“I think we really had better contact Lessa and F’lar now. And it would be unkind in the extreme to exclude Master Fandarel. He might even be able to tell us what they constructed this ship of.”
“That’s enough people to know of this,” F’nor said before the Harper could include any other names. “I’ll go for the Master Smith myself. It’ll spare time and prevent gossip. Canth will tell Ramoth.” He rubbed sweat from his face and neck and the worst of the mud stains from his hands before he shrugged into his flying gear. “Don’t any of you do anything while I’m gone!” he added, glaring at each one in turn and most fiercely at the Harper.
“I wouldn’t know what to do,” the Harper said in a reproving tone. “We shall take refreshment,” he said, reaching for the wineskin, and gesturing the others to sit around him.
The diggers welcomed a respite and a chance to contemplate the marvel they were unearthing.
“If they flew in those things …”
“If, my dear Piemur. No doubt obtains. They did. The firelizards saw those vehicles land,” Master Robinton said.
“I started to say that if they flew in those things, why didn’t they fly them away from the Plateau after the explosion?”
“A very good point.”
“Well?”
“Perhaps Fandarel can answer, for I certainly can’t,” Robinton said truthfully, regarding the door with some chagrin.
“Maybe they’d need to take off from a height, the way a lazy dragon does,” Menolly said, casting a sly glance at Jaxom.
“How long does it take F’nor to go between?” the Harper asked with a wistful sigh, squinting up at the bright sky for any sign of returning dragons.
“Takes longer to take off and land.”
The Benden Weyrleaders arrived first, Canth with F’nor and Fandarel only a few seconds behind them so that all three dragons landed together. The Smith was first off Canth, rushing to the new wonder to run reverent hands over the curious surface, murmuring under his breath. F’lar and Lessa came striding through the long grasses, picking their way past dragon-strewn dirt; neither took their eyes from the softly shining doorway.
“Aha!” the Smith cried in sudden triumph, startling everyone. He’d been examining the rim of the doorway minutely. “Perhaps this is meant to move!” He dropped to his knees to the exposed right-hand corner. “Yes, if one excavated the entire vessel, this would probably be man-height! I think I ought to press.” He put action to words and a small panel slid open to one side of the main door. It displayed a depression occupied by several colored circles.
Everyone crowded about him as his big fingers wiggled preparatorily and then hovered first over the upper rank of green circles. The bottom ones were red.
“Red has always meant danger, a convention we undoubtedly learned from the ancients,” he said. “Green we will therefore try first!” His thick forefinger hesitated a moment longer and then stabbed at the green button.
At first nothing happened. Jaxom felt a clenching, like a cold hand on his guts, the prelude to intense disappointment.
“No, look, it’s opening!” Piemur’s keen eyes caught the first barely perceptible widening of the crack.
“It’s old,” the Smith said reverently. “A very old mechanism,” he added as they all heard the faint protest of movement.
Slowly the door moved inward and then, astonishingly, it moved sideways, into the hull of the ship. A whoosh of rank air sent them reeling and gasping backward. When they looked again, the door was fully retracted, sunlight streaming onto flooring, darker than the ship’s hull but, when the Smith rapped it with his knuckles, apparently made of the same peculiar material.
“Wait!” Fandarel restrained the others from entering. “Give fresh air a chance to circulate. Did anyone think to bring glows?”
“There’re some at the Cove,” Jaxom said, reaching for his flying gear and jamming his helmet on his head as he raced to Ruth. He never did bother to belt up and the frigid moment of between was a shocking cooler after the exertions of digging. He got as many glow baskets as he could carry. On his return, he realized no one seemed to have moved in his brief absence. Awe of the unknown beyond that great entrance had restrained them. Awe and perhaps, Jaxom decided, a reluctance to repeat the disappointment of the Plateau.