The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [340]
“Ramoth will forget her aggravation soon enough,” N’ton said.
“Lessa won’t, although I doubt there’ll be that much reason for me to send Zair to Benden Weyr.”
As N’ton and Lytol vigorously reassured the Harper, Jaxom realized there was a curious restraint about the man, an odd note in his voice when he mentioned Benden or the Weyrwoman. Robinton wasn’t worried simply that Lessa had prohibited fire-lizards at Benden.
“There’s another aspect of this affair that is nagging at the back of my overactive imagination,” Robinton said. “The matter has brought Southern to everyone’s attention.”
“Why is that a problem?” Lytol asked.
Robinton took a sip of his wine, delaying his answer as he savored the taste. “Just this: these recent events have made everyone realize that that huge continent is occupied by a mere handful of people.”
“So?”
“I know some restless Lord Holders whose halls are crowded, whose cots are jammed. And the Weyrs, instead of protecting the inviolability of the Southern Continent, were half-set to force their way in. What’s to prevent the Lord Holders from taking the initiative and claiming whole portions of it?”
“There wouldn’t be dragons enough to protect that much area, that’s what,” Lytol said. “The Oldtimers surely wouldn’t.”
“They don’t really need dragonriders in the South,” Robinton said slowly.
Lytol stared at him, aghast at such a statement.
“It’s true,” he said. “The land is thoroughly sowed by grubs. Traders have told me that they more or less ignore Falls; Holder Toric just makes certain everyone’s safe and all stock is under cover.”
“There will come a time when no dragonriders will be needed in the North either,” N’ton said slowly, compounding Lytol’s shock.
“Dragonriders will always be needed on Pern while there is Thread!” Lytol emphasized his conviction by banging the table with his fist.
“At least in our lifetimes,” Robinton said soothingly. “But I could have wished less interest in Southern. Think it over, Lytol.”
“More of your thinking ahead, Robinton?” Lytol asked, a sour note in his voice and a jaundiced expression on his face.
“Looking ahead is far more constructive than looking behind,” said Robinton. He held his clenched fist up. “I’d all the facts in my grasp and I couldn’t see the water for the waves.”
“You’ve been down to the Southern Continent often, Masterharper?”
Robinton gave Lytol a long considering look. “I have. Discreetly, I assure you. There are some things that must be seen to be believed.”
“Such as?”
Robinton idly stroked Zair as he gazed out, over Lytol’s head, at some distant view.
“Mind you, there are times when looking back can be helpful,” he said and then turned back to the Lord Warder. “Are you aware that we originally, all of us, came from the Southern Continent?”
Lytol’s first surprise at such a sudden turn of the conversation melded into a thoughtful frown. “Yes, that was implicit in the oldest Records.”
“I’ve often wondered if there aren’t older Records, moldering somewhere in the South.”
Lytol snorted at the notion. “Moldering is right. There’d be nothing left after so many thousands of Turns.”
“They had ways of tempering metal, those ancestors of ours, ways that made it impervious to rust and wear. Those plates found at Fort Weyr, the instruments, like the long-distance viewer that fascinates Wansor and Fandarel. I don’t believe that time can have erased all traces of such clever people.”
Jaxom glanced at Menolly, recalling hints that she’d let slip. Her eyes were sparkling with suppressed excitement. She knew something that the Harper wasn’t saying. Jaxom looked then at the Fort Weyrleader and realized that N’ton knew all about this.
“The Southern Continent was ceded to the dissident Oldtimers,” Lytol said heavily.
“And they have already broken their side of the agreement,” N’ton said.
“Is that any reason for us to break ours?” Lytol asked, drawing his shoulders back and scowling at both