All the Weyrs of Pern (6 page)

F’lar appeared in the doorway, looking harassed as he pushed a wayward lock off his forehead. “There you are, Lessa. Menolly, Robinton wants you and Lessa, and we have got to discuss the length of that sharding roster.
Everyone
has questions that require answers from Aivas. Piemur has the right of it, though. Most of them don’t believe what they’ve been hearing.” He perched on the table and broke off a piece of meatroll. “They probably won’t believe even after they’ve seen Aivas.”

“How can we fault them on that score?” Lessa asked. “But it’s a waste of Aivas’s valuable time to humor skeptics. And ours. We must have a conference.”

Jancis jumped up, aware that her presence might be superfluous.

“No, child, don’t disappear. A conference is not that imminent.” Lessa gave a droll snort. “Not with everyone rushing around every which way this morning. But do get more cups, klah, and food. F’lar, eat something.”

F’lar made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t have time right now. There’s too much to be done.” But he crammed another bite of meatroll into his mouth.

“When did you intend to stop for food?” Lessa asked tartly. Rising, she pulled F’lar off the table and pushed him by the shoulders into the nearest chair. She put the rest of the meatroll in front of him and refilled her own cup for him, adding the amount of sweetener he preferred in his klah. “You didn’t sleep last night, and if you don’t eat, you’ll be useless just when you’re most needed. Now, who’s importuning you? Do we have enough Lord Holders, Craftmasters, and Weyrleaders to constitute a majority?”

“Every single Lord Holder we didn’t cram in yesterday is here, and every Mastercraftsman.” F’lar flung up both hands in an extravagant gesture of impatience.

“Surely you’ve explained . . .”

“We’ve all been explaining,” F’lar said irritably. “I know we’ve got touchy prides among our ranking personalities, but you’d think each one had been personally insulted by not being summoned yesterday.” He bit into the meatroll and washed it down with a gulp of klah, scowling as he swallowed. “The worst complainers are those who haven’t paid much attention to what’s being done here at Landing. Different tune right now, I can tell you.”

Lessa regarded him with astonishment. “How’d they all find out?”

F’lar flashed an ironic grin at Menolly. “Guess?”

The harper groaned and hid her face in her arms.

“Those dratted fire-lizards again!” Lessa’s scowl was fierce. She shook her head. “And I suppose they came a-dragonback.”

F’lar grimaced as he pushed hair off his forehead again. “I should never have given Hall and Hold resident dragonriders. They’ve taken to using the courtesy as if dragons were runnerbeasts.”

“Oh, well, we have to take the bad with the good, and the courtesy certainly improved relations with Hold and Hall. It’s just awkward at the moment. Nevertheless, it is essential that the Lords and Craftmasters experience Aivas for themselves. There’ll be some hidebounds who will deny the evidence of their eyes and ears anyway. So, if they’re here, they might well have a chance at Aivas.”

“Oh, they’re here,” F’lar said airily, waving his second meatroll. “Sebell lets them in a few at a time and interrupts the session whenever Aivas is needed for the ongoing work. Most of the them go away shaking their heads and trying not to look bewildered. Very few of them have understood the significance of Aivas.” He brought his fist down on the table. “When I think of what we once had, once were! What we can be again with Aivas’s help!”

Lessa smiled at his intensity. “According to Aivas, even Landing wasn’t built in one day.” She began to knead the taut muscles about his neck and shoulders. “Eat, love. We’ve handled the skeptics before. We’ll do it again in our own inimitable fashion.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

F’lar gave her a rueful grin. “And you’re handling me as you usually do, aren’t you?”

Lessa gave him a look of mild indignation as she slipped back into her chair and picked up her half-eaten roll. “Reassuring you, dear heart.”

From Mnementh, Lessa heard an incredulous mental snort.

Don’t spoil the effect
, she told the bronze dragon.

Not likely
, Mnementh replied sleepily.
The sun is exceedingly warm here in this Landing place.

Ramoth agreed.

Sebell appeared in the doorway then, nodding at the two Weyrleaders as he beckoned to Menolly.

“Master Robinton wants to have Menolly added to the roster. N’ton’s there as Weyrleader. And Fandarel snatched Jancis on her way to the kitchens. She’s needed to do some drafting. Someone else is bringing more klah and food.” Sebell helped himself to the remaining meatroll. “This’ll make a good conference room.” Then, draping one arm around Menolly’s shoulders, he steered her out the door.

