2 Lost and Found
H'llon circled lazily on Melth , peering down into secluded valleys. He liked to explore, searching for different types of wood. Often he brought Zaira with him; this time she had duties with the weyrlings that kept her occupied.
As it happened. H'llon was to be extremely glad he had not brought his beloved with him.
A slight movement just below him caught his eye; and he turned to see several wherry-kites circling. H'llon disliked these creatures that specialised in scavenging. There was no rational reason for his dislike; it merely existed. The creatures were even uglier than ordinary wherries, themselves ready enough to scavenge, for the wherry-kites had none of the usual marabou down on their head or neck, making it more convenient for them to reach right inside larger carcasses. Their presence, and in number – H'llon counted four – suggested a largish carcass, and he wheeled closer. Chances were it was a wild animal like a grizzly, or a logger or a springer, the four having to fight over a smaller carcase, for a springer was about the same size as a caprine and seemed to behave in a similar way but for having six limbs. If however it was a domestic beast that had strayed a cotholder would be glad to know what had happened to it, and would like to have the meat for himself! H'llon followed the boldest wherry-kite in; and suddenly he saw the body.
It appeared to be a man, sat propped against a rock. H'llon pulled a face; High Reaches Weyr did a lot of mountain rescue, usually in winter when avalanches were an ever present danger, but also rescued herders who had hurt themselves in high pastures or who had been injured chasing recalcitrant beasts. A man without family could easily die alone if he were hurt, and H'llon assumed this had been the case. There was blood on his chest.
Melth landed; and the assembling wherry-kites – there were now nine of them – fled with harsh cries of alarm. Melth extended his wings protectively for H'llon to make a closer examination uninterrupted by the vile beasts.
The Bronze Rider gasped as the man's eyes opened; for the gaping chest wound that had been immediately apparent had left H'llon in no doubt that the man was dead. The wounded man spoke in a gurgling whisper.
"Thought…them critters 'd eat me to death…..oh great shells, man, my ….friends…..dead!...they're all dead!"
The effort of speaking was too much; there was nothing H'llon could do as the man expired before his eyes.
It was to the chest wound that H'llon first turned his attention. It was circular, and had bled less than he might have expected from so large a hole. It appeared to be seared, as though the man had been stabbed with a red hot – no, white-hot, iron bar!
H'llon examined the dead man's hands. There were no defence burns as one might expect if a man were fending of an attack with a hot bar; his hands were howvere pitted with ingrained grime, the nails short and blackened, the palms hard and calloused. H'llon thought the man likely to be a miner; there were no knots on the clothing he wore, but as he appeared to be dressed in the singlet and trews he wore to work in – equally grimed – he would scarce be likely to be wearing his knots anyway. Any gang he worked with would know who he was, and he would put on a tunic or jacket normally if leaving the face. Certainly to come outside. So he had not had time to do so; he had been pursued perhaps?
H'llon left the unfortunate miner in the protection of Melth; he hesitated to bury him in case he might find anyone that might identify him. There may have been very little blood: but there was enough to form a trail, and H'llon followed it and the occasional gobs of bloody sputum where the man had coughed his painful way. It led up the valley.
The miner had not come far. Just round a spur was a rock-fall, almost covering the doors of what must be a small minehold. The rocks appeared to have fallen from a point above the doors, from a surface sheered clean and smooth.
Which was all very puzzling.
The miner had said that all his friends were dead – but he might be wrong. H'llon knew that he could not shift all that rock himself: so he asked Melth to put out a call to his friends and also to ask someone to bring Masterminer Nicat. Then the Bronze Rider retrieved the body and built a rough cairn by dint of making a start on shifting some of the loose rock. Being H'llon he was scrupulous to make sure he could readily uncover the man's face if need be.
oOoOo
Quickly dragons of all shades started circling in; and soon dragons and their riders alike joined in to shift the fallen rubble as quickly as was safe. Masterminer Nicat arrived almost as quickly with T'lana, for whom the otherwise quite cold man had a soft spot, and was quickly able to identify the miner as one of a number of bachelor journeymen who were operating this small minehold.
