“Five minutes! No more!”

   Jaxom found it somewhat unnerving to fly over this aperture, knowing that it likely extended to the depths of the planet. He kept his eye open for unusual extrusions to use as landmarks, but the sides had sheared clean for almost four minutes of flight. Then, a dragon-length below the lip, he saw another long, thick sheet of pale mottled rock. He asked Ruth to mark it in his mind.

   Ramoth says we must return. They have found a third place, Ruth told Jaxom.

   Then our mission is accomplished. Let’s join ‘em and go back.

   Ramoth says to jump back from where we are.

   Are you all right? Jaxom asked. Are they all right?

   I’m all right. They’re all right. But it would be good to get back to the Yokohama and breathe.

   Let’s go, then. And Jaxom thought with longing of his own for the safety of the cargo bay.

   A fraction of a breath after Ruth and Jaxom arrived, the two big Benden dragons appeared. Even in the dim light of the cargo bay, Jaxom could see that their colors were grayed. Apprehensively, he looked down at Ruth, but no fading was visible. Then he saw that their journey had had an elapsed time of 12:30:20 minutes.

   Are you all right? he asked, leaning forward on Ruth’s neck, aware that the white dragon’s mouth was wide open as he inhaled and exhaled, great deep breaths. Jaxom could feel him trembling.

   “Jaxom? Lessa? F’lar?” Aivas’s voice sounded very loud in the helmet.

   “We’re here,” Jaxom replied. “We’re all right. We’ve found three points for the engines. Well down in the chasm, wide ledges. Perfect.” He looked at the chronometer. “Twelve minutes, Aivas. Twelve. Strange place,” he added, recalling what he had seen of the lifeless surface and the jumbled, tortured terrain, with the vast canyon like a gaping wound that had killed the planet. Had anyone ever lived on it?

   I am thirsty and I need a bath, Ruth said so plaintively that Jaxom laughed. Ramoth and Mnementh agree.

   “I think we’ll just let you get your full breath back, Ramoth dear,” Lessa said, unsnapping the riding straps. “There wouldn’t be any klah up here anywhere, would there, Jaxom?” she asked, almost as plaintively as Ruth had. “I’m thirsty, cold, and I feel as if I’ve been gone from Pern for a century.”

   “Water’s all we’ve got up here,” he told her. “But we’re not that far from hot klah.” He wouldn’t mind a pitcherful or two himself. His guts felt cold from his navel to his backbone.

   But the water cask proved to be empty, and Jaxom cursed under his breath. He would have a hard word or two for whatever dimwit hadn’t had the consideration to refill the on-board cask.

   Lessa was furious, too, but that made them quick to shed their suits and rack them carefully away. By then, all three dragons insisted that they were restored and wanted nothing more than a long drink and a longer swim.

   “One thing,” Lessa said as she remounted Ramoth. “This trip was much farther away, but it didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I wonder...

   “We’ve enough to wonder about, Lessa,” F’lar said firmly, “and I want to get the details down as soon as possible before they fade.”

   “My impressions of that sterile place won’t fade,” Lessa replied emphatically. “I could almost feel sorry for it.”

   “It has been a dead planet for longer than Pern has been viable,” Aivas said.

   “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Lessa replied.

   Meer was waiting at Cove Hold, and he gave both Jaxom and Ruth such a scolding of agitated dives and fierce shrieking that Lessa and F’lar doubled up with laughter.

   Ruth calmly reassured the little bronze and, ambling down toward the beach, invited him to help with the dragons’ bath. You are not coming? he added plaintively when he saw Jaxom heading in the direction of the Hold.

   “Can’t, dear heart. Got to put down the details while they’re fresh in my mind! Be with you soon enough,” Jaxom called as he jogged up to the beach with Lessa and F’lar. Fairs of firelizards erupted into the air, diving for the dragons. “Not that you need us!”

   The spacious living area of the Hold was empty, and calls for Robinton and Sharra went unanswered.

   “I wonder where Sharra’s gone,” Jaxom said, remembering all too clearly how he had left her asleep and diverted Meer. She would be worried. Or angry! And with genuine cause, he thought, wincing.

   Lessa grinned at him, understandingly. “You were with us.”

    “That’ll be no excuse,” Jaxom said glumly, wondering how he was going to restore himself in Sharra’s eyes. Then he gave himself a mental shake and turned to immediate tasks.

   As the Benden Weyrleaders collected drawing materials, Jaxom found a pitcher of cold fruit juice in the cooler; they all emptied the large jug while they recorded their visit. When they compared the images, there were few deviations. .

   “That’s done!” Lessa said, with a sigh of relief.

   “You know,” Jaxom said, propping his head on one hand and grinning at the other two, “I still don’t believe we’ve been there and back!”

   F’lar grinned wryly. “I don’t know what I expected especially after F’nor’s try-but it’s incredible that something as

dead as that has threatened us for so long.”

   “Well, it has!” Lessa said, planting both hands on the table and pushing herself to her feet. She picked up the sketches and thrust them at Jaxom. “Put them somewhere safe until you can show Aivas. Now, I’m going to swim!”

   Though he wanted a swim as badly as the others did, Jaxom detoured through the room he had shared with Sharra, hoping that she had left him a message. There was none, and he felt more dejected than ever. He shucked off his clothes, thankful that he always kept a spare change at Cove Hold, and made his way down to the lagoon.

   Meer and Talla separated themselves from those scrubbing Ruth and circled his head, chittering happily. Not entirely encouraged by their response, he waded out to Ruth.

   Sharra’s above. She wouldn’t let Meer or Talla go with her. They’d get in the way, Ruth told him.

