to Nabol?
As Sebell raised his hands for silence, he and Menolly
13S
scanned the faces, looking for Piemur in that crowd. When he had their attention, Sebell told them that Lord Meron had named his successor. A curious rippling groan came from the crowd as if they expected the worst and were steeling themselves. So Sebell grinned as he called out Deckter’s name. The multiple gasp of astonishment turned into a spate of relieved cheers. Sebell then told the head guard to send for the honored man, and half the crowd followed the messengers of this mixed fortune.
“I don’t see Piemur,” said Menolly in a low anxious voice, her eyes continually scanning. “Surely with us here, he’d come forward.”
“Yes, he would. And since he hasn’t …” Sebell looked about the courtyard. “I wonder …” As he twisted slowly in a circle, he realized that there would have been no way for Piemur to climb out of the Hold yards. Not even a fire lizard could claw its way up the cliff above the Hold’s windows. Especially not in the dark and encum-bered by a fragile fire lizard egg. His eyes were drawn by the ash and refuse pits, but he distinctly remembered their being vigorously spear-searched. His glance traveled up-ward and paused on the small window. “Menolly!” He grabbed her by the hand and started pulling her toward the kitchen yard. “Kimi said it was dark. I wonder what’s …” In his excitement, Sebell reversed back to the guard, hauling the complaining Menolly with him. “See that little window above the ashpit?” he asked the guard excitedly. “What does it open on? The kitchen?”
“That one? Naught but a stores room.” And then the guard clamped his teeth shut, looking apprehensively back to the Hold as if he had been indiscreet and feared reprisal.
His reaction told Sebell exactly what he needed to know.
“The supplies for the Southern Weyr were stored in that room, weren’t they?”
The guard stared straight ahead of him, lips pressed firmly together, but the flush in his face was a giveaway. Laughing with relief, Sebell half-ran toward the kitchen yard, Menolly eagerly following him.
“You think Piemur hid himself among the stuff for the Oldtimers?” Menolly asked.
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“It’s the only answer that suits the circumstances. Men-oily,” said Sebell. He halted right in front of the ashpit and pointed to the wall that separated the two pits. “That wouldn’t be too high a jump for an agile lad, would it?”
“No, I wouldn’t think so. And just like Piemur! But, Sebell, that would mean he’s in the Southern Veyr!”
“Yes it would, wouldn’t it,” said Sebell, unutterably relieved that the mystery of Piemur’s disappearance could be explained. “C’mon. We’ll send a message to Toric to be on the lookout for that rascal. I think Kimi knows Southern better than Beauty and Rocky.”
“Let’s send them all. Mine know Piemur best. ,0h, just wait till I get my hands on that young man!”
Sebell laughed at Menolly’s fierce expression. “I told you he’d land on his feet.”
Chapter 8
The change in temperature roused Piemur, his mouth dry and sour, his body stiff. He couldn’t think for a moment where he was or why he ached and his guts rumbled.
He sat bolt upright as he remembered and felt inside his tunic for the beragged egg. He tore the covering in his frenzy to check the precious shell and was trembling with relief when he’ touched its warm shape. The quick tropical dusk was nearly on him, the vivid glimmer of the sun coating the foliage about him with gold. He heard the lap of water and, peering toward the sound, realized that he was close to a beach. The call of a nest-homing wherry startled him as he crept stiffly from under his bush. He knew he’d have little time and light to settle the egg in warm sand for the night. He staggered to the beach, pray-ing it would be a sandy one, crying out in relief when he saw that it was, dropping to his knees to burrow into the warm sand and bury the egg safely.
Wearily he built a pile of rocks to mark the spot and then pulled himself back to the jungle, using the light to locate a tree with orange fruit. The Erst few he batted down from the branches with a long stick were too hard to be edible, another fell with a liquid splot. He scooped up the overripe fruit and swallowed it down, grimacing at the slightly rancid taste. Then he managed, after several more attempts, to get two edible fruits. Barely satisfied, he propped himself against the tree’s trunk and slept fitfully through the night.