The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [451]
Once Ruth had settled, the Southern fire-lizards began arriving in fairs, led by their queens, dipping toward Ruth who crooned a greeting as Jaxom had suggested he do.
They are pleased to see me, Ruth told Jaxom. And happy that men come to this place again.
“Ask them about the first time they saw men.”
Jaxom caught an instant image from Ruth of many dragons arriving over the shoulder of the mountain.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I know, Ruth acknowledged with regret. I will ask again. Not the time with the dragons, but a long time ago, before the mountain blew up.
The reaction of the fire-lizards was predictable and discouraging. They flew up from their perches on and about Ruth and did wild sky-dances, chittering and bugling in dismay.
Disappointed, Jaxom turned to see Brekke’s hand raised, a look of intense concentration on her face. He relaxed against Ruth, wondering what arrested her attention. Menolly also held up her hand. She was sitting near enough to Jaxom so that he saw her eyes were totally unfocused. On her shoulder, Beauty had assumed a rigid position, her eyes wheeling violently red. Above their circle, the fire-lizards chattered and continued their wild gyrations.
They are seeing the mountain on fire, said Ruth. They see people running, the fire following them. They are afraid as they were afraid so long ago. This is the very dream we used to have.
“Can you see the mounds? Before they were covered?” In his excitement, Jaxom forgot and spoke aloud.
I see only people running, this way and that. No, they are running toward . . . toward us? Ruth looked about him as if he half-expected to be overrun, so vivid were the fire-lizard images.
“Toward us, and then where?”
Down to the water? Ruth wasn’t sure himself, and turned to look toward the distant, invisible sea.
They are afraid again. They don’t like remembering the mountain.
“Any more than they like remembering the Red Star,” Jaxom said imprudently. Every fire-lizard disappeared, including the banded ones.
“That did it, Jaxom,” Piemur said in deep disgust. “You can’t mention that bloody Red Star in front of fire-lizards. Flaming mountains, but not red stars.”
“Undeniably,” Sebell said in his deep quiet voice, “there are moments that are branded in the minds of our little friends. When they start remembering, everything else is excluded.”
“It is association,” Brekke said.
“What we need then,” Piemur said, “is another spot that strikes less distressing memories in them. Memories . . . useful . . . to us . . .”
“Not so much that,” Menolly considered her words carefully, “as interpretation. I saw something. I think I’m right . . . it wasn’t the big mountain that erupted, it was . . .” She turned, and pointed to the smallest of the three. “That’s the one that blew in our dreams!”
“No, it was the big one,” Piemur contradicted, pointing higher.
“You’re wrong, Piemur,” Brekke said with quiet certainty. “It was the smallest one . . . everything is to the left in my images. The big mountain is too much higher than the one I’m sure I saw.”
“Yes, yes,” Menolly said, excited. “The angle is important. The fire-lizards couldn’t see that high! Remember they’re much, much smaller. And see, the angle. It’s right!” She was on her feet, gesturing to illustrate her points. “People came from there, running this way, away from the smallest volcano! They came from those mounds. The largest ones!”
“That’s the way I saw it,” Brekke agreed. “Those mounds there!”
“So do we start with these?” F’lar asked, the next morning, sighing at the task of unearthing a small hill. Lessa stood beside him, surveying the silent mounds, with the Master Smith, Masterminer Nicat, F’nor and N’ton.
Jaxom, Piemur, Sharra and Menolly remained discreetly to one side. “This large one?” he asked, but his eyes swept down the parallel ranks, squinting with resignation.
“We could be digging