All the Weyrs of Pern (3 page)

Piemur had no quarrel with that; with a mock-paternal kiss he settled her on a pallet in the room beyond Master Robinton’s.

Despite his joke about not asking questions, when Piemur returned to the Aivas room he found that he couldn’t immediately formulate a single intelligent query. Instead, with a cup in hand and the beaker beside him, Piemur sat, bereft of words, in the semigloom of the chamber.

“Aivas?” he began tentatively.

“Yes, Journeyman Piemur?” The room brightened enough for Piemur to see clearly.

“How do you do that?” Piemur asked, startled.

“The panels that you and Journeywoman Jancis exposed yesterday are capable of drawing energy from the sun: it is called solar power. When all the panels are exposed, an hour’s bright illumination will power this unit for twelve hours.”

“You’re not going to have ordinary usage from now on,” Piemur said with a snort.

“A query: You apparently utilize the luminescent organism in handlights, but do you not have some sort of power generation, perhaps hydroelectric power?”

“Hydroelectric?” Piemur’s quick ear allowed him to repeat the unfamiliar words accurately.

“The production of electric current by the energy of moving water.”

“Master Fandarel uses water wheels in Telgar Smithcrafthold to drive the big hammers and the forge bellows, but ‘electric’ is an unfamiliar word. Unless that’s what Fandarel does with those acid tanks of his.”

“Acid tanks? Batteries?”

Piemur shrugged. “I don’t know what he calls them. I’m a harper. Whatever ‘electric’ is, so long as it is efficient, Master Fandarel will love it.”

“Would Master Fandarel’s equipment resemble this structure?” The screen suddenly lit up with a diagram of a water wheel.

“That’s it. How did you know?”

“This is the most frequent primitive application. Have you explored the Landing site, Journeyman Piemur?”

“I don’t need my title all the time, Aivas. Piemur is enough.”

“No disrespect would be construed?”

“Not from me, Aivas. Some of the Lord Holders get a bit touchy, but Jaxom doesn’t, nor Larad and Asgenar. Lessa can be sticky, but not F’lar, or F’nor, or N’ton. And yes, I’ve explored the Landing site. What should I be looking for?”

The screen displayed a complex mechanism, set at the base of the river hill.

“Nothing like that there now,” Piemur said, shaking his head.

“As Mastersmith Fandarel already uses water wheels, a new installation can be erected so that this facility is not dependent on the solar panels, which will be inadequate for the projected demands just discussed.”

“They didn’t store away any of your panels in the caves?”

“No.”

“How can you be sure?” Piemur found such didacticism irritating. It would be totally unfair if this—this intelligence was always right.

“The list of items in the Catherine Caves is available data and does not include spare panels.”

“It must be nice to know everything,” he said.

“Accuracy is required of an Aivas system—and a very large data base, what you would call ‘knowledge.’ You must not believe that the data base
can
contain ‘everything.’ But sufficient to realize the priorities of the programming.”

“A harper has to be accurate, too,” Piemur said sourly. Master Fandarel’s search for efficiency had always had, for Piemur, its humorous side. He wasn’t sure if he could be as tolerant of Aivas’s rectitude.

“A harper—one who plays a harp, an instrument?” Aivas asked.

“I do that, too,” Piemur replied, his capricious humor revived as he realized that Aivas did not know very much at all about present-day Pern. “The primary function of the Harper Hall is, however, to teach, to communicate, and at need, to arbitrate.”

“Not to entertain?”

“We do that, too—it’s a good way to teach, as well—and there are many who only do that, but the more skilled of us have multiple duties. It would be presumptuous of me to usurp Master Robinton’s right to enlighten you on that account. Although, in actual fact, he is no longer
the
Masterharper of Pern. Sebell is, because Master Robinton had a nearly fatal heart attack and was made to retire from active service to the Harper Hall. Not that he
has
retired, despite being in Cove Hold now, because of all that has happened since Jaxom discovered Landing and the Ship Meadow, and then the caves.” Piemur halted, realizing that he was rattling on. It was just like him to want to impress Aivas with his knowledge; more than that, Piemur was experiencing an intense need to anchor his personal values in the presence of this superior intelligence.

