“How big is Paradise?” Lessa asked. There was noticeable relief as she appeared to relent. Piemur and N’ton both reached to pull the appropriate chart in front of Lessa.
“Not as much as this is marked, certainly,” Piemur said, tapping the squared-off section. The site actually extended much farther east and west; the map went as far as the bend in the river that Jayge had mentioned.
“A rough estimate,” Lessa suggested, a half-smile turning up the left-hand side of her mouth. She knew very well that Piemur could provide a reasonably accurate one.
The Masterharper handed over his copy of the witnessed hold map. “Here!”
“Does this establish a precedent, old friend?” Lytol asked quietly.
“A better one, I feel, than the method Toric employed.” He held up his hand to ward off Lessa’s rebuke. “Different circumstances now obtain. But very soon now, you Weyrleaders, Craftmasters, and Lord Holders must decide which precedent to follow. Toric’s or Jayge’s? In my opinion, a man ought to be able to Hold what he has proved.”
Master Wansor’s rather squeaky voice broke the silence that followed Master Robinton’s quiet challenge. “Did they have dragons then?”
“Why?” Realizing that she had spoken more curtly than she had meant to, Lessa softened her bluntness with a smile.
Wansor blinked at her. “Because I don’t see how the ancients got about such vast holdings. There are no tracks or trails listed. The coastline or river situations would be easy enough to reach, but this Cardiff isn’t near a river and not very close at all to Landing. I suppose the mining facilities marked here at Drakee’s Lake used to be one of the rivers, but that isn’t specified, or a seaport marked. I really don’t understand how they kept in touch unless they had dragons.”
“Or other flying ships?” Jaxom asked.
“More efficient sailing vessels?” N’ton suggested.
“We have found many broken parts that were beautifully crafted,” Master Fandarel said, “but not a single complete motor or engine or other mechanical device that requires such pieces. Not in the oldest of the Records in my Hall. We have found three immense disabled vehicles that the fire-lizards inform us once were airborne. I do not think their design would be efficient over short distances—too awkward and heavy. The tubes in the rear suggest that their motion was upward.” He tilted his hand and massive forearm in demonstration. “They must have had other vehicles.”
“This is so exasperating,” Lessa exclaimed, scowling. “We cannot do everything at once! You may be reasonably safe from Threadfall in the South, but every wing is vital in keeping the north and all its people protected. We just can’t move everyone South!”
“Once everyone moved north,” Robinton said, beaming at her. “To ‘shield.’ ”
“Until the grubs spread themselves to protect the land,” F’lar added, laying one reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“While the Weyrs protected Hold and Hall,” N’ton put in.
“We have such a lot to learn about this world,” Robinton said quite happily.
“There are answers somewhere.” Master Fandarel sighed heavily. “I would be content with just a few.”
“I would be content with one!” F’lar said, looking out the window to the moonlit scene. Jaxom nodded in sympathy.
“So, the Paradise River Hold is confirmed to Jayge and Aramina Lilcamp?” the Harper asked with sudden briskness.
“It is much the better precedent to follow,” Lytol agreed. “I shall, if you wish, suggest this at the next Conclave.”
“That’s going to be a full meeting,” F’lar said wryly, but he nodded.
“Why is it that what is forbidden,” the Harper said drolly, “is all the more exciting?”
“You can take it from one who knows,” Piemur made bold to add, “that the Southern Continent has a way of making or breaking you.”
“Just what is it doing to you, Master Robinton?” Lessa asked in her sweetest and most dangerous voice. But she smiled, and the smile was genuine.
The news of a second hold gradually filtered to the North, to be commented on by Lord Holders and Crafthall Masters. There were those who delighted in Jayge’s elevation, and some who found his new eminence distasteful for a variety of reasons. Toric was one such, but he slowly overcame chagrin and resentment. In the North, a gaunt, scar-faced woman swore savagely when she heard, kicking her saddle across the narrow interior of her cave dwelling, throwing about her other belongings, and damaging the breakable without relief to her fury and bitter disappointment.
When her temper had abated sufficiently for her to think clearly, she sat down by the ashes of her fire and the spilled kettle that had contained her evening meal and began to plot.
Jayge and Aramina! How had he found the girl? Surely Dushik would have been on guard. She had had cause to doubt Readis’s loyalty ever since she had killed Giron, who had become a useless handicap in their desperate flight from her hold. Readis had openly opposed her plan to abduct Aramina and then, suddenly, he had acquiesced, a reversal she had not trusted. But once down that pit, the girl had been as good as dead. How had that wretched little trader man rescued her?
Her mind seethed over that now indisputable fact. Aramina had been rescued and was alive and well in the south, enjoying prestige and comfort while she, Thella, had nearly died from a noxious and debilitating infection that had left her scarred. Had either Dushik or Readis reached the appointed meeting place, she would have fared much better. As it was, it had been weeks before she had recovered from the fever.
Weak and unable to focus her mind on new plans, Thella had drifted, carefully avoiding holds until she found herself a secluded valley in Nerat, where quantities of food easily gathered had somewhat restored her to health. She had been appalled at the scarring on her face and the wisps that were all that was left of her once luxuriant hair. All Thella’s misfortunes could be traced back to that whelp spawned by an insignificant trader, who had prevented her from finding a miserable girl who could have made life so much more predictable.
Periodically she had comforted herself with the torments Aramina would have suffered before succumbing to terror and starvation in that dark and slimy pit. She still had to settle accounts with the trader, and she thought long and pleasantly about how she would wreak her revenge on Jayge and the entire Lilcamp train.
To do so, she would have to recover full strength, and though the time it took to do so became another cause to resent Jayge, Thella achieved it. A deep tan reduced the shock of her facial scars, and her hair was reasonably thick again by the time she saddled her runner to take up her task.
She replenished her empty pouch with marks after a fortunate evening encounter with a farmer journeyman. She appropriated his clothing once he no longer needed it. Before his demise, he had genially brought her up to date on nearly a full Turn’s news. His enthusiasm for the opening of the Southern Continent almost made her abandon her initial plans to go south and stake out in the tropical wilderness the holding which had so long been denied her.
As she knew the Lilcamp-Amhold train initiated its sweeps from Igen, she took herself back to the low caverns. To her satisfaction she learned that, while Borgald Amhold had given up trading, the Lilcamp folk were still traveling. She began to make plans, first revisiting all her old caves to see which were still undiscovered and usable. And she began recruiting.
At first she was not too successful. The stories about her had made many people wary of flouting the authority of Hold and Weyr; so although the population of the low cavern had changed sufficiently that most of those who might recognize her were gone, and those that remained were confused by her altered appearance, she found few willing accomplices. But once she had heard of Paradise River Hold, her energies were redirected and galvanized. Jayge and Aramina would live only as long as it took her to recruit sufficient men, acquire a ship, and sail south.