   Jaxom slapped his forehead in dismay: she had told him, too, and he had forgotten about it, once again so immersed in his own business that her doings hadn’t quite registered in his brain. He laughed in self-deprecation. At times he knew he didn’t deserve a woman like Sharra, and this was one of them. How conceited he was! He missed her. Even if he couldn’t have told her about the marvelous journey he had just taken, he missed her.

   I’m here, Ruth said in subtle reproach.

   Indeed you are, my dearest friend, as you always are! And Jaxom waded out in the warm water to help the fire-lizards give his lifemate a good scrubbing.

16

   WHEN MIRRIM HAD come to collect Sharra for the trip up to the Yokohama to begin their own project, she had found Sharra still asleep.

   “Sharra? We’re to start this dissection business? Remember?” Mirrim said as Sharra groggily roused, plainly disoriented.

   “You know about Lamoth and G’lanar?”

   Mirrim wrinkled her nose. “I feel sorry for the dragon. Didn’t know one would die of shame. You get dressed. I’ll get you some klah.”

   As Sharra quickly dressed, she hoped that Mirrim’s feelings would be shared by others. She found some reassurance in the knowledge that Mirrim would not necessarily side with Jaxom if she felt he was wrong.

   “You’d better eat, too,” the green rider said, returning with the klah. “And let’s bring some food, fruit, and juice. I thought I’d faint with hunger during that last session Aivas put us through. Maybe he’s sophisticated, but my stomach’s not. It’s real primitive. It likes to be filled at regular intervals.”

   Sharra smiled over the rim of her cup. That was Mirrim, talking up a storm to hide her real emotions. The death of any dragon for any reason upset all riders. Sharra just let her friend talk on. Then, with the klah stimulating her, she lent Mirrim a hand to pack provisions.

   “No meatrolls!” Mirrim said with a dramatic shudder as Sharra reached into the cupboard for some. “I’ll puke if I have to eat any more. Thank goodness Master Robinton likes proper bread and sliced meats and raw vegetables.” They placed fresh fruit in the special quilted sacks that were a spin-off product from Hamian’s search for space-suit paddings, and filled thermoses with cool drinks. “All right, then, let’s lift.”

   “Isn’t Brekke coming with us?” Sharra asked.

   “No, F’nor’s to do something aboard the Yokohama today.” Mirrim grinned. “Probably the same thing Jaxom and T’gellan are doing, only I’m not to ask.”

   “Is it dangerous?” Sharra spoke casually, but she knew Jaxom well enough to know that he had not been telling her something the previous night-a something that had fretted Meer badly enough to send the little bronze skittering back to Ruatha in fright.

   “I doubt it! Riders take good care of their dragons, and the reverse is true. The dragons are all very happy with themselves. I wouldn’t let today worry me, Sharra,” Mirrim said sympathetically.

   More bolstered by Mirrim’s breezy tone than by her words, Sharra followed her friend out to where Path awaited them, her .green hide gleaming with undertones of deep blue, her eyes dazzling in a green that exactly matched her hide.

   “Does she do that often?” Sharra asked, pointing to eye and hide.

   Mirrim flushed and ran a hand over the short front locks escaping the tieback. “Sometimes.” Though she had a slight grin on her face, she wouldn’t meet Sharra’s eye. T’gellan was very good for Mirrim, Sharra thought.

   When the two women arrived at the Yokohama, Mirrim left Path to amuse herself at the big window of the bridge, an occupation that would engross the green dragon for hours on end. Hefting their provisions, they made their way to the first level of the coldsleep storage facility where they, and the others Master Oldive had inducted to assist in the project, would attempt to understand the complexities of Thread. It was a project that would take far longer than any of them had estimated; it would occasionally cause them to wonder, over the next few weeks, why they had started such an investigation in the first place.

   Whenever she could, Sharra cadged a ride back to Ruatha, to spend a few hours with her sons, whom she missed terribly

   when she had time to miss anything. She was relieved that Jaxom seemed so involved in his own project that he apparently didn’t notice, or mind, her preoccupation. Sometimes, when she and the others found themselves working long hours, they stayed up on the Yokohama. Mirrim, of course, had to fly Threadfall, but the others had been released from any other duties for this important investigation.

   Other times, when the team had to perform endless boring tasks, they grumbled about Aivas’s obsession with the biology of the Thread organism, especially as once the primary task of shifting the Red Star’s orbit was accomplished, Thread would be relegated to a myth with which to threaten disobedient children. But Aivas repeatedly insisted on the necessity of this research: how vital it was to understand the organism. They were all, including Oldive, so accustomed to obeying an Aivas directive that they complied.

   Caselon, who now sported journeyman’s knots as well as a unique pattern of tiny white scars on his tanned face, did comment about the irony of their grabbing a few hours’ sleep in the very capsules that had brought their ancestors to Pern.

   Skillfully guided by Aivas, they had sufficient successes to keep a high level of enthusiasm and interest, and to ignore discomforts. As Aivas often reminded them, the routines they were learning in dissecting the very complex organism that had menaced their world for centuries could be applied to other organisms. So the discipline was an end in itself.

   Aivas did insist that they bring one ovoid up to “normal” temperatures in an airlock on the far side of the Yokohama, away from the sections that were normally being used. With no friction to destroy the tough outer layer, the ovoid remained inert.

   “The friction, then,” Aivas observed, “is essential to free the organism.”

   “Let’s not free it,” Caselon suggested drolly.

   “It is as well,” Master Oldive remarked thoughtfully, “to know that it is helpless.”

   “At our mercy,” Sharra added, grinning.

   “The observation will be continued,” Aivas said.