"This is Teg. There should also be Bevell, Agitty, Rator, Olfer and Arun" the Masterminer declared. "When Weyrwoman T'lan told me the location I looked out the list." He still referred to T'lana as T'lan as she had been known when she appealed for his aid to save Segrith's eggs.
"Excellent" approved H'llon. "Do you know if any of them also had apprentices?"
"Not so far as I am aware. And I should hope I would have been kept informed!" boomed Nicat.
"The wound on Teg's chest worries me" frowned H'llon. "It looks as though it has been burned with an iron, right through!"
"The cut above the door looks familiar" said T'lana. "In ancient parts of some Holds, passages are cut like that, almost as though they have been partly melted."
"You mean an ancient rock-cutting or melting tool might have been used as a weapon?" asked H'llon.
T'lana nodded.
"It's a working hypothesis."
Masterminer Nicat said,
"We have records to indicate that such tools existed; but they worked by some method we cannot understand today. The records say that they 'ran out of energy' whatever they mean by that; but the hides have been copied and recopied so many times it might not even be what it originally said."
"Well this one hasn't run out of energy" said H'llon grimly "It seems to be perfectly energetic."
"But how much did he use to make the rock-fall happen? Could it be running out now?" said T'lana.
"We can't count on it" the Masterminer said pessimistically. "And he's proved himself prepared to use it to kill – whoever he is. I'd like to see a working one" he added wistfully.
"He's killed more than once" said R'cal coming over. "We have another body."
"We'd best just keep digging – and see what and who we find" H'llon suggested.
Once the rock-fall was cleared, the partially open bronze-clad doors became accessible; and quickly three more bodies were found, burned like Teg and the man R'cal had discovered.
"I'm afraid I don't know them all personally, not well enough to identify" growled the Masterminer, who hated admitting any deficiency.
"That's easy" S'negen spoke up. "Geri here is the Weyrartist; she can draw the faces and I'll take her to the Minecraft Hall to get them identified."
H'llon nodded in relief.
"If Geri doesn't mind?" he asked her.
Geriana already had her sketching block out, grateful as always to H'llon for the endless sheets of paper he turned out of his workshop! Under her expert fingers, faces appeared on the creamy sheet of flax fibre paper. T'lana nodded to S'negen to take the weyrartist. The Masterminer's presence here was most useful, so he elected, at T'lana'a request not to return himself at this juncture.
The minehold itself was small; there was a dormitory area, a bathing room with necessary separated only by a rough stone screening wall; and at the other end a kitchen and living cavern. Judging by the state of some of the utensils, food was a bit of a hit-and-miss affair, but apart from what was burned on, things were clean enough.
It was the passage that led to the main mine that gave more clues; it was here that one of the bodies had been discovered. It was not far from a recent natural appearing rock-fall that seemed to have opened up an old tunnel.
The tunnel was old enough to have the smooth cut walls T'lana knew indicated the Ancients. Here again, as in that old passage at Nabol that she had found, the soft glow of light from ceiling panels illuminated the scene. A second, much older, rock-fall blocked this short stretch of passage further on, but what was apparent was just two rooms. One of them seemed to be an old Necessary and bathing room. The bath pool was small; an inlet showed where once hot water had flowed in, long since dry; and a crack ran clean across the pool's depression. Rotting shoes and a pile of what had once been clothes bore testament to a hurried departure; as did two other items by the clothing. One item was a pair of lenses linked by a frame with backward curving side pieces; the other was once seemingly mounted on a rotting leather strap and was a glass covered circular object with numbers from one to twelve set around it, and two pointers attached in the centre.
The other room was a sleeping room, for only one occupant. The rotting coverlets were still in place on the bed, their colours still bright and unfaded.
"They had good dyes, didn't they?" commented T'lana enviously.
The air in here was dry and cool; it helped to keep things preserved of course. The furniture seemed undamaged by time, though a chest of drawers beside the bed was of wood.
"Oak" said H'llon running a loving hand over the surface "And still serviceable I wager with a little care…."
