“Which,” Lessa said with another stern glare at the Harper, “will wait until some of us have rested: “

   “My curiosity will be contained, Madam.”

   Lessa darted a suspicious look at the dim screen panel.” You have curiosity? And what is this ‘madam’?”

   “Gathering information is not restricted to humans. Madam is a title of respect.”

   “Lessa’s respectful title is Weyrwoman, Aivas,” F’lar said with another grin.” Or Ramoth’s rider.”

   “And yours, sir?”

   “Weyrleader, or Mnementh’s rider. You have already met Masterharper Robinton, Harper Journeyman Piemur, Mastersmith Jancis, and Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold, but let me make known to you the Mastersmith Fandarel, Lord Groghe of Fort Hold, which we have always known was the first to be founded-” F’lar hid a grin at Lord Groghe’s suddenly modest demeanor. “-though certainly not why. Lord of Telgar, Larad, and Lord of Lemos, Asgenar.”

   “Lemos? Indeed.” But before the listeners could react to the mild surprise in Aivas’s tone, it continued. “It is good to know that the name Telgar survived.”

   “We have lost the knowledge of the naming,” Larad murmured. “And are prouder to know that the sacrifices of Sallah and Tarvi are remembered so lastingly.”

   “Aivas,” F’lar said, standing squarely in front of the screen, “you said that you were attempting to discover where Thread came from and how to exterminate it. Did you come to any conclusion? “

   “Several. The organism known as Thread is somehow attracted to the eccentric planet which, at aphelion, pierces the Oort Cloud; as it approaches perihelion, it drags matter with it into this sector of space. This trailing cloud disgorged a little of its burden into the skies of this planet. Calculations at the time indicated that this would continue for approximately fifty years, at which time the material in Pern’s orbit would be exhausted. Calculations also indicated that there would be recurrences of the phenomenon at intervals of two hundred fifty years, give or take a decade either way.”

   F’lar glanced about to see if anyone had understood what the Aivas was saying.

   “With due respect, Aivas, we do not understand your explanation,” the Harper said wryly. “A great deal of time has passed since Admiral Benden and Governor Boll led the settlers north. We are currently in the seventeenth Turn -what you call a year, I think- of the Ninth Pass of the Red Star.”

   “Noted.”

   “It has always been assumed,” F’lar said, “that Thread came from the Red Star.”

   “It is not a star: the most reasonable explanation is that it is a stray planet, probably drawn out of its native system by some odd event, traveling through space until it was attracted by Rukbat’s gravitational pull and became trapped in this system. The matter you call Thread does not come from its surface. It originates in the Oort Cloud of this system.”

   “And just what is an Oort Cloud?” Master Fandarel asked ingenuously.

   “According to the Dutch astronomer Jan Oort, the eponymous cloud is composed of material orbiting a sun far beyond the orbit of its outermost planet. Cometary material leaks from the cloud into the inner part of the system. In the particular case of Rukbat, some of the material is hard-shelled ovoids that change in a peculiar manner, losing their outer layers and attenuating on contact with the upper atmosphere, falling to the surface as what has been termed ‘Thread’; this resembles a voracious organism that devours carbon-based organic material.

   Fandarel blinked in his attempt to digest the information.

   “Well, you did ask, Master Fandarel,” Piemur remarked with a mischievous expression.

   “Your explanations only confuse us, Aivas, for none of us have the learning to understand them,” F’lar said, lifting a hand to indicate that he was not to be interrupted. “But if you knew, and presumably our ancestors knew, what Thread was and where it came from, why didn’t they destroy its source?”

   “By the time this facility reached those conclusions, Weyrleader, your ancestors had removed to the Northern Continent and did not return to receive the report.”

   A depressed and defeated silence prevailed over the room.

   “But we are here now,” Robinton said, straightening up on his stool. “And we can receive your report.”

   “If we can understand it,” F’lar added drolly.

   “This facility has educational programs that can supply remedial teaching in all branches of science. The prime directive given this unit by captains Keroon and Tillek, as well as Admiral Benden and Governor Boll, was to gather information and formulate a course of action that would end the threat posed by these incursions.”

   “Then it is possible to remove the threat of Thread?” F’lar asked, carefully schooling his expression to reveal none of the hope that he was feeling.

   “The possibility exists, Weyrleader.”

   “What?” was the incredulous response of everyone in the room.

   “The possibility exists, Weyrleader, but will require tremendous effort from you and quite likely the majority of your population. First, you must be able to understand scientific language and learn to work with advanced technology. In addition, access to the main banks of the Yokohama must be obtained to add to relevant data on asteroid positions. Then a course of action can be initiated that could probably result in the cessation of these incursions.”

   “Possibility? Probably result? But the possibility exists?” F’lar strode to the screen and put a hand on each side of its subtly glowing blankness. “I would do anything-anything-to rid Pern of Thread.”

   “If you are prepared to relearn lost skills and perfect them, the possibility does exist.”

   “And you would help us?”

   “The end of these incursions remains the first priority of this facility.”

   “Not half as much as it is of ours!” F’lar replied. F’nor fervently seconded him.

   The Lord Holders exchanged quick glances, hope warring with surprise. The destruction of all Thread was what F’lar had promised them nineteen Turns before when he had become leader of Pern’s then single Weyr. Benden’s wings of brave dragons and riders had been all that stood between the certain reduction of humankind on Pern to hunters and gatherers by the totally unexpected resumption of Threadfall after a lapse of four hundred Turns. In their extremity, the Lord Holders had promised support of all his emergency measures. Struggling with the exigencies of the Pass, they had quite forgotten his vow. But all three were quick to perceive the advantages to them-if they could also see the disadvantages to the Dragonriders-to be quit of their ancient responsibilities. Jaxom, as both rider and Holder, regarded F’lar with consternation. Yet there was no doubt the Benden Weyrleader meant exactly what he said-that he would do all he could to rid Pern of Thread forever.