   “Do let us know if its condition changes,” Sharra said.

   Besides Caselon, Sharra, Mirrim, and Oldive, Brekke had volunteered and brought Tumara, the unsuccessful queen candidate, for the girl did not seem to mind monotonous tasks as much as others did. Two more healers, Sefal and Durack, and Manotti, a Smithcraft journeyman, completed their staff. There were times when they could have used twice the number, but all had been trained by Aivas and soon worked well together, smoothly and efficiently and in good spirits.

   Initially they had the barest essentials for the task at hand. In the laboratory there were two cubicles. On the top of the work benches were disks that lit up with various kinds of light; Sefal, a dour but diligent sort, was fascinated by the effects obtainable during initial demonstrations. Most important for their purpose was the binocular stereo microscope that they all had to learn to use. The x and y dimensions caused no problem, but to learn to use the z proved to be far more difficult. To demonstrate, Aivas had Sharra take a hair from her head and tie knots in it under the microscope-not as easy as it sounded, as each of them learned when they tried it.

   To one side of the microscope was a flush drawer with a sliding cover, in which some oddly truncated glass instrument’s were found. These, Aivas told them, they had to learn to duplicate in order to do the dissection work required.

   Two more workbenches and stools were found and dragged into the two cubicles, although that limited what free space there was.

   While Sharra was tying knots in her hair using the binocular microscope, Aivas had Sefal and Manotti take apart one of the two refrigerators to obtain the parts necessary to bring the third one down to -150 degrees, the temperature they would need to work on the Thread organism. They might have to reduce its temperature to that of the Oort Cloud from whence it came, -270C or 3K absolute-but for the present, they could be content with maintaining the Thread’s temperature in Pern orbit.

   “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Manotti complained at one point as he gutted the dispensable refrigerator unit.

   “That is not at issue,” Aivas reassured him. “You need only follow instructions, for there isn’t time to teach you cryogenics or refrigeration engineering. Do as you are told.”

   “I will, I will.” Manotti said, grimacing as he very carefully removed a coil of tubing from the back of the first refrigerator. “Now where does this go?”

   Aivas explained. When the transfer was completed and the machinery purred into activity, Manotti gave a whoop of triumph. Next, several of the cold capsules were altered to provide additional three-degree-absolute temperature storage for their specimens. For they needed many more than the original Thread ovoid that Farn had caught. The ovoids, as they shortly learned, came in a variety of sizes and in many conditions and, surprisingly, temperatures.

   “You’d think one would be enough,” Minim muttered to Sharra.

   “Humans are not duplicates of each other,” Aivas replied, though she had not intended to be overheard. She rolled her eyes at Sharra. “Patently the Thread organisms will also exhibit anomalies-ordinary deviations and quite likely mutations. They are as much a life-form as humans are, and they are in a very stressful environment so near Rukbat.”

   “That puts us neatly in our place,” Oldive said with a grin.

   Over the next few days, each team member had to learn to cope with the binocular microscope. Tying knots in a strand of hair gave way to carving flowers from splinters of wood and making paper flowers one millimeter across. Sharra proved the deftest of all, with Brekke and Mirrim not far behind her.

   Caselon and Manotti, aided by Sefal and Durack, assembled a microforge with a flame two millimeters long, in which they heated the special glass Aivas had had Master Morilton mix, a glass with such a high lead content that even the amenable Morilton had protested. After Aivas told him that he could make knives with the high-lead mix sharp enough to cut bread, Morilton was at least curious enough to wish to experiment. So Aivas and Caselon got the unusual material.

   Working carefully, Caselon pulled glass in the tiny flame, then took the resultant tube down to the 3K absolute in which the finished product would be used. When the first rod shattered, he reflexively jumped back despite the fact that he wore protective face and body shields. He glanced around sheepishly.

   “A good habit to acquire, Caselon,” Aivas remarked approvingly. “Try again.”

   When the fourth rod had shattered, Caselon was disgusted.

   “The glass may not have been blended well enough, Caselon. Master Morilton supplied you with several different mixes. Use the one with the highest lead content. The instruments must be flexible, bending rather than shattering,” Aivas said, projecting such a reassurance of eventual success that Caselon took head”

   The fifth attempt bent slightly in the extreme cold but it did not shatter or crack.

   “Now, using that mix, make more rods, which you will then fashion into knobs, spikes, and blades. Each of you will work your own tools, with Caselon as your instructor. To further dissect Thread, you will need what are ordinary tools, hacksaw, chisel, mallet, scalpel, but in miniature. Carborundum stone will sharpen edges.”

   Caselon’s set was much admired by the others, though Mirrim thought them stubby inelegant implements. Consequently, when she, on her competitive mettle, made her set longer, she discovered that the flexibility of the length proved a disadvantage when the instruments were used.

   “There is so much to do before we do anything,” she complained. “We’ve wasted weeks on all this!”

   “And you will spend weeks on the next procedures, Mirrim,” Aivas said in a tone that chided her for impatience. “You have worked with great diligence and achieved feats of expertise that two Turns ago you would not have been capable of performing. Do not despair. You are about to embark on the truly interesting phase.”

   “What?” Mirrim asked bluntly.

   “Dissecting Thread.”

   “But haven’t we?” Sharra exclaimed, pointing to the cold capsule where the sectioned Threads were housed.

   “You have cut the ovoids apart, but you have not truly examined them as minutely as you shortly will. Now, let us see if the waldoes still operate.”

   Caselon had been fascinated by these devices, which would allow them to work in a chamber maintained at the very low temperatures at which the Thread specimens were kept. He volunteered to be first, but Aivas chose Sharra, as she had already done more microscopic work than the journeyman. The apparatus was powered up, the specimen and the glass tools placed inside the waldo chamber, and the binocular microscope swung into position.