On the chest was mounted a small but excellent quality mirror, and several objects were arranged upon it. The most obvious was the picture.
Geriana had just returned and, having exclaimed as T'lana had over the dyes of the fabrics, caught sight of it.
"Exquisite!" she gasped. "Why – it looks so lifelike, I can't even see any brushmarks though it's a miniature!"
"Did you identify the men?" H'llon was curious about the picture but felt the matter in hand should be dealt with first.
"Bevel, Agitty, Olfer and Arun" she recited. "Not Rator. So either we haven't found him yet or he's the culprit."
"If he has done this he shall be brought to justice" Boomed Nicat. "Unforgiveable!"
"He found the cutter in here all right" remarked H'llon. "Look – there's a hole in the floor. I reckon he set it off by accident and saw the possibilities" he pointed to a deep hole on the far side of the bed, below a wall-mounted rack of some kind. "That rack probably held it; he took it down; did something to it; made the hole; and then, one must assume, went on a spree of homicidal violence" the Weyrwoodcrafter said distastefully.
Geriana was busy examining the picture minutely.
It showed two men, one older, wearing the lenses they had found in the bathing room over his eyes; the wristband with its numerical ornament was on his wrist. The younger man had his arm across the shoulder of a small Bronze dragon.
"They put them to egg quite old back then" commented the artist. "He's way older than D're even" she turned the picture over and read an inscription on the back "'self, Jamie and Tenath'. No contraction? Unless 'self' is the rider – but it seems unlikely since those items you found must belong here."
"That dragon's much the size of Denth" commented H'llon "And a little larger than the White Dragon. Maybe that's as big as Bronze dragons got way back. His proportions are adult; and Benden bred dragons are way larger than Oldtimer ones, even over just four hundred turns."
"That's more than likely" said T'lana. "Although we could also postulate that Tenath was also a sport. But…..you get throwbacks in humans, people who resemble relatives long dead remembered only by the oldest with outstanding features; perhaps dragons started small and were bred for size and strength. I'd not like to fight Thread on a whole Flight of such tiny beasts!"
All the dragonriders murmured assent! H'llon nodded too. There was not enough data to postulate too dogmatic a theory on as yet, but it seemed reasonable to suppose dragons had once been smaller. H'llon sniffed hard. Whilst they should really be looking for the errant Rator, the young Woodcrafter-rider found this close touch with a distant ancestor both fascinating and poignant, Bronze Rider and crafter together. It could in some ways almost be H'llon and his father! H'llon picked up the lenses and put them on his own face experimentally, as the crafter had them in the picture; and everything became blurred!
"Whatever was he thinking of?" he gasped, passing them to T'lana. "With an exquisite picture like this, they valued things to look at. Why spoil his sight?"
T'lana peered through the lenses.
"But some people see things blurred anyway" she said. "Especially as they get older. Perhaps if things are already blurry, these un-blur?"
H'llon frowned.
"We must find people with poor sight and try them" he declared. "If they work, perhaps Master Wansor can copy them for other people. He's the expert on lenses" he looked back at the chest. "What else do we have here?"
The manicure set was familiar enough, but the quality of the metal made H'llon gasp. But hat really caught his attention was the book.
"The complete Casebook of Sherlock Holmes" he read. "What can that be?" idly he leafed through a few pages – then lifted excited eyes. "T'lana – the language is strange and archaic, but I believe it is a manual of logicating! It's the case book of a logicator written by his assistant, I'm sure!"
"Now that" said T'lana "Will be of great importance. H'llon, you will study this when we've found Rator. So put it away now – and we'll see what else we can find to help us find him. This room" she said regretfully "Whilst fascinating, can tell us little more about the current problem. Let us return to their main living room and see what we may find there."
The living cavern was sparse; but on the wall was a rough chalked map of the mine and the outworks in the surrounding area.
"If he'd stayed in the mine tunnels I doubt he'd have closed it up" surmised H'llon.
"No. No way; there's no easy break through elsewhere" Master Nicat declared, studying the maps.