Lessa shot an intimate look at her own mate, and he grinned as he chewed the last of his meatroll and reached for a redfruit.

“Are you already on the list?” Menolly asked Sebell as they made their way down the corridor.

He gave her a mischievous grin, hugging her against his side. They fell easily into step. As he often did, Sebell wondered at his great good fortune to have won Menolly as his mate. He could not mind that part of her heart which was Master Robinton’s. Part of his was the Harper’s, too, along with his complete loyalty and respect; but Menolly was the joy of his life.

“How long must we wait?” Oterel, Lord Holder of Tillek demanded, scowling deeply as the two harpers passed him where he waited in the hallway.

“The room is small, Lord Oterel, and there is a great deal to be done today,” Sebell said placatingly.

“Small or not, Fandarel and other very minor craftsmen have been in there for hours, and now he has hauled his granddaughter in, too,” Oterel complained peevishly.

“If you were able to draw clear diagrams as she does, Lord Oterel,” Menolly said, “you would doubtless be in there.” She had disliked the testy old Lord of Tillek Hold ever since he had spoken out so vehemently against her attaining her Mastery.

Oterel glared fiercely back at her. Beyond him, Lord Toronas of Benden Hold covered a grin with his hand. “You’re impudent, young woman, far too impudent! You dishonor your Hall.”

Sebell gave him a long quelling look and then pulled Menolly into the small room. It was hot and stuffy, with stools crammed so closely together that she wondered how Jancis, Piemur, Terry, and another smith she didn’t recognize could draw at all. Fandarel was hovering over them while N’ton leaned indolently against the far wall. Then she saw the screen and its display of unfamiliar objects as clearly defined as if the actual item had somehow gotten inside this Aivas and been magnified.

“Now, once the connections with the F-322RH have been made”—the rich, beautifully modulated voice made Menolly gasp in surprise; she glanced around and caught Sebell’s grin at her reaction as she tried to locate the source of the voice—“the circuit will be completed. Add this board to those already installed and come back to me for the next step.”

Obediently the four left, talking to one another in low tones. N’ton came forward then, and Fandarel cleared his throat.

“We three—Weyrleader N’ton; I, Craftmaster Fandarel; and Masterharper Sebell—request that you add Master Menolly of the Harper Hall to the roster.”

“Will Master Menolly please speak so that a voiceprint may be taken?”

“A voiceprint?” Menolly asked, astonished.

“Yes, a human’s voice is a more effective means of identification than physical appearance, which could be duplicated. Your voiceprint cannot. Therefore, it is necessary for you to speak so that a voiceprint ID can be registered to the roster file.”

Menolly, rendered uncharacteristically speechless by the unusual request and the glorious voice, looked helplessly at Sebell. He flicked his fingers encouragingly, grinning cheerfully while N’ton mouthed words at her.

“I’m Menolly, once of Half Circle Sea Hold, and I’m better at singing than speaking,” she said, stammering slightly in her confusion. Then she fretted that she was letting a stammer be registered.

Master Fandarel made a tumbling gesture with his hands, which she took to mean that she should continue talking.

“My rank is Master in the Harper Hall. I compose music and write lyrics. Master Sebell, here, is my mate, and we have three children. Have you heard enough?”

“That is sufficient for a voice with such a distinctive timbre,” Aivas said. “Are copies of the music you write available? For the main files?”

“You want my music?” Menolly exclaimed in surprise.

“Music was very important to your ancestors.”

“You have some of their music?” She could barely contain her excitement.

“There is an extensive file of music, spanning over two thousand years.”

“But you’re only one voice?”

There was a significant pause. “It would be inappropriate to use more than one in conversational mode. This system is, however, adapted to reproduce music in its varied instrumental forms.”

“It is?” Menolly was aware of Sebell’s chuckle and N’ton’s grin.

“We’ll get our turn, lovey,” Sebell said softly. “I promise you that. Master Robinton is as eager as we are, but there are more urgent priorities.”

Menolly gulped back disappointment and looked helplessly at Sebell.

“I must leave now,” Fandarel said. “We are going to see how to reconstruct that power station, Aivas, and dragonriders have gone to bring my nickel-cadmium batteries, as you call them.”