“Sebell, who is now Masterharper of all Pern, is on his way with the Records,” he went on. “And Menolly. They may look young to you, but they are the most important people in the Harper Hall.” Then he added deferentially, “But you should know that Master Robinton is the most honored and respected man on Pern. The dragons kept him from dying. That’s how important he is.”

“The dragons then have been a successful experiment?” Aivas asked.

“Experiment?” Piemur was indignant and then subsided with a rueful chuckle. “I wouldn’t let the Weyrleaders hear you calling their dragons ‘experiments.’ ”

“The advice is appreciated.”

Piemur eyed the screen for a moment. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes. The culture and societies of your present-day Pern have evolved and altered considerably from the early days of the colony. It is incumbent on this facility to learn the new protocol and thus avoid giving unnecessary offense. The dragons have, therefore, become important above and beyond their initial role in the aerial defense of the planet?”

“They are the most important creatures on the planet. We couldn’t survive without them.” Piemur’s voice rang with pride and gratitude.

“Without intending any offense, is it currently acceptable to maintain the sports of the breed?”

Piemur snorted. “You mean Ruth? He and Jaxom are exceptions—to a lot of rules. He’s a Lord Holder and shouldn’t ever have Impressed a dragon. But he did, and because they thought Ruth wouldn’t survive long, he was allowed to be raised.”

“That is contradictory.”

“I know, but Ruth’s special. He always knows
when
he is in time.”

The resultant pause did much to assuage Piemur’s feelings of inferiority. He had stumped the Aivas.

“Your remark is unclear.”

“You did know that dragons can move instantaneously
between
one place and another?”

“That was a basic ability of the fire-dragon from whose genetic material the dragons were originally bioengineered. It was similar to the teleportation ability demonstrated by some species on several other planets.”

“Well, dragons can also move
between
one time and another. Lessa did, and Jaxom.” Piemur grinned, being one of the few people to know exactly when and why Jaxom had moved
between
one time and another. “But it’s an exceedingly dangerous ability and severely discouraged. Very few dragons have Ruth’s sense of time and space. So, if a dragonrider times it without his Weyrleader’s express permission, he gets royally reamed—if he hasn’t come to grief messing around with timing, that is.”

“Would you be good enough to explain in what circumstances timing is permissible?”

Piemur had already berated himself for mentioning Jaxom’s little excursion. He should have kept it to Lessa’s adventure, which was already part of the fabric of recent history. So he switched to a less sensitive subject and told Aivas in detail the tale of Lessa’s heroic ride on Ramoth: how she had brought the five lost Weyrs of Pern forward in time to save those in the Present Pass from annihilation. Even if he said so himself, Piemur thought he recited it with considerable flair. Though Aivas made no comment throughout, Piemur sensed that his unusual audience heard—and remembered—every word.

“A spectacularly brave and daring exploit, clearly of epic proportions despite the considerable risk she ran in losing both herself and the queen Ramoth. The results clearly justified the journey,” Aivas stated. It was more praise than Piemur had expected. He grinned with satisfaction that he had managed to impress the thing.

“You mentioned that the Long Interval caused the decline of the Weyrs’ authority and its prominence in your society,” Aivas said. “Do you know how many times the cycle has been similarly altered?”

“The cycle?”

“Yes. How many times has the orbit of what you call the Red Star failed to bring Thread to Pern?”

“Oh, you mean how many Long Intervals? There have been two recorded in our history. We were told that long intervals would occur, but I don’t know who knew that. That’s why so many people were so certain, right up till the time we had our first Fall of this Pass, that Thread had actually disappeared forever.”

From her favorite spot, wrapped loosely about Piemur’s neck, his golden fire-lizard roused and gave a warning cheep.

“Sensors register that the lump on your shoulder is actually a creature clinging to you.”

“Oh, that’s only Farli, my queen fire-lizard.”

“The creatures have remained in contact with you?”

“Yes and no.” Piemur did not think there would be time to give Aivas the recent history of the fire-lizard. “She just told me that Ruth and Jaxom have returned with the records and Sebell and Menolly.” Piemur stood up, draining the last of the klah from his cup. “Then you’ll know all that’s happened this Pass. Which hasn’t been dull at all, but you—you sort of cap it.”

