“Sure,” Piemur replied blithely. “He may be a machine and all that, and while I know a great deal more about machinery than I used to, certainly, he’s a Master machine that interacts with humans, so he must have criteria by which he recognizes levity. He may not guffaw as some do at my jokes and anecdotes, but he certainly enjoys listening to them.”

   “Hmmm” was the Harper’s noncommittal response. “About Norist... As the duly elected Mastercraftsman, guiding his Halls, he can be replaced only at a convocation of all Masters. Unfortunately, the Glass-smithcraft is not a large one, and most of the Crafthallmasters are as dogmatic as Norist. On the other hand, I won’t sit by and see Master Morilton disavowed or harassed or humiliated because he has learned something Norist didn’t teach him. He’s certainly proved adept at the new skills.”

   “Norist has also been leaning heavily on poor old Wansor,” Lytol said. “Fortunately, Wansor appears oblivious both to the criticism and the fact that he might suffer the same discipline as Morilton. In spite of Norist’s declaration, Morilton has managed to recruit quite a few journeymen and apprentices who have felt restricted by Norist’s rigid adherence to Recorded techniques.”

   “If Norist is leaning on Wansor, why don’t we lean on him?” Jaxom asked.

   “I will,” Lytol replied with a ghost of a smile. “And I would be happy to. A man who will not see beyond his nose has no right to be Craftmaster!” His smile was replaced by censure.

   “Hear! Hear!” the Harper cheered.

   “I also heard that Norist is denying Morilton the use of the best sandpits,” Lytol went on, frowning.

   “That’s no problem at all. We’ve sand aplenty on this coastline,” Piemur responded.

   “Dimwit. Beach sand isn’t what’s used for glass,” Jaxom said with some disdain. “It’s the pits at Igen and Ista that have fine stuff.”

   “And those are the ones that Norist has denied Morilton,” Lytol explained.

   “He hasn’t denied Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold!”

   “Nor D’ram,” the aged bronze rider said as firmly as the young Lord Holder.

   Even Lytol grinned at that solution to Norist’s intransigence. “Microscopes require a very high quality glass, you know.”

   “In any case, I don’t see that as a major difficulty,” D’ram said, glancing over to Jaxom. “Ruth and Tiroth won’t mind a little excursion, I’m sure.” Jaxom nodded obligingly. “You take Ista, and I’ll get some from Igen.”

   “There’s nothing on the settlers’ map to indicate closer deposits, to reduce transportation time?” F’lar asked.

   Robinton held up one finger. “We’ll ask.” And he pecked out the query with considerable speed on the keyboard of the unit in the room.

   Immediately a list of locations scrolled out, with the type of sand to be found at each. Those sands that could be used for medical glass were starred, but Aivas recommended in particular the sands found at Paradise River and in an inland sandpit near the site of old Cardiff.

   D’ram said he would go to the Cardiff site, as he knew that Jaxom would prefer a chance to see Jayge and Aramina, who were holding at Paradise River.

   “Hmmm,” the Harper said, studying his screen. “Aivas reminds me that he wants more green and bronze riders for training,”

   “Would he take a big brown or two?” F’lar asked. “I’ve several riders who’ve offered. Seems like Aivas is biased against the medium sizes.”

   “I asked him about that,” D’ram said, “for I thought it odd that he’d want only the largest and the smallest. He says the operation requires them, but he won’t elaborate beyond stating that he must have enough candidates to allow him to pick the most likely to succeed in the venture and to have sufficient trained backup personnel.” D’ram shrugged at his inability to explain further.

   “I wish,” Lessa said, “that occasionally he would be specific. Then we would have something to tell those we must disappoint. I don’t want any resentful dragonriders. Though, in general, I’d say that morale has improved in all the Weyrs. And,” she added, making a face, “all the Weyrs want to participate.”

   “Aivas did remark that it was easier to teach the younger dragonriders,” D’ram went on, “since there were fewer set mental patterns. Of course, there are naturally some few exceptions,” he added smugly, rather pleased that he was one of them.

   “Is that all right now?” Jaxom asked. “I’d better get back to Ruatha.” His grin was abashed. “I’ll bring in Paradise River sands tomorrow, but I’d better spend some time at home.”

   “In danger of being disowned?” Piemur asked with an impudent grin.

   Jaxom disdained to reply, while Jancis elbowed the young journeyman harper in the ribs.

   “Go on, then,” F’lar said, with a bland sideways glance at Lessa.

   “I’ll just ask Aivas to print out the location of the sandpit,” D’ram said, rising to leave with the young Lord Holder.

   There was a slight frown on Lytol’s face as the two left.

   “Don’t fret, Lytol,” Lessa said reassuringly. “Sharra’s got every right to be annoyed at the amount of time Jaxom’s spending here.”

   “Especially when I’m sure she’s dying to take the healer lessons,” Jancis said. “But Piemur, have you noticed it, too? That whenever Jaxom misses a day, Aivas particularly asks why?”

   “Hmm, yes, I had at that,” Piemur replied, momentarily thoughtful. Then he assumed a careless pose. “But Aivas sure works Jaxom harder than any of the rest of us, bar Mirrim and S’len.”

   “S’len?” F’lar asked. “Isn’t he that young green rider from Fort?”

   “That’s the one. And Aivas insisted on drilling Mirrim to bring her up to a level with the rest of us,” Piemur added.

   “Why would the green dragons be so important to Aivas?” Lessa asked.

   “They’re small, that’s why,” Piemur said.

   “Small? “

   “Well, that’s my hunch, and Ruth’s the smallest of them all,” Piemur went on. “There’s no doubt in my mind that those two will play a special part in Aivas’s Great Scheme.”

   Lessa and Lytol both looked concerned.

   “Oh, don’t worry about Jaxom,” Piemur said airily. “He’s the best of us all. Has a real grasp of all that navigational mathematics Aivas throws at us, and the spatial relationships.”

   “Has he suggested anything yet?” Lessa asked Robinton and Lytol. Both men shook their heads.

   Then Robinton grinned. “I get literary quotations, such as: ‘There’s a time for some things, and a time for all things: a time for great things, and a time for small things.’ I am forced to assume that this is the time for small things, like assimilating all those foundation courses from Aivas; while the time for great things is still four Turns, seven months, and however many days away from us.”

   “Literary quotations?” F’lar asked, surprised. His lessons with Aivas tended to the practical: tactics, mathematical projections of Threadfall, and draconic healing-though he practiced none of the latter, he kept himself informed of Aivas’s innovations.

   “Oh, yes. And though Aivas admits he is choosing what he thinks might appeal to my tastes, our ancestors had fascinating and complex literatures from ever so many cultures that put ours to shame. Some of our epic sagas he has identified as paraphrases of Terran originals. Fascinating.”

   “Indeed, my studies have been equally absorbing,” Lytol said, leaning forward on the table, his face lighting with his own enthusiasm. “I don’t think any of us realized that our present political structure was handed down from the very Charter our ancestors brought with them. That is historically very unusual, Aivas told me.”

   “Why should it be?” F’lar asked, mildly surprised. “It allows Weyr, Hold, and Hall to function without interference.”

   “Ah, but interference was a major factor in Terran politics,” Lytol replied. “Spurred by territorial imperatives and, all too often, sheer greed.”

   Adroitly interrupting another of Lytol’s historical perorations, Lessa rose, nodding to Robinton and the two young journeymen. “We must get back to the Weyr now. Aivas gave me another healing compound to try on Lisath’s wing. It simply isn’t mending as it should.”

   I told Aramina that we’re coming, Ruth said as Jaxom mounted him. She likes to know, you know, he added in a confidential tone.

   Jaxom rather wished that Ruth hadn’t committed them to paying a call on Aramina and Jayge. He really ought to get right back to Ruatha, and go to Paradise River in the morning, as he had said he would.

   “Well, we won’t stay long, mind,” Jaxorn said, giving Ruth an indulgent slap.

   The white dragon was very fond of the young woman who, as a girl, had heard dragons so easily-and so incessantly-that she had inveigled Jayge of the Lilcamp Traders to take her as far away from dragons as he could to preserve her sanity. Shipwrecked on their way to the Southern Continent, they had been rescued by shipfish and set ashore. There they had discovered and restored ancient buildings, not realizing the significance of their find. Located by Piemur on his coastline survey, they had been officially named as Holders of Paradise River and had increased their numbers to a sizable Hold, including a Fisher Hall. The former trader had been immensely surprised when Piemur and Jancis told him that a paternal ancestor named Lilienkamp had been instrumental in saving so much useful material in the Catherine Caves.

   Following Aivas’s directions, Jaxorn and Ruth emerged over rather anonymous grassland. It wasn’t until they had overflown the alleged site several times that Jaxorn noticed the declivity well overgrown with grass and shrubs, with the suspicion of white glinting through the vegetation. They landed, and by kicking and gouging, Jaxom peeled back the obscuring greenery and lifted a handful of sand so fine it was nearly powder. Working up quite a sweat, he filled the large sacks he had brought with him. Finally, hot and tired, he remounted his dragon.

   He had cooled off by the time Ruth glided to a gentle, faultless halt in front of the gracious ancient residence of the Paradise River Hold.

   “And a good day to you, Lord Jaxorn and Ruth!” Jayge said, coming down the stairs from the wide porch. “Ara started squeezing fresh juice the moment Ruth told her you were coming. And I’m glad you did, because something’s come up!”

   I’m going swimming. The fire-lizards said they’ll scrub my back, Ruth told Jaxom, his eyes whirling with green delight. At Jaxom’s approval, the white dragon hop-glided right into the river, several full fairs of fire-lizards, both wild and banded, circling ecstatically above him.

   “Off for a scrub, is he?” Jayge asked. He was of medium height, his bare chest burned a fine deep brown, his legs not quite as dark. His oddly flecked green eyes stood out in a tanned face that reflected a hint of a strong personality and a basic tranquility, even though a slight frown crossed his face as he led Jaxorn up to the coolness of the porch. “I’m glad you stopped by, Jaxom. How did you work up such a sweat in between?”

   “Stealing sand.”

   “Indeed?” Jayge regarded him thoughtfully. “Now what would you need Paradise River sand for? As I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.” He gestured for Jaxom to take the hammock while he leaned against the porch banister, arms folded across his chest.

   “The settlers had a sandpit back in that scrubland of yours. They thought highly of Paradise River sands-for glass making.”

   “There’s enough certainly. Did Piemur and Jancis find those whatchamacallums...”

   “Chips?” Jaxom supplied with a grin.

   “Chips, then, useful after all?”

   “Well, we managed to salvage the usable transistors and capacitors, but they haven’t actually been put onto a board yet.”

   Jayge gave him a long, hard, suspicious look before grinning. “As you say!”

   Just then young Readis, clad only in a clout, came out onto the porch, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He eyed Jaxom steadily. “Ruth?”

   Jaxom pointed to where the white dragon, surrounded by industrious fire-lizards, was wallowing in the shallow water.

   “He’s enough of a guardian, isn’t he?” Readis asked his father, tilting his head back in a stance that reminded Jaxom of Jayge.

   “Ruth’s bathing right now, and besides, I d like you to tell Jaxom what happened to you and Alemi the other day,” Jayge said.

   “Did you come just to hear?” There was a certain element of vanity in young Readis’s grin. Jaxom was suddenly aware of how much he missed his own son, Jarrol, an engaging two Turns old.

   “Well, that was one reason,” Jaxom replied mendaciously. “So what did happen to you and Alemi the other day?”

   Aramina emerged from the house, carrying her squirming daughter under one arm and a tray in her free hand. Jayge sprang quickly to relieve her of the tray, but she gave him two-Turn-old Aranya instead and served Jaxom a tall, cool drink and some freshly baked sweet biscuits. It took a few more minutes until Readis had been sat in a chair, his small glass and two biscuits to hand. As Aramina settled herself, Readis looked to his father for his cue to begin.

   “Uncle Alemi took me fishing three days ago in the skiff. The big reds were schooling out there.” Readis’s brown arm indicated a general northerly direction. “We was to have a beach meal ‘cos it was Swacky’s nameday and we needed big ‘uns to grill. There was only little squids on the edges of the school. Then, all o’ sudden, a big one got Uncle’s hook and it dragged us, boat and all”-Readis’s eyes were shining with remembered excitement-“right into the current. But Uncle Alemi, he wrestled it aboard and it was this”-he held his arms as wide as they could go-“big. No funning!” He glared briefly at his father, who was hiding his laughter in his hand. “It was big! You ask Alemi! But he hung on, and I helped him gaff it aboard. Then my reel started spinning, and Uncle Alemi and I had to plat our backs into landing that one. That’s why we didn’t notice the squall coming up.”

