All The Weyrs of Pern

2

By the time the sun had risen, many had come to view Aivas-the tale had spread as fast as Thread burrows. Curiosity and disbelief are mighty movers, so men and women had come from every Hall, Hold, and Weyr. To the disgust of some, most of the fervor was prompted not by Aivas's vast store of new knowledge, but by the chance to glimpse the miraculous moving pictures that this marvel was purported to produce.

Fandarel, supervising the acquisition of the material on Aivas's list, was busy in the Catherine Caves. Breide, overwhelmed with helpers, was making great strides in carefully clearing the ash and dirt from the roof to expose the remaining solar panels. Master Esselin was poring over Aivas's redesign plans, though he railed that Breide's men were not working fast enough for him to begin his job. Breide retorted that he hadn't even dismantled the buildings that were to provide the material for the extensions, so what was Esselin bleating about?

Lessa, hearing the argument, told them to stop behaving like apprentices and go about their duties. Then she, with Menolly and Jancis, found willing helpers among the women to do the drudge work of washing down the walls of long-disused rooms and shoveling out the dirty ash that had seeped in around windows and doors. The largest room, which the women decided must have originally been intended for conferences, was prepared for that purpose again. Remembering what she had seen stored in the cave, Lessa sent for enough furnishings to make the room useful: tables, desks, and as many chairs as could be easily reached without getting in Fandarel's way. All these were washed down, revealing bright colors that made cheerful accents in the otherwise bare rooms. The room farthest from all the activity was turned into a private retreat for the Masterharper, complete with a comfortable bed, a well-cushioned chair, and a table.

"The only problem will be in getting him to use it," Lessa said, giving the table a final swipe with her cleaning cloth. She had smudges on her cheeks, across her fine-bridged nose, and on her strong chin. Her long black hair was coming loose from its braids. Menolly and Jancis exchanged glances to decide who would tell her how dirty her face was. Jancis thought that the Weyrwoman's disarray, as well as her energetic cleaning, made her suddenly more accessible. The young Smithmaster had always been scared of the famous Weyrwoman.

"Somehow I never thought that I'd see the Weyrwoman of Pern working like a drudge," Jancis murmured to Menolly. "She does it with a vengeance."

"She had practice," Menolly said with a wry chuckle, "hiding herself away from Fax in Ruatha Hold before Impressing Ramoth."

"But she looks as if she was enjoying this," Jancis said in faint surprise. Actually, she was, too. It gave her a sense of achievement to return a dirty room to cleanliness and order.

The charts that Lessa had requisitioned from Esselin's archives arrived, and the Weyrwoman had the girls hold them up on the various walls to decide the best position.

"Is it really right to put such precious artifacts to such a..." Jancis struggled to find the appropriate word.

"Mundane use?" Menolly asked with a grin.

"Exactly."

"They were initially used in this way," Lessa said, quirking her lips and shrugging her shoulders. "So why not put them back up?"

Applying herself to the task had restored the Weyrwoman's equilibrium; the discovery of Aivas and its promise to help F'lar achieve his deepest ambition had shaken her. She desperately wanted what was promised, almost as much as F'lar did, but she was fearful of the consequences. The morning's scrubbing attack had allowed her to expend some of her anxiety. Now she felt herself peculiarly revived.

"Since the maps haven't deteriorated-amazing material the settlers used-I see no reason why we shouldn't use them for the purpose they were designed for," she went on briskly. She had decided that "settlers" was a less intimidating word than "ancestors." She studied one of the maps." The Southern Continent certainly does spread out, doesn't it?" And she smiled, half to herself. "Lift your corner a trifle, Jancis. There! Now it's straight!"

She smoothed the map of the Southern Continent against the wall. Then, with considerable satisfaction, she sited a tack and hammered it in with a rectangular lump of rock she had found. Esselin had dithered so much about giving them two baskets and a shovel that she hadn't bothered to ask for a hammer. The rock did as well.

She stood back with the girls to survey her handiwork. The lettering on the maps still took her moments to decipher. It was familiar and yet different, and certainly larger. She wondered how Aivas had fared reading the crabbed tight script that Master Arnor had used in writing up the Records. Poor Master Arnor.

Not to mention poor Robinton, who had been so mortified to learn that there had been language shifts despite all the hard work that the Harper Hall had put into keeping it pure. Old Arnor's mind was notoriously inflexible, and the old fellow might have spasms when he heard that. Which was yet another aspect of this discovery: Its knowledge and its obvious intelligence put Aivas into the role of a Master of Masters in all disciplines except, perhaps, the dragons. She might have been reading things into its tone, but had there been a note of excitement in that otherwise level voice when it mentioned the dragons?

"Yes, the maps are appropriate here, aren't they? Not merely decorative." She smiled at Jancis and Menolly. Working with Piemur's young woman had reassured her that the journeyman was well matched with Fandarel's granddaughter. Lessa had been dubious about including Jancis on Aivas's roster, but she had lost her reservations this morning. Jancis had earned a place, and not simply because she had been instrumental in finding the room and was proving to be a willing worker. She had the right attitude toward Aivas and the future.

