The Renegades of Pern (25 page)

“I took a close look at the dragons, Toric, and honestly, I think time is on your side. Stealing the egg, and I agree with you that they did even if Benden couldn’t prove it, took almost every ounce of strength they had. I think you’re absolutely right that we should keep a discreet watch on them. It’d be easier if the fire-lizards would go anywhere near the Weyr, but Farli’s still chattering about dragons flaming her. Have yours?”

“I haven’t had time for fire-lizards today, with full-grown Northern dragons breathing firestone stench in my face,” Toric replied acidly.

“So this time we inform Benden Weyr the moment suspicious behavior starts,” Piemur went on blithely, hoping to talk Toric out of any plans that included Master Robinton. “I want to tell you, Toric, I really admired the way you handled yourself with N’ton!”

“Thank you,” Toric said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” Piemur snapped back in the same tone. Then he grinned smugly and remarked with calculated insolence. “You’d have been in far worse case if Saneter and I hadn’t stood your witness!”

At that reminder, Toric reacted, first with a hard stare and then with a bellow of laughter. “Yes, you and old Saneter did come across, and for that I am genuinely grateful, Journeyman Harper.”

“Indebted, in fact,” Piemur suggested with a wry grin.

“Now, another thing . . .” Toric—the laugh had relaxed him a little—sat on the edge of his worktable, arms folded across his chest, his right hand fiddling with the holder knot on his shoulder. “You’ve ridden dragons. Just how much do you think they saw?”

Piemur snorted. “Shards, Toric, they were looking for a place an egg could harden, or for Oldtimer browns and bronzes. They wouldn’t have noticed anything else in the state they were in. Well, T’bor might have, but you’ve been mighty careful where you’ve allowed all our new arrivals to site their holds.” Piemur grinned slyly. “Hamian’s mine would appear to be basically the same from the air; all the other adits look like the holes in the ground they are; the wharf and hold on Island River shouldn’t be visible from the sky; Big Lagoon Hold is large, that’s true, and there’d have been fishing ships out in that direction . . .” Piemur shrugged. “Maybe later T’bor or F’nor, someone familiar with Southern, will ask some awkward questions. I doubt it. The interdiction still holds. They came to retrieve the egg. It got back all by itself. They left.” Piemur was beginning to suspect who might have returned the egg, but he had absolutely no evidence with which to prove it.

“And we still have those bloody Oldtimers to deal with.” But there was less force in the kick Toric gave the table leg.

“They haven’t hindered your plans all that much, now, have they?” Piemur said drolly. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I’d bide my time, Toric.”

“You’re with me, then?”

“If today didn’t prove that, I don’t know what will,” Piemur said, cocking his head to one side. He liked Toric, admired him, but he did not entirely trust him. Which was fair. Toric did not completely trust Piemur, especially not too often in Sharra’s company. Piemur had noticed how Toric tried to keep them apart; the holder had just given Sharra her long-sought permission to go on an adventurous trip south, beyond Hamian’s mines. “So, if we’re back to normal tomorrow, I’d like to see what’s beyond that headland east of Island River. Maybe even get as far as the cove that Menolly found when they were storm-lost.” He noticed the alertness in Toric’s eyes. The holder had not liked that inadvertent excursion; he had always been suspicious of just how far Menolly and the Masterharper had gone, though he could never deny that they
had
been storm-driven, and that only Menolly’s sea skills had kept the small boat afloat. “A dragon can’t go
between
to a place he’s never seen,” Piemur reminded the Southerner. “Likewise, a man can’t hold what he hasn’t beheld! How about it, Toric?”

Stupid led the way out of the brushland, pushing through the tangle with his sturdy front end, his hide too tough to be pierced by branch and thorn. From above, Farli was giving directions, and Piemur thrashed at the vegetation with the thick blade Hamian had forged for him.

He came out on a beach that sloped down to the sea, a pale green expanse of water ruffled with whitecaps from the onshore breeze. He sighed at the splendid view, then looked back the way he had come, at the thick trees waving their fronds and leaves. He took a redfruit from the pack on Stupid’s back, nicked it expertly with his chopper, and sucked at the sweet, thirst-quenching flesh. Stupid complained. He chopped off a hunk and fed it to the little runnerbeast, who munched contentedly.