   Jaxom glanced anxiously at Jayge and Aramina. Alemi knew his Craft, and he would never endanger anyone.

   “It was some squall, I can tell you,” Readis said, jerking his chin to emphasize the details, in the manner of any good storyteller. “We got tossed and spun about ‘cos there was no way the sail would have lasted in a blow like that. And then a big wave overturned the skiff and I came up coughing and sputtering, Uncle Alemi hanging on to my arm fit to break it.” The little brown face regarded Jaxom seriously. “I’m not afraid to admit I was some scared. The sky around us was black and the rain coming down so heavy we couldn’t see the shore. But I’m a good swimmer and I can see now why Uncle Alemi always makes me wear my deep-water vest even if it is hot most times and rubs my back. See?” He swiveled his torso, raising one arm over his head, to show Jaxom where the underarm skin had been abraded. “Then it happened!”

   “What happened?” Jaxom asked as if on cue.

   “I had my arms out, trying to keep my head up, when suddenly something came smack-dab into my right hand. And started pulling me. Uncle Alemi yelled at me that it was all right. We were safe. I was to hang on tight, just as he was doing.”

   “Shipfish?” Jaxom asked with an incredulous glance at Readis’s parents. He knew that Jayge and Aramina owed their lives to shipfish; even Master Idarolan swore that the sleek big sea creatures would rescue humans in stormy areas.

   “A whole pod of ‘em,” Readis said proudly. “And every time my hand slipped off, there was another one right behind to hang on to. Uncle Alemi says there must have been twenty or thirty. They pulled us far enough in for us to see the beach and reach safety on our own. And,” he added, pausing to give emphasis to his final words, “the next morning the skiff was found beached up by the Fishhold, like they knew exactly where it belonged.”

   “That is some tale, young Readis. You’re a harper born. An amazing rescue: Truly amazing,” Jaxom said with genuine feeling. He glanced at Jayge, who nodded supportively. “The redfish weren’t by any chance returned with the skiff?” he asked.

   “Nah.” Readis dismissed that with a flick of his wrist. “They drownded. So we had to eat of stringy wherry ‘stead of good juicy redfish steaks. And you know something else?”

   “No, what?” Jaxom asked politely.

   “The shipfish kept talking to us all the time they was saving us. Uncle Alemi heard them, too.”

   “What did they say?”

   Readis frowned deeply in concentration. “I don’t ‘xactly remember the words. The wind was shrieking, but I know they were shouting at us. Encouraging us like.”

   Until Jaxom caught Jayge’s eye, he thought it was a youthful embellishment on a hectic rescue story, but Jayge nodded in confirmation.

   “Readis, why don’t you run down and see if the fire-lizards are giving Ruth a proper scrubbing?” Jayge suggested.

   The sturdy little boy jumped to his feet. “Can I? Really?” He flashed a radiant grin at Jaxom.

   “Really, you can,” Jaxom assured him, wondering if Jarrol would be as enchanting as Readis when he was five.

   “Yahoo,” Readis cried, tearing off down to shore where Ruth was afloat.

   “That’s exactly what happened to him and Alemi?” Jaxom asked.

   “With no invention,” Aramina said, obviously proud of her son. “Alemi said that Readis didn’t panic and obeyed him instantly. Otherwise-” She broke off, her face paling under her warm tan.

   Jayge leaned toward Jaxom. “I wondered if you’d mind asking this Aivas thing of yours what he knows about the shipfish. Alemi also swears that they were speaking words, though over the wind and sea noises, he couldn’t distinguish exactly what they were saying. He thinks they were giving them directions or reassurances. Piemur mentioned a passing reference to the big fish-doll-fins-which Aivas said were brought here from Terra. I asked him to inquire, but I guess it slipped his mind.”

   These days Jaxom always carried a small pad and pencil in his belt pouch. He made a notation. “I won’t forget,” he assured them, patting his pouch when he had replaced pad and pencil.

   As soon as Ruth had had time to dry off in the sun, Jaxom called him up from the beach. Readis was squealing with rapture, for Ruth had allowed the lad to climb up on his back for the short walk back. Aramina gave Jaxom a full net of fresh fruit to bring Sharra and Jarrol, and he thanked her profusely.

   As Ruth ascended to a safe height, Jaxom came to a conclusion, based on the guilt he experienced in being so long away from Ruatha-yet again!

   Ruth, let’s shave three hours of our return. That’s safe enough, and we’ll be back in Ruatha just as everyone’s getting up.

   You know Lessa doesn’t like us timing it.

   We haven’t in Turns, Ruth.

   Sharra will know.

   I’m hoping she’ll be so glad to see me she won’t mind-this once. Jaxom stroked Ruth’s neck urgently. Let me handle my mate. Ruth didn’t like to deceive either Sharra or Lessa. It’s not deceiving Sharra. It’s getting home early for a change. Not a big thing to ask.

   Oh, I suppose it won’t matter this once. I always know when we are.

   However, as soon as they came out of between above Ruatha Hold, Jaxom had cause to regret coming home at all. A wild blizzard blowing down from the mountains all but obscured the Hold.

   A good thing I always know where I am, too, Ruth remarked, craning his neck and blinking windblown particles out of his faceted eyes.

   Can you see to land, Ruth? I never thought to check on the weather conditions. Jaxom covered his cheeks with his gloved hands, feeling the chill entering his bones despite the heavy riding jacket. His legs, clad in trousers appropriate to Southern’s summer, felt like lengths of ice.

   I didn’t either, Ruth replied forgivingly. Only a moment or two longer. I’m right above the courtyard.

   Suddenly he backwinged, and Jaxom felt the jar as the white dragon landed with an uncharacteristic thud.

   Sorry. Snowdrift.

   Jaxom wasted no time sliding off his dragon, but his path to the big doors that opened into Ruth’s weyr at Ruatha Hold was impeded by the heavy drifts. He had to scoop snow away to get one leaf of the door open wide enough that Ruth could find purchase for his forepaws. Then dragon strength hauled the stout metal door back through the drifts.

   Get inside. Go on, Ruth ordered his rider, and Jaxom was all too willing to obey.

   Once inside the weyr, which was only warmer by virtue of being out of the chill and gusting wind, both dragon and rider struggled to pull the door shut. Rubbing his legs fiercely to restore feeling, Jaxom half ran across the stone floor of the chamber to the capacious hearth, where a fresh fire had been laid. His fingers fumbled with the firemaker before he got it lit, but at last the flames were eating hungrily at the dry wood, and Jaxom was able to warm himself.

   “I don’t usually mind the cold,” Jaxom said, removing his jacket and shaking off the snow. “It’s just coming from all that lovely weather . . .”

   Meer says that Jarrol has a bad cold and Sharra’s not feeling good with being up all night, Ruth told his weyrmate, his eyes tinged with the yellow of worry.

   “Young children often have colds this time of year,” Jaxom replied, though he knew that Jarrol had had far too many sniffles that winter. And poor Sharra was exhausted from nursing him, for she refused to allow anyone else to tend their firstborn. “Sometimes, Ruth, I’m very stupid,” he exclaimed abruptly. “There’s no reason in the world Sharra can’t come south, enjoy decent weather, and study with Aivas!”

   How? She can’t go between carrying a baby.

   “She can come by ship. We’ll just find out from Master Idarolan when he can accommodate her on a trip south. They make the journey often enough. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll all go south. There’s nothing here at this season that Brand can’t manage without me.”

   Suddenly Jaxom felt a great deal better. And not long after, when he found Sharra rocking their cold-fussy son in the warmth of their apartment, her instant enthusiasm for the removal was as keen as his. The subject of his unusual arrival did not come up at all. As soon as Jarrol was lulled back to sleep and laid down in his cot, Sharra proved to Jaxom’s delight just how glad she was to have him home and in bed.

   His face screwed in an anxious grimace, Harper Journeyman Tagetarl came striding out of the Aivas complex toward Robinton’s desk in the foyer. “Aivas would like to speak to you and Sebell when it’s convenient,” he announced.

   “Oh? What’s he stewing up now? “ the Harper asked, noting how uncharacteristically perturbed the journeyman appeared to be.

   “He wants the Harper Hall to build a printing press.” Tagetarl agitatedly ran his hair back from his face with both hands and heaved an exasperated groan.

   “A printing press!” Robinton gave a gusty sigh, then reached up to nudge his bronze fire-lizard awake. “Zair, please find Sebell and ask him to join us?”

   Zair chirruped sleepily but obediently unwound his tail from the Harper’s neck. He walked down Robinton’s arm and onto the table; stretching himself as he did so, and then leaped away and flew out the open door.

   “Sebell can’t be far if Zair’s not bothering to go between,” Robinton remarked. “Have some klah while we wait. You look as if you need some. Why did Aivas suddenly decide the Harper Hall needs a printing press?”

   Tagetarl gratefully poured himself a cup, hooking a chair to Robinton’s desk and, once again, smoothing back his long black hair, less urgently this time.

   “I asked could we please have copies of the string-instrument quartets he played the other evening. Domick particularly wanted to have a transcript. He said he’s tired of hearing us rave about ancestral music. Domick added,”-Tagetarl smiled ruefully- “that with so many masters and journeymen working here, he’s not able to come and hear for himself.”

   Robinton grinned, knowing that Tagetarl had probably edited the Composition Master’s acerbic comments.

   “Aivas said that he’s got to conserve the paper he has left and he has to consider music to be a nonessential in view of the demands on his resources. He’s down to the last two rolls. He feels we ought to have our own replication machines.” Tagetarl grinned expectantly.

   “Hmmm. That’s certainly reasonable.” Robinton tried to sound enthusiastic, since Tagetarl was evidently much taken by the idea. But he was considerably concerned over just how much more could be added to the “essential” mechanizations already being undertaken. There were so many people from so many Halls already working full tilt on half a dozen critical projects. “Undeniably a great deal of information ought to be circulated. Especially for distant Halls and Holds that cannot send representatives here.”

   Zair returned, chirping in the tone that said his errand had been successful. He had only just settled himself again across Robinton’s shoulders when Sebell came running. He had obviously dressed in a hurry, and his hair was still wet.

   “Easy, Sebell. There’s no urgency,” Robinton said, raising a hand to slow the Masterharper down. “I hope Zair didn’t misinform you.”

   Catching his breath, Sebell gave his mentor a salute and a wry grin. “Obedience to any summons from you, Master, is too deeply engrained to change now.”

   “Even when you’re Masterharper of Pern?” Robinton’s grin was sly. “Especially now that you are Masterharper of Pern, you should be allowed to finish your morning ablutions.”

   “Klah?” Tagetarl suggested, and when Sebell nodded appreciatively, the journeyman poured him a cup.

   “I’d just finished showering,” Sebell replied, accepting the klah. “So now that I’m here, how can I assist you?”

   Robinton gestured to Tagetarl.

   “It’s really Aivas who wants to talk to you and Master Robinton,” the journeyman said. “He needs a printing press, and he says that according to his understanding of our present structure, that should be the responsibility of the Harper Hall.”

   Sebell nodded, accepting the information. Robinton recognized the mannerism as a habit of his own, which Sebell adopted when he, too, was absorbing unexpected requests.

   “Any form of communication is indeed a Harper Hall function. What exactly is a printing press?” Sebell asked after taking several thoughtful sips of his klah.

   “An improvement on Master Arnor’s crabbed script, I devoutly hope,” Robinton remarked in a bland tone. The other two harpers rolled their eyes. “Something approximating the readable print which Aivas produces would be an enormous help.”

   “Aivas is apparently the only one in the world who easily reads Arnor’s script. What’s the problem?” Sebell asked Tagetarl.

   “Domick’s been after me to get copies of some of the splendid music Aivas has been playing for us.”

   Sebell nodded understandingly. “That was inevitable. And certainly the request is only fair, when he’s had to take over so much Hall management to keep us here.”

   “Don’t let Domick pressure you with insidious suggestion,” Robinton said, wagging a finger at his colleagues. “Though he will certainly find the string music utterly fascinating.”

   “We all do,” Sebell said as he rose. “Let’s see exactly what this printing-press project entails. We are certainly not a mechanically inclined Hall, even if we produce our instruments.” And all three harpers went to consult with Aivas.