Jancis's eyes glowed as she studied the map. "They produced so many wonderful things. Things that could last for centuries; materials impervious to Thread. Things that will enrich our lives, too."

"True enough, but how am I going to reduce this-" Menolly waved an arm in Aivas's direction "-into a ballad that will explain these events to people?"

Lessa chuckled. "A change from your usual subjects, isn't it? You'll manage, Menolly dear. You always do, and splendidly. And don't bother to explain I doubt even Master Robinton could 'explain' a phenomenon, like Aivas. Present him as a challenge, to shake us all out of our mid-Pass doldrums." She pulled out a chair, absently gave it a flick of her rag, and sat down with a loud sigh. Then she cocked her head at the other two. "I don't know about you two, but I could certainly use a nice hot cup of klah."

Jancis sprang to her feet. "And fruit and meatrolls. The cook was up before dawn, complaining about hordes to feed on short notice-but he was making enough food to feed a Gather. I'll be right back."

Menolly turned to Lessa then, her expression serious. "Lessa, is Aivas going to be a good challenge? Jaxom told us such incredible things. Some people are simply not going to accept them, or even try to." She thought of her hidebound parents and others of similarly rigid minds whom she had not in her Turns as a harper.

Lessa gave a resigned flick of one hand. "It's been found. I don't want to deny it, even if its discovery means some painful reassessments. I found it fascinating to hear how the settlers got here-the pictures they had of Pern in the black heavens are truly awesome. I'd no idea it could look like that! And it was thrilling to hear how bravely our ancestors struggled to destroy Thread. We've been used to it-even if some thought we'd had our last Pass four hundred Turns ago." Her lips curled with remembered malice for those doubters. "But what a terrible shock it must have been for them." With an apologetic expression, she touched Menolly's hand lightly. "You are one of those who truly deserved to hear that history, Menolly, but we'd no idea what had been discovered when we were sent for. Maybe Aivas wouldn't mind repeating it for you, and the other Harper Masters, because that is something the Hall should circulate. It should be compulsory for children to learn our true origins. We'll need new Teaching Ballads. But that is for Sebell to decide, isn't it?" Then her expression altered again, first to a look of awe, and then to a grimace. "I can tell you that I had trouble believing my eyes and ears when Aivas said that the settlers actually created-'bi-o-en-gin-eered' was his word-our dragons." Her grin was tinged with rancor. "I'm almost relieved that there are so few Oldtimers left alive. They'd have found that very hard indeed to accept."

"Do you find it hard to accept that dragons were engineered from fire-lizards?" Menolly asked teasingly. Lessa had made her dislike of the small draconic cousins very plain over the Turns, and Menolly was always careful to keep hers out of the Weyrwoman's way.

Lessa made another face, more reflective than angry. "They are dreadful nuisances at times, Menolly. Did you leave yours behind in the Harper Hall today?"

"No." Menolly's sideways glance challenged Lessa. "Only Beauty, Rocky, and Diver came along this morning. They're keeping Ruth company. They've always adored him."

Lessa looked thoughtful." Aivas commented on Ruth, but he appeared to be quite surprised by Ramoth, Mnementh, and Canth. I must ask him why when I get the chance. Well, at least we have something we can explain to Aivas." She let out a gusty sigh. "And if he can help us end Thread forever... I only hope that he can!"

To Menolly's fine-tuned harper's ear, she thought that there was an undertone of desperation in Lessa's voice. The Weyrwoman caught her expression and nodded slowly, her eyes sad. "At this point in a Pass, Menolly, we do very much need a hope that there could be a way to clear our skies of Thread. And get on with the sort of life the settlers had hoped to lead here."

"Jaxom told us that Aivas had said that there was a possibility."

"At least Jaxom repeats things accurately," Lessa said at her driest. "You should have heard some of the rumors in the Weyr this morning. The Weyr Harper is going to see that those are suppressed, and accurate information circulated. Hope is all very well, but it must be realistic."

"But Aivas did say it was possible?"

Lessa nodded. "Possible! But we'll have to work hard to achieve it. We'll have to learn a lot of new things."

"Even that could improve morale." Then Menolly added more briskly, "The wonder is that our ancestors managed to survive each new Pass losing so little of our culture."

"They had to, as we have had to. But we know that so much of our culture was lost. If that threat were removed, oh, what a wonderful future we could contemplate!"

Menolly caught Lessa's eye in a significant stare." Wonderful for the dragons and the Weyrs, too?"

"Yes!" Lessa's explosive reply surprised the Harper Hall Master. "Yes, it will be even better for dragons and Weyrs." She took a deep breath and exhaled, jabbing her finger at the map. "We'll have a new world to explore again." She leaned forward, peering at the map. "I wonder what 'Honshu' was."

Just then Jancis returned, carrying a basket with a klah pitcher, cups, and food. She was also full of news.

