The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [445]
“Come to think of it, I had much the same information from Zair,” Master Robinton continued smoothly, “but not the wit to interpret it as cleverly as you did. My compliments, however belated,” he inclined his head and went on as swiftly as if this were just some passing matter, “on the way you handled the feat. Now, if you and Ruth can turn your fine perceptions to today’s problem, we can save ourselves endless hours of vain effort. As before, Jaxom, time is against us. This Plateau,” Robinton tapped the sketches before him, “cannot remain a secret. It is the heritage of everyone on Pern—”
“But it’s in the east, Master Robinton, which is to be dragonrider land,” Mirrim said, her tone almost belligerent.
“Of course it is, my dear child,” the Harper said soothingly. “Now if Ruth could charm the fire-lizards enough to focus their memories . . .”
“I’ll certainly try, Master Robinton,” Jaxom said when the Harper regarded him expectantly, “but you know how they are about . . .” and he pointed skyward. “They’re nearly as incoherent about the eruption.”
“As Sharra put it, the dream eye is unfocused,” Menolly said, grinning at her friend.
“My point exactly,” the Harper said, bringing the flat of his hand down hard on the table. “If Jaxom, through Ruth, can sharpen the focus, maybe those of us with fire-lizards can get distinct and helpful images from their minds, instead of this confusion of perspective.”
“Why?” Jaxom asked. “We know the mountain erupted. We know the settlement had to be abandoned, that the survivors came north . . .”
“There’s a lot we don’t know, and we might find some answers, perhaps even some equipment left behind, just as the enlarging viewer was left in those deserted rooms at Benden Weyr. Look how that instrument has improved our understanding of our world and the heavens above us. Maybe even some models of those fascinating machines the old Records mention.” He pulled the sketches over the map. “There are a lot of mounds, great and small, long and short. Some would have been for sleeping, storage, general living: some quite likely workhalls . . .”
“How do we even know that the ancients did things the way we do?” Mirrim demanded, “storage, and workhalls and such.”
“Because, my dear child, neither human nature nor human needs have changed since the earliest Records we have.”
“That doesn’t mean they left anything in the mounds when they left the Plateau,” Mirrim said, frankly dubious.
“The dreams have been consistent in some details,” Robinton said with more patience for Mirrim’s obstructionism than Jaxom would have accorded him. “The fiery mountain, the molten rock and lava raining down. People running . . .” He paused, looking expectantly at the others.
“People in a panic!” Sharra said. “They wouldn’t have had time to take anything with them. Or very little!”
“They could have come back after the worst of the eruption was over,” Menolly said. “Remember that time is western Tillek—”
“That’s precisely what I had in mind,” the Harper said, nodding approval.
“But, Master,” Menolly went on, confused, “the ash spewed out of that volcano for weeks. The valley was eventually level with ash,” she made a flat gesture with her hand, “and you could see nothing of what had been there for the debris.”
“The prevailing wind on that plateau is southeast, and strong,” Piemur said, and his gesture was one of sweeping clear. “Didn’t you notice how strong it is?”
“That’s precisely why something was left for us to see from the air,” the Harper said. “I know it’s just an off-chance, Jaxom, but my feeling is that the eruption caught the ancients completely unaware. Why, I can’t comprehend. Surely people who could hold the Dawn Sisters in the sky in a stationary position for who knows how many Turns ought to be wise enough to identify an active volcano. My surmise is that the eruption was spontaneous, totally unexpected. The people were caught going about their daily tasks in cot, hold, crafthall. If you can get