   “Harpers may not be mechanically inclined,” Aivas replied when Sebell expressed his concerns, “but they are not without skill or intelligence, Master Sebell. Replicating or duplicating written material can be achieved by a variety of methods, of which the current laborious hand copying is the most prone to error. Using the relics of machinery and parts still available in the Catherine Caves, it will be possible to assemble a more efficient method of reproducing multiple copies of essential information, and the musical scores requested by your colleague in the Hall.”

   Sheets spewed from the print slot into Tagetarl’s agile hands.

   “The drawings itemize the parts you should be able to find in the caves, and the few that Master Fandarel will need to fabricate for you. It will be in his interests, also, to cooperate.” There followed one of those pauses that Robinton liked to interpret as indicative of the various humors of Aivas. This one, he was sure, was a pointed reminder of how much the Smithcrafthall had already benefited by Aivas’s assistance. “With the intelligence that appears to mark even apprentices in your Hall, you should be able to assemble the apparatus by the time Master Fandarel has finished installing the water-turbine station. There will then be sufficient power to run the printing press, as well. Master Bendarek has succeeded admirably in producing continuous rolls of paper, which are also essential to the process.

   “The manufacture of the individual letters and numbers to comprise a legible type font, and the musical and scientific signs, should be relatively simple for those with good manual dexterity.” Another page came out, illustrating a highly readable type font. “Journeyman Tagetarl is a dexterous carver.” His remark astonished Tagetarl, who could not imagine how Aivas had learned about his handiwork. “There may be others with similar artistic talent who might assist.”

   “There isn’t a printing press in the Catherine Caves?” Sebell asked, his tone slightly wistful.

   “Unfortunately, no. Replication and data storage had developed well past such cumbersome processes. This method will, however, be sufficient for your needs for some time to come.”

   Sebell had taken the type-font sheet from Tagetarl. “It’ll be nice not to have to squint or use a magnifying glass to read.” He gave his head a shake. “Master Arnor won’t like it.”

   Robinton grimaced and then sighed with regret. “Perhaps it is time. He’s almost blind right now, you know. And those wretched apprentices take terrible advantage of him. Menolly was telling me about an incident only last week. One impertinent youngster handed in a scurrilous verse in place of the ballad he had been assigned-and poor Master Arnor approved it.”

   Tagetarl masked a grin. “That’s not the first time Master Armor’s had that trick played on him.”

   “This printing press would help conserve your supplies, Aivas?”

   “It will, but that was not the basic reason to suggest that you extend your activities to include such a fundamental improvement in data handling. You will find that eventually you will need more than one press, so it would be prudent to learn the principle and improve on it in your own time.”

   “I think-” Robinton paused to glance at Sebell, aware that he was encroaching on the new Masterharper’s authority with the suggestion. “-that this first printing press should be constructed here in Landing.”

   Sebell nodded, guessing the real reason for his mentor’s suggestion. “That would certainly be less of an affront to Master Arnor.” He examined the sheets with Tagetarl. “Dulkan’s already here, and he’s done some fine brasswork for harp plates. There’re four more of the older apprentices, waiting for their hour on the General Science Course. We could use them until their appointment.”

   Robinton beamed at the two men, pleased to see the alacrity with which they were already moving forward on the project.

   “Terry’s down at the Catherine Caves right now, in fact. If we hurry, we can get advice from him, too,” Tagetarl said eagerly.

   With the briefest but still most courteous of farewells to Robinton, the two young men strode out of the room and down the hall, exchanging ideas on how to proceed.

   Sometimes, Robinton thought as he slowly eased himself down into the nearest chair, such energy exhausted rather than revived him. Not that he wouldn’t be delighted with this printing press. Able to run off as many copies as needed? What a concept!

   It truly amazed him that there were now so many devices that had never before been required. The effects on Hall, Hold, and Weyr, only beginning to filter through, would be profound. Lytol, having delved into the history and politics of their ancestors, had already worried about what he called the erosion of values and the subversion of tradition by new demands. The promise of the eradication of Thread-the possibility, Robinton sternly corrected himself-motivated all but a few dissenters. Even the most conservative of the surviving Oldtimers had come around to support the Benden Weyrleaders.

   And how were dragons and their riders to occupy themselves when Thread was no longer the rationale for the Weyrs? Robinton knew, though the notion was not widely discussed, that F’lar and Lessa wanted to lay claim to considerable lands here in the Southern Continent. But would the Lord Holders, who themselves looked greedily toward the open space of the vast Southern Continent, be complacent about such claims? Toric’s realization that he had settled for such a small portion of the southern lands still rankled in that ambitious man’s mind. In Robinton’s estimation, the Weyrs deserved whatever they requested after centuries of service, but would the Lord Holders, and the Halls, agree? That concerned him the most. Yet it seemed to worry the Weyrleaders least. And what if, in the four Turns ten months, and three days specified by Aivas, the attempt should fail? What then?

   Perhaps, and he brightened suddenly, all this new technology would absorb both Hold and Hall, to the exclusion of the Weyrs. Hold and Hall had always managed quite nicely to ignore the Weyrs between Passes. Perhaps things like power stations and printing presses were indeed valuable, but for more abstruse reasons, as well as the obvious ones.

   “Aivas,” Robinton said in greeting, carefully closing the door behind him. “A word with you.” He cleared his throat, wondering why Aivas could sometimes reduce him to the nervousness of an apprentice. “About this printing press...”

   “You do not concur with the necessity of such a machine?”

   “On the contrary, I most certainly do.”

   “Then what troubles you? For your voice betrays a note of uncertainty.”

   “Aivas, when we first realized what you represented in terms of knowledge, we had little idea of the scope of all that had been lost over the centuries. Yet now, rarely does a day go by but some new device is suddenly on the essential list. Our skilled craftsmen have enough lined up to keep them busy for the entire Pass. Tell me, truly, are all these machines and devices really necessary?”

   “Not to the way of life you had, Master Robinton. But to accomplish what is apparently the desire of the majority of Pern, the destruction of Thread, improvements are essential. Your ancestors did not employ the highest technology available to them: They preferred to use the lowest level necessary to perform the function. That is the level that is presently being reestablished. As you yourself requested in the initial interview.”

   Robinton wondered if he had imagined the tone of mild reproof. “Water-driven power...” he began.

   “Which you already had available to you.”

   “Printing presses?”

   “Your Records were printed, but in a laborious and time-consuming fashion that, unfortunately, permitted errors to be made and perpetuated.”

   “The teaching consoles?”

   “You have harpers who instruct by set lessons. You had even managed to rediscover papermaking before accessing this facility. Most papermaking techniques, Masterharper, are refinements of techniques you already employ, made easier by some basic machinery and of no higher level than your ancestors brought with them. It is little more than correcting long-standing errors and misconceptions. The spirit of the original colonists is still intact. Even the technology that must be utilized to thwart the return of the wanderer planet will be of the same level as your ancestors’. There may be other scientifically advanced methods now available to Earth scientists that could be utilized if there were still communication between this planet and Earth. Great strides in cosmology were being announced at the time the colony ships left Earth’s system. These were not, however, incorporated into the memory banks of this facility. Once you have regained the appropriate level of understanding, you may progress, or not, as you choose.”

   Robinton pensively rubbed his chin. He could scarcely fault Aivas for doing what had been specifically requested, that Pern be brought back to the level of knowledge it had originally enjoyed. It was also obvious that Aivas was obeying the initial request that only what was really needed be revived. It was just stunning to realize how much had been lost.

   “This world has survived, Master Robinton, with more dignity and honor than you would imagine-as Lord Warder Lytol is discovering in his exploration of history.”

   “Perhaps I have not paid as much attention to his studies as I ought.”

   “That statement was a private analysis of achievement, Master Robinton. It is for Lord Warder Lytol to arrive at his own conclusion based on his studies.”

   “I wonder if his conclusion will parallel your impartial one.”

   “You should delve into history and arrive at your own, Master Robinton.” There was one of the interesting pauses that Aivas tended to affect. “Printed books would make that much easier for you.”

   Robinton glared at the green light on the face of the Aivas facility and wondered, once again, what constituted “artificial intelligence.” The several times he had asked that direct question, the reply had been a repetition of a translation of the acronym. Robinton now understood that there were explanations which Aivas either could not, or was programmed not to, make.

   “Yes, printed books would be much easier,” the Harper agreed at last. “But according to what you’ve shown us, the settlers had other devices, much more compact.”

   “That technology is too advanced to be considered at the present time and would involve processes that are presently beyond your abilities or needs.”

   “Well, then, I’ll settle for books.”

   “That would be prudent of you.”

   “And you will remain prudent in what you ask us to recreate? “

   “That is a corollary to the prime goal of this facility.”

   Robinton was content with that answer. But just as he had his hand on the door pull, he turned. “Would this printing press be able to print musical scores, as well?”

   “Yes.”

   “That would be much, much easier for the entire Hall,” he said. He felt so buoyant as he retraced his steps down the hall that he began to whistle.

7

Present Pass 19

LESSA ROUSED ABRUPTLY, opening her eyes to a darkness which suggested that daylight was still hours away. F’lar lay sprawled beside her, his forehead touching her shoulder, one arm thrown across her, one leg pinning hers down. Their bed was oversized, but he invariably managed to occupy more of it than she did. In fact, there were only finger lengths between her and the edge. She must have told herself to wake up at this barbarous hour-she had always had that ability. But why? Her mind was too sleep-fogged to provide an immediate answer.

   Ramoth was sound asleep, too. And Mnementh! All of Benden Weyr was asleep, including, she discovered with irritation, the dragon and rider supposedly on watch on the Rim. She would blast him as soon as she figured out why she was awake at this appallingly early hour.

   Then she saw the lighted clock face on the bedside locker. Three bloody of the clock! Progress was a two-edged dagger. Having a reliable timepiece that was visible in the dark only made the darkness and this early rising harder to endure. But seeing the clock reminded her of why she had to get up early that morning. She pushed at F’lar, who was never easy to wake up unless Mnementh called him.

   “F’lar, wake up! We’ve got to get up.” Ramoth, dear, wake up! We’ve got to be at Landing. Aivas particularly wants us there. She prodded F’lar’s shoulder more urgently and, struggling to pull her legs out from under his, reluctantly rose from the comfortable, warm bed. “We’ve got to get down to Landing early this morning. Early their morning.”

   There were moments, and this was one of them, when Lessa’s enthusiasm for the Project faltered. If, however, this was the morning when Aivas would set in train the results of two Turns of hard studying and work, the early rising would be a minor sacrifice.

   In the bigger chamber of the queen’s weyr, she could hear Ramoth mumbling and grunting, denying the summons just as F’lar was doing.

   “Well, if I have to get up, you will, too,” she said, and callously hauled the sleeping-fur off her weyrmate.

“What the-” F’lar tried to grab the fur, but Lessa, with a chuckle, snatched it from his hand.

   “You’ve got to get up.”

   “It’s the middle of the bloody night, Lessa,” he complained. “We don’t have Fall for another day and a half.”

   “Aivas wants us there at five of the clock Landing time.”

   “Aivas! “ He sat bolt upright, wide-eyed, pushing his tumbled hair back from his face.

   Lessa snorted at F’lar’s response to that name.

   “My shirt!” he cried, shivering convulsively in the predawn cold. “Heartless woman!”

   She snatched shirt and pants up from the chair and tossed them to him. “I am not at all heartless!”

   Then she opened a glowbasket to find fresh clothes for herself. F’lar made a quick stop in the bathing room while she poured klah for them both. With her cup in her hand, she passed F’lar on her way in; then she washed quickly and replaited the ends of her braids.

   “Watch rider’s asleep,” she told him when she got back into the weyr, where he was stamping into his boots and shrugging on his riding jacket.

   “I know. I’ve sent Mnementh to scare the living lights out of both of them.” He cocked his head then as they both heard a reverberating roar and a startled squeal. “That’ll teach them.”

   “One day Mnementh’s going to startle one or both of a watchpair off the Rim!” she replied.

   He grinned at her. “Haven’t yet! Here!” And he held out her flying jacket and cap. As she stuck her arms in the sleeves, he bent and kissed the back of her neck. F’lar was often amorous when he first woke.

   “That makes me shiver! “ But she didn’t pull away, so he kissed her again and hugged her affectionately. Leaving one arm across her shoulders, he guided her out to Ramoth’s weyr.

   The gold queen’s tail was still in the weyr; the rest of her was out on the ledge. And, as F’lar and Lessa joined her there, Mnementh lowered his head from the level above the queen’s weyr, his eyes gleaming brilliant blue-green in the darkness.

   Who did you scare awake on watch up there, Mnementh?

   Lessa asked.