Piemur could hear the exchange of low-voiced conversation down the hallway, and he started to the entrance in case Esselin’s guards were being officious. He had taken no more than a few steps when Jaxom, Sebell, and Menolly, bowed under the weight of the sacks they were carrying, came striding down the hall. Menolly, her dark hair still tangled from her flying cap, reached Piemur first.

“Where’s Master Robinton?” Menolly asked, looking about, her narrow, elegant features reflecting her perpetual anxiety for her mentor.

“In there, Menolly,” Piemur said, pointing. “As if we’d risk him.”

She thrust her heavy sack at him and ducked into the room to reassure herself, while Piemur smiled tolerantly.

“And they left you to mind Aivas all on your own?” Jaxom asked in a whisper. “Learned all the secrets of the universe yet?”

Piemur gave a snort. “As it turned out, I answered his—its—questions. But it was interesting all the same,” Piemur said. “And I gave him—it—a few tips to the wise.” He laid his finger along his nose, grinning. “Which is a harper function.”

Sebell, looking browner than ever in the dimly lit corridor, gave Piemur the slow smile that added considerable charm to the handsome, intelligent face of the tall Masterharper.

“According to Jaxom, this Aivas of yours is a tale spinner to shame the best of us, with knowledge of all that we were, and what we can be.”

“Well, I suspect Aivas might well create more problems than he solves,” Piemur said, “but I guarantee you it’ll be exciting.” He helped Jaxom remove the Records, carefully, from the sacks. “Aivas is right interested in you and Ruth, too.”

“What have you been telling him?” Jaxom asked in what Piemur privately called his Lord Holder attitude.

“Me? Nothing you’d object to, friend,” Piemur hastily reassured him. Jaxom could still be touchy about other people discussing Ruth. “I spent more time reciting Lessa’s ride, which he said was of epic proportions.” He grinned broadly.

As Piemur talked, Sebell had been taking in the details of the room, studying the strange wall furnishings. Sebell rarely rushed in the way Piemur did.

“And this Aivas has preserved itself from our first days on Pern?” Sebell let out a long, soft whistle. He tapped one of the clear panels and looked around the room. “Where does it store its records? Jaxom said it displayed amazing pictures of our past, as well.”

“Aivas, speak for yourself,” Piemur suggested cockily, wanting to see how Sebell—or Menolly, who entered just then—handled the entity. “Aivas?” he prompted. “This is Sebell, Masterharper of Pern, Master Robinton’s successor, and Master Menolly, Pern’s ablest composer.” When there was still no response from Aivas, Piemur felt his irritation rising. “They’ve brought the Records for you to read.”

Aivas remained silent.

“Maybe it’s used up the power stored in the sun panels,” he said, forcing himself to keep his tone light as he wondered how the Aivas could be forced into answering. He scowled at the unresponsive screen and the green pulse winking in the corner. The feckless thing was awake, so it had to be listening. “I don’t understand,” he said to the others, disgusted by the inactivity. “He was talking up a storm to me just before you came—oh, shards!” He slapped his forehead dramatically with one palm. “Neither you nor Menolly are on his list yet.”

“His list?” Jaxom asked, frowning in irritation.

“Yes, his list,” Piemur said. He sighed wearily and sagged onto the nearest stool. “The people he is authorized to speak to. Master Robinton and the others decided to limit those who have access to Aivas.”

“But
I
was here,” Jaxom exclaimed.

“Oh, he’ll probably talk to you once Sebell and Menolly leave. It got set up so that it takes a Weyrleader, a Lord, and a Masterharper for Aivas to add someone to the privileged list.”

“Well, I’m Lord Holder of Ruatha,” Jaxom began.

“Piemur’s not a Master yet, and there are no Weyrleaders present,” Menolly said with a little laugh. “Aivas is doing as he was told, which is more than you always do, Piemur.” She grinned at him.

“Yes, but now would be the best time for Aivas to catch up on our history while there’s peace and quiet. And before Fandarel returns to monopolize him,” Piemur said, scrubbing at his face. The effects of a very exciting day were catching up with him.

“I’m on the list though, am I not?” Jaxom asked, a touch of asperity in his voice.

“Yes—you, me, Jancis, Master Robinton, all of us who were in the room when Aivas woke up.”

“And he talked to you when you were alone,” Jaxom said. “Maybe, if Sebell and Menolly leave—sorry about that—he’ll talk to me, and I can feed the Records to him.”