The Renegades of Pern (38 page)

“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

D
ESPITE 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 Mnememth 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.

“Solar’s an old word for sun. Panels, we know.”

“Sun panels? What would they do?”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.” Jancis’s eyes sparkled vivaciously.

“You were very brave yesterday, fighting right alongside us,” he said irrelevantly because she looked so pretty just then. Her flush deepened. “And if you hadn’t released the canines so that Thella didn’t get her hands on Ara and the children at the start . . .”

“Well, she didn’t, and that was yesterday. This is today, and I think we’ve got the clue to something very important. No other building on this plateau was especially reinforced against lava. What they couldn’t move, they left to slag.”

“We’ll have to wait until Master Robinton’s awake. After yesterday, I doubt I can coax V’line to convey us anywhere without the Harper’s authority.”

“And just why is that needed?” the Harper asked, yawning as he entered the kitchen.

When applied to later that morning by Master Robinton himself, T’gellan dispatched one of the green weyrlings, who had strict orders, respectfully begging the Master Harper’s pardon, to go only to the Plateau and return immediately to the Eastern Weyr.

“Lessa wasted little time distancing Weyrs from our problems,” the Harper said, more amused than offended. “However, you two go on. Not only is a green beneath my consequence, but I must construct a report on this matter for Sebell. Yesterday may have broken one thorn in the sides of the Lord Holders but—” He sighed deeply. “—only one, and it behooves me to sweeten the inevitable furor. I am thankful that Jayge is confirmed as a holder. I doubt Larad, or even Asgenar, will feel that the lad exceeded his authority, but he’s new to his honors. Some may feel he ought not to have killed Thella. The Telgar Bloodline is an ancient, and generally an honorable one.”

Piemur and Jancis were relieved to be allowed to go, Piemur now infected by Jancis’s curiosity. They had assembled their tools by the mound when Piemur saw the white dragon arrive. So much had happened that he had forgotten his offer to Jaxom until that very moment. He waved vigorously to attract the Ruathan lord’s attention, sending Farli to reinforce his message by way of Ruth. Jaxom and Ruth landed in the aisle in front of the annex, which put Jaxom on a level with the two on the mound top.

“What happened to you?” Jaxom asked with some concern, noting Piemur’s bruised face. “Fall down one of those caves?”

“Something like that,” Piemur said diffidently. “Lord Jaxom of Ruatha, this is Smith Journeywoman Jancis, Master Fandarel’s granddaughter.”

“Don’t I remember you from Telgar Smithcrafthall?” Jaxom smiled winningly as Jancis regarded him frankly.

“Yes,” she replied mischievously. “I used to serve you bread and klah when you came to the Smithcrafthall for lessons with Wansor.”

“You’re not that old,” Piemur protested, and Jancis cocked her head at him.

“What are you doing on this building?” Jaxom asked. “I was looking forward to a prowl through endless caverns and fascinating treasures.”

“We may be onto something a lot more exciting, Jaxom,” Piemur said, placing the rod at the edge of the long narrow band nearest him and tapping the point gently. “We’re following Jancis’s hunch.”

“I’ve had one or two of those myself,” Jaxom said with a rueful grin. “About this building?”

“I—we—” Jancis stammered, breaking off uncertainly and turning helplessly to Piemur.

“Jancis found an old drawing,” the harper said, smoothly taking up the tale and rescuing her from a possible indiscretion. Jaxom would learn about Thella’s raid soon enough. “Gave us a hint that this might be an important site. So we thought we’d take a closer look. It’s her hunch. According to the master map the Harper and I found, that”—he pointed to the mound perpendicular to them—“is marked as ‘
ADMIN
.’ This section we’re standing on is marked ‘
AIVAS
.’ The ancients went to considerable trouble to protect this aivas thing from the lava flow with heat-tolerant shielding, so we’re investigating.”

“That’s enough to make me curious, too,” Jaxom said, suddenly stepping from the white dragon’s back to the top of the mound. “I’ll help.”

“Great!” Piemur tapped his rod again and suddenly the point clicked against something. “That’s odd. The click, I mean.”

“Usually it’s a thunk,” Jaxom agreed knowledgeably.

Jancis consulted her sheet, which she had carefully taped to a writing board. “These unusual long protruberances are listed as solar panels,” she said, showing Jaxom the diagram. “None of the other buildings have such features.” She moved her arm in a wide sweep of the nearby mounds. Suddenly she grinned at Jaxom so infectiously that he responded with a broad smile. “D’you think it’s a good hunch?”

“Sounds like it. Got another trowel?” She did, and they carefully began to clear the accumulated dirt from one of the six long solar panels.

“Farli!” Piemur gestured for the little queen to help. They were all a bit startled when Ruth extended one forepaw, offering to assist.

“Not right now, Ruth,” Jaxom said, turning to hold a finger up to his inquisitive friend. “But we’re likely to need you later.”

“Careful, Farli,” Piemur cautioned as the fire-lizard fell to her digging with the boundless, and often misplaced, energy of her kind.

