“What was I going to do?” Robinton demanded of no one in particular, one hand on his forehead, the other propped at his belt. “And I’ve got enough wine.”
“I was talking about generations,” Lytol patiently cued him. “You wouldn’t accept the delay…”
“Ah, yes, thank you.” Robinton went over to the map stand that stood across one window. He leafed through the charts until he found the one he wanted and then pulled it up to hook it to the top of the frame. “Has anyone done anything about these?” He indicated the symbols in red, blue, and green, positioned like miniature flags between the landing strip and the far southern edge of the settlement.
Piemur swiveled in his chair to look.
“No, sir. There doesn’t seem to be anything there now.”
“But caves were discovered in that general area, weren’t they?”
“Yes, caves that had obviously been adapted for use as living quarters,” Piemur admitted. “Probably for greens, since the dragon couches were very small.”
“What if—what if the caves here,” Robinton said excitedly, tapping the flags, “had concealed entrances?”
“Master, haven’t we found enough junk?” Piemur’s sweeping gesture took in the entire Cove Hold complex.
“But no answers!” Robinton shook his head. “There have to be some answers, so that we can understand more than what we’ve gleaned from fire-lizards!” Roused from his sleep on the back of Robinton’s chair, Zair chirped in reassurance. “And that’s enough from you, impudence with wings. As I’ve said before, people who could execute the wonders we have seen would have kept records!”
“They did, and they’re the dust in the back corridors of Fort Hold and Benden Weyr,” Piemur broke in. “And we’re none the wiser.”
“They can’t have kept so few copies!” the Harper insisted. “And we have the maps as examples of the durability of their materials—so where are the rest?”
“There were lapses in record-keeping,” Lytol agreed solemnly. “We now know there must have been a terrible fire in one portion of Fort Hold’s lowest level; we are also agreed that plague decimated Hall, Hold, and Weyr on three separate occasions. We may never learn our history.” He seemed as resigned to that possibility as the Harper was resistant to it.
“So, when the rain decides to stop,” Piemur asked on a long-suffering note, “do you want me to take some rodmen and find these caves for you?”
When the next day brought a clearing of the heavy rains, Piemur sent Farli to Eastern Weyr for a dragon to convey himself and the Harper to the Plateau. V’line, a young bronze rider, arrived and duly transported them. Once at the Plateau, the Harper requested V’line and Clarinath to circle over the site. So often an aerial search produced visual clues not apparent on the surface. Carefully scrutinizing the terrain below, neither Piemur nor Robinton noticed the absence of fire-lizards.
But as the wide circling brought them to face north, they could not fail to notice the map building, which had been completely unearthed, visibly tremble and slowly, almost majestically, collapse. Then people were erupting from the Plateau buildings in panic.
“Clarinath says the ground isn’t steady,” V’line exclaimed.
“Earthshake?” Piemur suggested.
“Can we land?” V’line asked.
“I don’t see why not,” the Harper said. “There’s nothing out here to fall on us. Pity about the ‘hill.’ Perhaps we shouldn’t have uncovered it.”
“Perhaps you should have let Master Esselin shore up the weak section,” Piemur replied.
“Shall we land?” V’line was dubious, and Clarinath was swinging his head anxiously, peering down at the unreliable surface. “Is it still rocking?”
“How can we tell up here?” Piemur demanded. “Tell Clarinath the Harper says it’s all right to land.”
“I’m glad you’re so certain about it,” the Harper said, his expression reflecting his qualms. “But I feel we ought to proceed first to Plateau and see if all is well.”
The rest of that day was spent in establishing that there had been little damage, with the exception of the old “hill,” at the Plateau. The earthshake had been more noticeable at Monaco Bay and Eastern Weyr, but had been the merest shiver at Cove Hold, noticed only because of the disappearance of the fire-lizards.
Masters Nicat and Fandarel were sent for—Piemur thought it a waste of their valuable time, since it was his experience that shakes were common in the South—to look into the phenomenon and figure out what precautions could be taken for the future. Earthshakes were exceedingly rare in the North, and no one knew what to expect.
“It’s really rather simple,” Piemur muttered to the girl who was passing around soup and klah. “The next time all the fire-lizards flick off in a storm, you can expect another shake.”
“Are you certain of your facts?” she asked skeptically.
“Yes, on the basis of personal observation,” Piemur replied, not certain if he liked being challenged so quickly. Then he noticed the twinkle in her eye. She was not unattractive, with a mop of very curly black hair, gray eyes, and a fine long nose—he always noticed noses, since he regretted his own snub of a nose. “I’ve been in the South nearly ten Turns and that shock was nothing.”
“I’ve been here ten days, and I found that shock unsettling, journeyman. I don’t recognize your colors,” she added, nodding at his shoulder knots.
He winked at her and assumed an arrogant pose. “Cove Hold!” He was extremely proud to be one of a half dozen entitled to wear those colors.
His reply brought the gratifying reaction he had expected. “Then you’re journeyman to Master Robinton? Piemur? My grandfa mentions you frequently! I’m Jancis, Telgar Smithcrafthall journeywoman.”
He made a disparaging sound. “You don’t look like any Smithcrafter I’ve ever seen.”
A dimple flashed in her right cheek when she smiled. “That’s exactly what my grandfa says,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“And who might your grandfa be?” Piemur asked obediently.
Her smile had a touch of mischief as she turned with her tray to serve others. “Fandarel!”
“Hey, Jancis, come back!” Piemur shot to his feet, spilling soup over his hands.
“Ah, Piemur,” the Harper said, appearing before him to catch his arm and thwart his pursuit. “When you’ve finished eating– What’s the matter with you?”
“Fandarel has a granddaughter?”
The Masterharper blinked and then focused a kindly gaze on his journeyman. “He has several that I know of. And four sons.”
“He has a granddaughter here!”
“Ah, I see. Well, when you’ve finished eating…now what was it I wanted you to do?” The Harper placed his fingers on his forehead, frowning in concentration.
“Sorry, Master Robinton.” Piemur was sincerely contrite. He knew that the Harper hated his lapses of memory; Master Oldive had explained that they were a natural part of the aging process, but Piemur found such reminders of his Master’s mortality distinctly unsettling.
“Ah!” the Harper exclaimed, remembering. “I wanted to get back to Cove Hold. Zair has gone off with a multitude of other bronzes, chasing some queen, and I’ve really had quite enough excitement today. Would you, in the light of your new acquaintanceship, care to accompany me?”
Piemur did not, but he went. Two could play a disappearing game, he thought wryly.
The next morning, a fire-lizard brought an urgent message for the Harper from Master Esselin.
“Well, it seems that between the rains and the earthshake, an interesting subsidence has occurred, and it looks as if an entrance to those caves has been revealed,” Robinton said cheerfully. “I think we’d better ask V’line to come as soon as possible.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
A large depression in the ground, along with a substantial fracture of the surface, had been noticed early that morning by the ever observant Breide. Master Esselin had assembled a crew at the site, but no one had been permitted to descend into the cavern until Master Robinton arrived. In preparation, Esselin had tested the safety of the fissure’s edge and found it solid enough. Glows had been collected and a sturdy ladder lowered and settled firmly on the cave floor. When Robinton arrived, he found Breide in a sweat, arguing vehemently with Master Esselin, who was guarding the ladder with his own body.