"You should see what they've done while we've been cleaning," she said, a broad smile on her face. "You should also see the mob waiting to gawk at Aivas." When Lessa sprang to her feet, Jancis waved her back down. "F'lar, Sebell, and Master Robinton are in control. We'll be the better for something to eat. Here, Lessa, fresh redfruit and nice hot rolls. If you'd pour the klah, Menolly," she said, passing around the fruit and rolls.

"You're as efficient as your grandsire," Lessa remarked approvingly, settling back into her chair. The smell of warm bread and meat reminded her that it had been a long time since that hurried early-morning porridge at Benden Weyr. "Menolly, as soon as you've eaten, I want you on Aivas's roster." She turned to Jancis. "How long has Aivas been-" She searched for the appropriate word. "Available?"

Jancis grinned over the rim of her cup. "Long enough to approve or discard what Grandfather brought out of the caves for inspection. Masters Wansor and Terry are attempting to follow a diagram on how to assemble the-the components." She hesitated briefly over the unfamiliar word. "They've sent for Masterglassman Norist, because two of the screens were cracked. Aivas wants to discover if we have the skill, only he said 'technology,' to duplicate the material. He's very diplomatic, but he's certainly putting every one on their mettle. He-it-" Jancis shook her head, then appealed to Lessa. "What do we call the thing? Aivas says he/it is a machine, but with that beautiful voice, he sounds very human."

"Beautiful voice? " Menolly asked through a mouthful of redfruit, hastily stemming the juice from dripping down her chin.

Lessa chuckled. "Yes," she said with a grin at Menolly's reaction. "A beautiful voice. Almost as good as Master Robinton's."

"Really?" Menolly's thick eyebrows rose at that comparison to her beloved Master. "How clever of our ancestors," she added, not rising to Lessa's bait.

Lessa grinned more broadly. "Yes, it's only fair to warn you. The thing is rather awesome."

Menolly grinned back. "Too kind of you. I wonder if he knows anything about ancestral music forms?"

Lessa laughed. "I could hear that question coming."

"He said," Jancis put in, keeping her expression bland, "he had the Planetary Engineering and Colonial Kit in his memory banks, as well as what cultural and historical records were deemed relevant by the colonists. Surely music would be considered a cultural necessity?"

Lessa hid a smile, delighted by Jancis's subtle tease.

"If it isn't, it should be. It will be my first question of this Aivas," Menolly replied equably. She took a firm bite out of her meatroll.

"Aivas is a clever enough affair, but it's only got the one voice, however mellifluous," Lessa went on. "Only one voice to sing with, even if it does have ancient music in those formidable memory banks."

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 apiece 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."

"And I'm related to the admiral?" Toronas asked, rather more humble in his request than Oterel. "Our earliest Records are impossible to decipher."

As the Lord Holders awaited Aivas's reply, Menolly noticed Wansor's discreet departure.

"It is entirely possible," Aivas said, "even likely that you are a direct descendant. Four children were recorded to the marriage of Paul Benden and Ju Adjai. Perhaps if you bring in your Records at some later date, they can be deciphered. A program is available that utilizes a special light which can often restore lost words and phrases."

Enthralled, Menolly listened as Aivas dealt with both Sigomal and Warbret, as cleverly and in as personal a fashion, catering to their self-images.

Then Jancis, Piemur, and Benelek hovered uncertainly in the doorway, each clutching several sheets. Piemur rattled his to get Sebell's attention; the Masterharper deferentially told the Lord Holders that Aivas must be consulted again and politely gestured for them to leave.

Oterel grumbled, but Sigomal rose readily enough and took the old Tillek Lord by the arm. "It's stifling in here, Oterel. Far too stuffy for comfort. I don't know about you, but I intend to search out those Records and then see what this Aivas thing can tell me. Come along now."

"He manipulates them like so many string-dolls," Menolly told her mate in an undertone after he had escorted the Lord Holders into the hallway.

"Master Robinton had advised that tact and flattery might be required," Aivas replied. "Especially for those who cannot be accommodated with a lengthy interview."

"How did you hear me?" Menolly asked, dismayed that Aivas had overheard her whisper.

"Master Menolly, you are sitting beside a receptor. Whispers are clearly audible."

She caught Sebell's amused glance. He might have warned her about that.

"Don't distract Aivas, Menolly," Piemur said, arranging his papers on the plate.

"Master Menolly is not a distraction," Aivas said mildly. "Next page please, Piemur."

"Could you really read those old moldy Records?" Menolly asked.

"The attempt should be made. The ink that was used to write the Records you were kind enough to bring last night is of an indelible type that will yield to certain techniques available to this facility. Outside manual assistance will be needed, however, to prepare the documents before they can be scanned. That is a project which has been put on hold."

"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 assessed by Aivas.

"Oh, I arrived here late last night with the Records of this Pass," 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 entity 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 reassuring 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.

"Classical, 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 classified 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 assessment. "It seems to be correctly assembled. 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 assemble another keyboard while you're waiting," Aivas replied. "Ten are possible with the parts in hand. Two need replacement screens, if the Glassmaster 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.