The Weyrleaders had seen the dead woman where she and the other renegades lay in sacks, prepared for immediate sea burial.

“That’s the end of that,” Lessa said, frowning. Then she began to take off the rest of her heavy flying gear. “Did the renegades destroy everything in the hold, or do we have to fly back to Benden to refresh ourselves?” she demanded petulantly. She was tired, hot, and at the end of an exhausting Fall, the last thing she needed was another crisis.

“No, indeed not,” Jancis said, taking Lessa’s jacket. “There’s redfruit, juice, klah, some of Jayge’s rotgut spirits, and if you can spare the time, broiled fish fresh from the sea.”

The hospitality brought a smile to Lessa’s face, reluctant at first, but more relaxed as Jancis led them up the porch steps. The first of the evening breezes had freshened the sultry air, and the house was pleasantly cool.

“What sort of casualties did Jayge suffer?” F’lar asked.

“None of the hold was badly hurt—bumps, lumps, superficial cuts, and bruises mostly, “Jancis said, “though Ara had to take a few stitches here and there. She’s very neat.”

“And the renegades?” Lessa asked, sipping the drink Jancis had given her.

“Six survive, all badly wounded.” There was a note of satisfaction in Jancis’s voice. “One of them captained the ship that brought them here.”

“Master Idarolan should be informed.” Lessa grimaced. “He doesn’t like his masters disloyal.”

“The man wasn’t a master, Lessa,” Piemur said, joining them. The bandage on his head, his bruised face, and the various small lacerations smeared with numbweed gave him a raffish appearance.

“You should be resting,” Jancis told him sternly.

He caught her hand and grinned down at her. “Harpers have notoriously hard heads.”

“And thick skins,” Lessa added in mock derision.

“Leave it to Thella to have found a dissatisfied journeyman, denied his mastery and willing to dishonor his Hall,” Piemur went on. “Stole the ship from the repair dock at Thella’s instigation. Master Idarolan will enjoy making an example of him.”

“And the others?” F’lar asked.

“Holdless men,” Piemur shrugged. “Promised rewards and easy living in the south.” He eased himself onto the broad couch beside Jancis.

“They can go back with the ship,” F’lar said, “and then wherever Master Idarolan requires drudges.”

“That’s not the end of the problem of renegades, though, F’lar,” Lessa said, frowning.

“True enough, but if Thella’s death is sufficiently publicized”—F’lar looked meaningfully at Piemur—“it will deter the undecided and give us another breathing spell.”

“I’ll make a full report to the Masterharper—both of them,” Piemur said, a twinkle in his eye.

Lessa gave an impatient exclamation. “Robinton’s nearly as much of a renegade as—” She paused to think of a suitable comparison and then, with a sly smile, fixed her eyes on Piemur. “As you are, journeyman!”

“Truly spoken,” Piemur said, grinning broadly.

Lessa opened her mouth to say more but broke off as Jayge, bruised, bandaged, and bedaubed even more than Piemur was, entered the room with an apprehensive Aramina.

Lessa greeted her warmly, expressing delight that Aramina had rediscovered her ability to contact dragons. She was magnanimously restrained over the brief Weyr participation, dwelling on the relief all would feel at Thella’s defeat. Upon questioning, it appeared that Aramina had not heard Ramoth and Mnementh as they arrived—which, Lessa said kindly, she ought to have done since both dragons had been considerably agitated.

“I do hear the fire-lizards,” Aramina offered, and Piemur was pleased to notice that for once Lessa did not respond to mention of the creatures with her customary acerbity. “And I also hear someone—something else—occasionally. Whatever it is, is very sad, and so I don’t try to hear it.”

Despite gentle probing, she could give no more information, but Lessa extracted a promise from her to be open to dragons again. “Not to intrude on your life, my dear, but merely to keep in touch. It proved valuable enough today, you’ll agree.

“We’re not even halfway through this Pass,” Lessa reminded her as the Weyrleaders prepared to leave, “and we’ll need good women for our queens. I—and Ramoth—hoped to have you in our number, but perhaps that daughter of yours…The ability is in the Bloodline, you know, and you’re Ruathan, too, Mina!”

16: Southern Continent, PP 17

DESPITE THE EXERTIONS of the previous day, Piemur was awake at dawn, groaning when he realized how early it was. Muscles along his back cramped, and his efforts to ease them merely brought home the awareness of how very stiff he was. Slowly he elevated himself on one elbow and stretched cautiously, wincing.

“Whooo!” The exclamation escaped him as he experimentally felt the two lumps on his head. The bandage had come off during the night.

“Piemur?” Jancis’s soft voice made him whirl, which proved to be another injudicious movement. She was already dressed, a cup of klah in one hand and a reed basket containing bandage rolls and two salve pots in the other. “Stiff, are you?” Her smile was fondly proud.

“You bet.”

“Here.” She held out the klah.” Wake up a bit more. Healer Jancis urges Harper Piemur to consider a gentle dip in the sea, and then she’ll tend to his honorable wounds. Head ache?”

Piemur grimaced. “A slight improvement on yesterday.” He sipped the klah gratefully. “How come you’re so bright at this wretched hour?”

Jancis gave him an impish grin. “Oh, I slept, but excitement woke me up.”

“Excitement? Yesterday’s?” On top of the fight with Thella’s men, Piemur and Jancis had had the privilege—and thrill—of riding Ramoth and Mnementh back to Cove Hold, where F’lar and Lessa had stopped to confer with Master Robinton.

“No, today’s!” And she seemed altogether too pleased with herself. “But first, I want you able to concentrate your harper wits. Finish the klah, swim, I’ll patch you up, and then I’ll tell you.” She hauled him up from his bed and started dragging him from the small sleeping room.

“You found something in the warehouse?”

“Not until you’ve swum!”

Jancis was adamant, and, annoyed as he was, Piemur had to admit later that the swimming eased the aches, though the salt water stung his cuts. He felt much better after she had slathered numbweed where it was needed. He was both pleased that she had taken no harm from her part in the previous day’s skirmish and chagrined that he had sustained so much. He had kept right by her side during the ambush of Thella’s band, had cheered when her spear throw had wounded her target, and had been exceedingly relieved to see Alemi leading reinforcements into the grove.

When she insisted that he eat, Piemur discovered that he was hungrier than he had realized, and they both ate a hearty breakfast. Then Jancis cleared their dishes, and only after that, with an air of triumph, did she carefully unroll a transparent sheet of the ancients’ peculiar material. She held the corners down with spoons and forks and waited while he examined it.

“Ad…min an…nex,” he read slowly, enunciating each syllable of the caption. “For aivas. Aivas?” He looked inquiringly up at Jancis.

“I don’t know what an aivas is either, but it must be important. See? They went to a lot of trouble to reinforce it. ‘Cer…a…mic tiles’—well, we know ‘tiles.’ Heat resistant, that’s obvious, too. I don’t understand what the figures mean, but ‘tolerance’ would indicate they were determined to protect this aivas thing.” Jancis was excited.

“Admin annex? We haven’t excavated that one yet, have we? It’s up near the edge of the lava flow. And what’re so…lar pan…els?” he asked, tapping the long strips that were apparently attached to the roof of the aivas annex.