But when Piemur turned to look down the narrow bay, he froze. He could not believe his eyes. He fumbled for the small distance-viewer he had wheedled away from Master Rampesi, who had just received a more powerful device from Starmaster Wansor; it had not done him much good with his nighttime stargazing, but it had been useful in surveying terrain. When he had focused it, there was no doubt that smoke was rising languidly from the chimney of a good-sized building, high up on the riverbank. It was roofed, big, and had a wide porch, probably on all four sides, with steps leading up to it on the two sides visible to him. Other buildings, large and small, were positioned nearby, making it a sizable settlement. A small sloop was drawn up on the shore, although he could see the stumps of pilings jutting out into the river that might once have been a pier, and fishnets hung on a rack to dry. Colored fishnets! Even through the distance-viewer, he could make out the yellows, greens, blues, and reds.

“There isn’t anyone in all this part of the world, Stupid. There just isn’t. I haven’t seen anyone in months. Toric certainly doesn’t know. Shipwreck?” Piemur searched his memory. There had been quite a few shipwrecks—and the number was growing. “That’s what they are Shipwrecked. And colored fishnets? Toric won’t like this.”

A pair of fire-lizards appeared overhead, but they did not fly low enough for him to get a close look. Farli joined them in the usual aerial dance. He had seen numerous fire-lizard nests along the coast, even some unplundered golds. But Toric had definitely stated that there would be no more trade of eggs with the north. Farli swooped to his shoulder, wrapping her tail about his neck and chitterring unintelligibly about men and lots of things piled on the beach.

“Houses are not piles,” Piemur stated firmly. But the incident with the northern dragons had taught him to pay attention to Farli’s incomprehensible statements. For the last few days she had been trying to tell him something that she had learned only recently. Eventually it would all make sense to him, just as he had deciphered her comments about the Black Rock River, which they had had such trouble negotiating. He had not expected such an immense inland sea, with distant islands lost in the misty rain.

Piemur’s cautionary instinct had sharpened on the long and solitary eastward journey. And though he was eager to talk to someone besides himself, he was also strangely loath to initiate a meeting. Nevertheless he proceeded down the long strand to the river’s mouth, struggling up dunes and treading carefully through the salt grasses, prodding ahead of his feet with his snake-stick, Stupid a pace behind him, Farli swooping up and back, flitting away and returning.

There were people, she told him, but not the men. Not the other men.

It was almost time for the precipitous sunset of those parts when Piemur finally got close enough to see that some of the buildings were derelict, with plants growing out of the windows and through cracks in the roofs. Several were bigger than anything Toric had yet permitted to be built, and they tended to be more wide open to air and sun than anyone dared build in the north, though the facing material was beautifully fit stone. The roofs seemed to be sheer slabs, finger thick. He remembered the exceedingly durable mine props that Hamian had found solidly in place after who knew how many Turns.

And there were people. He dropped down on the sand, getting a mouthful, when he saw a man walking from what had to be a beasthold toward the steps of the wide verandah. Canines, large ones to judge by their deep voices, began to bark somewhere behind the house.

“Ara!” The man’s call brought a woman out of the house, followed by a toddling child. There was a touching moment of embrace, then the man scooped the child up and, with one arm around the woman, entered the house.

“A family, Stupid. There’s a family living here, with a big house, lots of rooms, more than three people need. Why’d they build it so big? Or are there others inside?”

Four fire-lizards, two gold, a bronze, and a brown, suddenly came out of nowhere and hovered on wing above him, before disappearing. Although Farli was not alarmed, Piemur was.

“O-ho, we’ve been spotted. Well, fire-lizard friends can’t be all bad, can they, Stupid? Let’s go forth like brave men and get this over with.” He got to his feet and approached the building, shouting at the top of his well-trained lungs.
“Hello the house!
Let’s hope there’s enough dinner for four, huh, Stupid?
Hello there!”

There was glad astonishment and a warm, if shy, welcome from the shipwrecked couple, as well as an immediate invitation to share their meal, which was cooking over a most fascinating stove. The man, Jayge, tanned and well-muscled, was several Turns older and taller by several handwidths than the harper. He had an open face, a nose slightly bent, out of line from some brawl, light-colored eyes, and a steady gaze. He wore a sleeveless vest and short pants of roughly spun cotton, and around his lean hips was a fine leather belt from which hung a bone-handled knife. On his feet were rather ingenious sandals that protected toes and heels but were open across the foot. They looked much more comfortable and cooler than the heavy boots Piemur wore.

