River, which they had had such trouble negotiating. He had not expected such an immense inland sea, with distant islands lost in the misty rain.