   Resolutely, Sharra put her hands into the gloves and gave a little shudder.

   “Cold!” she said, and attempted to move her fingers. “I thought you said these waldoes would follow my movements.”

   “Meters show that current is being taken into the mechanism,” Caselon said, looking at the dials. “Here, let me.”

   Sharra withdrew her hands, but Caselon had no more luck than she.

   “All right, Aivas,” she said. “What do we do now?”

   There was one of the brief but noticeable pauses they had all come to expect whenever Aivas conducted an internal search.

   “The mechanism has been unused for twenty-five hundred years. It is not unreasonable to assume that maintenance might be required. A lubrication of the finger joints with silicone fluid may restore mobility.”

   “Silicone fluid?” Caselon asked.

   Manotti raised his hand. “I know what he means. Aivas, is there a smith journeyman or master available?”

   “I can send Tolly down for it,” Mirrim suggested.

   Manotti gave her a sardonic look. “He’ll have a day’s wait.”

   She groaned. “Then I’m going down,” she said. “I feel the need of a swim and fresh food and some time with my mate.”

   “If we really are out of action until the silicone fluid is prepared, I ought to take the day off, too,” Sharra said, thinking it had been an age since she’d had any time with her sons, or Jaxom.

   Caselon grinned. “I’ll stay here and manufacture some more tools. If I go down, someone’s surely going to find work for me.”

   Aivas gracefully gave permission for the departures, but to those who remained, he immediately assigned other tasks.

   Jaxom was as absorbed in his current tasks as Sharra was in hers, but these days he managed to spend more time at Ruatha, with the two boys, than she was able to. When she was home, he would listen to her descriptions of her projects-the failures and small successes-and encourage her.

   “Aivas knows what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t devote much time to explanations,” he told Sharra on more than one occasion. “He’s done so much for us already, we simply have to take the enigmatic on faith and follow his instructions.” Jaxom reminded himself to take his own advice.

   To the chagrin of Lessa and F’lar, Aivas had insisted that Jaxom and Ruth be involved in every aspect of training the dragons and riders in extravehicular activity. According to Aivas, Jaxom and Ruth would also be the ones to guide all future excursions to the surface of the Red Star.

   “Ruth is the younger dragon,” Aivas said at its most diplomatic, “and has not suffered the strains and stresses of Threadfall-”

   “I ride Fall with Fort Weyr all the time,” Jaxom protested, as much to soothe Lessa as to make clear that he and Ruth did not fail of their primary obligation.

   “No offense intended,” Aivas said deferentially. “Be all as it is, it is not recommended that such a long journey be made without good reason.”

   “It’s certainly no gather site,” Lessa said.

   “I do propose one more investigative trip,” F’lar said, “taking along an observer to record the abyss in a permanent form. Every dragon and rider who is to help bring those engines there must have a vivid picture in his mind of where he’s going.”

   “Apart from that necessary contingency,” Aivas went on smoothly, “this undertaking should be recorded. There is nothing to match this endeavor of yours in the annals of any other world.”

   “Not that any other world is interested in our feats,” Master Robinton said in a droll murmur.

   “Mankind needs heroes,” Aivas replied. “This project is of heroic stature.”

   F’lar gestured in disclaimer. “What has to be done can scarcely be termed heroic!”

   Master Robinton shot the Weyrleader a long, thoughtful look.

   “We have three engines to place,” F’lar went on, ignoring the Harper’s stare, “so the leaders of each group need to visit the place. I lead one...”

   “Jaxom leads another,” Aivas said crisply.

   “All right,” F’lar allowed.

   “And I lead the third,” Lessa said.

   F’lar immediately objected. “You’ve risked yourself and Ramoth enough already.”

   Lessa’s expression hardened. “If you go, I go. Ramoth’s scarcely the only queen on Pern these days.”

   Suddenly F’lar’s resistance dissolved, which surprised Jaxom but not Ruth.

   Why not? Jaxom asked his dragon very privately.

   Lessa would not risk Ramoth if she is in clutch, would she?

   Jaxom hurriedly covered his mouth with his hand and turned a guffaw into a cough. No wonder F’lar hadn’t pressed the point of Lessa’s involvement in the event-and Mnementh would cooperate by getting Ramoth in clutch. F’lar had learned subtlety in handling his weyrmate!

   “On this one admissible expedition,” Jaxon said, “I think F’nor ought to be included.”

   F’lar gave Jaxom a friendly clout, grinning broadly. “I was about to insist that F’nor and Canth deserve to see the place.”

   “It’s only fair,” Robinton said, nodding wisely. “And Canth won’t object to taking Perschar, who’s got the best eye for detail. D’ram must be allowed this opportunity. And Tiroth can easily convey me,” he added, daring protest.

   “You can’t be put at risk,” Lessa said, rising to the bait.

   “There’d be no risk involved, would there, Aivas?” Robinton said, shamelessly appealing to the one authority that Lessa would respect.

   “The Harper would not be at risk.”

   “Tiroth’s too old!” Lessa declared, glowering at Robinton.

   “Tiroth is sturdier than most beasts his age, and the insight of both his rider and Master Robinton might prove invaluable,” Aivas said.

   It took a few moments for Lessa’s irritation to subside, but the matter was soon settled. One more exploratory jump would be made to the Red Star’s surface. The group would include D’ram, F’nor, N’ton, and Jaxom, with the dragons carrying Master Robinton, Fandarel, Perschar, and Sebell as observers. The discretion of these few was unassailable, so there would be no chance of careless talk generating more rumor and misconception than already abounded.

