Lessa and F’lar, each working at separate mounds, were the first to reap any results of their hard work, and everyone rushed to see. Toric followed the crowd, but he was confident that all the digging would prove to be wasted effort. All previous evidence suggested that the ancients would have stripped everything before they left their settlement behind. He took only one look into each dragondug trench. What he saw was the same rocklike substance that had been used in the mine building he had found, except that in F’lar’s an amber panel was set in the curve of the mound. Uninterested, he stood to one side while the others argued about what to do next. Finally the Mastersmith took charge: they would unite their efforts and concentrate on Lessa’s mound.
Toric was disgusted that people he had admired should be so caught up by vain hopes. But he found that he, too, could not turn his back on the project, even supposing he was able to talk D’ram into leaving. There was always the chance, despite all his previous disappointments, that there was something left behind, and he could not miss that. It would show him what to look for in the other mounds Sharra and Hamian had discovered, the ones whose existence had not been reported to the world at large.
Late in the day a door was discovered, and amid much excitement, the mound was entered. And, as luck—good or bad, Toric wondered—would have it, Toric was the one who found the strange spoon, made of a smooth, clear, and incredibly strong nonmetal substance. Lessa was thrilled, and as they all enthusiastically trooped out to excavate another mound, Toric wished he had not encouraged them. Night had fallen before they quit for the day and he could make his escape. When Lessa invited him to join them overnight at Cove Hold, he summoned up as much politeness as he could manage and declined, calling for D’ram to give him a ride home.
That night Piemur composed a message for Jayge and Ara. With all the new wonders of the excavation to fully occupy the Halls and Weyrs, he was more sanguine about the couple’s safety. If they had found the only remaining settlement of the ancients, he would have felt compelled to mention it, out of Hall loyalty, to Master Robinton. But there was plenty of time for that—he could wait until the excitement about Two-Faced Mountain died down. In his message, Piemur told Jayge briefly that a huge settlement of great antiquity had been found and that he would try to visit them again soon. He sent Farli with the note.
In the morning she swooped to his shoulder, a brief message on the reverse side of his. “We are well. Thank you.” He just had time to thrust it into his pocket when Menolly appeared, wanting to know if he had seen either Jaxom or Sharra. Before he could frame an answer, Jaxom and Ruth, accompanied by a multitude of fire-lizards, burst into the air above the cove. The noise roused Master Robinton, who roared for silence.
“I have found the ancients’ flying machines,” Jaxom insisted, his eyes wide with wonder and excitement. “The fire-lizards have been driving me and Ruth crazy with memories of the scene. As if they could have a memory that old! I had to see, to believe,” he explained earnestly. “So Ruth and I dug down to the door into one of them. There are three, did I mention that? Well, there are. They look like this—” He grabbed a stick and, in the sand, sketched an irregular cylindrical design that had stubby wings and a straight-up section over the tail. He drew smaller rings at one end and outlined a long oval door. “That’s what Ruth and I found!”
At every sentence, there were choruses of approval from the fire-lizards outside and inside Cove Hold until Master Robinton once again begged for silence. By that time, both Menolly and Piemur had been bombarded with confirming images from their own fire-lizards, vivid scenes of men and women coming down a ramp, interwoven with views of the cylinders gliding in to land and taking off again. Everyone was thrilled at the idea of seeing the actual ships that had very likely brought their ancestors from the Dawn Sisters to Pern. Jaxom’s only disappointment was that Sharra was not there to share in his glory; she had, he learned, been called back to Southern Hold to deal with some illness there.
F’nor arrived on Canth just after they had eaten, none too pleased to be rousted by F’lar and sent out at such an early hour. But he changed his tune when he learned why Master Robinton had sent word to Benden Weyr. He was instantly ready to head right out to see the ancient ships.
When the Harper insisted on going along, they all protested, but he refused to be left on his own again at Cove Hold—it would be inhumane, he said, to deprive him of witnessing such a historic moment. He promised not to dig, but he simply had to be there! So despite their misgivings, they set off, F’nor taking Robinton and Piemur on Canth, and Jaxom taking Menolly, accompanied by an increasing storm of fire-lizards that could only be silenced by Ruth.
The excavation that followed yielded marvel after marvel, only beginning with the green button that, when pushed, caused the vehicle’s door to open on its own. But for Piemur and Master Robinton, the most wonderful find was the maps, covering the walls of one of the rooms, showing both continents in their entirety. Thinking of his own arduous mapping expeditions, Piemur was awed by the extent and the detail. Briefly he struggled with the dilemma of conflicting interests. He admired Toric and respected what he had achieved, but such a vast land was more than any one man had a right to Hold. From now on, Piemur would take a harper’s view.
Toric did not expect Sharra to appreciate what he was doing for her sake. He did not expect wife, sister, and both brothers to oppose him.
“And what’s wrong with Sharra making such a good match?” Ramala demanded, displaying an anger and force of will that astonished him.
“With Ruatha? A table-sized Hold in the north?” Toric dismissed it with a flick of his fingers. “Why, you could fit the place in one corner of my hold and it’d rattle.”
“Ruatha is a powerful Hold,” Hamian said, his face expressionless except for an angry tightening around the eyes. “Don’t dismiss Jaxom because he’s young and rides a sport dragon. He’s extremely intelligent…”
“Sharra can do better for herself!” Toric seethed. He was tired. After two days of digging and trying to keep up with that blasted smith, he wanted a bath, a good meal, and a chance to go over the maps Piemur had sent him. He was determined to learn exactly where the incredible Plateau was located—flying between with D’ram had given him no useful direction other than east.
“Sharra has done very well for herself,” Murda said, raising her voice as if volume would impress their opinion on him. She did not bother to conceal her approval and scowled fiercely at Toric.
“How would you know?” Toric demanded. “You’ve never met him.”
“I have,” Hamian said. “But that’s not as important as the fact that Sharra has chosen him. She’s been too long complying with your demands and suppressing her own needs. I think she’s done bloody well.”
“He’s younger than she is!”
Ramala shrugged. “A Turn or two. I’m warning you, Toric. Her feelings for Jaxom are genuine. She’s old enough to know her own heart and marry to suit herself.”
“Any one of you, any one of you,” Toric exclaimed, shaking his fist at each in turn, “meddle in this, and you can leave! Leave!” With that he dismissed them all, slumping into his chair and fuming over their reception of his decision.
A man should be able to trust his own family. That was the basis of the Blood relationship: trust. Give her a few days back home, away from that gawky lordling and the glamorous atmosphere of Cove Hold, and she would see reason. Meanwhile, he would see she stayed at home. He sent a drudge in search of the Ruathan he had previously noticed.