   Bfol and green Gereth. They won’t ,sleep on watch again.

   The bronze dragon’s tone was particularly severe, an attitude with which Lessa had no quarrel, for both B’fol and Gereth were well enough on in Turns not to be delinquent.

   “Next Fall, B’fol and Gereth will handle firestone sacks,” F’lar remarked, having followed the exchange. This was no time for Benden Weyr to get slipshod. “Have we time for porridge? “ he asked hopefully.

   Considering that days at Landing were apt to be spent in nonstop work, Lessa thought a good breakfast was only prudent, even if they were already behind the appointed hour. “We’ll make time,” she said, a ripple of mischievousness in her voice.

   “Now, now, Lessa,” he began in a tone of mock reproof, “if we don’t let anyone else time it...”

   “Rank has some privileges, and I’ll think the better for a decent breakfast in my guts,” she said. “So we’ll make a little time. Especially since you’re so hard to wake up.” She laughed softly when he sputtered a protest. “If you please, Ramoth!” And the queen crouched to allow her rider to mount. “You won’t mind giving F’lar a lift, will you, dearest? I don’t want him falling off that upper ledge, trying to mount Mnementh in the dark.”

   Ramoth turned her head toward F’lar and blinked. Of course.

   Mnementh waited until both riders were settled on the queen’s neck before pushing off from the upper ledge and gliding down beside them to the floor of the Bowl. As soon as they had landed, the night lights in the Lower Caverns were visible, as well as the banked fire on the small hearth where a big kettle of porridge was simmering. The huge klah pot was pulled slightly to one side so that the contents would not become too strong to be palatable.

   As Lessa filled two bowls with the steaming cereal, she was glad that they had the place to themselves. The bakers must just have left-for the big table near the main hearth was full of cloth-covered breadpans. F’lar brought over two cups of klah, spooning an almost indecent amount of sweetener into his, and then sprinkling as much again over the porridge Lessa set in front of him.

   “It’s a miracle you don’t gain weight with all that sweetener,” she began.

   “Or lose my teeth,” he said, adding the second half of that long-standing complaint. He gave her his widest grin and tapped his teeth with his spoon. “But I don’t and I haven’t.” He dug into his breakfast.

   Lessa sipped at her klah first, wanting to clear the last of sleep from her wits.

   “Do you suppose that Aivas is going to start the Project this morning?”

   F’lar shrugged as the question caught him with a hot mouthful. He swallowed. “I can’t think why else he called a meeting of such a group at such an hour. According to the original schedule he gave us, we should be ready to start. Despite what some critics imply,” he added with a grimace that had nothing to do with the piping-hot porridge on his spoon, “he keeps his promises.”

   “So far,” Lessa said in a dour tone.

   “Well, he has!” Then F’lar looked at his weyrmate. “You don’t really believe he can keep his promise about Thread, do you?”

   “I just can’t figure out how he can contrive to have us do what the settlers couldn’t! “ She glared at him, both relieved and sorry that she had come out with the doubt that had been increasingly bothering her.

   F’lar covered her hand with his. “He’s done everything he’s promised to do. And I believe him, not just because I, as a dragonrider, want to, but because he sounds so very sure.”

   “But, F’lar, every time he’s been asked, he hasn’t promised that we will be able to destroy Thread. He’s said it is possible. That’s not quite the same thing.”

   “Let’s just see what today brings, huh, love?”

   F’lar gave her that knowing look of his which sometimes she wanted to scratch off his face. She took a deep breath and held back a scathing retort. Today could prove much, and as deeply as she wanted it to prove that F’lar was right to place so much confidence in Aivas, she had to prepare him for possible disappointment.

   “But if today is a disaster, that’s going to reduce our effectiveness at next week’s Conference at Tillek Hold to choose Oterel’s successor.”

   F’lar frowned. “I recognize that danger. I’m reasonably sure that Aivas also does. I’d say that’s why he scheduled this meeting. His timing so far has been nothing short of phenomenal.”

   “He and Lytol are really into the political aspects, aren’t they? I could almost wish that Lytol was still Ruathan Lord Warder. That’d give Groghe the support he needs. Even I have heard the grumbling about Ruatha’s young Lord Holder spending so much time down here instead of in his Hold.”

   “At least Ranrel can’t be considered too young to be a Lord Holder, Lessa,” F’lar reminded her. “He’s in his mid-thirties, with five children. And he’s certainly the only one of Oterel’s sons who’s shown any initiative at all. That port-renewal project of his was inspired.” F’lar chuckled. “Even if he did add insult to injury by insisting on using Hamian’s stuff to build the new wharfs and reinforce the piers.”

   Lessa had to grin, remembering the fuss Ranrel’s innovative engineering had caused among those who derided or downright rejected any useful products of “the Abomination.” F’lar scratched sleepily at his scalp and yawned.

   “And when the other brothers tried to belittle Ranrel’s project, along comes Master Idarolan, raving about the facilities,” she said.

   “That’s not going to hurt when the Lord Holders convene. His mate’s a Masterweaver. She’s interested in having a power loom. I don’t know where she found out that such things were possible.”

   Lessa threw up her hands. “Everyone’s gone ‘power’ mad.”

   “It sure reduces sheer drudgery.”

   “Hmm. Yes. Well, eat up. We’ll be late.”

   F’lar grinned before he upended his klah mug. “We already are, you know. It’s as well you’re permitting us to time it.” He laughed at the wicked glare she gave him.

   After putting their crockery in the main sink to soak, they fastened jackets and caps and left the cavern.

   “We were supposed to be there half an hour ago, Ramoth,” Lessa told her queen as she mounted. “We need to be there on time.”

   If you insist, Ramoth replied disapprovingly.

   The others were already assembled in the main hall when the Benden Weyrleaders arrived. Robinton looked sleepy, but Jaxom, Mirrim, Piemur-with gold Farli curled about his shoulders-and the three male green riders ail appeared very wide-awake indeed.

   Jaxom straightened his shoulders and pulled at the lightweight sleeveless tunic he wore, to free it from his sweaty back. Irrepressibly, Piemur grinned at that evidence of his friend’s nervousness. Mirrim was equally nervous. The other three green riders, L’zal, G’rannat, and S’len, were shifting from one foot to another.

   “All present and accounted for, so let’s see what Aivas wants with such an ill-assorted crew,” F’lar said, nodding at Lessa to lead the way. As he strode forward, he tossed a reassuring smile over his shoulder at Jaxom and the others.

   When Aivas had asked for this predawn meeting two days earlier, his special students had been excited by the prospect that he intended to launch the plan. They had been careful to contain that excitement to prevent even more rumor circulating. Not even Piemur had been brash enough to ask Aivas for confirmation.

   Certainly all these young folk had studied diligently over the past two Turns, even if their lessons and drills seemed to be irrelevant or endlessly repetitious until, as Jaxom had remarked to Piemur, he could do them in his sleep.

   “That may be what Aivas wants,” Piemur had said with a shrug. “They make about as much sense as the drills he gives me for Farli.”

   Jaxom saw him stroking Farli’s back as they marched down the hall and into Aivas’s room. The lights brightened, and Piemur grinned to himself: Master Morilton’s “light bulbs” worked just as the original ones had. Yet another minor triumph for the Masterglass-smith, working from plans of the “Abomination.” The thought of that epithet caused Jaxom to frown-Master Norist was not the only one who had come to refer to Aivas in that manner. Of course, if today was truly the beginning of the assault on Thread, that tune could easily change before there was more cause to worry about the growing number of dissidents.

   “Good morning,” Aivas said at his most polite and noncommittal. “If you will seat yourselves, I shall explain today’s project.” He waited until they had taken their places and their excited murmurs had dwindled into respectful silence.

   Then the screen displayed a clear picture of the view with which they had all become familiar: the bridge of the Yokohama. Only this time there was an addition: a space-suited figure slumped over one of the control panels. There was an almost simultaneous intake of breath at the realization that the body was that of Sallah Telgar, who had died so valiantly to save the colony. This, then, was the actual bridge of the Yokohama-not the image that Aivas had supplied during their training. Then the focus of the picture slid across the consoles beyond the figure to rest on the board marked LIFE-SUPPORT SYSTEM.

   Jaxom saw Piemur reach up to stroke Farli, whose gaze was fixed on the screen. She gave a little chirp, for she, too, recognized the board. She had been working for a month on a mockup, pushing at two toggles and depressing three keys in a certain sequence. She could now perform those movements in less than thirty seconds.

   Over the past two Turns, Aivas had subtly collected many facts about both fire-lizards and dragons. The most relevant fact was that both creatures were able to maintain the oxygen levels in their systems for almost ten minutes without suffering undue discomfort or harm. That time could be pushed to fifteen minutes, but after that amount of time, both fire-lizards and dragons would need several hours to recover from the effects of oxygen deprivation.

   One of the exercises with fire-lizards and dragons in which there had been no success had been getting them to take an object from one place and bring it to another. Telekinesis, Aivas had called it, but the concept-patiently explained-confused the dragons as thoroughly as it did the fire-lizards. They would go between to get the required object, but they could not bring it without physically collecting it. Aivas had explained that if the dragons and fire-lizards could transport themselves telekinetically, it logically followed that they ought to be able to use their abilities to lift distant items to them.

   “Today, Piemur, you are asked to send Farli to the Yokohama to manipulate the switches as she had been taught to do. There is no oxygen at present on the bridge, and it is essential that the life-support system be activated before we can take the next step. Another of the toggles will transmit a report on the general condition of the Yokohama.

   “Oh!” Piemur murmured very softly, then sighed gustily. He stroked Farli, who chirped again, her unblinking eyes still on the screen. “Somehow I thought that’s what you’d say.”

   “She has been an excellent pupil, Piemur. There should be no problem, as she is well accustomed to obeying you.”

   Piemur took a deep breath. “All right, Farli,” he said. He unwrapped her tail from his neck and held up his arm in the position that indicated she was to take a message.

   Carefully walking along his bare arm with her talons sheathed, Farli reached his forearm and turned about to face him, her eyes whirling alertly.

   “Now-” Piemur held up his right hand. “This is going to be slightly different, Farli. I want you to go up in the sky, to the place you see in my mind.” He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts tightly on the scene of the bridge and the particular console she was to activate.

   Farli chirruped queryingly, looked over her shoulder at the picture on the screen, and burbled once, reclosing her wings on her back.

   “No, Farli, not into the screen. Get the ‘where’ from my mind.” Piemur closed his eyes again, concentrating on the exact place he wanted her to go, emphasizing the life-support console next to the slumped corpse. When she chirruped again, this time almost impatiently, he sighed and turned to the others in defeat.

   “She just doesn’t understand,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment color his voice. Not that he blamed her. She had been to most of the places he sent her. How could he get across the difference between traveling around the planet and going into space above it? Especially as he could not quite grasp the concept himself.

   Farli emphasized this by flitting from his arm to the room in which she had been trained, moments later coming back and trying to fly into the picture on the screen.

   Piemur’s grin was weak. “What do you bet she’s gone and done her exercises again? That much she understands!”

   Disappointment was palpable in the room. Piemur kept his eyes straight ahead, on the tantalizingly unreachable view on the screen.

   “So?” F’lar asked. “What do we do now, Aivas?”

   There was a long pause before Aivas spoke. “The mind of the fire-lizard does not function in recorded animal behavioral patterns.”

   “That’s not surprising. Your records only cover Terran types,” Piemur remarked, trying not to feel so depressed about his little queen’s failure. She was the best of the whole fair, better even than Menolly’s Beauty, who was certainly very well trained. But he had hoped that she would be able to make this strange variation of flight. “It’s also a long way to ask her to go when no one’s been there before.”

   Another silence hung on the room.

   “There’s only one dragon in fact,” F’lar said slowly and thoughtfully, breaking the pause, “who’s ever been off the planet.”

   “Canth!” Lessa exclaimed.

   “F’nor’s brown Canth is too large,” Aivas said.

   “It wasn’t his size I was thinking of,” Lessa replied. “It’s his experience in going above this planet. He’s done it, so perhaps he can explain to Farli so that she’ll understand what’s wanted of her.” Her eyes lost their focus as she sought for Canth.

   Yes, we can come immediately, Canth replied to Lessa’s request.

   There was a stir of anticipation among those waiting in Aivas’s room. Piemur kept stroking Farli, who had returned to her position on his arm. He murmured softly that she was a marvelous fire-lizard, the best in the world, but that the toggles she was to pull and the buttons she was to press were really not the ones in the next room but, rather, identical ones up on the Yokohama, far above their heads in the dark sky. She kept cocking her head this way and that, her throat pulsing as she tried her very best to understand what was wanted of her.

