“Of course men were here. They’re not telling us anything we didn’t know. But for them to say they remembered?” F’lar was scornful. “I could accept your finding D’ram in the Cove with their aid … but that was only a matter of twenty-five Turns in the past. But …” For want of appropriate expression of his skepticism, F’lar merely gestured at the dead volcanoes and the long-covered traces of a settlement.
“Two points, F’lar,” Menolly said, boldly contradicting the Benden Weyrleader, “no firelizard in this time knew the Red Star, but they were, nonetheless, all afraid of it. They also …” Menolly paused, and Jaxom was certain she had been about to bring up the firelizard dreams about Ramoth’s egg. He hastily interrupted.
“Firelizards must be able to remember, F’lar. Ever since I’ve been in the Cove, I’ve been troubled with dreams. At first I thought it was leftovers from firehead fever. The other night I found out that Sharra and Piemur have had similar nightmares … about the mountain. This side of it, not the one facing the Cove.”
“Ruth always sleeps with firelizards at night, F’lar,” Menolly said, pressing their case. “He could be relaying those dreams to Jaxom! And our firelizards to us!”
F’lar nodded, as if granting them this possibility.
“And last night your dreams were more vivid than ever?”
“Yes, sir!”
F’lar began to chuckle, looking from Menolly to Jaxom. “So this morning you decided to see if there was any substance to the dreams?”
“Yes, sir!”
“All right, Jaxom.” F’lar thumped him good-naturedly on the back. “I suppose I can’t blame you. I’d have done the same thing given the opportunity. Now, what do you … and those precious firelizards of yours … suggest we do now?”
“I am no firelizard, F’lar, but I would dig,” the Mastersmith said, striding up to them. His face was aglow with perspiration, his hands grass and dirtstained. “We must dig beneath the grass and soil. We must find out how they managed to make lines straight as rules that last Turn after Turn. Why did they build in mounds, if that’s what those things are. Dig, that’s what we must do” He pivoted slowly, staring about him at the desultory digging efforts of some of the dragonriders. “Fascinating. Utterly fascinating!” The Smith beamed. “With your permission, I will ask Masterminer Nicat for some of his craftmasters. We will need skilled diggers. Also I promised Robinton that I would return immediately and tell him what I have seen with my own eyes.”
“I’d like to go back, too, F’lar,” Menolly said. “Master Robinton is in a swivet. Zair’s been here twice. He must be impatient.”
“I’ll take them back, F’lar,” Jaxom said. Suddenly he was as possessed by an irrational desire to leave as he had been eager to come that morning.
F’lar would not permit Ruth to carry weight again, not after the morning’s excursion and Threadfall. He sent Master Fandarel and Menolly back to Cove Hold with F’lessan and Golanth, with instructions to the young bronze rider to take the Mastersmith wherever he wished to go. If he was surprised at Jaxom’s wish to return, he gave no sign.
He and Ruth were away before the Smith and Menolly had mounted Golanth. They returned to a Cove delightfully empty of people. The warm, sultry air, after the cooler, clear atmosphere of the Plateau, was like an enveloping blanket, enervating Jaxom. He took advantage of his unremarked return and let Ruth take them to his clearing. It was cooler there and, when Ruth had settled himself, Jaxom gratefully curled up in the dragon’s forearms. He was asleep in two breaths.
A touch on his shoulder roused him. His flying jacket had fallen from his shoulder and he felt chilly.
“I said I’d wake him, Mirrim,” he heard Sharra say, her tone one of annoyance.
“Does it matter? Here, Jaxom, I’ve brought you some klah! Master Robinton wants to talk to you. You’ve slept all afternoon. We couldn’t figure out where you’d got to.”
Jaxom muttered under his breath, wishing with all his heart that Mirrim would go away. He resented her implication that he hadn’t any right to sleep in the afternoon.