All The Weyrs Of Pern Part 5

"On hold?" Menolly was delighted by the unusual but descriptive phrase. "How explanatory!"

Then she heard the sounds of movement in the hall and saw a file of people, laden with cartons, striding purposefully toward her. She saw F'lessan and F'nor among them.

"I'd better leave," she said reluctantly.

"Hang about," Sebell told her.

"You seem to be bringing the cave here. Wouldn't it have been easier to move Aivas to the caves?" she asked.

"Negatory," Aivas said in as sharp a tone as Menolly had yet heard him utter." This installation must remain in its present position, or it cannot access Yokohama."

"I was being facetious, Aivas," Menolly said penitently, and rolled her eyes at Sebell.

As the dragonriders came in, Menolly moved to N'ton's earlier position against the wall and watched as carton after carton was displayed to Aivas, to be either dismissed or sent into the rooms where others were attempting to construct the devices that would permit wider access to Aivas's facilities. None of the dragonriders seemed at all surprised to see her there, and F'lessan's grin had lost nothing of his usual impudence in the presence of Aivas. But then the son of F'lar and Lessa took nothing very seriously except his dragon, Golanth. Mirrim followed close on T'gellan's heels; the two from the Eastern Weyr were never far apart since they had declared themselves weyrmates. Mirrim had certainly bloomed and relaxed in the warmth of his preference, Menolly reflected.

"I didn't see you here earlier," Mirrim said in an aside to Menolly while waiting for her burden to be a.s.sessed by Aivas.

"Oh, I arrived here late last night with the Records of this Pa.s.s," Menolly replied. "Then Lessa grabbed me for some drudgery." She extended her strong hands, her callused fingers still showing water-wrinkles.

Mirrim rolled her eyes. "I'm just as glad we got in on the fetch-and-carry end of things. Let's compare notes later, huh? I'd better go," she added with a smug grin, "T'gellan's waving at me." She hefted the carton over to Aivas's screen.

When Aivas had delivered a verdict and the riders had left, Sebell gestured for the Craftmasters to come in and be introduced. Again they were all courteously, if briefly, addressed, and Aivas issued the request to see their craft Records. When they had left, Menolly slipped over to Sebell.

"How on earth will Aivas find time to look at so many Records?" she asked, whispering in his ear.

"He doesn't need sleep, only power," Sebell replied. "If we can supply that when the solar panels falter, he'll go on all day and night. You don't sleep, do you, Aivas?"

"This facility operates as long as it has sufficient power to do so. Sleep is a human requirement."

Sebell winked at Menolly.

"And you have none?" she demanded, jamming her fists into her belt as she faced the screen squarely.

"This facility is programmed to give optimum use at human convenience."

"Do I hear a tinge of apology in your tone, Aivas?" she asked.

"This facility is programmed not to give offense."

Menolly had to chuckle. Later she realized that that was when she began to accept Aivas as an individual ent.i.ty and not as an awesome relic of her ancestors' contrivance.

"Menolly?" the Masterharper called from the far end of the corridor, which was, for the first time, empty of importunate visitors. "Is Sebell there with you?"

Sebell moved to where he could be seen.

"Take over from him, will you, Menolly?" Robinton asked. "We've got enough here for a conference."

Sebell put his hand on Menolly's upper arm, giving it a rea.s.suring squeeze. "You saw how I conducted the encounters," he said. "If anyone else shows up, just introduce them."

"That didn't work last night when Piemur tried it," Menolly said.

Sebell grinned, squeezing her arm again. "Master Robinton and F'lar worked out a necessary alteration in the protocol."

"Another new word?"

"Aivas's for convention or courtesy." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You won't be missing anything in the conference, you know."

"I do, and I'm relieved not to have to sit through another one," she called after him as he hurried down the hall to Master Robinton. Sebell knew how she hated formal ceremonies. Or would they now be called protocols? She smiled to herself, then realized that she was alone with Aivas.

"Aivas, would you be able to give me an example of ancestral music?"

"Vocal, instrumental, orchestral?"

"Vocal;" Menolly replied without hesitation, promising herself that she would hear the other categories, too, when there was a chance.

"Cla.s.sical, ancient, or modern; contemporary folk or popular; with or without instrumental accompaniment?"

"Anything, while we've got a free moment."

"Anything is too vague a category. Specify."

"Vocal, popular, with instruments."

"This was recorded at the Landing celebration." And suddenly the room was filled with music. Menolly immediately identified several of the instruments: a gitar, a fiddle, and something with a pipelike sound; and then voices, untrained but enthusiastic and musical. The melody was hauntingly familiar to her; the words, though clearly sung, were not. The quality of the sound, however, was incredible. These voices and instruments had not been heard for centuries, and yet the sounds were as unblurred by time as if the musicians were present. When the song ended, she couldn't speak for the wonder of it.

"Was that not satisfactory, Master Menolly?"

She shook herself. "It was immensely and incredibly satisfying. I know that tune, too. What did the... settlers"-yes, she thought, Lessa was right to call them by that less intimidating noun-"call it?"