“Does Master Facenden understand how to connect them to the auxiliary power points shown to him?” Aivas asked.

“Yes, I made certain of his comprehension. He will also construct a cage to keep the unwary from touching the fluid or the wires. Come, N’ton, if you’d be so good as to assign dragonriders to take us up the river to the dam site.” Fandarel wheeled about and strode down the corridor, N’ton beside him. Both ignored attempts by those waiting in the hall to stop and quiz them. Sebell gestured for Menolly to take one of the stools before he called Lords Oterel, Sigomal, Toronas, and Warbret to enter. Oterel pushed his way in first, wearing a triumphant expression that faded as he looked about him in bewilderment. When all four were in the room, Sebell introduced them to Aivas.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances, my lords,” Aivas replied courteously. Menolly noticed that his deep voice was subtly deferential. “Soon this facility will be enlarged so that larger audiences can be accommodated.”

Sebell caught Menolly’s eye and winked at her. Both appreciated Aivas’s smooth tact.

“You can see us?” Oterel asked, still looking around for something, Menolly wagered, that he could recognize as eyes.

“The visual sensors are registering your individual presences. You will most certainly be recognized again whenever you return.”

Menolly hastily covered her mouth. It wouldn’t do for Oterel to see her grinning at his confusion. This Aivas was half-harper. How did it know just how to deal with the old bore? Had Sebell warned it?

“You don’t have any eyes,” Oterel said querulously.

“Optics are the eyes of a machine, Lord Oterel.”

“I understand that you knew our ancestors, Aivas,” Lord Sigomal said while Oterel floundered over the implication that eyes were somehow inferior. “Can you tell me who mine were?”

“Lord Sigomal,” Aivas replied, sounding genuinely apologetic, “no input has been received on such specific details. A list of the names of those settlers who removed to Fort Hold is being prepared and will be made available to anyone who requests a copy. Your own Hold Records probably detail who established Bitra. However, you may be pleased to know that your province was named for one of the shuttle pilots, Avril Bitra.”

Menolly wondered at the odd clipped delivery of that information. Aivas had an incredibly flexible voice, capable of amazing dynamics and nuances. Maybe Master Shonagar, the Hall’s eccentric voice teacher, could be pried out of his domain to hear such a wonder.

“Lists of ancestors are the best you can do? That isn’t going to be much use to us!” Oterel exclaimed in keen dissatisfaction.

“In your case, Lord Oterel, it is reasonable to assume that Tillek was either established by or named for Captain James Tillek, the captain of the
Bahrain
, a man of considerable acumen and talent as a seaman and explorer.”

Oterel began to swell with importance.

“Regretfully, Lords Toronas and Warbret, your Holds were established long after input ceased. Would it be possible to add your Records to the information files of this time period? That would further the understanding of the structure of a Hold. There is so much that must be gathered before what you have created here on Pern can be fully appreciated.”

Just then Master Wansor walked in and, mumbling over the page he was reading, stumbled into the seated Warbret. Profusely apologizing, he was confronted by a glaring Oterel, who accused him of barging in on Lord Holders.

“I’ve only one small question, but it is extremely urgent,” Wansor said in his gentle, contrite voice. He took a breath to deliver the question.

“Master Wansor, you need only place the paper on the plate for it to be read and an answer given,” Aivas reminded him most courteously.

Menolly raised her eyebrows. Few people paid Master Wansor the consideration his true abilities deserved.

“Oh, yes, I keep forgetting,” Master Wansor said. Excusing himself, he wove a path past the stools to the control board. A round, little, unpretentious elderly man, he had to bend over to see with his weak eyes where to place the paper. The panel glowed more brightly. “Ah, yes. There!” And he patted the paper into position.

“Lord Toronas, your Hold was obviously named to honor the memory of Admiral Paul Benden,” Aivas said, while several lightning flashes on the panel suggested to Menolly that Wansor’s paper was being attended to simultaneously. Then, to the amazement of all, the main screen displayed the image of a fine-looking man, his face full of character. A man to trust, Menolly decided. Then she was stunned by the realization that Aivas had known and talked to that man, so long dead and so long remembered. “A fine man, Admiral Benden,” Aivas went on. “Holding the settlers together, always encouraging, preserving them through considerable trials to establish a safer haven in the Northern Continent.”