   “Then there is much to be done,” Aivas said in a brisk tone. Almost, Master Robinton thought, as if the thing was relieved to have employment after so long a recess. “Your Records, Masters Robinton and Fandarel, would be of immense value in assessing your history and potential, and what knowledge of science you currently possess. Certainly a synopsis of your own history would assist an evaluation of the educational programs required to achieve your goal.”

   “The Harper Hall has assiduously kept accounts,” the Harper said eagerly, “though the oldest of them have become illegible over the hundreds of Turns which have passed. I think the more recent Records of the seventeen Turns of this current Pass would inform you adequately. Jaxom, could you and Ruth possibly go to the Harper Hall and collect them?”

   The young Lord Holder immediately rose.

   “If you wouldn’t mind, bring Sebell and Menolly,” Robinton added, glancing at F’lar, who nodded emphatically, “back with you?”

   “The records of my crafthall,” Fandarel began, inching forward on his stool, wringing his huge hands together in an uncharacteristic gesture of tension, “are missing so many words and explanations -perhaps even one about this Oort Cloud. Generally what’s missing is just where we cannot possibly figure out from the context what was meant. If you were able to tell us what words were missing or corrupted, you would be granting the most invaluable assistance to our efforts at self-improvement.”

   He was about to continue when Robinton’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. They all heard Master Esselin come bustling down the corridor, directing those who carried food, cups, and wineskins to hand them over to Jancis and Piemur. He peremptorily gestured those carrying pallets and blankets into the smaller adjacent rooms. At a nod from F’lar, he horned back down the corridor, out of earshot.

   “A moment, dear friend,” Robinton said when Fandarel was about to continue his request for help. “Aivas, you may have all the information the colonists considered relevant, but I don’t really think we should dispense it without due consideration.”

   “Exactly what I was about to say,” F’lar added.

   “Discretion is a built-in feature of this Aivas model, Master Harper, Weyrleader. You should discuss among you who is to have access to this facility and in exactly what ways it may be of use to you.”

   The Masterharper groaned, holding his head in both hands, and was immediately surrounded by Lessa, Piemur, and Jaxom.

   “I’m all right, I’m all right,” he said testily, waving them off.” Have you all realized just what this source of knowledge can mean to us?” His voice was rough with emotion.” I’ve only now begun to absorb how profoundly this discovery could change our lives.”

   “I’ve been struggling to absorb that myself,” F’lar said with a grim smile.” If this Aivas knows something about Thread and the Red Star that would help us ...” F’lar halted, his hope too precious to express aloud. Then he smiled wryly and held up his hand.” First, I believe it is extremely important to decide the question of who should be permitted into this room. As you pointed out, Robinton, Aivas cannot be accessible to everyone.”

   “Definitely,” Master Robinton said. He took a long swig of the wine he had poured for himself.” Definitely. Considering that crowd in the hall, there’s no way we can censor the discovery of Aivas nor, “ he added, holding up his hand at the protests, “do I think we should. However...” He grinned.” We can’t just have anyone who wants to popping up here and monopolizing -this-”

   “Facility,” Piemur put in, his expression genuinely thoughtful.” When word of Aivas gets about, there’ll be any number of people who’ll want to talk to Aivas just to say that they had, because they don’t grasp its significance.”

   “For once I agree with you, Piemur,” Lessa said. She looked around her. “I think there’s enough in this room right now with a real need to talk to Aivas and the common sense and courtesy to know when to stop.” She paused to cast a stern eye on Master Robinton, who grinned back amiably. “Certainly we are representative of the planet -Weyrleaders, Masters, and Lord Holders-so no one can say Aivas is being monopolized by one group. Or is that too many, Aivas?”

   “No.” For some reason this easy acceptance made the Masterharper grin. Aivas went on. “The authority may be expanded or contracted as may be deemed necessary. To recapitulate, it is permitted for you...” And all those in the room were named in pleasant baritone tones.

   “And Jaxom,” Piemur added quickly, since Jaxom had gone on Robinton’s errand and someone needed to speak up for the third party to the original discovery of Aivas.

   “And Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold,” Aivas amended, “to command my services. Is that correct? Very good. The necessary voiceprints have been registered, including Lord Jaxom’s, whose voice I registered earlier, and this facility will respond to no others, or in the presence of others, until further notice.”

 “As an added precaution,” Master Robinton said, “to change that roster, there must be one of the Weyrleaders, one Master, and one Lord Holder present in this room.” He glanced about to see if that precaution was acceptable.

   Just then, Esselin bustled down the corridor to ask if there were any fisher orders for the night.

   “Yes; Esselin, assign the most responsible and least curious of your men to guard the building’s entrance. Only Lord Jaxom and those who accompany him are to be permitted to enter the building tonight.”

   By the time Esselin had assured F’lar of his total cooperation, a rather tense discussion had started between Fandarel and Larad as to which crafthalls should have precedence in learning from Aivas.

   “If I may interject a suggestion,” Aivas said loudly, startling them all, “it is a relatively simple matter to expand this facility to accommodate many requirements.” When the silence lengthened, Aivas added in a milder, almost apologetic tone, “That is, if the contents of the Catherine Caves are still intact and undamaged?”

   “Do you mean the caves at the southern side of the grid?” Piemur asked.

   “Those would be the ones.” To the bewilderment of the watchers, images of a variety of items appeared on the screen. “And these are the objects required to supply additional stations.”

   “Your beaded panels, Piemur,” Jancis said, clutching at his sleeve with one hand and pointing excitedly with the other.

   “You’re right,” Piemur said. “What are they, Aivas? We seem to have boxes and boxes of them, all different sorts.”