   Lord Larad of Telgar and Lord Asgenar of Lemos asked Masterharper Sebell to meet them at Telgar Hold at his convenience.

   Since Sebell appreciated the diplomatic tone, he dispatched his fire-lizard, Kimi, with a message that he would attend them an hour after the evening meal at Telgar.

   “What do you suppose is bothering them?” Menolly asked when Sebell told her of the meeting.

   “Rumors have abounded lately, pet,” Sebell said with a sigh.

   Menolly leaned back from the lectern on which she composed much of her music and, grinning slyly, cocked her head at her husband. “You mean the ones about Sharra and Jaxom, the ones about G’lanar and Lamoth, the latest Abomination mischief, or why the bronze dragons are looking so inordinately pleased with themselves?”

   “I’d rather not have so much choice.” He carefully tucked a vagrant strand of her long hair back into its clasp before bending to kiss her neck. “I hadn’t heard of either Telgar or Lemos having any problems with vandalism, so it can’t be that.”

   “Those who approve do so wholeheartedly, while those who are fearful, apprehensive, or downright skeptical scuttle around the edges and ruin what they haven’t the wit to understand.”

   “It’s our task to see that they do understand,” Sebell said, gently remonstrating.

   “But some don’t want to,” she replied in a rebellious tone, stretching both arms well above her head to ease her back. “I know the breed. Oh, how I know the breed! It’s just too bad we can’t leave them alone with their closed minds, but they’re standing in our way forward.”

   “We are altering the fabric of their lives. That frightens people. It always has; it always will. Lytol’s sent me some fascinating excerpts from Aivas’s historical data. Fascinating. People don’t change, love. React first, think later, regret at leisure.”

   He bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ve time to tell Robse and Olos a ,story before I go.”

   Menolly snaked an arm around his neck before he could straighten. “You are such a loving man,” she said, and then kissed him again deeply before releasing her hold.

   When he paused at the threshold to look back at her fondly, she was already bent to her composition. He smiled at the concentrated pose of her back, one shoulder angled up. She did love him, but he accepted the fact that he would have always two rivals-music and the Master. He had the same loves. With that thought, he went down the corridor to sing to his sons and to admire his daughter, Lemsia, who was too young for more than adoration.

   Laradian, Larad’s oldest son, was waiting for Sebell in the well-lit court when the obliging Fort Hold dragon deposited the harper at Telgar.

   “My father and Lord Asgenar are in the small study, Masterharper,” Laradian said formally, and then, relaxing, grinned a welcome at Sebell.

   A fine fire was burning on the hearth angled in the corner of the pleasant room, the walls of which were hung with rich tapestries and framed sketches-probably by Perschar, if Sebell didn’t mistake the skill-of the current Holder’s offspring. Several heavy old wherry-hide chairs, sagging from the comfort they had given several generations of weary bodies, and the huge desk and table where the Lord Holders of Telgar had done their accounts for centuries, furnished the room adequately. Sebell immediately noticed the latest addition: a very good rendering, though considerably reduced in scale, of the Honshu mural.

   “Hmmm, yes,” Larad said, noticing his glance. “My daughter, Bonna, went along with Perschar’s group and brought that back. Of course, she was under Master Perschar’s eye all the time, but it’s judged to be a fair representation.”

   “You’d be welcome to see the original,” Sebell said, nodding to Asgenar, who was ensconced in one of the armchairs.

   “What?” Larad asked, his pleasant face affecting a horrified expression. “And let rumor have it that I wanted the place for one of my sons?” He gestured for Sebell to take a chair and held up a wine bottle. “It’s Benden.” His grin was for the allusion to a harper preference for that wine; but his reference to rumor told Sebell that he was seriously concerned.

   “I follow many of Master Robinton’s traditions,” Sebell said, accepting the generous goblet. He sipped judiciously and raised his brows in appreciation. “A ‘sixteen?”

   “Indeed, and it was Master Robinton who urged me to acquire as many skins as I could wheedle.”

   “So?” Sebell turned politely to the two Lord Holders. “Rumor bites?”

   “I wish it were only rumor, Sebell,” Larad said. He took a small message roll from his sleeve cuff and handed it to the harper. “This is far more serious and demands your urgent consideration. I know the sender well enough to heed his words.”

   After a glance at the message, Sebell shot out of the comfortable chair, seething with anger and swearing blackly.” ‘I have good reason to believe that Masterharper Robinton may be abducted to force those at Landing to destroy what they call the Abomination.’ ” Sebell was consumed with outrage. “Hazard the Masterharper! Ransom him for the destruction of Aivasl”

   Outrage gave way to panic. “Who is this Brestolli who signs the note?”

   “He’s a wagonmaster. We both know him.” Larad gestured toward Asgenar, who nodded earnestly. “He wouldn’t send a false alarm. Actually, it was delivered by his fire-lizard to his employer, Trader Nurevin, who’s here now. Nurevin brought it straight to me, leaving his train a day’s trip out. He said that he’d had to leave Brestolli at Bitra with a broken leg and cracked ribs from a wagon accident.”

   “Nurevin’s just outside. I’ll ask him in,” Asgenar said, and slipped out of the mom.

   Larad gave a wry smile. “Nurevin felt you would heed this message more if we presented it to you.”

   “He’d need no one vouching for him to me,” Sebell said, rereading the message. “This has the ring of truth. Nothing Bitra initiates surprises me.”

   “Then you also know that your harpers at Bitra Hold have been put in quarantine for a virulent disease?”

   “The Bitran euphemism for ‘reporting truth’?” Sebell asked. He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. “We haven’t heard from them recently by the usual route. I should have sent at least one who had a fire-lizard.”