Ara was younger, with an appealing face that looked both innocent and yet was oddly mature; at times she looked sad. Her black hair was braided down her back, but curls escaped the plait to frame her face. She wore a loose, sleeveless cotton dress, dyed a deep red and embroidered on scoop neck and hem, a narrow leather belt dyed a red to match her dress, and red leather sandals. She was utterly charming, and Piemur did not miss Jayge’s proud and proprietary gaze.

While Piemur ate his way through the best meal he had eaten since he had left Southern, he listened to Jayge and Ara tell of their adventures, occasionally throwing in a question or a comment to encourage them to add details.

“We were hired at Keroon Beastmasterhold,” Jayge told him, “about thirty months ago—we lost an accurate track of time in the storm and during our first days here. We were transporting some expensive breeding stock for Master Rampesi, to be delivered to Holder Toric at the Southern Hold. Would you know him?”

“I do. I remember how mad Rampesi was when he had to admit your ship must have gone down. You were lucky to survive.”

“We very nearly didn’t,” Jayge said, giving Ara a sideways glance and laying his arm across her shoulders, his expression tenderly amused. “Ara here insists that we were dragged to shore by shipfish.”

“Quite likely,” Piemur assured him, grinning at Jayge’s surprise and Ara’s triumphant cry. “Every Masterfisherman worth his knots will agree: Master Rampesi has told me of men falling overboard and being lifted up by shipfish. He’s seen the phenomenon himself, and he’s not given to harper tales. That’s why Fishcrafthallers are so glad to see them escorting a ship out to sea. Means good luck.”

“But the storm was incredibly powerful,” Jayge objected.

“So are they—and quite at home in stormy seas. You’re the only survivors?”

When Ara looked stricken, Jayge answered quickly. “No, but one man was so badly hurt, we never even learned his name. Festa and Scallak had broken leg and arm bones; I’d snapped my wrist and a few ribs; but Ara set us all and healed us straight.” He twisted his left hand to prove the mend, smiling at Ara. “We were quite a sight then, only three good arms and four legs among us, except for Ara, who nursed and fed us all.” He shot his young wife a look of such tender pride that Piemur almost blushed. “We were getting along fine here, even tamed some wild beasts—Ara’s got a gift with animals—when first Festa and then Scallak caught some kind of a fever, terrible headaches . . . they went blind.” He broke off, frowning at the memory.

“Fire-head, probably,” Piemur said, breaking the silence to relieve Ara’s obvious distress at the memory. “It has a high mortality rate if you don’t know the cure.”

“There is one?” Ara’s eyes widened. “I tried everything I knew. I felt so helpless, and ever since I’ve been afraid . . .”

“Don’t fret yourself. Look—” Piemur hauled his pack over and pulled out a small vial, which he handed to her. “I’ve medicine here. Instructions on it, as you see. Just don’t go near beaches stained yellow. It’s at its worst in mid- or late spring. And now that we know where you are, I’ll see that Sharra—she’s had Healer Hall training—sends you a record of symptoms and treatment for some of the southern nasties.”

“I hope we’ve found most of them,” Jayge said with a rueful grin, rubbing the scar on his forearm. Piemur recognized the blemish as an old needlethorn infection.

“That’s the hard way to learn what to avoid. I’d say you’d done pretty well here.” Piemur was fascinated with the material of the house.

“We
found
all this,” Jayge said, his gesture including the house and the buildings beyond.

“Found
it?”

Jayge grinned, his teeth very white in his tanned face. He had curious yellow-green eyes, with flecks of dark in them, and a one-sided smile that Piemur liked. “Found the whole settlement. Mind you, it saved our lives. There were appalling storms for weeks after we were swept in here.” He paused, hesitant. “I didn’t think anyone had been allowed to settle in the south, except at Southern Hold. This isn’t part of Southern, is it, and we just didn’t search far enough west?”

“Ah, to be honest with you . . .” Piemur hesitated only a moment, for Toric could not possibly expect to claim the entire south. “No, this isn’t Southern Hold!” Seeing that his vehemence had surprised both Jayge and Ara, he smiled to reassure them. “You’re a long way from where you were supposed to land those beasts. A long way.” Piemur decided it would also be a very long time before Toric discovered their existence. “Hold hard to what you’ve got here,” he added blithely, and looked admiringly around at the gracious proportions of the room in which they ate. With its wide windows, louvered on the inside, it was unlike even freestanding hold rooms. The inside walls were not of the same stone as the outside and were colored very cool green blue. Jayge had fashioned sconces for candles Ara had made from berry wax, so the room was pleasantly lit. “How big is this house you
found
?”