   “Those are computer cards.” To the listeners, it sounded as if Aivas’s measured tone betrayed a discreet excitement. “Were there also any of these objects?” And boxes were displayed with screens that were smaller replicas of the screen facing them, along with rectangles resembling what Aivas had identified as a touch panel.

“Yes,” Master Robinton said with surprise. “I couldn’t think what they might be when I saw them, swathed in that thick film.”

   “If there are sufficient parts in good working order, then there need be no contention for access to this facility. These were the remainder of the ordinary processors. All other voice-activated units were packaged for shipment to the north and, it seems, lost, but these elementary models will admirably suit the current need. With sufficient power, up to twelve stations can be accommodated without affecting response time.”

   Once again the audience lapsed into numb silence.

   “Do I understand you correctly?” Fandarel began, after clearing his throat.” You can divide yourself into twelve segments?”

   “That is correct.”

   “How can you do that?” Fandarel demanded, spreading his. arms wide in disbelief.

   “Surely, Mastersmith, you do not limit yourself to one hearth, or anvil or forge, one hammer, one fire?”

   “Of course not, but I have many men...”

   “This facility is not a single hearth or fire or hammer, but many, and each can work as diligently as the others.”

   “This I find very hard to understand,” Fandarel admitted, scratching his balding pate and shaking his head.

   “Before you is a machine, Mastersmith, which can be segmented, and each discrete part can function as a separate tool.”

   “I don’t begin to understand how you can do that, Aivas, but if you can, it would certainly solve the problems of priorities,” Master Robinton said, grinning from ear to ear. Oh, the questions of past paradoxes that could now be answered by this marvelous creature! He took a large pull of his wine.

   “To create these separate tools,” Aivas went on, “will, in itself, provide the first of many lessons that must be understood before you will be ready to attack your primary objective, the annihilation of Thread.”

   “By all means, let us begin then,” F’lar said, rubbing his hands together, infused with the first stirrings of real hope he had felt during the last few grueling Turns of the current Pass.

   “There isn’t enough space in here for a dozen of us all talking with a dozen of you, Aivas,” Lord Larad of Telgar said reasonably.

   “There are other rooms in this building that can be utilized. Indeed, it would be wise to have separate offices, and perhaps one larger room where many could observe and learn. It is best to begin at the beginning,” Aivas said, and suddenly sheets began to roll out of a slot to one side of the main screen. “These are the items that will be needed in the morning, the tools that will be required to construct the additional stations, and a diagram of how to design this building to accommodate them.”

   Being earnest, Piemur caught the sheets as they were spewed out. Jancis came to his aid.

   “More material will soon be needed for the printer,” Aivas went on “Rolls should be stored in the Catherine Caves with the other supplies. Paper would be an acceptable substitute.”

   “Paper?” Larad exclaimed. “Wood-pulp paper?”

   “If nothing else is available, that will do.”

   “It would seem, Asgenar,” F’lar said with a chuckle, “that the skills of Master Bendarek were not developed a Turn too soon.”

   “You have lost the skill of extruding plastic from silicates?” Aivas asked. Master Robinton thought he heard a note of surprise in its voice.

   “Silicates?” Master Fandarel asked.

   “But one of the many skills we have lost,” Robinton said ruefully. “We will make diligent pupils.”

   The flow of sheets stopped, and as Piemur and Jancis sorted them, they realized that there were six copies of each page. When they had assembled the sheets, they looked around expectantly at those in the room.

   “Not tonight,” Lessa said firmly. “You’d break your necks stumbling about those caves in the dark. We’ve waited this long, we can wait until morning. And I think that we all should” -she swung around to pinion the Masterharper with a stern eye “either seek a bed for the night or go back where we belong.”

   “My dear Weyrwoman,” Robinton began, pulling himself erect. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, including your direst threat would compel me-“ And suddenly he seemed to wilt and fold in on himself. Piemur caught the cup before it fell from the Harper’s hand. As-he supported his Master’s limp body, he had a smug smile on his face.

   “Except of course the fellis juice I put in his last cup of wine,” he said by way of explanation. “So let’s get him to bed.”

   F’lar and Larad immediately started forward, but Fandarel held up one huge hand. Picking up the long Harper in his arms, he nodded to Jancis to show him where to put the sleeping Robinton to bed.

   “Piemur, you haven’t changed, have you?” Lessa accused with a mock scowl that turned into a grin. Then, because she wondered at what the machine would think of what it had seen, she added, “Aivas, Masterharper Robinton often lets his enthusiasm get the better of his well-being.”

   “This facility is able to monitor for physical stress,” Aivas said.” The Masterharper emanated considerable excitement but nothing harmful.”

   “You are a healer, as well?” F’lar exclaimed.

   “No, Weyrleader, but this facility is equipped to monitor the vital signs of those in this room. However, the medical information stored in files was updated to state-of-the-art at the time the expedition departed for this system. Your medics may wish to avail themselves of this information.”

   F’lar’s groan was audible. “Master Oldive must come here as soon as possible.”

   “Half the planet must come as soon as possible,” Lessa said tartly. She gave a gusty sigh. “I doubt twelve of Aivas will be half enough.”

   “Then let us organize ourselves,” Fandarel said, returning from his errand. “We must contain our excitement and direct our energies in the most efficient way...” There were chuckles at the Mastersmith’s use of his favorite word. “You may laugh, but you know it is only sensible and time-saving to work efficiently, and we are each going in several directions at once tonight. We cannot but be stimulated by this sudden gift from our ancestors, but we should do nothing hasty. I will go back to Telgar crafthold now, if F’nor and Canth will be so kind. I shall make suitable arrangements and draft the services of those who can help us delve into the caves to find the required materials, and to find people to understand the diagrams Aivas has given us. But tomorrow is soon enough. F’nor?” And, raising his hairy eyebrows at the brown rider, Fandarel nodded to one and all, bowed courteously to the screen, and took his leave.