   “Our Master Celewis can mount a rescue mission, if you’d like,” Larad suggested.

   “If that can be done without jeopardizing Brestolli,” Sebell replied.

   Larad raised his eyebrows arid grinned slyly. “Surely you know Celewis’s abilities...”

   “Indeed I do,” Sebell said with an answering grin.

   “Then you may be certain that he’ll be adroit in the matter.”

   Nurevin came in just then, preceding Asgenar.

   “I’ve not had occasion to pass time with you, Trader Nurevin,” Sebell said, smiling as he extended his hand and returned the strong pressure given. “But I can tell you that the Harper Hall is more than grateful to you for passing this message.”

   “Brestolli’s not the sort makes things up for mischief, Masterharper,” Nurevin said, cocking his head to emphasize his opinion. He was a swarthy man of medium height, with grizzled hair worn in a long plait that had recently been neatly redone. His clothing was of excellent quality but road-worn. “So I knew I’d best get it to someone who could see it was handled proper.

   I hated to leave him in Bitra Hold, but he’d broke his leg in three places, mangled his arm, and cracked some ribs when a cart overturned. Caught a wheel on uneven flags in Bitra Court. Healer said he couldn’t be moved, so I paid the brewer both good marks and trade goods to tend him. Brestolli’s one to keep his eyes and ears open, despite he talks such a streak you wouldn’t think he’d hear for the constant sound of his own voice. But if he’s heard what that message says he heard, then he’s heard it. Make no mistake about that. I wouldn’t want it said we didn’t give warning when there’re them what’d harm good Master Robinton. No, I wouldn’t.”

   Larad offered him a goblet of Benden wine, and Nurevin’s eyes lit up with appreciation after his first sip.

   “You honor me, Lord Larad.”

   “Telgar is in your debt, Trader Nurevin.”

   “Not just Telgar, Trader Nurevin,” Sebell added solemnly as he tilted his glass to him and drank ceremoniously. Nurevin flushed at such courtesy.

   Sebell called to Kimi, who had been visiting outside with Telgar Hold’s fair. Silently, Larad proferred writing materials and a message tube.

   “I’m sending this to Lytol, who will take appropriate measures,” Sebell said after penning some quick lines. Kimi extended her leg for him to attach the capsule, knowing exactly what was required of her. “Kimi, take this to Lytol, in Cove Hold, where our Master fives! Where Zair lives. Yes?”

   Kimi had listened intently, cocking her head this way and that, her eyes whirling with noticeable increase in speed. She gave one chirp and disappeared.

   “Forewarned is forearmed, Trader Nurevin. Has Brestolli’s fire-lizard returned to him?”

   “Yes. It’s only a blue, but he’s got it well trained. I can send my queen if you need more information. I’ve been keeping in touch with Brestolli to be sure he’s well tended.” Nurevin winked and grinned. “Bitrans need me more’n I need them, since they’re so hard to deal with. I’m the only trader who does their route in these parlous times. So I’ve an edge on ‘em, so to speak.” He paused, his expression grim. “Did Lord Larad tell you about your harpers?” When Sebell nodded he went on. “That was done a-purpose, or I’ll be scored next Fall!”

   “When a harper is silenced, all men should listen harder,” Sebell said.

   Nurevin nodded solemnly. “I heard some other stuff whilst I was at Bitra...” He hesitated.

   “Be easy, man,” Larad encouraged him. “There’s not much a harper doesn’t hear sooner or later. And, if it’s along the lines of Brestolli’s message, perhaps Master Sebell’d better hear it from you.”

   “Well, it’s them rumors.” Nurevin paused again, obviously not happy to utter them, but by gesture and expression, all three men encouraged him to speak. “It’s said that Lord Jaxom and that white dragon of his killed G’lanar and Lamoth-deliberate.”

   “Shards! How could anyone repeat such a foul slander?” Asgenar asked, incensed.

   “Oh, there’ve been worse,” Sebell said, but he turned to Nurevin. “Master Robinton was there himself and told me that Jaxom was victim, not assailant, and Lamoth died of shame that his rider would turn on another rider. Any more?”

   “Well, and this’s stupider,” Nurevin went on, both reassured and encouraged by his audience. “That dragonriders will take the three colony ships and disappear from Pern, leaving us with only flame-throwers to kill Thread!”

   “Did you hear the one that suggests that the dragons will take the old shuttles and throw them at the Red Star and destroy it?” When Nurevin shook his head, Sebell continued, his expression serious. “There’s one that the Masterhealer has been given medicine by Aivas that will paralyze folk so that pieces can be carved out of their bodies to repair others who have sickened.”

   Nurevin snorted. “I heard that one at Bitra. I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now. That Aivas thing is scary, but I’ve not seen anything produced yet that didn’t help us in some way or t’other. Best axle grease I ever had was something that Aivas gave the Smithcrafthall. And that new metal for cotter pins that don’t bend or snap when the wheels are stressed.”

   Kimi reentered, chittering about the success of her trip and stroking her golden head on Sebell’s cheek before she held out her message-laden leg. Excusing himself, Sebell read the message.

   “Late as it is there, I’m bid to Cove Hold. If you’ll excuse me...”

   He was ushered out by the two Lord Holders.

   “You wonder sometimes, don’t you, Asgenar,” Larad said sadly as they turned to reenter the warm, comfortable room, “why people can be so ornery.”

   “I think it has to do with a resistance to being done good to.’

   “Not if they’re putting Master Robinton at risk,” Larad said, still horrified by that possibility. “He’s never harmed anyone in his life. This world would rise up to the least child to protest such infamy.”