   “Ah, they’re here,” Lessa said. “F’nor’s on his way in.”

   Looking as if he had dressed in a hurry, F’nor came running into the room. “Canth said it was important,” he said. After a puzzled glance around the room, he regarded Lessa expectantly.

   “Aivas needs Farli to get to the bridge on the Yokohama,” she explained. “Farli doesn’t understand her directions. You and Canth are the only two on Pern who have left the planet. We thought Canth might be able to clarify the instructions so Farli will know what she is expected to do.”

   As she spoke, F’nor pulled off his flight cap and shucked off his heavy riding gear. When she had finished, his expression turned humorously quizzical.

   “Well, now, Lessa, that’s a problem. I’ve never been exactly sure how Canth and I managed that abortive flight in the first place-”

   “Do you remember what you were thinking?” F’lar asked.

   F’nor chuckled. “I was thinking I had to do something to keep you from trying to get to the Red Star.” Then he frowned. “Come to think of it, Meron was there, and he tried to make his fire-lizard go. She disappeared in a flash, and I don’t know if she ever returned to him.”

   “Farli’s not afraid,” Piemur said staunchly. “She just doesn’t understand where she’s supposed to perform what she’s been trained to do.”

   F’nor spread his hands in a gesture of appeal. “If Farli can’t get the hang of it, I don’t think any of them could.”

   “But could Canth explain to her that he went off the planet? Into space?” Lessa asked.

   Could you, Canth? F’nor asked the brown dragon. Canth was in the process of draping himself on the ridge above Landing where the rising sun would warm him.

   You showed me where you wanted me to go. I went.

   F’nor repeated Canth’s answer. “A planet is a bigger target than a spaceship we can’t see.”

   Farli does not understand, Canth added. She has done the things she was asked to do in the place where she has always done them:

   Canth, Lessa asked the dragon directly, do you understand what we’re asking Farli to do?

   Yes, you want her to go up to the ship and do the things she has been trained to do there! She doesn’t understand where she is to go. She’s never been there.

   Jaxom squirmed a little on the chair. Considering how hard Piemur had worked with Farli, it was a crying shame that the little creature couldn’t grasp the essential point.

   Ruth, do you understand? he asked the white dragon. Sometimes fire-lizards listened to Ruth when they ignored everyone else.

   Yes, but it is a cold, long way for a fire-lizard to go if she hasn’t been there before. She’s trying very hard to understand.

   A lot of thoughts crowded Jaxom’s mind just then. But the main one was that Ruth was not too big to fit on the bridge-if his wings were folded back and he landed precisely on the floor just in front of the lift door. He would also have to remain very still, for Aivas had said there was no gravity on the bridge. Ruth would be in free-fall. Aivas did not see that as a problem for a dragon or a fire-lizard, accustomed as they were to being airborne. Jaxom had known that that was one reason Aivas had grilled him so long and so hard on the layout of the bridge and lectured him on null-gravity conditions. But until Farli had done her exercise on board the Yokohama, turning on the bridge’s life-support system, Ruth and Jaxom could not go.

   Aivas had had crews searching the Catherine Caves assiduously for “space suits.” They had found two-or, rather, the perished scraps of fabric and the bright plastic shapes that had once serviced it. Oxygen cylinders had been manufactured, being not dissimilar to agenothree tanks. HNO₃, Jaxom reminded himself, now that he knew the precise chemical constituents of the flame-producing mixture. But there was no protection for a frail human body in the absolute cold and airless vacuum of the Yokohama’s bridge in its present state.

   Jaxom thought that manufacturing proper equipment would prove to be Aivas’s alternative. He had already had several long discussions with Masterweaver Zurg. But alternatives would take time, not to mention more experimentation on the part of both Zurg and Harman’s innovative crew-more time in which the disenchanted Lord Holders could steadily withdraw their support from Landing.

   If only Farli could understand, Jaxorn thought, searching his own mind for any clues that he, or Ruth, might be able to give her. Ruth had perceived the difference, but he was much smarter than Farli. He understood so much-as much as I do, Jaxom thought with great pride.

   As you understand, so do I. Ruth’s tone was almost accusatory. It is not really a very long way between but it is up far.

   Although Jaxom leaped to his feet, shouting “No, Ruth, no!” he was too late. For Ruth had already gone between.

   “Jaxom!” Lessa exclaimed, her face white. “You didn’t send him? “

   “I most certainly did not. He just went.” Jaxom was aghast, and Farli began shrieking protests, her wings extended, her eyes whirling with startled, angry red.

   Outside, Ramoth and Mnementh bugled their own warnings.

   Don’t, Ramoth! Mnementh! Lessa cried. “We’ll rouse everyone in Landing and they’ll know something’s gone wrong.” Then she turned into F’lar, clutching at him in her fear for Ruthand for Jaxom.

   ‘ Jaxom? “ F’lar bellowed seeing the shock on Jaxom’s race. Mirrim, her tanned cheeks bleached white, had leaped to Jaxom’s side, as had the other green riders, their expressions anxious, ready to support him. Robinton and F’nor were too stunned to react, so there was only Jancis to watch the screen and count.

   “He’s all right,” Jaxom managed to say, though his mouth had gone terribly dry. The strong link with Ruth had attenuated to just a faint touch. “He’s still with me.”

   “Did you tell him to go?” F’lar demanded, his expression so fierce that even Lessa recoiled.

   Jaxom gave the Benden Weyrleader an inscrutable glare. “He bloody just went and did it! Ruth’s got a mind of his own!”

   Then Jancis leaped to her feet, gesticulating at the screen. “There! There! He’s there! On the count of ten.”

   There, undeniably on the bridge, wings tucked tight, his whole body flattened, was Ruth. Before their eyes, he drifted upward, peering about him with an expression of astonishment, until his head touched the ceiling.

   “Ah! Well done, Ruth! Jaxom!” Aivas’s bellow of triumph cut across the racket of astonishment and surprise that reverberated around the room. “Jaxom, tell Ruth not to be surprised to float. He is, in free-fall, with no gravity for up and down. Warn him not to make any energetic movements. Does he understand, Jaxom?”

   “I am, I did. He understands,” Jaxom said, staring in fascination at the screen.

   “See, Farli!” Piemur pointed excitedly. “Ruth’s led the way for you.” But Farli was so confused by the sudden cheering and shouting in the room that Piemur had to grab her by the cheeks and turn her head toward the screen and Ruth! “Go to Ruth!”

   The little queen gave a squawk and, launching herself from Piemur’s arm, disappeared.

   “Jaxom, you tell Ruth to get back here right now!” Lessa shouted, recovering from her shock. “Mind of his own, indeed! I’ll give him a mind to obey!”

   “Restore yourselves to calm observation! “ Aivas’s voice once again cut through the furor. “Ruth is unharmed. And... Farli has found her way.”

   Piemur let out a yelp of surprise, plainly audible in a room suddenly gone very quiet. For Farli had indeed found her way to the bridge of Yokohama and, with one talon firmly hooked on the edge of the console, was diligently pulling toggles and pressing buttons. Lights appeared on the board.

   “Mission accomplished,” Aivas said. “They may return.”

   Farli came and has done her job, Ruth said, not realizing that Jaxom could see him. I’m floating. Let go, Farli. It’s not at all like being between. A most unusual sensation. Not like swimming, either.

   It was also a most unusual sight for those observing Ruth as he drifted gently across the bridge, a handspan above the arc of consoles, ducking his head to keep from scraping the ceiling.

   As Farli released her grip, she, too, began to float. Startled, she extended her wings and gently revolved end over end, colliding with Ruth. He reached out to steady her, and both were propelled farther away from their original locations, toward the great plasglas window on the bow of the bridge complex. Suddenly Jancis began to giggle, and the tension in the room evaporated.

   I think that’s quite enough clowning about now, Ruth, Jaxom said, trying to sound stern. But he couldn’t help grinning along with everyone else over the antics of the two creatures. You scared the life out of me! Now get back down here.

   I knew exactly where to go. I showed Farli. I had no problem at all doing it, and this is fun. With a negligent shove of one wing, Ruth executed a complete turn in the air and began floating back toward the lift. Will we get to come back again?

   Only if you and Farli get your bodies back on Pern this instant!

   Oh, all right. If you say so.

   Laughing with a mixture of amusement, sheer relief, and fury, Jaxom dashed down the corridor and outside. The others were close on his heels, full of triumph and the laughter of relief. Lessa, however, was raging at the risk Ruth had taken, and she knew from the set expression on F’lar’s face that he felt the same.

   Halfway down the corridor, F’lar caught Lessa by the arm. “You may be furious, Lessa, but we can’t intervene in this. And I probably lost as many seconds of my life as you did over Ruth’s leap.”

   “Ruth cannot be allowed to be so irresponsible,” she said, fuming. “Jaxom isn’t. I don’t understand how Ruth gets away with such disobedience. Ramoth wouldn’t.”

   “Ruth and Jaxom were not Weyr-trained. But don’t think Ruth’s going to get off easily for this escapade.” He managed a droll grin. “Judging by the look on Jaxom’s face, he’s had a fright he won’t forget. That will inhibit Ruth far more surely than threats from you and me.” He gave her one of his little shakes. “More important, the less furor there is right now, the fewer rumors will abound.”

   Lessa let out a heavy sigh, glared at him, and then gave herself a shake, releasing herself from his grasp.

   “Yes, we don’t want this bruited about-at least, not quite yet. But I tell you, and I’ll tell Jaxom, too, I don’t want to live through another few seconds like that again. All I could think about was how under the heavens would we explain to Lytol.”

   F’lar grinned wryly. “As it’s turned out, Lytol can print this up as a turning point in the modern history of Pern.”

   “And just won’t he!”

   Discretion muted the congratulations for the brave venturers, but everyone patted Ruth and scrubbed at his eyeridges until his eyes were whirling with delight. When Farli finally settled down again on Piemur’s shoulder, she also received extravagant caresses. False dawn was just lightening the eastern horizon, so there was a good chance that few were awake to wonder at the fuss being made of Ruth.

   “I think,” Robinton began when the elation abated, “that we’d better return to Aivas. I, for one, would like to know what’s next.”

   “Well, that depends on what Aivas learns from the instrumentation that Farli just turned on,” Jaxom replied. “If the bridge is intact, warms up, and there’s enough oxygen left in the tanks that supply that area, Ruth and I go up-together.” He grinned. “That’s when we initiate the telescopic sequences that will reaffirm the position of the system’s planets-most particularly, our old enemy, the Red Star.”

   That was, however, not quite all that Aivas had in mind when, late the next day, the bridge atmospheric conditions were found to be satisfactory.

   “Piemur, I would like you to accompany Jaxom,” Aivas said when the group reassembled.

   “I’m not supposed to go with him this trip,” Piemur exclaimed.

   “Originally, no. Two men will be needed for what should now be the first project. To demonstrate proper respect for Sallah Telgar, it is fitting that her mortal remains be brought back to Pern and properly interred. No doubt, Lord Larad would like to attend to whatever burial rituals are currently practiced.”

   A profound silence prevailed until Robinton cleared his throat.

   “Yes, that would be not only respectful and appropriate, but a long-overdue honor for such a valiant lady. I’ll inform Lord Larad immediately.”

   “Would her space suit be usable after all this time?” Piemur asked, curious. When he saw the shocked expression on Jancis’s face, he belatedly realized how callous that sounded and, groaning, hid his face against his arm. Farli curled her tail consolingly around his throat.

   “With some minor repairs, it is to be hoped that the space suit is usable,” Aivas replied so calmly that Robinton was certain that recovery of both body and suit had been planned from the start. “You are both to dress as warmly as possible, as the bridge temperature currently reads ten degrees below zero.”

   Jaxom was unmoved by that information, since he was used to the absolute cold of between, but Piemur gave a dramatic shudder and hunched his shoulders as if already warding off the chill.

   “Can Farli come, too?” he asked.

   “That would be advisable,” Aivas said. “If Jancis’s Trig will accompany Farli, there would then be two fire-lizards who understand this sort of between transfer.”

   Despite an obvious reluctance, Jancis instructed her young bronze Trig to settle himself on Piemur’s right shoulder. Jaxom and Piemur left the buildings by themselves so as not to suggest to anyone outside their small group that this journey was anything unusual. The bulky tanks of oxygen, which Aivas had insisted they bring in case of emergency, had already been secured to Ruth’s back, but Jaxom checked the ropes before he and Piemur mounted.