   “A moment, F’nor,” Larad said, “for I should return to Telgar. Asgenar, do you join us?”

   Asgenar looked about him and smiled ruefully.  “I think I’d better leave now. My mind is seething with questions to put to Aivas, yet I don’t think I could actually come out with a sensible query. I’ll bring Bendarek with me in the morning.”

   Lord Groghe, who had said very little but looked exceedingly thoughtful, asked N’ton to return him to Fort Hold.

   “Jancis and I will stay here in case Master Robinton wakes,” Piemur told Lessa and F’lar. Then his mischievous grin surfaced. “And I won’t ask my eight thousand five hundred and thirty-two burning questions all in one breath, either.”

   “Then I think we all bid you good night now, Aivas,” F’lar said, turning toward the dark screen.

   “Good night.” The lights of the room dimmed to a faint glow. One pulsing green light remained at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen.

   Two hours later Jaxom and Ruth arrived with both Harper Masters, Sebell and Menolly. The white dragon was festooned with sacks. By considerably reducing the level of klah in the beakers Esselin had provided, Piemur had managed to stay awake while Jancis got a nap.

   “One of us has to be alert tomorrow to organize people,” she had told the young journeyman harper. “I’m better at that than you are, love.” She had given him a kiss to sweeten the comment.

   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 end 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 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.”

   “Our feelings won’t be hurt,” Menolly said, glancing up at Sebell to see him nod in agreement. Sebell’s good sense and equable nature were two of the many reasons she loved and respected him. “There’re other empty pallets, Piemur; you look to be out on your feet. You and Sebell go sleep in with Master Robinton, and I’ll join Jancis. If this Aivas has waited-how many Turns did you say, Jaxom? Twenty-five hundred-” She gave a little shudder for such a long span. “-we can wait until tomorrow.”

   “I shouldn’t leave it all to Jaxom...” Piemur said, definitely tempted by the thought of lying horizontal for a while. That last cup of klah had made no dent in his fatigue.

   Menolly took him by the hand. “I’ll even tuck you in, the way I would Robse.” She grinned at his disgusted snort.” You’re no better than Master Robinton in taking care of yourself. Come, get some sleep, now. You, too, Sebell. Tomorrow-no, it’s already today here, isn’t it-well, I suspect everyone is going to rush about like headless wherries. So it’ll behoove us to stay cool and calm.”

   When the doors had closed quietly behind them, Jaxom turned to Aivas.

   “There’s just me here now, Aivas.”

   “That is obvious.”

   “You were obeying your orders, then, weren’t you?”

   “That is my function.”

   “All right, then it is my function to show you the Records of our history, as Master Robinton wanted.”

   “Please place the Record facedown on the lighted plate.”

   Carefully, with full regard that Master Arnor, the head archivist at Harper Hall, would have his guts for garters if he damaged a single one of the precious pages, Jaxom opened the first Record, Present Pass One, and laid it on the green glowing panel.

   “Next!”

   “What? I barely had time to place it,” Jaxom exclaimed.

   “Scanning is instantaneous, Lord Jaxom.”

   “This is going to be a long night,” Jaxom remarked, and obediently opened the Record to a new page.

   “Journeyman Piemur said your white dragon is an exceptional beast,” Aivas said, “with many unusual qualities.”

   “Compensation for him being small, white, and uninterested in mating.” Jaxom wondered what Piemur had said about Ruth, even though he knew the journeyman was devoted to both him and the white dragon.

   “Was the journeyman correct in saying that Ruth always knows when he is, and that he has traveled in time?”

   “All the dragons can travel in time, at least backward,” Jaxom said a trifle absently, his attention focused on turning the pages carefully, as well as quickly.

   “Timing is also prohibited?”

   “Timing is dangerous.”

   “Why?”

   Jaxom shrugged as he changed pages. “A dragon has to know exactly the time when he is going to, or he can come out of between at the same spot he’s inhabiting at that earlier time. Too close, and it is thought that both dragon and rider will die. Equally, it’s unwise to go any place you haven’t already been, so you shouldn’t go forward, because you wouldn’t know if you were there or not.” Jaxom paused to smooth some pages flat where the binding was particularly tight. “Lessa made a particularly spectacular flight.”

   “So Journeyman Piemur told me. A brave feat, but apparently not without debilitating consequences. The method of teleporting was never fully explained, but judging by the journeyman’s account, an abnormally long period spent in such travel causes sensory deprivations. You and your white dragon have also timed it?”

   “That is the term,” Jaxom said in a fiat tone that he hoped would discourage further questions. But Aivas was not human, he realized, and might not perceive his reluctance from tone or words. “The episode is not common knowledge.”

   “Understood,” Aivas replied, to Jaxom’s surprise. “Would you object, Lord Jaxom, to a discussion of the duties of the various social groups that have been mentioned in the Records so far? For instance, what are the responsibilities and privileges of a Lord Holder? Or a Weyrleader? A Craftmaster? Some terms are so well understood by the scribes that they are not defined. It is necessary to have a firm grasp of such terms to understand the current political and social structures.”

   Jaxom gave a little chuckle. “You’d do better to ask one of the more experienced Lord Holders: Groghe, for instance, or even Larad or Asgenar.”

   “You are here, Lord Jaxom.”

 “Yes, am I not!” The quickness of the Aivas amused Jaxom. So, as talking would certainly relieve the tedium of turning pages, Jaxom complied-and found it very easy indeed to talk to Aivas through the long night. Only later would he realize how skillfully he had been queried. He could not even guess how valuable his explanations would prove to be.

   Jaxom had worked his way through five Turns of the Present Pass when the muscles in his shoulders began to tense. He needed a break. So when he heard someone stirring, he called out softly.