   ‘Which, unfortunately, makes him the most useful hostage,” Asgenar said with a sigh of regret.

   By the time Sebell reached Cove Hold, it was early morning there. He and the brown dragon who was conveying him were immediately greeted by swarms of chittering fire-lizards as dense in the sky as Thread. Tiroth, ensconced on the grassy sward before the hold, blinked orange-laced eyes until he and brown Folrath identified each other. Sebell was pleased to see so many guardians already in place. Not that the whilom abductors could as yet have gotten so far as Cove Hold, given the journey they would have to make from Bitra, or even from the nearest seaport.

   Every glowbasket in the main room was wide open, shedding light on Robinton, D’ram, Lytol, and T’gellan, who were sitting at the big round table. A collapsed wineskin indicated that much discussion had already taken place. Sebell was glad to see the Eastern Weyrleader present.

   “Ah, Sebell,” Robinton cried, raising his arm in welcome, his expression so merry that Sebell thought the Harper was perversely enjoying his jeopardy. “Any more news of this scurrilous scheme?”

   Sebell shook his head, grinning at his reception but noting immediately that the Harper’s ebullience was not echoed by others at the table.

   “You know as much as anyone, though Nurevin has assured me he’ll keep in touch with Brestolli, by fire-lizard, in case the man hears more to the point.”

   “I’ve sent Zair with a message to Master Idarolan,” Robinton said, “in the hope that he can intercept the conspirators.”

   “We’ve had quite enough of petty vandalism and wanton destruction of property,” Lytol said, a deep angry scowl on his face. “This time we must catch the scofflaws and discover everyone who has aided and abetted them. For anyone to even contemplate harming Master Robinton, a man to whom all Pern owes a very great debt...”

   “Now, now, Lytol,” Robinton said, circling Lytol’s stiff shoulders with a soothing arm, “don’t carry on so. You’re embarrassing me. And this whole scheme only shows how basically stupid our detractors are. As if they had a chance of penetrating my loyal minions.” The Harper gestured to the storm of fire-lizard fairs outside the window.

   “I know they can’t reach you, Robinton,” Lytol said, banging his fist on the table and making the goblets jump, “but the fact that they would dare...”

   Robinton grinned maliciously. “Maybe I should let myself be captured? Hauled off unceremoniously,” he began as Lytol stared at him, aghast, “taken to wherever they plan to incarcerate me, and then-” He lifted his free hand and clenched it suddenly into a fist. “-let the avenging wings swoop down on the despicable rabble and carry them off forthwith to be dropped in the deepest of Larad’s mines, condemned to toil off their misspent energies in useful work.”

   Lytol’s expression turned to resignation and disgust. “You should take this seriously, my friend.”

   “I do. I really do!” Robinton altered his mobile face. “I’m deeply saddened that I, or anyone, on Pern could be victimized in this horrendous fashion. But,” he added, holding up one finger, “it’s more ingenious than trying to burn space-engine fuel or sabotage Aivas. We really ought to ask his advice, you know.”

   “If it weren’t for Aivas-” Lytol began heatedly, then broke off when he realized what he had said. T’gellan and Sebell tried to smother their spontaneous guffaw. Lytol abruptly got to his feet and strode out of the room.

   When Sebell made to go after the old Warder, Robinton held up his hand, and the younger harper settled back into his chair.

   “He has every right to be upset,” D’ram said in a slow, sad voice. “It is terrible to think that there are people who oppose all the good that Aivas has done for us and would go to such great lengths to destroy him and those of us who have the vision to appreciate the potential.”

   “Look, I see no real chance of anyone reaching Master Robinton,” T’gellan said, leaning forward on his elbows across the table. “They cannot have thought this through very carefully. They can know nothing of Cove Hold or how many people are in and out on a daily and-” He gave Sebell a wry grin. “-early-morning basis.”

   “Have you forgotten the raid on Landing?” Sebell asked. “Horses, gear, experienced mercenaries. If Aivas hadn’t his own defenses, that could have succeeded. We can’t allow ourselves to be complacent.”

   “Well said, Sebell,” D’ram replied. “However, what Robinton suggested so glibly has merit. If we wish to find the ones behind these attempts, it would be smart of us to set no apparent”-and he held up his hand to emphasize that adjective “reinforcements, make no obvious alterations of our daily routines.”

   “Agreed...”

   “All the while making certain that Robinton is never left alone.”

   “As if I ever am,” Robinton said, feigning an outraged glower.

   “I apologize in advance,” Sebell said in a contrite tone, “for suggesting this. But if G’lanar was disaffected...”

   D’ram raised his hand in understanding, but it was T’gellan who answered, his expression bleak.

   “Ramoth herself spoke to the remaining Oldtimer, dragons they’re the only ones who might still be contentious enough to cause problems. But every one of them was appalled by G’lanar’s action,” the bronze rider said, “and none can dissemble before Ramoth!”

   Sebell looked immensely relieved. “Then we can rule out that possibility.”

   “Somehow that doesn’t greatly reassure me,” D’ram said in a lugubrious voice. “We’re not dealing with fools.”

   “No, we’re dealing with fearful men, and they’re more dangerous.”

   The silicone fluid, worked well into the joints of the waldo gloves, restored mobility-except in the third finger of the left hand, a limitation that posed no great problem.

   “What would we have done if the silicone fluid didn’t work?” Manotti asked, winking at his colleagues to indicate that he was teasing their mentor.

   “There is always an alternative course of action, though it may be less efficient and productive,” Aivas replied. “Now, Sharra, be good enough to place a Thread section in the chamber and, using a blade, slice the specimen at a slant, thus exposing all layers. Now, what do you see?”

