Just then, Sharra's two fire-lizards popped into the air, chirruping at each other as if they didn't understand what their friend was doing. They dropped lightly to the spot where Sharra had just planted her shovel and, with tremendous energy, they began to dig, their strong forepaws lifting the dirt to either side, their hindquarters pushing it farther out of the way. They had tunneled almost an arm's length while Lessa, Sharra and Jaxom watched in amazement.

"Ruth? Would you lend us your aid?" Jaxom called.

The white dragon obediently rose from his sunny perch and glided over to his friend, his eyes beginning to whirl more quickly with curiosity.

"Would you mind digging holes for us, Ruth?"

Where? Here? Ruth indicated a spot to the left of the fire-lizards who had not stopped their efforts.

"I don't think it matters where, we just want to see what the grass covers!"

No sooner had the other dragonriders seen what Ruth was doing than they called on theirs. Even Ramoth felt inclined to lend her aid, with Lessa giving her every encouragement.

"I wouldn't have believed it," Sharra said to Jaxom. "Dragons digging?"

"Lessa wasn't too proud to dig, was she?"

"We're people, but they're dragons!"

Jaxom couldn't help laughing at her incredulity. "You've got a jaundiced view of dragons, living among the Oldtimers' lazy beasts." He caught her about the waist, pulling her toward him before he felt her stiffen. He looked in Toric's direction. "He's not watching, if that's what you're worried about."

"He might not have been," she pointed skyward, "but his fire-lizards are. I'd wondered where they were."

A trio of fire-lizards, a golden queen and two bronzes, were circling lazily above Jaxom and Sharra.

"So? I'll just speak to Master Robinton to mediate…"

"Toric has other plans for me…"

"Am I not included in your plans?" Jaxom asked, experiencing sudden shock.

"You know you are, which is why… we loved each other. I wanted you while I could." Sharra's eyes were troubled.

"Why should he interfere then? My rank is…" Jaxom took both her hands in his and retained them when she tried to pull away.

"He doesn't think much of the young Northern men, Jaxom. Not after coping with fairs of younger sons in the past three Turns who are really," Sharra sounded exasperated, "enough to try the patience of a harper. I know you're not like them, but Toric…"

"I'll prove myself to Toric, never fear." Jaxom brought her hands to his lips, holding her eyes with his, determined by the force of his will to banish the unhappiness in her eyes. "And I'll do it properly, through Lytol and Master Robinton. You will be my lady, won't you, Sharra?"

"You know I will, Jaxom. For as long as I can…"

"For as long as we live…" he corrected her, gripping her hands tight enough to make her wince.

"Jaxom! Sharra!" cried Lessa, who had been far too engrossed in Ramoth's industry to notice their quiet exchange.

Jaxom felt Sharra's hands struggle but, having decided to confront Toric in all his arrogance, Jaxom was not about to defer before Lessa. He kept a tight hold on Sharra as they turned toward the Weyrwoman.

"Come and see. Ramoth has struck something solid. And it doesn't look like rock…"

Jaxom pulled Sharra up the slight incline to Lessa's side of the mound. Ramoth was sitting back on her haunches, peering over Lessa to look into the trench her forepaws had scored.

"Move your head slightly, Ramoth. You're in my light," Lessa said. "Here, take my shovel, Jaxom, and see what you think. Clear out a bit more dirt."

Jaxom jumped into a trench which reached to mid-thigh. "Feels solid enough," he said, pressing his weight down before he tapped with the shovel. "Sounds like stone?" But it didn't. The shovel thunked echoingly. Scrapping clear a long swath, Jaxom stepped aside for all to see.

"F'lar, come here! We've reached something!"

"So have we!" came the Weyrleader's triumphant reply.

There was a mutual inspection from one dragon-dug trench to the other which exposed much the same material, except that in F'lar's case the rocklike substance had an amber panel set into the curve of the mound. Finally the Mastersmith raised his huge arms above his head and roared for silence.

"This is not efficient use of time and energy." A loud guffaw, almost contemptuous in agreement, came from Toric. "It is not funny," the Smith said at his most serious. "We will concentrate on Lessa's mound since it is smaller. Then we will work on Master Nicat's and then…"He pointed to his own choice as Toric interrupted.

"All in one day?" he asked, again with a tone of supercilious derision that irritated Jaxom.

"We will do as much as we can, certainly, so let us begin!"

Jaxom decided that the Smith chose to ignore Toric's attitude, an example for him to follow.

It also proved inefficient to have more than two dragons working on Lessa's small mound since it was scarcely longer than a dragon. So F'lar and N'ton urged their bronzes to help Master Nicat.

By midafternoon the curving sides of Lessa's mound had been unearthed to the original floor of the valley. Six panels, three on an arc of the curved roof, tantalized, but their surface, once undoubtedly transparent, was now badly scored and darkened. Attempts to see through to the interior were vain. Disappointing, but no openings were found on the long sides so one end was promptly dug out. The dragons, despite the gray-black dust that now dulled their hides, showed no sign of fatigue and considerable interest in this unlikely task. And shortly the access was unearthed.

A door, made of an opaque form of the material used in the roof panels, slid across the opening on rails. The dirt-clogged tracks had to be cleared and dragonhide oil applied to the runners before the door could be forced wide enough to permit entry. Lessa, all set to enter first, was restrained by the Smith's hand.

"Wait! The air inside is sick with age! Smell! Let fresh air in first. The place has been shut who knows how many Turns!"

The Smith, Toric and N'ton, set their shoulders to the door and forced it fully open. The air that flooded out was fetid, and Lessa stepped back, sneezing and coughing. Dim rectangles of tan light fell on a dusty floor, touched cracked and water-stained walls. As Lessa and F'lar, followed by the others, made their way into the small building, dust swirled under their boots.

"What was it for?" Lessa asked in a hushed voice.

Toric, unnecessarily ducking his head, for the top of the doorway cleared even his height by another hand's breadth, pointed to a far comer, to the now-visible remnants of a wide, wooden frame.

"Someone could have slept on that!" He turned to the other corner, and then with a sudden movement that made Lessa gasp, he stooped and came up with an object which he then made a show of presenting to her. "A treasure from the past!"

"It's a spoon!" Lessa held it up for all to see, then ran her fingers over its shape. "But what's it made of? It's no metal I've ever seen. Certainly it's not wood. It's more like… like the panels, and the door, only transparent. But it's strong," and she tried to bend it.

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.