Farli chirped inquiringly. “Yes, right here,” Jancis said absently. “Be careful, will you?” Jaxom winked at Piemur, who felt absurdly proud of the easy way Jancis interacted with his little queen.

Farli obediently moderated her efforts, using a slow claw-over-claw technique, until she stopped, chittering with success, when her talons exposed a dull black surface.

“Careful . . .” Jancis used her hands to comb the remaining ash aside, revealing a hand-wide square. Farli patted it, her claw tips clicking. “I don’t know what this is. It’s not their usual material. It’s more like dense opaque glass.” She rapped on it experimentally. “Doesn’t sound like glass.”

“Let’s get the whole piece uncovered,” Jaxom suggested.

But revealing a complete panel made them no wiser. So they excavated the other five panels on the south-facing roof and then, with Ruth’s assistance, the entire roof, which proved to be clad in hand-square sections. Once a piece broke loose, slithering to the ground, but fortunately it was not damaged by the fall.

“Look, these tiles cover the original roofing material. Mortared on.” With a sharp cutting tool, Jancis scratched at the surface of a tile. “It could be ceramic, but it’s the hardest I’ve ever seen. However did they get such strength to ceramics?” she wondered aloud.

“Could these possibly be ceramic, too?” Jaxom asked, tapping one of the long panels.

Piemur was lying prone, poking his finger around one panel; “It’s always a possibility. You know, these are attached somehow to, and maybe even penetrate, the original roof. All the tiles were carefully shaped to fit snugly around the panels and on the roof. Very curious. Why wouldn’t the panels be covered against the heat, too? I don’t understand this. D’you think your grandfather should have a look at this?”

“Master Esselin
should
see it first,” she said, none too happily. “He’s in charge here.”

“Of excavating,” Jaxom said, motioning Ruth to him. “But Fandarel checks new materials.” He grinned as he slipped onto Ruth’s back. “He’ll be at these caves I came to see?”

“Have a look in passing,” Piemur yelled as Ruth launched himself upward.

“You and Lord Jaxom seem to be old friends,” Jancis remarked casually as she reached for her notepad and the transparent measuring stick. She saw his look and flushed. “Well, we did find several boxes of them, you know.”

“Tools are meant to be used,” he replied magnanimously. “There are things to be kept for what they are, and things that should be used because they’re more efficient than anything we have.” He grinned at her discomfort, and she got busy with her measurements.

In a very few minutes, Ruth returned with Jaxom and the Mastersmith, Fandarel’s massive bulk dwarfing even the tall Ruathan and certainly looking conspicuous on the small white dragon. For a man of his size, however, Fandarel was agile and active, lying flat by one of the solar panels to examine it thoroughly, running his fingers over the puzzling new surface.

“This tiling is familiar,” he said, grimacing at another loose piece and rubbing his thumb over it. “It was not meant to lie fiat, either. See, there is a slight rounding to it. It might have been bedded in this mortar . . .” He pinched some of the dusty stuff visible where the section had lain. “But this was not its original purpose.”

Jaxom let out a sudden whoop. “It’s like the coating on the flying ships in the meadow!”

“Why would they coat a building with—” Piemur began.

“Heat tolerance. There’d be heat, or friction—” Jancis said at the same time.

They both broke off, startled by the sight of the smith precariously tilted groundward to examine the exposed corner of the roof and wall. He grunted, waving one hand urgently at the three young people. Jancis held out the trowel; he grabbed it and began chipping away the dirt around the corner, murmuring to himself. He sounded both puzzled and pleased.

“Jaxom, would Ruth be kind enough to dig out this corner section for me?”

That was soon enough accomplished, though Ruth did knock off a few more of the tiles, apologizing through Jaxom for it.

“Tell him not to worry,” the Mastersmith replied. “The mortar that held them in place has accomplished its purpose. Your theory is supported, Jancis. These tiles were added to protect what’s in this curious building against the heat of lava. Now what does it contain?”

“An aivas,” Jancis said, clearing her throat conspicuously and passing the drawing to her grandfather. Piemur noticed how subdued she had become, turning into a very proper and self-effacing young lady.

“And what, Master Fandarel, is an ‘aivas’?” Jaxom asked patiently.

“I don’t know, Jaxom,” the smith replied. “Let us all find out.”

“Jancis had the hunch,” Piemur said, wanting her to assert herself.

“Good girl. Always uses her eyes and her wits,” the smith said, surprised at Piemur’s fervent agreement. Then Fandarel dropped off the roof and went to round up a full team of excavators, unceremoniously excusing them from their other projects. He rudely ignored Master Esselin and Breide when they demanded explanations, telling them absently to go do something they were qualified to do. By evening the annex was completely unearthed to reveal that, unlike all other ancient buildings, it had neither windows nor door, and that the original walls were of a double thickness. Ventilation slats were finally discovered under the eaves, but they allowed no glimpse of the interior. At sunset, the smith called a halt, giving orders that the project was now the highest priority and that Master Esselin should see that there was a full complement of workers to secure access to the
ADMIN
building and the mysterious aivas as soon after daylight as possible.