   “Ready, Piemur?” Jaxom asked over his shoulder.

   “As ready as I’ll ever be,” the harper replied, resettling his grip on Jaxom’s wide belt. “But I’m awfully glad Ruth’s already been there.”

   Tell Piemur not to worry. It’s fun to float! Ruth remarked as he launched himself.

   As Jaxom passed on that encouraging message, he felt Piemur’s spasmodic tug on his belt and knew that the harper was also nervous. Not that he didn’t trust Ruth to get them there. It was just such a long way!

   Between never seemed so cold nor the transfer so long, yet Jaxom, counting silently, reached ten seconds just as they emerged onto the bridge deck of the Yokohama.

   “Are we there yet?” Piemur asked. His hands were rigid on Jaxom’s belt. As Jaxom looked over his shoulder to reassure the harper, he realized that Piemur had his eyes squeezed shut.

   Rather than laugh at his friend, he cleared his throat and turned his head forward-and began to slide sideways off Ruth’s neck.

   “Shards! What’s happening?” Piemur exclaimed, opening his eyes as he and Jaxom continued to slide to their right until they came up against the cold wall.

   Don’t make sudden moves, Ruth warned both of them.

   “I heard you, I heard you,” Piemur replied. The freezing wall seemed to burn through the leather of his helmet and his jacket. “It is cold up here!”

   Jaxom only nodded. “I’m going to pull us back up on Ruth, Piemur,” he said. Carefully grabbing a neck ridge, he slowly righted them. Farli unwrapped her tail and peered up at Jaxom, chirping encouragingly.

   “That’s all I need,” Piemur said wryly. “My fire-lizard telling me how to handle free-fall! “ Farli pushed off from his shoulder and floated upward. Trig squeaked; when Farli answered him in an encouraging tone, he let go of his perch and, following her example, also drifted away. The two came to rest on the ceiling, chittering animatedly.

   “That’s enough, the pair of you,” Piemur said, disgusted.

   “They’re not coming to any harm,” Jaxom said, “and Ruth says if we move slowly enough, we’ll be all right. We’ve got a lot to do. Look, Piemur, I’ll dismount-carefully-and then you can untie the oxygen tanks. Ruth says the tanks are bulky and he doesn’t move until we’ve untied them. He wants to look out the window.”

   “He would!”

   Jaxom heard the note of self-disparagement in Piemur’s voice and grinned. “They did have some practice, you know.”

   “Hmmmm! The air here smells peculiar, sort of dead.”

   “It’ll probably improve with the fresh tanks,” Piemur said cheerfuly.

   Cautiously, Jaxom dismounted on the right-hand side of the white dragon. Keeping between Ruth and the wall might prevent him from floating about.

   Your placement is perfect, Ruth, he told his weyrmate approvingly, hanging on to a neck ridge as he judiciously lowered himself.

   It’s the only place I’d fit, Ruth remarked, slowly turning his head to his right to observe the margin. I’ll hook my tail so I won’t drift when you unload me.

   Now I know why dragons have tails! Jaxom replied, giving a nervous chuckle.

   “Don’t laugh,” Piemur warned. He had just swung his leg over and had to clutch at Ruth’s wing joint to keep from floating upward.

   “I wasn’t laughing at you, Piemur. Ruth’s just found out how to anchor himself. Watch his tail. And dismount to the right, not the left. Don’t grab that wing joint so hard. Wings are fragile.”

   “I know, I know. Sorry, Ruth.” But as Jaxom watched anxiously, he could see that Piemur had to make a considerable effort to relax his grip. “I’ve done some crazy things in my life, stealing fire-lizard eggs, crawling into carry-sacks, scrambling along shorelines-but this is undoubtedly the craziest,” Piemur muttered to himself as he eased off Ruth’s back, following Jaxom’s example. At last his feet touched the deck. “Made it!” he exclaimed.

   Wedged between the wall and his dragon, Jaxom began to untie the ropes that secured the oxygen tanks to Ruth’s back.

   “Huh!” Jaxom exclaimed in surprise as the tiniest push sent the first tank drifting toward the deck. “Well, easier off than on!

   As Aivas said.” He grinned at the young harper, who was gaping in surprise. “No weight at all.” With one finger, he pushed the second tank after the first.

   “Hey, I could get to like a place where work is play,” Piemur said with a grin as he began to relax.

   “Here-let’s stack them against the wall. By the first Egg!” Jaxom inadvertently used more force than necessary to lift the tank and nearly launched it over Ruth.

   “Wow!” Piemur stretched out to restrain the tank and found himself rising. But he was quick enough to grab Ruth’s wing and correct the reaction. “Yeah, this free-fall stuff has distinct advantages! I’ll tend to the others.”

   While Jaxom watched in surprise, Piemur took a firm hold of Ruth’s shoulder neck ridge and executed an effortless flip over the white dragon’s back.

   “Whee!” The exclamation was part laugh and part surprise that his unorthodox maneuver succeeded in guiding him neatly into the narrow space between the dragon and the railing around the upper level of the bridge. “This is fun!”

   “Watch it, Piemur. We don’t want those tanks crashing into anything.”

   “I’ll just tie these down.”

   “It is safest to secure any loose object on board a spacegoing vessel,” Aivas agreed, as calm as ever. “You are doing well. Bridge temperature is still rising, and all proximity alarms are quiescent.”

   “Proximity alarms?” Piemur asked, his voice rising in surprise.

   “Yes, this facility is now receiving function reports and damage analysis,” Aivas went on. “Considering its length of time in space, the fabric of the Yokohama has not had a significant breach. The solar-powered deflector shields display no operational damage. As you will remember from your studies, these panels provide power to the small thrusters that keep the ship in its geosynchronous orbit. There has been minor penetration of some of the outermost sectors of the main sphere, but these were automatically sealed off. None of those sections are now required. The doors on the cargo bay are still open, and a malfunction light is on. However, your assigned tasks take precedence. Please proceed. Oxygen remains at a normal level, but you will shortly feel the effects of the low temperature, decreasing manual dexterity. Gymnastic displays should be curtailed.”

   Jaxom smothered a laugh and hoped that only he had heard Piemur’s insolent mutter about all work and no play.

   Moving carefully, Jaxom ducked under Ruth’s neck and took a firm hold on the railing. To his surprise, he saw that Piemur was hovering motionless on the wide steps down to the command level of the bridge. Looking up from his circumspect movements, Jaxom, too, was transfixed by what had stunned the harper. Below them lay Pern; its blue seas glistening to port; while to starboard was visible the coastline and vivid greens, browns, and beiges of the Southern Continent.

   “By the Egg, it’s just like the pictures Aivas showed us,” Piemur murmured reverently. “Magnificent!”

   Unexpected tears pricked his eyes, and Jaxom swallowed hard as he viewed his world as his ancestors had once seen it at journey’s end! That must have been a triumphant moment, he thought.

   “It’s big!” Piemur added, daunted by the prospect.

   “It is a whole world,” Jaxom replied softly, trying to reorient himself to the incredible size of it.

   With great majesty, the scene was imperceptibly altering as the planet swung toward the dusk line.

   “Jaxom? Piemur?” Aivas recalled them to their duties.

   “Just admiring the view from the bridge,” Piemur said briskly. “Seeing’s believing.” His eyes still on the wide window, he floated over to the flight of stairs and pulled himself hand over hand along the railing down to the flight deck. From there he used every available handhold to make his way to the console he was scheduled to program. At last he wrenched his gaze from the spectacular view and studied the job at hand.

   “I got more red lights than I like,” he told Aivas as he strapped himself into his seat.

   Jaxom, making his way around the upper level to the science positions, could see the red lights on those boards, as well. He pulled himself into a seat and strapped in.

   “I’ve got them, too!” he said. “But not on the telescope settings.”

   “Jaxom, Piemur, key in the override commands and then go to manual.”

   Jaxom’s board was immediately cleared of over half of the red dysfunction lights. Three remained, along with two orange lights. But none of those would interfere with the program he was to initiate. A quick glance told him that Piemur was already tapping away at his assigned keyboard.

   Jaxom set to work, stopping now and then to flex his fingers and gaze wonderingly at the fantastic view of Pern. Nothing could detract from that spectacle, not even the comical antics of two fire-lizards cavorting in the weightlessness. Oddly enough, their excited squeakings and chitterings as Farli dared Trig to more and more outrageous maneuvers helped dispel the unreality of this bizarre environment.

   Once Jaxom began to concentrate on setting the program for the telescopes, Ruth released his tail anchor and drifted with great dignity toward the wide bridge windows, where he could indulge his fascination in Pern and the starlit blackness. The fire-lizards continued their chittering conversation.

   I don’t know what they are, either, Ruth said. But they’re pretty.

   What’s pretty? Jaxom asked, looking up. Can you see the other two ships?

   No. There are things flowing past us.

   Things? Jaxom craned across his console to see what Ruth was seeing. However, his view was blocked by the bodies of the dragon and fire-lizards, who had their faces pressed against the far right of the bridge viewport.

   Suddenly all three creatures flung themselves back, away from the window, the motion sending them careening toward Piemur and Jaxom.

   “Hey, watch out!” Jaxom ducked as Ruth zoomed overhead. At the same moment, there was a distinct rattling sound.

   “Something’s hitting us! “ Piemur cried. Unstrapping quickly, he pushed himself off to the viewscreen.

   “What is hitting you?” Aivas demanded.

   Piemur bumped against the viewscreen, looking right and left. “Jaxom, ask Ruth what he saw. I can’t see anything.” Pressing his left cheek to the plasglas, he tried to see beyond the thick curve of the window.

   Things-like fire-lizard eggs-coming straight at us, Ruth replied.

   “Well, there’s nothing out there now,” Piemur said. He headed back to his station, grabbing the back of his chair just as he was about to overshoot it.

   “Aivas?” Jaxom asked.

   “The pinging indicated the screens deflecting a small shower of objects,” Aivas replied calmly. “No damage is reported. As you will have learned from your studies, space is not a barren void. Minute particles are in constant motion through space. Doubtless a shower of some sort startled Ruth and the firelizards. You would be wise to continue your tasks before you.

   Jaxom noticed that Piemur, too, was not completely reassured by that explanation. But it was true that the icy cold was seeping through their layers of clothing and so, as Ruth and the firelizards cautiously, with much chirping and twittering, returned to their positions at the window, the men returned their attention to their consoles.

   Jaxom worked as fast as he could, but still the cold increasingly penetrated the down-lined gloves that had always kept him warm through hours of Threadfall. Maybe space was colder than between, he thought, flexing frozen fingers.

   “Aivas, didn’t you say there’d be heat on the bridge?” he complained. “My hands are getting numb with cold.”

   “Readings indicate that the bridge heating is not working as efficiently as possible. It is probable that the resistive ceramic of the units has crystalized. This can be repaired later.”

   “That’s good news,” Jaxom said as he double-checked his entries. Then he straightened up. “Mine’s done-program ready.”

   “Activate,” Aivas ordered.

   Jaxom punched that key with some trepidation-though the Egg knew how he could have gotten it wrong with the endless drills Aivas had put him through in learning the sequences of attitude, exposure, and sectors. With considerable personal satisfaction, he watched the fast-forward scroll of the display as it confirmed his plotting.

   “This board’s much faster than the ones we’ve been using,” he remarked.

   “The equipment on the Yokohama was state-of-the-art when the ship was commissioned by the Pern Charter Group,” Aivas said. “High-speed computations would have been essential in astronavigation.”

   “I told you we were using baby stuff,” Piemur murmured.

   “Before the infant walks, it must learn to crawl,” Aivas said.

   “Is everyone hearing all this?” the harper demanded with some indignation.

   No.

   “I thank your mercy for that! And my program’s up and running, too, by the way.”

   “That is correct. You must now begin phase two of the schedule. You will find the auxiliary oxygen storage behind Bulwark B-8802-A, -B, and -C,” Aivas instructed.

   Piemur was shaking the fingers of his gloved hands. “My fingers have never been this cold! I’ll give you Bitran odds this bridge is colder than between.”

   “In point of fact,” Aivas remarked, “it is not. But you have been in that very cold temperature far longer than you have ever remained between.”

   “A point,” Jaxom reminded Piemur as they pulled themselves up along stair rail. “Remarkable feeling, this weightlessness,” he said with a comradely grin at the harper.

   Piemur gave him a happy grimace of agreement. Just then Farli and Trig came tumbling end over end above their heads, making them duck-which sent them bouncing off the steps.

