"So?"
"I know some restless Lord Holders whose halls are crowded, whose cots are jammed. And the Weyrs, instead of protecting the inviolability of the Southern Continent, were half-set to force their way in. What's to prevent the Lord Holders from taking the initiative and claiming whole portions of it?"
"There wouldn't be dragons enough to protect that much area, that's what," Lytol said. "The Oldtimers surely wouldn't."
"They don't really need dragonriders in the South," Robinton said slowly.
Lytol stared at him, aghast at such a statement.
"It's true," he said. "The land is thoroughly sowed by grubs. Traders have told me that they more or less ignore Falls; Holder Toric just makes certain everyone's safe and all stock is under cover."
"There will come a time when no dragonriders will be needed in the North either," N'ton said, slowly, compounding Lytol's shock.
"Dragonriders will always be needed on Pern while there is Thread!" Lytol emphasized his conviction by banging the table with his fist.
"At least in our lifetimes," Robinton said soothingly. "But I could have wished less interest in Southern. Think it over, Lytol."
"More of your thinking ahead, Robinton?" Lytol asked, a sour note in his voice and a jaundiced expression on his face.
"Looking ahead is far more constructive than looking behind," said Robinton. He held his clenched fist up. "I'd all the facts in my grasp and I couldn't see the water for the waves."
"You've been down to the Southern Continent often, Masterharper?"
Robinton gave Lytol a long considering look. "I have. Discreetly, I assure you. There are some things that must be seen to be believed."
"Such as?"
Robinton idly stroked Zair as he gazed out, over Lytol's head, at some distant view.
"Mind you, there are times when looking back can be helpful," he said and then turned back to the Lord Warder. "Are you aware that we originally, all of us, came from the Southern Continent?"
Lytol's first surprise at such a sudden turn of the conversation melded into a thoughtful frown. "Yes, that was implicit in the oldest Records."
"I've often wondered if there aren't older Records, moldering somewhere in the South."
Lytol snorted at the notion. "Moldering is right. There'd be nothing left after so many thousands of Turns."
"They had ways of tempering metal, those ancestors of ours, ways that made it impervious to rust and wear. Those plates found at Fort Weyr, the instruments, like the long-distance viewer that fascinates Wansor and Fandarel. I don't believe that time can have erased all traces of such clever people."
Jaxom glanced at Menolly, recalling hints that she'd let slip. Her eyes were sparkling with suppressed excitement. She knew something that the Harper wasn't saying. Jaxom looked then at the Fort Weyrleader and realized that N'ton knew all about this.
"The Southern Continent was ceded to the dissident Oldtimers," Lytol said heavily.
"And they have already broken their side of the agreement," N'ton said.
"Is that any reason for us to break ours?" Lytol asked, drawing his shoulders back and scowling at both Weyrleader and Harper.
"They occupy only a small tongue of land, jutting out into the Southern Sea," said Robinton in his smooth way. "They have been unaware of any activity elsewhere."
"You've already been exploring in the South?"
"Judiciously. Judiciously."
"And you'd not have your… judicious intrusions discovered?"
"No," answered Robinton slowly. "I shall make the knowledge public soon enough. I don't want every disgruntled apprentice and evicted small holder running about indiscriminately, destroying what should be preserved because they haven't the wit to understand it."
"What have you discovered so far?"
"Old mine workings, shored up with lightweight but so durable a material that it is as unscratched today as when it was put in place in the shaft. Tools, powered by who can guess-bits and pieces that not even young Benelek can assemble."
There was a long silence which Lytol broke with a snort. "Harpers! Harpers are supposed to instruct the young."
"And first and foremost, to preserve our heritage!"
CHAPTER VIII
Ruatha Hold, Fort Weyr, Fidello's Hold, 15.6.3-15.6.17
JAXOM WAS DISAPPOINTED that all Lytol's coaxing could not draw more facts from the Harper about his explorations in the South. At the point where Jaxom's fatigue made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open, it occurred to him that Robinton had indeed succeeded in rousing Lytol to support his and N'ton's desire to keep interest in the South to a minimum.
Jaxom's last waking thought was one of admiration for the Harper's devious methods. No wonder he had not objected to Jaxom training with N'ton when he saw Lytol was in favor of it. The Harper needed the older man as the Lord Holder at Ruatha. Training Ruth to chew firestone kept the young Lord from wanting to take Hold in Lytol's place.
The next morning Jaxom was positive that he couldn't have moved during the night. He was bindingly stiff, his face and shoulder stung with the Threadscore and that reminded him of Ruth's injury. With no regard for his own discomfort, he whipped aside the furs and, grabbing the numbweed pot as he went, burst into Ruth's weyr.
The faintest rumble told him that the white dragon was still sound asleep. He also seemed not to have moved for his leg was propped in the same position.
That made it easier for Jaxom to work and he smeared a new coating of numbweed along the line of the score. Only then did it occur to Jaxom that he and Ruth might have to wait until they'd healed before they could join the weyrlings at Fort Weyr.
Lytol did not share his thought. The reason Jaxom was going to Fort Weyr was to avoid scoring, to learn how to take care of his dragon and himself during Threadfall. If he got teased because he hadn't ducked fast enough, he deserved it. So, after breaking his fast, Jaxom flew Ruth to the Weyr.
Fortunately two of those in training were near his own age of eighteen Turns-not that being older would have bothered Jaxom as long as he could train Ruth properly. He did have to suppress the insidious urge to excuse Ruth's scoring with the real reason for the supposed clumsiness. He took refuge in knowing that he had achieved more than they'd ever guess-a small consolation.
His first problem in the weyrling class was to relieve Ruth of the embarrassment of the endless fire-lizards that settled on him. No sooner was one group dislodged and sent off than another appeared, to the disgust and exasperation of K'nebel, the weyrlingmaster.
"Does this go on all day wherever you are?" the man asked Jaxom irritably.
"More or less. They just… come. Especially since… what happened at Benden Weyr."
K'nebel snorted his aggravation even as he nodded his understanding. "I don't like to put truth to these notions that dragons flamed fire-lizards, but you'll never get Ruth going if the fire-lizards don't leave him alone. And if they don't leave him alone, one of 'em will get flamed!"
So Jaxom had Ruth shoo the fire-lizards away as quickly as they arrived. It took time before Ruth remained unencumbered for any appreciable period. Then, either all the fire-lizards in the vicinity had looked in, or Ruth had been sufficiently firm and the rest of the morning's class was undisrupted.
Despite all the interruptions, K'nebel kept the weyrlings working until the noonday meal was called. Jaxom was invited to stay and, as a mark of his rank, was shown to the large table reserved for senior dragonriders.
The conversation was dominated by continued speculation about the return of the egg and which one of the queen riders had returned it. The discussions served to reinforce Jaxom's decision to remain silent. He cautioned Ruth, needlessly, it appeared since the white dragon was more interested in chewing firestone and dodging Thread than in past events.