The Smith asked to examine the spoon. “It does seem to be a similar material. Spoons and windows, huh? Hmmmm!”
Overcoming a sense of awe at being inside such an ancient place, everyone began to examine the interior, Shelves and cabinets had once hung on the walls, for marks of paint left outlines. The structure had once been partitioned into sections and there were distinct gouges in the tough material of the floor to indicate that large permanent objects had rested here and there. In one comer, Fandarel discovered circular outlets, leading down. When he checked the exterior, he had to assume that the piping went through the wall and underground. One, he maintained, was undoubtedly for water. But the other four puzzled him.
“Surely they can’t all be empty!” Lessa said in a wistful tone, trying to hide a disappointment that everyone, Jaxom thought, was experiencing.
“One can assume,” Fandarel said in a brisk voice when they had all left Lessa’s building, “that many of these of the same shape were also living quarters for the ancients. They would, I feel, take all their personal things with them. I think we ought then to devote more effort to the larger or the much smaller places.”
Then, without waiting to see if anyone concurred with his opinion, the Smith marched straight to the interrupted excavation of Nicat’s mound. This building was square and once they had uncovered enough of the top to notice the same roof panels, they concentrated their efforts on the inner end. The tropical night was quickly descending when they finally unearthed the entrance, but they couldn’t quite clear the door tracks to open it more than a crack. They were barely able to make out some sort of decorations on the walls. No one had thought to bring glow baskets with them and this second disappointment drained the last of their energy so that no one even suggested sending firelizards for glows.
Leaning against the half-open panel, Lessa gave a tired laugh and looked down at her muddied condition.
“Ramoth says she’s tired and dirty and wants a bath.”
“She’s not the only one,” F’lar promptly agreed. He made a vain effort to close the door, then laughed. “I don’t suppose anything will happen overnight. Back to Cove Hold.”
“You’ll join us, Toric?” Lessa asked, cocking her head to look up at the big Southerner.
“I think not this evening, Lessa. I’ve a Hold to manage and cannot always please myself,” he said. Jaxom saw the Southerner’s eyes on him, the implication obvious to Jaxom. “All things being equal, I’ll return tomorrow for a time to see if Fandarel’s mound proves more profitable. Shall I bring more strong hands and spare your dragons?”
“Spare the dragons? They’re enjoying themselves hugely,” Lessa said. “I need the relief. What do you think, F’lar? Or should we draft some Benden riders?”
“I can appreciate that you’d like to keep this for yourself,” Toric went on, smoothly, his eyes on F’lar.
“This Plateau will have to be available to everyone,” F’lar said, ignoring Toric’s implication. “And since dragons enjoy earth-moving . ..”
“I’d like to bring Benelek with me tomorrow, F’lar,” said the Master Smith, rubbing his gray-mudded hands together and flicking off the dried pellets off his clothes. “And two other lads with good imaginations …”
“Imagination? Yes, you’ll need a lot of that here to make sense out of what the ancients have left for you,” Toric said, the faintest hint of scorn in his tone. “When you’re ready, D’ram?”
For some reason Toric’s manner toward the old Weyrleader was more respectful than to anyone else. At least to Jaxom’s sensitive ears. He was inwardly seething over Toric’s insinuation that he did not manage his own Hold but pleased himself. He seethed because it was a valid accusation. Yet why, Jaxom sought to console himself, would anyone have expected him to return tamely to Ruatha, which prospered under Lytol’s expert management, when all the excitement in the world was happening here? He felt Sharra’s fingers curl around his arm, and he reminded himself of his own analogy between Toric and Dorse.
“I’ll have a job getting Ruth clean,” he said with a rueful sigh as he undid Sharra’s fingers from his arm and clasped them tightly, drawing her with him to Ruth.