   “Careful! “ Jaxom cried, reaching for the railing as smoothly as he could.

   “Ohohohohoh!” Piemur continued to float on up to the ceiling.

   By the time Jaxom, securely holding on to the rail with one hand, had grabbed the floating Piemur by the ankle and hauled him down, neither was sure whether to laugh or swear at their clumsiness. However, the slight mishap made them all the more circumspect in their motions. They located, opened, and examined the auxiliary oxygen compartment, then carefully removed the one empty tank, maneuvered the four they had brought with them into the space available, and made the necessary connections to bring the replacements into the system.

   “Phase three may now be initiated,” Aivas told them once the connections had been checked.

   Jaxom caught Piemur’s gaze, and the young harper gave him a wry grin, shrugged, and turned back to the space-suited figure they had both been avoiding.

   Ruth, we need you back on the landing, please, Jaxom said as he and Piemur solemnly converged on Sallah’s body. He swallowed.

   As they lifted it from the chair it had occupied for 2,500 Turns, the rigid space-suited body retained the position in which it had originally collapsed across the console. Jaxom tried to feel reverence for the personality that had once inhabited the frozen shell they were handling. Sallah Telgar had given her life to prevent the defector, Avril Bitra, from draining the Yokohama’s fuel tanks in her bid to escape the Rukbat system. Sallah had even managed to repair the console Bitra had wrecked in her fury at being thwarted. Odd that a Hold had been named after such a woman, but then, Bitrans had always been an odd lot. Jaxom chided himself for such thoughts. There were some very honest, worthy Bitrans-a few, anyway-who were not given to gambling and the other forms of gaming that fascinated so many of that Hold. Lord Sigomal kept to himself, but that was far preferable to the late Lord Sifer’s well-known unsavory appetites.

   With the ropes that had held the tanks in place, Jaxom and Piemur strapped the bent body between Ruth’s wings. Sensing their mood alteration, Farli and Trig had ceased their cavorting, and when Piemur again mounted the white dragon, they quietly settled to his shoulders.

   When Jaxom slid astride Ruth, he could no longer control his jaw, and his teeth began to chatter. Had Sallah felt this creeping cold as she died? Was that what had killed her, abandoned so far above the planet? His chilled fingers could barely feel Ruth’s neck ridge.

   Let’s get back to Landing before we freeze solid, too, Ruth, he said.

   “Can we go before we freeze solid?” Piemur asked wistfully, unaware that he was echoing Jaxom’s silent request to Ruth.

   Now! Jaxom longingly projected a vivid scene of warn, balmy Landing to his dragon.

   As they entered the chill blackness of between, he was still not sure which was colder.

   Much later in the evening of that momentous day, when Lessa had a chance to sit down and think about it all, she wondered just how Aivas-quite likely with Lytol’s connivance-had contrived such an extraordinary and timely event as the return of Sallah’s body. This would have considerable impact on the entire population, both North and South, both doubters and believers. Sallah Telgar’s heroism and self-sacrifice had, in the past two years, become a favorite harper ballad, repeatedly requested at all Gathers and evening entertainments of any consequence. To be able to bring her back from her lonely crypt should be considered a significant vindication of the Landing effort.

   Lord Larad was absolutely dumbfounded when Robinton, conveyed by Mnementh and F’lar to Telgar Hold, apprised him of the retrieval of his ancestress’s remains.

   “Yes, yes, indeed, Sallah must be honored. There must, of course, be some ceremony fitting such an occasion.” Larad looked helplessly at Robinton.

   Burial services were usually brief, even for the most honored being. The deeds and goodness of unusual persons were perpetuated in song and harper tales, which were considered the most fitting of memorials.

   “A performance of the Ballad of Sallah Telgar would certainly be appropriate,” Robinton said. “Full instrumental accompaniment to chorus and solo voices. I’ll speak to Sebell.”

   “I never thought to have the chance to honor our brave ancestress,” Larad said, and floundered once again.

   Fortunately Lady Jissamy, Larad’s astute and capable wife, stepped to his side. “There is that small cave, just to the north of the main court, the one which that recent rockslide revealed. It is just large enough-“ She faltered and then recovered. “And certainly accessible, easy to reseal.”

   Larad patted her hand gratefully. “Yes, the very place. Ah... when?” he added tentatively.

   “The day after tomorrow?” Robinton suggested, resisting an urge to grin in triumph. The day after next would be just the day before the Lord Holders convened about the matter of the late Oterel’s successor.

   Larad shot him a quick glance. “You couldn’t possibly have planned it this way, could you, Masterharper?”

   “Me?” Years of practice made it possible for Robinton to affect genuine surprise. He waggled his hand in denial.

   F’lar came to his assistance with a disgusted snort. “Hardly, Larad. We knew she was there. So did you. Aivas included her sacrifice in his historical narrative. Today was the first chance to actually get to her. And it just doesn’t seem proper to-well, just to leave her remains there.”

   “To give her rest after all that long time in cold space,” Jissamy said with a delicate shudder. “It’s time and past it. Should we make it an open ceremony?”

   “I think that only proper. Telgar, of course, should have the honor, but many will wish to be respectful,” Robinton said with a properly grave mien, hoping that the occasion would spark considerable interest through Hold and Hall. Even those who were not curious about Sallah could be expected to come, if only to see who else attended.

   When Jaxom, Piemur, and Ruth arrived back at Landing, they had gratefully turned their burden over to Masterhealer Oldive and two of his Masters. Now the mortal remains of Sallah Telgar rested in a finely joined coffin of Master Bendarek’s best wooden panels.

   Shown the cleansed space suit, Aivas assured all that the heel of the suit and the other small tears could be mended. Aivas remarked to Lytol that since someone would be expected to wear that suit, it was fortunate indeed that superstition was not a facet of Pernese culture. Lytol disagreed. He and Aivas immediately became involved in a discussion of primitive religions and arcane beliefs, so that Robinton was just as glad that he was free to leave for Telgar Weyr with F’lar. The Harper wondered fleetingly if he would have done better to have stayed to listen to what was certain to be a fascinating debate; but he was deriving too much satisfaction in being the bearer of such remarkable tidings.

   One of the older Telgar sons brought in a tray with wineglasses and a fine crystal decanter, which Robinton decided must be one of the new designs Glassmaster Morilton had produced. The next son arrived with a tray of piping-hot little pastries and some good Telgar mountain cheeses. With a glass of white Benden in his hand, Robinton was definitely pleased that he had come.

   “You said, did you not,” Larad began, “that someone had actually been on the old ship? Was that judicious? “

   “Necessary,” F’lar said. “No danger involved. Piemur’s little fire-lizard did exactly as Aivas taught her. So there’s air on the bridge, and it’s warmed up. Ruth will take Jaxom back again tomorrow to find out why the cargo-bay doors have remained open. Probably a trivial malfunction, according to Aivas. All in all-” F’lar paused to sip his wine. “-a most auspicious beginning. Most auspicious.”

   “I’m glad to hear that, F’lar,” Larad said, nodding, his expression solemn. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

“Not half as glad as I am to be able to report it,” the Benden Weyrleader replied.

8

   KEEP A GRIP on me, will you, Ruth ? Jaxom said as he carefully swung his right leg over the white dragon’s neck ridge. Maneuvering in free-fall had been easier the previous day, when he and Piemur had had each other to hold on to. He had gotten the hang of slow, controlled movements, then, but today the bulky suit impeded him, and he felt ungainly. The heavy magneticsoled boots made his feet especially clumsy. He clutched at Ruth’s neck suddenly as he felt his body moving in a direction other than down. Ruth caught him by the ankle, and suddenly he was right side up, the boots anchoring him safely to the deck.

   Knowing that his fellow students were observing him made him hope devoutly that he didn’t look as ridiculous as he felt. Sharra had told him repeatedly that he had not looked at all foolish coping with weightlessness the day before. He should relax in satisfaction that both he and Piemur had handled themselves most creditably. She only wished that she could somehow have seen the view of Pern which had so transfixed them.

   “I’ve never seen that particular look on Piemur’s face before. Jancis was impressed.”

   “So how did I look?”

   “Dumbstruck, just like Piemur,” she replied, giving him a mischievous grin. “About the same way you looked when you saw Jarrol for the first time.”

   At least today, Jaxom knew he had some control over his movements-as long as he kept his feet on the deck. He took the first step forward, wrenching the heavy boot’s grip off the floor and stamping it down in front of him. Ruth had landed in the same spot as before, right by the lift door. Jaxom had only to duck under the dragon’s neck to reach the control panel, which Aivas had assured him was in working order.

   I’ll move out of your way, Ruth said obligingly. Picking up his hind legs, he flipped over and over backward, coasting toward the window. It’s better than the view from the Star Stones on Benden or the fireheights at Ruatha. By the time Jaxom had pressed one thick-gloved finger on the pressure panel, Ruth had his nose against the plasglas and was staring out into space.

   Jaxom still could not dispel the sense of being an intruder which he had felt keenly the day before, walking where his ancestors had, manipulating switches, toggles, and keyboards just as they had once done. He had told himself that that was partly because of the gruesome errand he and Piemur had been on, retrieving Sallah Telgar. He had hoped the feeling would have altered now that he was here on another errand, but it had not.

   Though he and Piemur had, miraculously, been able to log into their respective consoles and complete their tasks, Aivas had not been able to discover why the cargo-bay doors remained open. Today, after a brisk tutorial session from Aivas, Jaxom’s assignment was to descend to the Cargo level and attempt to use the control console or the manual override there.

   “It is to be hoped that one of those two systems is operational,” Aivas said.

   “Why?”

   “Otherwise, you would have to venture outside the ship to discover what was keeping the doors from closing.”

   “Oh!” Jaxom had seen enough footage of Aivas’s training tapes to wonder if he would have the nerve to space walk.

   The lift opened and he stepped in. The door shut. Once again consulting the diagram in his hand-though he had memorized it-he punched the button marked CB for cargo bay before he noticed how many levels the lift served. Although Aivas had assured him that the solar panels of the Yokohama contained sufficient power to operate the bridge lift, he had a nervous moment before the long-unused mechanism rumbled into action.

   “The lift is operational,” Jaxom told Aivas in what he hoped

   was a casual tone. “I’m descending.” He had also been instructed to keep up a running commentary. Jaxom was not by nature garrulous; it seemed inane to keep reporting simple actions, even if they were not taking place under normal conditions. Aivas had merely repeated that this was normal procedure for a single operative in what was to be considered a hostile environment.

   “Proceed,” Aivas said.

   The descent seemed to take both a long time and no time at all. A warning note sounded, and a red sign-DANGER: VACUUM!-appeared on the door of the lift.

   “What do I do now, Aivas?”

   “Press the PUMP DOWN button on the right of the sign and wait for the danger lights to go out.”

   Jaxom did as he was instructed. He noticed that his suit puffed out and seemed slightly less wieldy. He was just growing accustomed to that alteration when there was a melodious ding and the door slid silently aside-and Jaxom looked out at a vast blackness that framed an even blacker area that was punctuated by star lights. There was no reassuring sight of sunlit Pern below him. He didn’t move a muscle.

   Don’t be nervous. I d come after you if you fell out, Ruth said encouragingly.

   “I’ve reached the cargo bay,” Jaxom said belatedly. “There’s insufficient light.” And that, Jaxom said to himself, must be the single most stupid understatement he had ever made!

   “Feel to the left of the door. There will be a panel.” Aivas’s voice in Jaxom’s ear was steady and reassuring, and he let out his breath, only just realizing that he had been holding it in. “Wave your hand across the panel, and emergency lights will come on.”

   We hope, Jaxom said to himself. Moving with extreme care, he obeyed and was unutterably relieved to see a line of lights come up all around the immense cargo bay. The effect did heighten the blackness of space, but he felt better with the partial illumination. “Yes, I now have light.” It’s bigger even than Fort’s Hatching Ground, he told Ruth, looking about in awe.

   “There is a handrail all around the inside wall of the cargo bay,” Aivas went on conversationally. “To your left you will see a bank of lights, and the console should be visible under them.”

   “It is.”

   “It will be faster to go hand over hand, Jaxom,” Aivas went on, “and quite safe. Otherwise you would exhaust yourself needlessly.”

   Jaxom wondered if Aivas knew just how scared he was. But how could he? So Jaxom took a deep breath and, lifting his left foot, reached out and caught hold of the handrail. It was round and firm in his grip and amazingly reassuring for a mere thin rail of metal. “I’ve got it. I’m proceeding as directed.”