" 'Home on the Range.' It is cla.s.sified as American Western folk music. Several variations were included when the music library was installed in the memory banks."

She would have asked for more, but Piemur came striding into the room carrying a strange contraption, a thin wide ribbon of colored strings hanging from one side. The front of it resembled part of the Aivas worktop, a series of depressions in five ordered ranks under a dark sheet of what looked to be more plastic.

"Kindly hold it over the view panel, Piemur. Level with your head, please." There was a long pause for a.s.sessment. "It seems to be correctly a.s.sembled. A final check will be its installation and activation, but that must wait on a power source and connections to this board. How is Master Terry progressing with the wiring?"

"I don't know. He's in another room. I'll just go and check for you. Here, Menolly, hang on to this. I don't want to risk dropping it." With an encouraging grin, Piemur deposited his load in her arms and half ran down the corridor.

"Why do you have that?" Jancis asked, arriving with a similar object in her hands.

Menolly told her and watched while Jancis repeated Piemur's antics. Right behind her came Benelek, Lord Groghe's clever son, who was now a smith journeyman. Fandarel had found him so extremely inventive that Menolly was not at all surprised to see him taking an active part here.

When Aivas had approved their efforts, Benelek wanted to know when they could hook up.

"When there is power available. So, Journeyman Benelek, you may as well a.s.semble another keyboard while you're waiting," Aivas replied. "Ten are possible with the parts in hand. Two need replacement screens, if the Gla.s.smaster will oblige."

"I really do not understand how you would be able to handle twelve people at once, Aivas," Menolly said.

"You play more than one instrument, do you not? That is, if this facility has properly understood the training practices of your Hall."

"I do, but not all at once."

"There is in this facility many parts, each of which can operate separately and simultaneously."

Silently Menolly considered that concept, unsure how to respond. Then, just when it would have begun to seem rude for her to remain quiet, Master Terry came trotting down the corridor, loops of material strung all over him.

3.

DOWN THE HALL, in the refurbished conference room, seven Lord Holders, eight Craftmasters, eight Weyrleaders, and four Weyrwomen were a.s.sembled in an extraordinary meeting. Harper Journeyman Tagetarl had been brought in to take full notes of the proceedings.

F'lar stood up to take charge, though everyone could see that Master Robinton would have been happy to officiate. There were those who thought the Harper had not looked so animated and vigorous in many a Turn, and a.s.sumed that the rumors of his decline must have been vastly exaggerated. Note was also taken that the Weyrleaders looked less haggard, almost cheerful-even optimistic.

"I believe you've all been introduced to Aivas," F'lar began.

Lord Corman of Igen snorted."Introduced? To a talking wall?"

"It is much more than a talking wall," Robinton said tartly, glaring at Corman, who rolled his eyes at the Harper's unexpected vehemence and nudged Lord Bargen of High Reaches Hold beside him.

"Considerably more than just a wall," F'lar said. "Aivas is an intelligent ent.i.ty, constructed by our ancestors who first settled this planet. It contains the information which our ancestors needed and used. Valuable knowledge which can teach us how to improve Hold, Hall, and Weyr." He took a deep breath. "And destroy Thread completely."

"That I'll believe when I see it," Corman replied with a disbelieving snort.

"I promised you that, Lord Corman, at the beginning of this Pa.s.s, and now I can fulfill that promise!"

"With a wall's help?"

"Yes, with this wall's help," Robinton replied, his voice intense with conviction as he glared angrily at the Holder.

"You wouldn't be so skeptical if you'd been here yesterday and heard Aivas!" Larad said, jumping to his feet, his tone trembling with controlled anger. Corman recoiled in surprise.

"With all due respect, F'lar, Robinton, Larad," Warbret said appeasingly, "we've been called down here so frequently to see useless hulks, empty buildings, and caves bulging with shards and artifacts that I personally didn't think anything could be that urgent this time. I do find it very odd in you, Weyrleader, to be taken in by talking walls spouting archaic legends."

Robinton rose up out of his seat, bellowing such a protest that Warbret regarded him with amazement. "Gullible? Warbret, I, Robinton of Cove Hold, may be old but I cannot be considered gullible..."

"Nor I," Fandarel added, also on his feet and looming over the incredulous Holders. "This is not a wall wall, Lord Corman." The scorn in the usually equable Mastersmith's manner made everyone stare at him. "This machine, this Aivas, was so efficiently and beautifully crafted by our ancestors that it has survived centuries and still functions. That That is more than the best any present crafthall can do!" He jerked his big head to emphasize his respect. "Make no further insult on our intelligence or integrity, Lord Corman. You may not choose to believe in Aivas but most a.s.suredly, I"-and he thumped his chest with his ma.s.sive thumb- "Fandarel, Mastercraftsman, do!" is more than the best any present crafthall can do!" He jerked his big head to emphasize his respect. "Make no further insult on our intelligence or integrity, Lord Corman. You may not choose to believe in Aivas but most a.s.suredly, I"-and he thumped his chest with his ma.s.sive thumb- "Fandarel, Mastercraftsman, do!"

