D’ram cleared his throat, obviously finding it difficult to continue.
“Help me in what way?” Toric asked testily.
“Now that Masterharper Sebell has brought me up to date on the many abuses and incivilities you have suffered from the Southern Oldtimers, and their rather conspicuous demands over and above the lawful tithe, I think there should be some changes.”
Toric merely nodded, aware that the Fort Weyrleader and Sebell were watching him closely.
“I—we—in this bountiful place,” D’ram went on, “feel that the Weyr should substantially reduce its requirements of you, especially in the matter of feeding our dragons. They actually prefer to hunt, and once we know where your livestock is pastured, we will avoid the area. We expect to have five wings, as well as—” D’ram paused “—those no longer able for active service.”
Toric accepted with a nod what D’ram was implying, though he did not quite like the suggestion that dragonriders would soon be overflying the land. Just how much did dragonriders notice when they flew? They might not have seen much when they had searched for Ramoth’s egg—but while hunting wild game? He found himself mulling over that problem as D’ram continued.
“We have brought with us sufficient weyrfolk to handle all domestic duties, so those holders whom you have been good enough to attach to the Weyr can return to their normal duties.”
Toric cleared his throat. He could appreciate D’ram not wanting those slatternly drudges about a freshened Weyr. He did not want them about Southern, either. But there was an easy solution for that.
Then Sebell held out a long cylinder, encased in a finely tooled leather sheath. “Mastersmith Fandarel wishes you to have this,” he said with a slight smile.
When Toric unwrapped it, he could not suppress his delight at being given a distance-viewer of his own. Master Rampesi had managed to acquire a small one but nothing so fine as this. He turned it over in his hands, putting it to his eye and reacting with a startled cry at the magnification of what he knew were minute fissures in the wall.
“You should be able to see the length and breadth of Southern Hold with that,” Sebell said.
That got Toric’s complete attention. “Master Fandarel doesn’t waste his efforts,” he said obliquely. Length and breadth of Southern Hold, indeed!
“Yes, I also bear a message from Master Fandarel,” Sebell went on smoothly. “Metal is, as you know, in short supply in the North. You have been supplying the Smithcrafthall with much needed zinc, copper, and other ores, for which that is a token of gratitude.”
“We’ve shipped what we could,” Toric said carefully. It was one thing for the dragonriders to hunt for meat in the hold. How much else were they expecting to find for themselves?
“I think arrangements can now be made for more regular commerce,” D’ram said, “as compensation for what you’ve endured.”
Toric eyed him warily.
“A regular trade would be extremely beneficial for both North and South,” Sebell continued, betraying no hint of his knowledge of Toric’s already steady activities in that area. “And Mastersmith Fandarel is certainly eager to have as much ore as you can ship to him. You, and quite likely your Smithmaster brother, will have to advise him as to how much you can manage to supply. To this point, I think N’ton has something to say.”
“Please understand, Holder Toric,” N’ton began in a slightly rueful tone, “that I was not at the time concerned with anything other than finding Ramoth’s egg, but I noticed some mounds along that great inland lake that cannot be natural. I heard, from someone,” he said, jiggling his hand to indicate a faulty memory that Toric did not believe for an instant, “that the new zinc and copper deposits you’ve been working might have been worked a long time ago.”
No, it was not compensation he was getting, Toric reflected. No matter how smoothly their ideas were presented, his full cooperation was expected. Those bloody Oldtimers and that wretched queen egg had done him more damage than he had supposed! But he could make certain not to lose so much as a fingerlength of land he already held, or the riches above and below the soil. He also knew the place N’ton must have seen. Sharra had reported it to him the previous Turn. He had marked the huge lake and the three rivers that flowed from it on his private map. He must be very careful. He must seem to cooperate while sending reliable men and women to hold what ought to be his.
“There’s always been that rumor,” he said skeptically.
“More than a rumor,” Sebell said in that quiet unemphasized voice of his. “There are some ambiguous Fragments among the Harper Hall Records that indicate that the Northern Continent is the more recent settlement.”
“Recent?” Toric let out an incredulous guffaw.
“I believe you established a prosperous hold in ancient ruins on the western bank of Island River,” Sebell said.
“I wouldn’t call such old stonework ‘recent.’ ”
“May I make it plain, Toric?” Sebell said, leaning forward, his manner earnest and subtly ingratiating. “No one contests your holding. But we would very much like to extend our knowledge about our ancestors. It becomes a matter of intense Craft pride, you know. We’re supposed to keep the Records of Pern.” He gestured again to the distance-viewer Toric was fondling possessively. “We can learn a lot from the past that will assist us in our future.”
“I wholeheartedly agree, Master Harper,” Toric replied as earnestly as he could when he saw how little option he had.
“Naturally, I’d be glad to convey you to that place I have in mind, Holder Toric,” N’ton said with a boyish eagerness that Toric found puzzling.
But he accepted the offer graciously. With so much to plan and to manage, he had been forced to let his kin do the explorations. Hurried trips to Big Lagoon or Central Hold, and one sail down the Island River, had given him only a shallow glimpse of what he held. If he got on good terms with N’ton, who knew what else he might see? Dragonriders had an unfair advantage over any holder: quick, sure movement from place to place.
What was it that rascally journeyman had quoted to him before he left? “A dragon can’t go between to a place he’s never seen. Likewise a man can’t hold what he hasn’t beheld.” He caressed the distance-viewer again.
He rose then, pretending a geniality he did not feel. “I’ve a fair map of the area we’ve managed, over the Turns, to investigate afoot. It really is a relief to me to have a proper Weyr and good relations with my Northern neighbors.”
The morning after his arrival, Master Robinton was up early, to the disgust of his young friends who had enjoyed the evening’s festivities. Despite the restrictions imposed on him by Brekke, Menolly, and Sharra, he was determined to extend their knowledge of the south in all directions. For that purpose, he convened a meeting of Jaxom, Piemur, Sharra, and Menolly.
The Harper’s particular interest was in finding further evidence of the original inhabitants of the Southern Continent. He mentioned not only the ancient iron mine that Toric had found, but some unnatural formation that he himself had spotted with N’ton. Piemur grinned, betting with himself that Toric did not know about that. Had it happened when Master Robinton had voyaged with Menolly to Southern for personal talks with Toric?
The Southern holder had gone to Benden Weyr shortly after, and returned very pleased with himself. Thinking of the houses at Paradise River, Piemur vowed that he would speak to the Master Harper on that point as soon as he could get him alone.
Master Robinton’s plans called for a dual attack, both ground and aerial. He was adamant and enthusiastic as he ordered them to begin, once Jaxom had been pronounced fit by Master Oldive, who was due to arrive that afternoon. Piemur, because of his experience, would be in nominal charge, an arrangement to which Jaxom had no objections. Jaxom would fly Ruth ahead each day to settle a new camp and do an aerial survey, while the girls and Piemur followed on foot for more detailed examinations.