   Holding very tightly with both hands, he kicked off his right foot, balanced the reaction against the solid rail, and began to move hand over hand, hauling his weightless body after him.

   “How did my ancestors manage to load ships working like this?” he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

   “Your ancestors worked in half gravity in this area during loading, but the rest of the ship was on normal gravity.”

   “They could do that? Amazing,” Jaxom replied dutifully. He was nearly halfway to the console. The curve of the bay now hid the unnerving sight of star-studded space. He wanted to increase his pace but sternly held himself to a rhythm that would prevent sudden, unexpected reactions. He could feel the sweat on his forehead, and then the little suction fan in his helmet turned on and the moisture was evacuated. That phenomenon occupied his mind until he was actually at the lighted console.

   He activated it, and a range of red and orange lights flickered into being. Jaxom experienced a slight shock and then began reading the dials. Some of the red lights were perfectly in order, indicating, as they were meant to, that the cargo-bay doors were open. He sighed in relief and applied his lessons to deciphering the rest. When he was sure of what sequence to use, he entered the appropriate code. The orange light began to flicker. The legend above it said: RTC. He reported that to Aivas.

   “That explains why the cargo-bay doors remained open. They were on a remote time control, which must have malfunctioned. The simplest method now is to use the manual release, Jaxom,” Aivas told him. “It is found under the terminal. Open the glass lid and pull.”

   Grabbing the handle of the manual release, Jaxom gave a yank. When nothing happened, he gave a second, more forceful yank. Fortunately he was still holding on to the handle, for the force of the yank sent him dangling above the deck, hanging on by one outstretched arm. A strange gargling noise echoed in his ears.

   “What has happened, Jaxom?” Aivas asked, his voice as calm as ever.

   Jaxom’s momentary panic subsided. In chagrin, he explained.

   “Pull yourself toward the deck by exerting a downward pressure on the handle, and very slowly tuck your feet forward,” Aivas instructed.

   Jaxom obeyed and was relieved to feel his soles restored to a firm contact with the deck. Engrossed in recovering from his hasty action, he did not at first notice the alteration in the light on the deck. The motion caught his peripheral vision to the right; he turned his head, remembering to move slowly, and saw the great cargo-bay doors folding slowly inward, wrapping him in more complete safety.

   The door lights on the panel turned from red to green, and suddenly the aggravating orange light winked out.

   “Operation completed,” Jaxom said, wanting to shout in relief.

   “That is enough for today. Retrace your steps and return to base.”

   Later that afternoon, when Robinton, Lytol, and D’ram arrived for a private meeting, Aivas had further interesting disclosures to make.

   “Your wandering planet is flagrantly erratic,” he told them. “There has been time to study most of the Records presented to this facility. Even the most illegible ones have been deciphered, using available restoration techniques. The Red Star, as it is inaccurately called, has an aberrant course and does not cross Pern’s path every two hundred and fifty years. The orbit varies by almost ten years in four Passes-three were two hundred fifty-eight, and one was two hundred forty. Thread Passes alter from forty-six years in the Second Pass to fifty-two in the Fifth and forty-eight in the Seventh. The two intervals of four hundred years each appear to suggest that the planet did not, in fact, orbit as far as the Oort Cloud, or was, in some inexplicable fashion, diverted from its usual orbit. The former theory is more acceptable than the latter. Another possibility”-and the resonant tone indicated that this was most unlikely-“is that it passed through attenuated portions of this cometary reservoir. Of more importance, and based on calculations from the Yokohama’s bridge, this Pass will be short by three years.”

   “Now that is very good news indeed,” D’ram said. “But I don’t understand how such inaccuracies could have slipped into the Records.”

   “That is not at issue,” Aivas replied. “Though the method of dating on this planet promotes error.”

   “Then that would account for the need to position the Eye Rocks, wouldn’t it?” Lytol asked. “Because no matter if dating was faulty, the Weyrs would always know exactly when a Pass was imminent.”

   “An ingenious method of ascertaining the correct position of a planet, though by no means original,” Aivas replied.

   “Yes, yes,” Lytol said hastily. “You told me about Stonehenge and the Triangles of Eridani. Do the inaccuracies have any other importance?”

   “That information is still being correlated and updated. Optimistically, it augurs well for the success of the Plan.”

   “And we can reassure Holds and Halls on that account?” Robinton asked, his voice buoyant with hope.

   “You can indeed.”

   “This briefing, then, is to decide what information can be made public.”

   “Yes.”

   “What else can we tell them?”

   “As much as you know.”

   Robinton chuckled. “Which is very little.”

   “But significant,” Aivas replied. “The two expeditions to the Yokohama have been extremely successful. You may also report that the next exercise will extend to the four green riders. It is vital for them to make bridge transfers and continue the research that Jaxom and Piemur initiated. Each will have an objective during his time on board.”

   “Why did Jaxom have to close the cargo-bay doors today? Especially when you said that that area will not be used for some time,” D’ram asked, curious.

   “It is necessary for someone to get practice in working in free-fall and to become accustomed to using the space suit. Jaxom is the most adept computer operator, and Ruth is the most courageous of the dragons.”

   Robinton noticed that Lytol perceptibly preened himself on hearing such praise of his ward.

   “Does the fact that he is also a Lord Holder and can report on his expedition come into consideration?” Robinton asked, amused.

   “That did figure in the choice; but competence, and being a dragonrider, were more important.”

   Robinton chuckled. “So who goes next?”

   “Now that Ruth has led the way, the green dragons will feel compelled to follow where the littlest one of them has gone before. They will be sent in pairs: Mirrim and Path, G’rannat and Sulath. They have complementary temperaments and skills.”

   Robinton chuckled. “You are indeed well versed in manipulating people.”

   “It is not manipulation, Master Robinton. It is understanding the basic personalities of those who are being trained.”

   “The cargo area is large enough for bronze dragons to transfer,” D’ram suggested.

   “Not until there is also sufficient air for them to breathe. They will play a major role in future steps, D’ram,” Aivas said. “But the next step will be to reestablish oxygen-producing algae in the hydroponics area to purify the air of the few usable areas on the Yokohama. The telescope will have to be adjusted periodically. There is one probe left that may or may not be operational. It could be useful. Failing that, it would be helpful if perhaps a bronze dragon and his rider could venture to obtain samples from the Oort debris.”

   “What?” The exclamation came in a chorus from all three startled men.

   “A sample of pre-Fall Thread was never obtained by the colonists, though several attempts were made. An analysis,” Aivas insisted, raising its voice over renewed protests from the three custodians, “would be carried out in the one remaining operational laboratory on the Yokohama in the cold-sleep facility. The rewards of a proper scientific analysis of the Thread material far outweigh any risk. From what I have seen of the abilities and intelligence of the bronze dragons and their riders, the risk would be minimal-once, of course, they have the exact directions for such a flight, and when protective gear is available for the rider.”

   The three regarded the screen with varying degrees of stunned amazement.

   “Thread in its nodular form is not dangerous,” Aivas continued, as if oblivious to the effect of that statement on the custodians. “It is only when it finds a hospitable environment that it alters. For the purpose of analysis, it can be kept safely contained in one of the sleep capsules. Seven of the most promising biology students are already sufficiently trained to handle such investigations, Lady Sharra being the best of them. Much equipment for the investigation of frozen human and animal tissue is still up there. Even an electron microscope is in place in the cryogenic laboratory-making it an ideal site for our purpose.”

   Aivas sounded perfectly reasonable, his suggestions as logical and forthright as always, but Robinton instinctively balked at the mere notion of such an undertaking. He didn’t dare glance at D’ram, or Lytol.

   “To destroy a menace, one must perceive it as a whole and in its separate manifestations,” Aivas continued.

   “How can we possibly destroy Thread, if what you have told us about this Oort Cloud that surrounds our system is true?” the Harper asked.

   “What you have been told is fact.”

   “Fact is not the only truth,” Lytol reminded them all.

   “Now, let’s not deviate from the subject at hand,” Robinton said, eyeing Lytol sternly. The former dragonrider and Aivas could indulge in semantics and philosophy on their own time.

   “One alters the facts,” Aivas went on as if Lytol had not interrupted. “That is the plan.”

   “I wish,” Robinton said, leaning forward earnestly, “that you would tell us the whole of this plan of yours.”

   “Master Robinton, to use an analogy, you would not expect a new student to read a score of music perfectly on his first try, would you?” When Robinton agreed, Aivas continued. “Nor would you expect that same student, no matter how talented, to be able to perform to a high level of competence, playing intricate passages, on an unfamiliar instrument, would you?”

   “I take the analogy,” Robinton said, raising both hands in surrender.

   “Then be reassured by the successes already achieved: the lessons learned and understood. Progress toward the high level that must be achieved is being made, but it would be harmful to overwhelm your valiant people before they are properly prepared by education and experience.”

   “You are right, completely right, Aivas,” Robinton agreed, shaking his head at the folly of his impetuous demand.

   “How critical to Pern, and to this project, is this Lord Holders Convocation, Master Robinton?” Aivas asked.

   Robinton gave a wry smile. “That’s the debatable point. But when all the Lord Holders assemble, minor irritations have a habit of flaring up into roaring debates. We-Sebell, Lytol, D’ram, and I-have good reason to believe that Landing, and this project, may be called to question by some of the dissatisfied and conservative elements. We’ll be better able to gauge reactions after Sallah Telgar’s interment tomorrow.”

   “Will many attend that ceremony?”

   Robinton’s grin turned broad and slightly malicious. “Anybody who is anybody on Pern will be there! Master Shonagar has been relentlessly rehearsing apprentices and journeymen; Domick has been killing himself to produce suitable music, including a splendid fanfare of trumpets. Dragons will fill the sky to do her honor.” Robinton felt an unexpected closure of his throat at the thought of the tributes arranged for this fabled ancestress. “Perschar, among others, will be on hand to illustrate.”

   “Such scenes would be an unusual addition to the archives of present-day Pern,” Aivas remarked.

   “You shall have them, of course,” Robinton promised earnestly.

   “As well as your individual verbal accounts of the proceedings.”

   “All of us?” D’ram asked surprised.

   “Different perspectives often supply the full dimensions of an event.”

   By the next evening, Robinton was not certain if the full dimensions of Sallah Telgar’s interment would ever be properly recorded. It had been quite a day, and for once he admitted that he was very, very tired.

   Larad and his lady had organized a splendid occasion, with master instrumentalists, under the direction of Domick himself, and singers from all over the continent to sing the Ballad of Sallah Telgar. The large Telgar Gather pits had been utilized to feed those who had begun arriving the day before. Most had thoughtfully brought their own rations, but Telgar stinted no one, and anyone of consequence was accommodated in the portions of the great Hold that had not been tenanted since the last plague. Robinton rather thought that every holder in Telgar had been drafted to clean; Lady Jissamy was by no means lax in her duties, even the farthest corner of her domain enduring inspection once every Tam, but the place sparkled and shone as never before.

   The interment had been set for mid-afternoon. Every dragon came laden with as many passengers as it was safe to carry. Toric himself arrived on K’van’s Heth; his seldom-seen wife, Ramala, accompanied him. He immediately began to solicit the other Lord Holders for guards to help him with his rebels. From the expression on the big Southerner’s face, Robinton surmised that he was meeting with little success. When the Harper had a chance to compare notes with Sebell, it appeared that the Lord Holders, without exception, felt that this was an inappropriate time to recruit a punitive force-which meant that Toric would air that problem at the Conference. That was another debate sure to be heated. Robinton was of two minds about attending: he was no longer obliged to, but the invitation had been made to him, and though he trusted Sebell to report accurately, he preferred to make his own observations whenever possible.

   However, all minor rifts and major controversies faded into insignificance as the interment ceremonies commenced. The Ballad was magnificently performed. Then, cued by Ruth and Jaxom, the massed Weyrs appeared in the skies above Telgar. Robinton felt tears well up in his eyes, tears not only in reaction to the honor the massed Weyrs did Sallah Telgar, but in remembrance for the previous occasion, nearly twenty Turns before, when the five Lost Weyrs had reappeared in the Telgar skies to meet Threadfall with Benden’s valiant wings. Today, Lessa’s Ramoth and Telgar’s senior queen dragon Solth carried between them the hammock containing Sallah’s coffin. The sun glinted off the gold plate, trim, and handles, giving the impression that Rukbat itself was honoring the gallant woman and causing the throng to gasp in awe. Ranged above the two queens, the Weyrs formed seven sections in a close formation, wingtip to wingtip, that was a feat of wingmanship in itself.