The young people were quite content to fall in with his scheme, happy to do anything that would keep Master Robinton pleasantly occupied while his strength returned. Master Oldive, after examining the Harper, lectured them on how to help Robinton in his recuperation. Despite his enthusiasm, the Masterharper was still weak and vulnerable to another attack, so they promised to do all they could to protect him from himself. Jaxom, however, was declared fully recovered.
Despite the good intentions of his nurses, Master Robinton was full of projects, all of which he fully expected to see carried out. He was especially excited when Mastersmith Fandarel and Master Wansor arrived from the Telgar Smithcrafthall with Wansor’s new distance-viewer, the most recent product of the Starsmith’s experimentation. It was a tube as long as Fandarel’s arm and thick enough so that he needed two hands to surround it; carefully encased in leather, it had a curious eyepiece set not on its end, where Piemur thought it ought to be, but on its side.
Wansor, in an explanation that explained very little to his rapt audience, told them that the distance-viewer was designed somewhat along the same principles as the ancient instrument, found in one of the unused rooms of Benden Weyr, that made small things appear larger.
That very night a viewing took place, the instrument mounted on a frame erected on a high point of the stony eastern tip of the cove. And what they learned in their first clear view of the Dawn Sisters made, in Piemur’s eyes, the discovery of Paradise River insignificant. For those stars were no stars at all! They were man-made objects—and very likely they were artifacts of those mysterious Southern ancestors. Perhaps they were even the actual vehicles that had brought those ancestors to Pern in the beginning. And when Piemur got his turn to gaze through the device, he felt his heart leap at the splendor he glimpsed.
12: Southern Continent, PP 15.10.19
“YOUNG LORD JAXOM, with Piemur, Sharra, and Menolly, has found a vast settlement, buried under volcanic ash and dirt,” D’ram announced excitedly. He had brought the news to Toric immediately, a sign of the growing mutual respect between Weyrleader and Southern Holder.
Toric hid his dismay as he read through the lengthy message that D’ram had brought from Master Robinton. He had swallowed his chagrin the previous month when he learned that the cove had been claimed for the Masterharper. One small cove Toric could allow without regret, however beautiful the place was rumored to be. With the help of Piemur’s maps and more eager dragonrider assistance than he really wanted, he had made other advantageous discoveries. For the first time, he had been able to fly over a good deal of his own holding—and he could begin to appreciate how large the continent was. But it had also been made tacitly clear to him that he could not have it all. The latest discovery made clear that “one small cove” was the thin edge of a big wedge.
He would have liked to digest the news without the presence of the new Masterharper, Sebell, but they had been trying to reach an understanding about which and how many new settlers Toric would permit in his hold. He was going to have to remind the Benden Weyrleaders of the promise made to him two and a half Turns before—and hold them to it. Aware that Sebell was watching his reactions, he expressed amazement at the new discovery.
“I shall, of course, convey you there myself,” D’ram replied, looking more like an eager weyrling than a seasoned leader. “I saw that mountain peak when I was in Cove Hold. I saw it, and never realized how significant it was.”
“ ‘When man came to Pern, he established a good Hold in the South,’ ” Sebell murmured, his eyes shining almost reverently, “ ‘but found it necessary to move north to shield.’ ”
Toric snorted at such ambiguous nonsense, although he had to admit that the first part of the Fragment did seem to be true. Had they held the entire South? “I’ll get my flying gear, D’ram.”
“Oh, no, not now, Toric,” D’ram said, grinning. “It’s late in the night there now. I assure you, we shall leave here in an appropriate time to arrive when the interested persons have gathered tomorrow morning. But I’ve matters to organize. And so must you. I’m as eager to go as you, Holder, believe me.” D’ram’s smile faded as he saw the concern on the Masterharper’s face. “Sebell?”
“I just don’t like so much excitement for my Master. He’s not fully recovered.”
“He has Menolly in constant attendance, as well as Sharra,” D’ram assured him. “They won’t let him tire himself.”
Sebell gave an uncharacteristic snort. “You don’t know Master Robinton as I do, D’ram. He’ll wear himself out, puzzling through the whys and wherefores of this.”
“It’ll do him good, Sebell,” D’ram replied. “Keep his mind occupied. Not that he would interfere with your Mastering, but an—” He changed word midthought. “An older man needs interests that involve him in life. Don’t worry, Sebell.”
“At least about your Master’s health,” Toric said sardonically. “He’s got both Menolly and Sharra, hasn’t he?”
D’ram realized that his mention of Toric’s sister had not been as circumspect as it might have been, just as he also remembered that Menolly was Sebell’s wife. “I’ll leave you to the reading and collect you in six hours’ time.”
“Isn’t there a lad from Ruatha Hold in this new batch of dimwits?” Toric asked Sebell when D’ram had left. He wanted to settle the latest arrivals immediately.
“Yes.” Sebell skimmed over the careful lists he had helped Toric make of abilities and ambitions. “Dorse: comes with a good recommendation from Brand, steward of the Ruatha Hold.”
“I don’t remember him offhand.”
“I knew him from Ruatha,” Sebell began in a tone that Toric was coming to identify as discreet. “You can trust Brand’s warranty. Says he does well if overseen.”
“Anyone does well overseen,” Toric said in a derisive tone. “What I need is someone who can initiate and carry through.”
“There’s a very competent man, Denol—came here from Boll on Lady Marella’s recommendation. Brought many of his family with him. Crop pickers by occupation, but they’ve settled in here well and obey him implicitly…”
“Ah, Denol. Yes, I know the man you mean. Well, then, give him a gaggle of these Northern louts, have him take his kin with him to that new holding at Great Bay, and we’ll see what he makes of it.”
“Send Dorse with him?”
“Not yet. I’ve something else in mind for that lad.”
As the bronze Tiroth emerged from between just east of Two-Faced Mountain, the volcano dominating the plain on which the settlement had been discovered, Toric tugged at D’ram’s sleeve and inscribed circles with his gloved finger. He wanted a good look around. Clearly he was not alone: two dragons were still airborne, and four more sat on the ground below, Ruth’s white hide standing out among them. Groups of people were wandering aimlessly around, and Toric wondered just how many had been informed of the amazing discovery. A positive rainbelt of fire-lizards, soaring and diving, was exulting in a cascade of sound that Toric could hear even through his padded helmet as a swarm swooped in greeting to Tiroth.
He bitterly resented the fact that the news had been spread with such a lavish hand. Southern had been his! It was enough that he had had to spend much of the past month delegating holdings to Northerners who would probably kill themselves with either enthusiasm in the heat or their ignorance of Southern dangers. He had been forced to recognize that the Southern Continent was not his to dispose of. But was it really Benden’s, either?