"Master Nicat, if he had an anciet cutting tool, would it make it economic to work a working closed because of difficult cutting?" asked H'llon excitedly.
"Yes, quite probably. Why?"
H'llon pointed to an outwork on the map. Labelled like the others with chalk fragments a cross had been put through it and the comment 'too difficult for too little'.
"This zinc mine seems to have been closed for lack of return compared to the difficulty in digging it" he said.
Nicat nodded.
"Yes, yes. I remember now, they sent notice that it was increasingly hard to get enough, asking permission to close it down."
"Then that seems a good place to start looking. If I were him, I'd not waste an ancient cutter on metals I could retrieve by normal means. I'd go for the difficult to get high value metal."
"By the first Egg, lad, you're quite right!" the Masterminer slapped his thigh. Let's go!"
The Masterminer rode quite happily with H'llon on Melth, circling to pick out the mine from the air. The small but significant cascade of debris gave away the location; where the mine had been reopened, soil and rock fragments had scattered down the mountainside in a distinct colour change to that from the original workings. H'llon directed Melth to land cautiously: one of those cutters could inflict serious, maybe fatal damage even on a big Bronze dragon!
The hum seemed to fill the passageways as cautiously they entered the mine. By the map, the last worked area was a goodly way in; and they proceeded warily, H'llon half shading the glow basket they had brought, the hum becoming louder as they went, reverberating around them. S'net. S'negen, B'kas, V'gion and R'cal had come; T'lana had kept the others guarding the ancient room at the mine in case H'llon's surmise had been incorrect and Ratar returned there. L'gal and T'rin were having a field day cataloguing everything they found in order to send a copy to the Masterharper, as well as to F'lar. The young Harpers were all for opening up the old rock-fall to see the rest of the forgotten minehold, but T'lana had put a veto on this course of action until both Master Nicat and T'bor gave the go ahead!
Meanwhile H'llon and Nicat led the search for Rator.
The man was at work by the light of several glow baskets, making the searchers' one redundant, so H'llon laid it down. Ratar was making every cut count; every now and then the cutting beam faltered. Even so he had cut a great deal.
"Rator you murderous son of the Red Star!" roared Nicat, scattering the collected firelizards into Between at the mention of that dread place.
Rator jumped and turned; and with a snarl of rage let fly with a lethal beam from his laser cutter! H'llon barged Nicat, shifting the big man only because of his own size and strength; and the two big men crashed to the floor as the searing beam passed close enough for the acrid smell of singed hair to tell H'llon he had received an involuntary curling of his short locks! Rator raised his makeshift weapon again, and H'llon rolled aside as he pressed down viciously with a thumb. But this time nothing happened! Before Ratar could try again, the other dragonmen had leaped as a man upon him!
Rator was returned, bound, to the Minercraft Hall under the grim escort of Masterminer Nicat. The man would probably never see the light of day again, toiling chained underground to recompense the relatives of the men he had killed. H'llon thought it meet. Not only had he killed five innocent men, he had recklessly wasted the little remaining power of the ancient cutter in so doing and in covering up the main minehold; when it could have ben given to the Minercraft hall to use when deemed important. At least Master Nicat had been persuaded by T'lana, since she was such a favourite of his, to hand the thing over to MasterSmith Fandarel in case its design might one day be duplicated!
Further searches of the ancient miner's room revealed other strange and apparently useless artefacts; all of hich were delivered to the ideas exchange for further study. H'llon however kept the book about the ancient logicator Sherlock Holmes. The language was strange, and there were many words he could not translate, but the young man set himself the task to learn as best he could, and asked T'rin's aid in translating the tales as best they might between them for the easier understanding of others. T'rin was glad of something cerebral to occupy him; his foster mother T'lana was preoccupied and upset, for they had scarce returned from the minehold when her friend L'rilly passed out and had to be taken to the Healer hall. It transpired that the Gold Rider would need a serious invasive operation, something not to be taken lightly! H'llon sent word via D're that she was to get well soon, and he would read to her of the ancient logicator; he hoped it would cheer her up.