   “Who’s up?”

   “Jancis. You came back-oh!” She grinned as she entered the chamber. “Shall I take over? You look exhausted. Why didn’t Sebell or Menolly do this?”

   “Because Aivas will have nothing to do with them until they’ve been formally introduced to him. By a Lord Holder, a Masterharper, and a Weyrleader.”

   Jancis’s expression was rueful. “Sometimes we outsmart ourselves. Here, I’ll take over, Jaxom. Get yourself some klah. It should still be good and hot.” And taking the Record from his hands, she spread the pages on the panel. “Master Robinton, and the others here then, quite rightly decided it was wiser to limit who could talk to Aivas.”

   “Hmm, yes, there’s no telling what people will ask Aivas,” Jaxom said, thinking of the way he had rattled on and on, although Aivas had done all the asking.

   By the time he had finished the klah, which was not as hot as he liked but did stimulate him, Jancis had finished that volume. She started on another.

   How soon, Jaxom wondered, could he get his lady, Sharra, admitted to the roster? She had been so excited when he had told her about the medical knowledge Aivas claimed to possess. She had two cotholders, suffering intense pains that she was unable to alleviate with fellis. They were slowly wasting away. Master Oldive, whose advice had been sought, was also baffled by their declines. Then Jaxom reminded himself that Oldive, being Masterhealer, would have precedence with Aivas. Jaxom was careful about using his privileges as Lord Holder, and yet, in a case of life or death, could he not make an exception?

   “That will be all for now, Journeywoman Jancis,” Aivas said in a muted voice. “The energy supplies are nearly exhausted. An hour of good sunlight will be needed to restore power. If the remaining panels could be cleared, there would be more power available in the future.”

   “Did I do something wrong?” Jancis asked Jaxom in confusion.

   “No,” Jaxom said, chuckling. “It gets its power from those panels you and Piemur uncovered on the roof. Sun power. Sun’s been down for hours now.” He yawned hugely. “It’s late. We should both get some sleep.”

   Jancis considered the idea, then reached for the nearly empty klah beaker. “No, I’m awake now. I’ll brew more klah. We’ll need plenty of that when people start arriving.” And she bustled off.

   Jaxom liked Jancis. Not long ago, they had shared lessons at the Mastersmithcraft and he remembered that she had worked a lot harder than he had-and that she clearly had a talent for smithing. She deserved her Master’s status. He had been a bit surprised when she and Piemur had come to an understanding, though Sharra had heartily approved. Wandering up and down the Southern coastline had turned Piemur strange there for a time, she had said. What he needed to set him right was a sound relationship. And certainly the impudent young harper would encourage Jancis to develop some needed assertiveness and maybe lose some of the inhibitions caused by growing up in the shadow of her awesome grandfather, Fandarel. Jaxom knew just how capable a draftsman she was.

   Tired but unwilling to settle down to sleep, Jaxom wandered to the entrance, nodding to the two bored guards as he walked out into the cool night air and up the mound of excavated dirt, to stand on its summit. Ruth rumbled affectionately at him from the next hillock, and Jaxom sent the white dragon a caressing thought.

   Though Jaxom hadn’t even mentioned it to Sharra, he felt oddly proprietorial about this plateau, which he and Ruth had originally discovered, and in particular about this Aivas entity, which they had dug out. Having heard Aivas list the names of the first colonists, Jaxom wondered who his ancestors had been. He had never been comfortable with having Fax as his sire, which was the main reason why he so rarely made use of many of a Lord Holder’s traditional privileges. Larad of Telgar was not a prideful man, but he must feel immensely proud of his heritage after hearing of his forebears, Sallah Telgar Andiyar and Tarvi Andiyar. Groghe was a sensible man, but knowing that his direct ancestor had been a universal hero would make the Fort Lord Holder inordinately proud. But why hadn’t Fort Hold been named after the valiant Admiral Benden? Why was Benden Hold in the east? And why hadn’t Aivas known more about the dragons? Fascinating. No doubt there would be more revelations.

   I listened, Ruth said, gliding from his perch to the mound on which Jaxom stood, to what this Aivas creature said. It is true that we were an experiment? Ruth moved forward until he was close enough to touch Jaxom and then leaned his head against his weyrmate. What is an experiment?

   Jaxom heard the indignation in Ruth’s tone and stifled a chuckle at his friend’s reaction.

   “A most felicitous happening, dear friend, not that it matters a lead mark how you and the other dragons came to be,” Jaxom said stoutly. “Besides you’ve always known-better than anyone else on Pern-that dragons are cousins to the fire-lizards. So why should it bother you how you were created?”

   I don’t know, Ruth replied in a strangely subdued, uncertain tone. Is this Aivas thing good?

   “I believe it is,” Jaxom answered, briefly considering his reply. “I think it will depend on us, the use to which we put the information tire Aivas can give us. If it rids Pern of Thread. . .”

   If it can, that means dragons won’t be needed anymore, doesn’t it?

   “Nonsense,” Jaxom said more sharply than he had intended. He threw his arm around his dragon’s neck in quick reassurance, caressing Ruth’s cheek and leaning into his shoulder. “Pern will always need dragons. You could do a lot more useful and much less dangerous things than sear Thread out of the skies, believe you me! Don’t you fret for a single moment about our future, my friend!”

   Jaxom wondered if F’lar, Lessa, and F’nor had heard from their dragons on that score. But he knew that such a worry would not be the important issue to them. The dragonriders were totally committed to ridding Pern of Thread. Everyone knew that F’lar had set that as his life’s task.

   “No, Ruth, don’t you worry your heart out over that. Threadless skies are, I fear, a long way off in Pern’s future! Aivas may know a great deal more than we do about Oort Clouds and planets and things, but it is only a machine that speaks. Talk’s cheap.”