Corman subsided in bewilderment.

"So why have you called this session, then?" Warbret asked.

"Out of courtesy. So you'd all be made aware of the importance of this find as soon as possible," Lessa snapped. "I'm not letting the Weyrs open to any charge of duplicity or hiding away valuable artifacts."

"My dear Weyrwoman," Warbret began placatingly.

"Well, maybe not you, Warbret," Lord Groghe intervened, "but I could name some..." He left his words hanging. "You weren't here, so you didn't listen, as I did, and I'm no more gullible than Robinton, F'lar, or Fandarel. But if this Aivas thing really can rid us of Thread, I'm all for giving it every a.s.sistance."

"If it can do that," Corman challenged, "then why didn't it do it for our ancestors?"

"Yes, why didn't it?" Toronas of Benden asked.

"Because two erupting volcanoes altered their plans," F'lar replied with great patience. "Landing-which is what our ancestors called this place-had to be evacuated. No one returned from the North to find out what Aivas might have learned."

"Oh." With that, Tbronas subsided.

"I didn't mean offense, F'lar," Warbret said reasonably. "I just think you're all jumping to conclusions on very flimsy evidence that this Aivas apparatus can do the half of what you think it can."

"Aivas has already proved to me," Fandarel said, his rumbling voice overpowering the others, "that it can restore information that has been lost to my Craft over the last millennium: information that will improve not just my Craft but conditions throughout Pern. You know very well, Lord Warbret, that the depredations of time have rendered many Records illegible. And that many of the conveniences which were our heritage from our ancestors have begun to fail. Further, Aivas has given me plans for a far more efficient power system. One so efficient," the Mastersmith added, pointing a thick forefinger at the Igen Lord Holder, "that your Hold could be kept cool even at high noon at the height of the summer by the current of your river."

"Really? I can't say I'd mind that," Corman admitted, but his skepticism remained. "And just supposing," he added in a sly voice, glancing sideways at F'lar, "this Aivas does help you get rid of Thread, what will dragonriders do for occupation?"

"We'll worry about that when we have destroyed Thread."

"So you have some doubts yourself, Weyrleader?" Corman asked quickly.

"I said when when, Lord Corman," F'lar said in a grating tone. "Are you arguing with our eagerness to dispense with accepting your t.i.thes?" The Weydeader's expression was sardonic.

"No, I mean, we've willingly t.i.thed this Fall..." Corman floundered briefly and threw up his hands, recalling the time when he had not willingly supported Benden Weyr.

"And just how will this talking wall of yours destroy Thread, Weyrleader?" Mastergla.s.s-smith Norist demanded, his cheeks red with more than the broken capillaries from facing his hearths. "By blowing up the Red Star?"

Larad leaned across the table toward Norist, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Does it matter how it is achieved if it is, Master Norist, so long as there is never another Pa.s.s?"

"May I live to see that day," Corman said in a facetious tone.

"I intend to." F'lar's voice and expression were steely with determination. "Now, if we have settled the question as to why at least the dragonriders feel Aivas is important..."

"Dragonriders are not not the only ones, F'lar," Fandarel said, bringing his heavy fist firmly down on the table, rattling everything on it. the only ones, F'lar," Fandarel said, bringing his heavy fist firmly down on the table, rattling everything on it.

"Nor Mastercraftsmen," Lord Asgenar added staunchly.

"I, too," Groghe said when Corman snorted. "Sometimes you can be sharding hard to convince, Corman. You'll change your mind when you've heard heard Aivas. You're not that much of a fool." Aivas. You're not that much of a fool."

"Enough!" F'lar took charge again. "The purpose of this meeting is to apprise you of the discovery of Aivas and its inescapable value to Pern as a whole. Which we have done to those of you who bothered to come. Further, I trust you other Weyrleaders" -F'lar scanned the seven present. "-will join Benden in making full use of the Aivas."

"Now listen here, F'lar. You can't arbitrarily decide something that's going to effect Hold, Hall, and Weyr until everyone's had a chance to see for themselves," Corman began, glancing at Warbret and Bargen to support him. "I think this ought to be taken up at the Holders' quarterly meeting-which isn't that far off now."

"Holders may decide for themselves," F'lar said.

"And Craftmasters," Norist put in, his expression forbidding. His glare rested longest on Fandarel.

"Decisions on who uses the Aivas ought not to be delayed," F'lar said.

"C'mon, F'lar," Groghe said. "You haven't waited on anything. Scrambling about caves in the dark, hauling in apprentices and journeymen from all over the continent to resurrect bits and bobs of strange gear." He held up a hand when he saw F'lar's concerned expression. "Not that I, personally, don't agree with you, Weyrleader. Deciding anything at the Holders' Quarterlies can try the patience of a dragon. However, I did see and hear Aivas." He turned slightly in his seat toward the other Lord Holders. "The device is amazing, and I am convinced of its value!"