"Where were you when the egg was being Hatched?" Menolly pounced on Jaxom so swiftly with her question that Robinton and N'ton regarded her with surprise.

"Why," and Jaxom laughed as he touched his scored cheek, "trying to sear Thread!"

His ready answer threw Menolly into quiet confusion while Robinton, Lytol and N'ton all had another go at him for his foolhardiness. He endured the scolding in good part because it kept Menolly from plaguing him. She'd been suspicious after all. He wished that he could tell her the truth. Of all the people on Pern, she was the only one he could trust now that he knew how infinitely wiser it was to let everyone else believe a Southern dragonrider had returned the egg. He was discontented, though, because it would be a relief, a pleasure, to be able to tell someone what he'd done.

Food was served them and they kept the discussions to the problem of the fire-lizards-whether they were more nuisance than valuable-until Jaxom pointed out that everyone about the table was converted. What they needed was a way to pacify Lessa and Ramoth.

"Ramoth will forget her aggravation soon enough," N'ton said.

"Lessa won't, although I doubt there'll be that much reason for me to send Zair to Benden Weyr."

As N'ton and Lytol vigorously reassured the Harper, Jaxom realized there was a curious restraint about the man, an odd note in his voice when he mentioned Benden or the Weyrwoman. Robinton wasn't worried simply that Lessa had prohibited fire-lizards at Benden.

"There's another aspect of this affair that is nagging at the back of my overactive imagination," Robinton said. "The matter has brought Southern to everyone's attention."

"Why is that a problem?" Lytol asked.

Robinton took a sip of his wine, delaying his answer as he savored the taste. "Just this: these recent events have made everyone realize that that huge continent is occupied by a mere-handful of people."

"So?"

"I know some restless Lord Holders whose halls are crowded, whose cots are jammed. And the Weyrs, instead of protecting the inviolability of the Southern Continent, were half-set to force their way in. What's to prevent the Lord Holders from taking the initiative and claiming whole portions of it?"

"There wouldn't be dragons enough to protect that much area, that's what," Lytol said. "The Oldtimers surely wouldn't."

"They don't really need dragonriders in the South," Robinton said slowly.

Lytol stared at him, aghast at such a statement.

"It's true," he said. "The land is thoroughly sowed by grubs. Traders have told me that they more or less ignore Falls; Holder Toric just makes certain everyone's safe and all stock is under cover."

"There will come a time when no dragonriders will be needed in the North either," N'ton said, slowly, compounding Lytol's shock.

"Dragonriders will always be needed on Pern while there is Thread!" Lytol emphasized his conviction by banging the table with his fist.

"At least in our lifetimes," Robinton said soothingly. "But I could have wished less interest in Southern. Think it over, Lytol."

"More of your thinking ahead, Robinton?" Lytol asked, a sour note in his voice and a jaundiced expression on his face.

"Looking ahead is far more constructive than looking behind," said Robinton. He held his clenched fist up. "I'd all the facts in my grasp and I couldn't see the water for the waves."

"You've been down to the Southern Continent often, Masterharper?"

Robinton gave Lytol a long considering look. "I have. Discreetly, I assure you. There are some things that must be seen to be believed."

"Such as?"

Robinton idly stroked Zair as he gazed out, over Lytol's head, at some distant view.

"Mind you, there are times when looking back can be helpful," he said and then turned back to the Lord Warder. "Are you aware that we originally, all of us, came from the Southern Continent?"

Lytol's first surprise at such a sudden turn of the conversation melded into a thoughtful frown. "Yes, that was implicit in the oldest Records."

"I've often wondered if there aren't older Records, moldering somewhere in the South."

Lytol snorted at the notion. "Moldering is right. There'd be nothing left after so many thousands of Turns."

"They had ways of tempering metal, those ancestors of ours, ways that made it impervious to rust and wear. Those plates found at Fort Weyr, the instruments, like the long-distance viewer that fascinates Wansor and Fandarel. I don't believe that time can have erased all traces of such clever people."

Jaxom glanced at Menolly, recalling hints that she'd let slip. Her eyes were sparkling with suppressed excitement. She knew something that the Harper wasn't saying. Jaxom looked then at the Fort Weyrleader and realized that N'ton knew all about this.

"The Southern Continent was ceded to the dissident Oldtimers," Lytol said heavily.

"And they have already broken their side of the agreement," N'ton said.

"Is that any reason for us to break ours?" Lytol asked, drawing his shoulders back and scowling at both Weyrleader and Harper.

"They occupy only a small tongue of land, jutting out into the Southern Sea," said Robinton in his smooth way. "They have been unaware of any activity elsewhere."

"You've already been exploring in the South?"

"Judiciously. Judiciously."

"And you'd not have your… judicious intrusions discovered?"

"No," answered Robinton slowly. "I shall make the knowledge public soon enough. I don't want every disgruntled apprentice and evicted small holder running about indiscriminately, destroying what should be preserved because they haven't the wit to understand it."

"What have you discovered so far?"

"Old mine workings, shored up with lightweight but so durable a material that it is as unscratched today as when it was put in place in the shaft. Tools, powered by who can guess-bits and pieces that not even young Benelek can assemble."

There was a long silence which Lytol broke with a snort. "Harpers! Harpers are supposed to instruct the young."

"And first and foremost, to preserve our heritage!"

Ruatha Hold, Fort Weyr, Fidello's Hold, 15.6.3-15.6.17

JAXOM WAS DISAPPOINTED that all Lytol's coaxing could not draw more facts from the Harper about his explorations in the South. At the point where Jaxom's fatigue made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open, it occurred to him that Robinton had indeed succeeded in rousing Lytol to support his and N'ton's desire to keep interest in the South to a minimum.

Jaxom's last waking thought was one of admiration for the Harper's devious methods. No wonder he had not objected to Jaxom training with N'ton when he saw Lytol was in favor of it. The Harper needed the older man as the Lord Holder at Ruatha. Training Ruth to chew firestone kept the young Lord from wanting to take Hold in Lytol's place.

The next morning Jaxom was positive that he couldn't have moved during the night. He was bindingly stiff, his face and shoulder stung with the Threadscore and that reminded him of Ruth's injury. With no regard for his own discomfort, he whipped aside the furs and, grabbing the numbweed pot as he went, burst into Ruth's weyr.

The faintest rumble told him that the white dragon was still sound asleep. He also seemed not to have moved for his leg was propped in the same position.

That made it easier for Jaxom to work and he smeared a new coating of numbweed along the line of the score. Only then did it occur to Jaxom that he and Ruth might have to wait until they'd healed before they could join the weyrlings at Fort Weyr.

Lytol did not share his thought. The reason Jaxom was going to Fort Weyr was to avoid scoring, to learn how to take care of his dragon and himself during Threadfall. If he got teased because he hadn't ducked fast enough, he deserved it. So, after breaking his fast, Jaxom flew Ruth to the Weyr.