   Still soothing Ruth’s cheek, Jaxom looked out over the settlement that his ancestors had once inhabited. There were unsightly mounds in every direction where buildings had been greedily excavated only to prove disappointingly empty. How ironic that the real treasure should be nearly the last thing to be uncovered. Incredible that the treasure should prove to be the agency that unlocked the truth to their past. Would it be the key to their future? Despite his reassurances, Jaxom harbored some of the same doubts that made Ruth fretful.

   Maybe it was wrong for F’lar to wish an end to Thread, if it inevitably meant an end to usefulness for dragons. And yet, to see the last of Thread, in his own lifetime...More importantly, to be able to improve life on Pern with the vast store of knowledge Aivas said it had-surely that was for the good of all?

   Just then he saw lights coming up in some of the buildings that the excavation teams were using as dormitories. It was not yet dawn, but obviously there were many others who, like Jaxom, had slept little that night, restless with all the history and incredible moving images churning in their minds.

   And what of Aivas’s promise of help? It? He? Referring to this-this entity-as an ‘it’ seemed impolite. The masculine voice was so rich and lively. Yet Aivas called it/himself a machine, the product of an advanced technological culture and, for all its knowledge, an inanimate device. Jaxom felt more comfortable thinking of Aivas as real, as real as his own flesh-and-blood self.

   It was then that Jaxom realized that he was going to have to revise many previously accepted concepts. That could be hard to do. The familiar was so comfortable. But the thought of the challenge brought a thrill to Jaxom -the incredible excitement of a future he could not have imagined just two days before, when he and Ruth had helped Piemur and Jancis excavate this one building out of the hundreds here. He didn’t feel tired-he felt exhilarated.

   “It’s going to be exciting, Ruth. Think of it that way, as an exciting challenge.” He rubbed Ruth’s eyeridge with his knuckles. “We could both use a challenge, something new. Life’s been getting dull.”

   You’d better not say that to Sharra, Ruth advised.

   Jaxom grinned.” She’ll be challenged, too, if I know my mate.”

   Ramoth, Mnementh, Canth, Lioth, Golanth, and Monarth are coming, Ruth said, his tone brightening.

   “Reinforcements, huh?” Jaxom gave the eyeridge one more stiff drubbing. “Company for you certainly.”

   Ramoth is grumpy, Ruth said, his tone suddenly wary. Canth said that lights were burning all night in Lessa’s weyr, and Ramoth had long conversations with all the other queens. He sounded anxious.

   “Don’t worry, Ruth, please. It’s going to work out. This is just a new beginning, just as our Impression was! Though nothing could ever be better than that day was for me!”

   Ruth raised his head, his eyes altering from a murky shade to a happier blue-green.

   The incoming dragons were circling, their faceted eyes vivid green and blue points against the dawn-gray light. As they back-winged, their hind legs poised to take the impact of landing, Jaxom was just able to discern that each dragon carried extra passengers. Some of the dragons waited only long enough to let their passengers dismount before they launched themselves again, disappearing between when they had gained sufficient height. The others settled down to wait while their riders and passengers headed for the administration building.

   Jaxom sighed and gave Ruth an affectionate farewell slap before slipping back down the dusty slope to greet the new arrivals. When F’lar, Lessa, and Master Fandarel reached him in the doorway, Jaxom informed them that Aivas was resting.

   “Resting?” Lessa demanded, halting so abruptly in midstride that F’lar had to sidestep to avoid barging into his slender weyrmate.

   “The solar panels run out of power,” Jaxom replied.

   Master Fandarel looked both aggrieved and incredulous.

   “But-but Aivas said that he could provide twelve different stations.”

   “Lower your voice, please, Master Fandarel. Master Robinton’s still asleep.” Jaxom kept his own voice low as a hint to the others. “I brought Sebell and Menolly and the Records Master Robinton wanted Aivas to see. Jancis and I got as far as the sixth Turn before Aivas turned off. He says he’ll be all right again after a few hours of sunlight.”

   “So we get here in the middle of the night and it isn’t working?” Lessa said, disgusted.

   “Now, there is much we can do while we await his revival,” Fandarel said soothingly.

   “What?” Lessa demanded. “I don’t want people bungling about in the dark caves, you know. And it’s scarcely the time to start reassembling this facility. F’lar and I have questions for Aivas. It’s one thing to be promised a miracle, quite another to produce it. In courtesy, we should allow the other Weyrleaders to see and hear this Aivas for themselves, for I assure you,” she added at her drollest, “they didn’t believe what had happened here. And if they come and there’s nothing to see...” Her voice trailed off ominously.

   “I hardly believe it myself,” F’lar remarked with a wry grin at Jaxom. “So I can’t fault others.”

   “There are more than enough glowbaskets to illuminate the caves,” Master Fandarel said in his approximation of a whisper, “and the dawn is not far away now. My craftsmen can begin to assemble the items Aivas said it needs. Where are those sheets Aivas made? Bendarek is fascinated by my description of printed sheets emerging from a wall. He’s just coming up the hill now.” Clearly Master Fandarel entertained no reservations about accepting the Aivas’s offer to restore his Records to legibility.

   “Where are Sebell and Menolly?” Lessa asked, peering down the corridor toward the Aivas chamber.

   Jaxom chuckled. “They’re getting some rest. Aivas wouldn’t even talk in front of them.”

   “Why not?” Lessa asked, surprised. “We told him they were coming.”

   “But they’re not on the list. And while I’m a Lord Holder, and Piemur’s a harper, we had no Weyrleader present.”

   Lessa frowned.

   “That’s exactly what we stipulated, Lessa,” F’lar said. “I can trust someone that is scrupulous about obeying orders. Particularly something as potent as this Aivas.”

