The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [421]
“Only which part of the Southern Continent we’ll open to the holdless younger sons of the North before they become a problem in themselves. Corman spoke to me after Fall.”
“I saw you two talking. Frankly, I’ve been wondering when the subject would come up now that we’ve had to interfere with the Oldtimers again.” Lessa loosened her riding belt, and sighed. “I wish I knew more. Has Jaxom done nothing with his time down at the cove?”
Sebell extracted a bulky packet from his tunic. “He has, among others. Perhaps this will ease your mind, Lessa.” With an air of quiet triumph, Sebell unfolded the carefully joined leaves of a large chart, portions of which remained white. A clearly defined coastline was occasionally expanded inland with colored and shaded areas. In the margins were dates and the names of those who had surveyed the various sections. The thumb of land pointing at Nerat Tip was completely filled in and familiar to the Weyrleader as Southern Weyr and Hold. On either side of that landmark was an incredible sweep of continent, bounded on the west by the delineation of a great sandy waste on two sides of a huge bay. On the east, ever farther from the thumb of Southern, a longer coastline stretched, dipping sharply south, punctuated at its most easterly point by the drawing of a high, symmetrical mountain and a small, starred cove.
“This is what we know of the Southern Continent,” Sebell said after a long interval while the dragonriders studied the map. “As you see, we still haven’t managed to chart the entire coast, let alone the interior. This much has taken three full Turns of discreet survey to do.”
“By whom?” Lessa inquired, now deeply interested.
“By many people, myself included, N’ton, Toric’s holders, but most of it by a young Harper named Piemur.”
“So that’s what happened to him when his voice changed,” Lessa said in surprise.
“By the scale of this map,” F’lar said slowly, “you could fit the North of Pern in the western half of the Bay.”
Sebell laid his left thumb on the protuberance of Southern and planted the rest of his hand, fingers splayed, on the western section of the map. “This area could easily occupy the Lord Holders.” He heard Lessa’s sharp intake of breath and smiled at her, spreading his right hand over the eastern portion. “But this, Piemur tells me, is the best part of the South!”
“Near that mountain?” Lessa asked.
“Near that mountain!”
Piemur, leading Stupid while Farli circled above him, reappeared from the forest just as full dark was falling on the cove. He swung a plaited string of ripe fruit to the ground in front of Sharra.
“There! That’s to make up for cutting out this morning,” he said, a tentative grin on his face as he squatted on his haunches. “Stupid wasn’t the only one scared of that mob this morning.” He made a show of wiping his forehead. “I haven’t seen that many people in . . . since the last gather I attended a South Boll. That was two Turns ago! I was afraid they’d never leave! They’ll be back tomorrow?”
Jaxom grinned at his plaintive question and nodded. “I wasn’t much better than you, Piemur. I got away by having to hunt. Then I tracked down that clutch and spent the afternoon rigging fishnet.” He gestured toward the next cove.
Piemur nodded. “Funny thing that, not wanting to be among people. Felt as if I couldn’t breathe with so many using the same air supply. And that’s downright foolish.” He looked about him, at the black bulks of supplies lining the cove. “We’re not stuffed in a Hold, with fans going!” He shook his head. “Me, Piemur, Harper, a social fellow. And I turn and run from people . . . faster than Stupid did!” He gave a snort of laughter.
“If it’ll make you two feel any better, I was a bit overwhelmed myself,” Sharra said. “Thank you for the fruit, Piemur. That . . . that horde ate all we had. I think there’s some roast wherry left, and a few rib bones from the buck.”
“I could eat Stupid, only he’d be too tough.” Piemur breathed a sigh of relief and eased himself down to the sand.