   A bass rumble startled them, and it took a moment to realize that the noise was Fandarel’s chuckle. “It is the function of a machine to do what it is designed to do. I approve.”

   “You approve of anything that’s efficient,” Lessa said. “Even if that isn’t always sensible.”

   “We’ve lived too long with dragons,” F’lar said, grinning down at his diminutive weyrmate, “who understand what we mean, even when we haven’t said it.”

   “Hmmm,” Lessa replied in a testy mumble as she gave him a sour glance.

   “We all will have new things to learn, I think,” Fandarel said. “And it is time. Jaxom, I’ll need those sheets Aivas made, so I can give them to Bendarek.”

   Obediently, Jaxom collected them from the flat worktop where Piemur and Jancis had left them. “Jancis went to make fresh klah,” he told Lessa. “She should be back any time now.”

   “Then off you all go,” Lessa said, flipping her hands at them in dismissal. “Jaxom, if you’re all determined to get a start on the caves, take Fandarel on Ruth, will you? That way he won’t break his neck stumbling about in the dark. I’ll wait for Jancis and Aivas.”

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.

3

   DOWN THE HALL, in the refurbished conference room, seven Lord Holders, eight Craftmasters, eight Weyrleaders, and four Weyrwomen were assembled 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 assumed 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 entity, 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 Pass, 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, 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 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 assuredly, I”-and he thumped his chest with his massive 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 assistance.”

   “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, Lord Corman,” F’lar said in a grating tone. “Are you arguing with our eagerness to dispense with accepting your tithes?” The Weydeader’s expression was sardonic.

   “No, I mean, we’ve willingly tithed 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?” Masterglass-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 Pass?”

   “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 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 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!”

   “There was a time, Corman,” F’lar said, with a slight smile that reminded the Lord Holder of another occasion when the Benden Weyrleader had faced the massed and armed disapproval of the Lord Holders and bested them, “when you and all the other Lord Holders urgently required me to put an end to Threadfall. Surely you want me to get on with that task as swiftly as possible?”

   “You’ve done exactly as you ought,” Groghe said, daring Corman to protest.

   “Indeed you have, Weyrleader,” Toronas agreed. F’lar found the new Benden Holder a vast improvement on the previous one, Lord Raid.

   “However,” the Weyrleader went on, “it is painfully obvious that we have lost most of the skills our ancestors had. We must relearn them, with Aivas’s guidance, so that we can indeed remove forever from this planet the menace of Threadfall.” F’lar looked from Norist to Corman to Warbret and then other Lord Holders, who had not taken part in the argument. “Isn’t it sensible to start on the program as soon as possible? To restore what we have lost?”

   “And you expect all of us to take our orders from this Aivas?” Norist asked sarcastically. He had been exceedingly reticent when Aivas had queried him about his Craft.

   “Master Norist,” Fandarel began in his slow deliberate way, “if there are opportunities to improve our Craft skills, surely it is incumbent on us to do so?”

   “What that Aivas suggested I do in the Craft which I have Mastered, and efficiently, for the past thirty Turns, goes against every established procedure of my Hall!” Norist wasn’t going to give an inch.

   “Including the now illegible ones in your oldest Records?” Master Robinton asked gently. “And here is Master Fandarel, fretting to get on with the restoration of an ancestral power station, quite willing to accept new principles from Aivas.”

   Something akin to a sneer curled Norist’s thick, scarred lip. “We all know that Master Fandarel is endlessly fiddling about with gadgets and gimmicks.”

   “Always efficient ones,” Master Fandarel replied, ignoring the disparagement. “I can plainly see that every Craft can benefit from the knowledge stored in Aivas. This morning Bendarek was given invaluable advice on how to improve his paper, Aivas called it, and speed up its production. Very simple, but Bendarek immediately saw the possibilities and has gone back to Lemos to develop this much more efficient method. That’s why he’s not here.”

   “You and Bendarek,” Norist said, a flick of his fingers dismissing the newest Mastercraftsman’s products, “may exercise your prerogatives. I prefer to concentrate on maintaining the high standards of my Halls without dissipating effort on frivolous pursuits.”

   “You don’t, however,” Lord Asgenar said, with a droll grin, “object to making use of the frivolous pursuits of other crafthalls. Such as the load of sheets delivered to you last month. Bendarek expects to be able to increase production of paper” Asgenar grinned more broadly-“so that no one will be kept waiting for supplies.”

   “Glass is glass, made of sand, potash, and red lead,” Norist stated stubbornly. “You can’t improve on it.”

   “But Aivas suggested ways to do just that,” Master Robinton said at his most reasonable and persuasive.

   “I’ve wasted enough time here already.” Norist stood up and stalked off down the hall.

   “Damned fool,” Asgenar muttered under his breath.

   “Back to the important point, F’lar,” Warbret said, leaning forward across the table to the Weyrleaders. “The possibility of eliminating Thread. Just how does this Aivas propose to go about this? F’nor didn’t have much luck when he tried.”

   Remembering how close F’nor had come to dying in his attempt to go between to the Red Star itself, F’lar stared at him for a moment, then collected himself and went on. “Lord Warbret, until you have first listened to and seen the history Aivas has to tell you, you will not appreciate how much we will have to learn before we can even understand his explanations of what we have to do.”

   “And Aivas’s showing and telling beggars my poor skill,” Robinton said with unusual humility. “For he was there! He knew our ancestors. He was created on the planet of our forebears! He witnessed and recorded events which have become our myths and legends.” His voice rang with such feeling that there was a moment of respectful silence.

   “Yes, you and Lord Corman should hear Aivas before you dismiss the gift we have been offered,” Lessa added softly but just as fervently.

   “Mind you, I’m not against going along with your course of action,” Warbret said, after a moment, “if it can help us eradicate Thread. And if you say, Weyrwoman, that we should hold our decision until we’ve heard this Aivas speak, when will that be possible?”

   “Hopefully, later today,” F’lar replied.

   “The batteries should be in place now,” Fandarel reminded him, “but I must go. Aivas is going to need much more power. And I will see that he gets it.” He rose and stood there for a moment, surveying the gathering. “Some of us will be called upon to change the ways and patterns of a lifetime, which is not an easy thing to do, but the benefits will more than compensate for that effort. We have endured enough of Thread. Now we have the chance to eradicate this menace, and we must grasp it firmly in both hands and succeed! Facenden,” he said, turning to his journeyman, “stay in my stead and report to me later.”

   Then he left, his heavy steps audible down the short corridor.

   “I think this meeting has gone on long enough, too,” Corman said. “Do as you wish, Weyrleader. You generally do anyhow.” But this time his comment held no rancor. “Just see that there is a full report of these activities for the quarterly Convocation.”

   He also got to his feet, nudging Bargen to join him. But the High Reaches Lord Holder only regarded him thoughtfully and did not rise.

   “Will you not stay to hear the history, Corman?” Robinton asked.

   “In that stuffy little room?” Corman asked indignantly. “Have my harper learn it and I’ll hear it in my own Hold, in comfort and at my own convenience.” And with that he left.

   “I will listen,” Bargen said. “I have come this far, though I am by no means certain that it is the wisest course to encourage this awesome Aivas thing.”

   “At least you will listen,” Robinton said, giving an approving nod. “Sebell, how many can we comfortably accommodate in that stuffy little room?” He said it blandly enough, but several of the Weyrleaders smiled.

   “Certainly all here who wish to attend,” Sebell said. “There are now enough benches and stools, and if a few of us have to stand, I gather no one minded yesterday. I certainly won’t.”

   “We don’t have to ask this creature’s permission?” Bargen asked.

   “Aivas is nothing if not accommodating,” Master Robinton said, grinning broadly.

   They filed down the hall then; three Lord Holders, the Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen, and the Craftmasters. Terry was already there, looking mightily pleased with himself but warding people away from the bundle of cords that wound from Aivas and stretched along the left-hand wall and out into the adjacent room. A window had been inserted, high on the right-hand wall, allowing fresh air to circulate through the room. There turned out to be enough benches and stools to seat almost everyone, including Lord Groghe, who had decided to sit through Aivas’s telling a second time. Menolly stood beside Sebell. She groped and found his hand when the first vision of Pern in the blackness of space lit the screen.

   “Now that’s amazing,” Bargen exclaimed, but he was the last to speak until Aivas ended its account with the final view of an airsled disappearing through the ashfall to the west. Then, slightly dazed, he muttered, “Corman’s an old fool. Norist, too.”

   “Thank you, Aivas,” Groghe of Fort Hold said, rising and shaking out stiffened limbs. “Of course, I saw it yesterday, but it’s worth seeing again. And any time I can.” He nodded emphatically at F’lar. “You know that I’ll support you, dragonriders. You will, too, won’t you, Warbret, Bargen?” His question was more of a demand, and he jutted his chin at his peers, ready to coerce them into agreement.

   “I think we must, Warbret,” Bargen said as he rose and turned, courteously inclining his body toward F’lar and then Master Robinton. “Good day. And good luck.”

The other lords left with him.

   “I don’t mean to dash all this optimism,” Gdened of Ista Weyr said, “but Aivas said nothing to the point of just how we’re going to accomplish the elimination of Thread.”

   “No, he didn’t exactly, did he?” R’mart agreed, shaking his head as if to clear it. “The ancestors had a lot more equipment and gadgets and those sleds. If they couldn’t get rid of Thread, how shall we?”

   “There is a time for all things to be accomplished,” Aivas said. “As mentioned last night, several conclusions had been made. The most important, for you, is that in four years, ten months, and twenty-seven days, it will be possible to jolt the eccentric planet out of its present orbit, permanently. It will then be close to the orbit of your fifth planet, far from Rukbat though, as you now know, the Thread swarms still follow it past Pern.”

   The Aivas had the stunned attention of everyone in the room as a diagram of Rukbat’s planets blazed on the screen. They moved slowly around their primary, and the wanderer crossed at an angle to them.

   F’lar gave a weak laugh. “The dragons of Pern are strong and willing, but I don’t think they could move the Red Star.”

   “They will not,” Aivas said. “For to attempt the feat would be to endanger their lives and their riders’. But the dragons are able to perform other, vital tasks that will allow you to alter that planet’s course permanently.”

   Once again everyone was silent.

   “That I might live to see the day,” G’dened of Igen murmured fervently. “I’d go forward another four hundred Turns if we could do that!”

   “If that could be done,” R’mart asked, “why didn’t our ancestors do it?”

   “The conjunction of the planets was not then auspicious.” The Aivas paused briefly, then went on with what Master Robinton heard as irony. “And by the time these calculations had been made, all had gone north, leaving this facility unable to inform its operators.” Aivas paused again. “The dragons you have nourished to such size and strength will be critical to the success of the project. If you are willing.”

“If we are willing!” T’gellan and T’bor cried in astonished chorus. All the dragonriders sprang to their feet. Mirrim hugged T’gellan’s arm, her expression fierce with determination.

  “F’lar’s not the only one,” N’ton added, “whose greatest wish is to exterminate Thread!”

D’ram, the oldest of the riders, had tears streaming down his cheeks. “We are nothing if not willing, Aivas. Even this old man and his ancient dragon!”

   From outside came a chorus of dragons bugling, the rich bass of the bronzes, the thrilling sopranos of the queens, and the high piercing tone of Mirrim’s green Path.

   “It will not be an easy task, “ Aivas said, “and you will have to study assiduously in order to lay the necessary foundation to bring success to that day.”