   “Rings, springs, and the shapes you called toruses,” Sharra said. “An odd goo, a yellow liquid, some strange pastes in peculiar shades of yellow, gray, and white, and some other substances that seem to change color.”

   Tamara made a revolted noise deep in her throat and turned away.

   “You must all realize,” Aivas began in a stern tone, “that the most important piece of apparatus in the laboratory is your brain. Just as you made the microtools to effect this dissection, you must make your brains the right instrument for this task. The most useful thing is the moment-by-moment interaction of your brain seeing these things for the first time. Even your reaction, Tamara, has a certain validity. Now, set that reaction aside, and observe. What else do you see, Sharra?”

   She tapped her microblade on a ring. “This feels like metal.”

   “Then excise it and any more like it that you see, and have the items sent to Master Fandarel for analysis. What else?”

   “There’re a lot of particles lodged in the pasty parts, and-and it’s hollow in the center. Could that yellow be liquid helium?” Sharra went on. “It’s just like the stuff you showed us in the liquid gas experiments, and it boils as soon as it’s exposed to the -150 ° atmosphere. We haven’t yet tried it at 3K.”

   “There is no reason why it cannot be helium. Helium is liquid at the temperatures that Thread inhabits. Isolate a sample, and a positive identification can be made.”

   “This whole thing resembles those micrographs you displayed, Aivas,” Mirrim said.

   “You are quite right, Mirrim. This is the real thing, though, not a slide. Continue, Sharra.”

   “How?”

   “Dissect another ring. Slice it so that you go through more than half the torus. That will show more of its composition.”

   “That’s odd,” Brekke said. “Compare that ring with the other one. The first has all kinds of springy-like things sort of layered, while in the other they’re all twisted up-oooh, shells!”

   Sharra had prodded one of the rings, and suddenly it flipped away from the tool, sticking to the wall of the examination enclosure.

   “This could be their method of reproduction,” Aivas said. “Or it could be a parasite, escaping from the dying organism. But this is quite interesting. Try another ring to see if the reaction is the same.”

   Though Sharra’s second prod was more tentative, there was another eruption.

   “Now, apply your blade to the springs in the first torus,” Aivas instructed. “Nothing happens. Now you have seen two entirely different facets of this organism. You are investigating a wholly new creature, and we must see everything that it is.”

   “Why?” Minim asked.

   “Because you must know how to destroy this organism, so that it cannot reproduce, so that it cannot multiply anywhere in your system.”

   “If it doesn’t fall on Pern, that’s enough, isn’t it’?” Brekke asked.

   “For you, perhaps, but the sensible thing would be to destroy it at its source.”

   Caselon recovered first. “But if the Red Star is moved...”

   “That doesn’t destroy Thread. It only removes its vector. Your task is to discover how you can destroy the Thread organism itself!”

   “Isn’t that a bit ambitious for us?” Sharra asked.

   “The means are available. Even in your very brief investigations today, you have discovered much about the organism. Each day you will discover more. It is possible that some of those bits are parasites, smaller entities built on the same plan. Parasites or progeny. Or predators.”

   “Like those limpets on the tunnel snakes?” Oldive asked. “The ones that attach themselves to the snakes and eat their muscle tissue and then leave when they’re sated?”

   “A good example. Were they predators, or were they parasites?”

   “I don’t think we ever decided,” Oldive remarked. “According to your definition, a parasite does not always cause its host lasting harm, and tends to be unable to survive apart from this host; while a predator usually kills its victim and moves on. As the snake limpet leaves its host/victim alive and able to heal, it is more of a parasite, not quite a predator.”

   “What must be found are parasites that can be made into predators, guaranteed to kill their hosts just as you isolated bacteria and altered it to create bacteriophages to reduce wound infection.”

   “I still don’t see the purpose,” Mirrim muttered.

   “There is one,” Aivas said so emphatically that Mirrim grimaced in dismay and pretended to be frightened.

   “Sharra, have you isolated those parts that must be subjected to other tests?”

   “I’ve got a lot of messy bits, and springs and metals, and lumps and bumps, if that’s what you mean.”

   “Good. Place them on the petri dishes and we can proceed with the investigation. You are to examine them under high pressure, with inert gas-xenon, which we have in that cylinder-to discover if those tubes are full of helium. Now that you have opened the containing tubular vessels, you are losing all the helium, if that’s what it is, very rapidly.”

   When Lessa and F’lar learned of the threat against Master Robinton, they were all for sending him up to the Yokohama, or to Honshu, or back to the Harper Hall.

   “I’m not a child,” he said, considerably incensed by such protectiveness. “I’m a grown man and have faced down every danger that has come my way. Do not deny me that right. Besides, if these conspirators should learn that their victim has been put beyond them, they’ll merely think of something else we might not learn about in time to counter. No, I’ll stay here, with half the fire-lizards of Pern as my escort and whatever other”-he held up a warning hand-discreet guardians you choose to appoint. Beat a cowardly retreat I will not!” With his head up, his eyes flashing, his breath rapid, he forestalled all further protests.

   If he noticed those set to guard him in the following weeks, he did not register the surveillants with so much as a flicker of his eye. Master Idarolan, as irate as everyone else, sent messages to all harbormasters, consulted at great length with his most trusted captains, and dispatched his fastest courier ship to Monaco Bay. Menolly sent Rocky, Diver, and Mimic to assist Robinton’s Zair, and Swacky and two other big mercenaries were established at Cove Hold. Master Robinton continued his duties at Landing and on the Yokohoma, pretended to be highly intrigued by the biological team’s exacting work.

   How Aivas learned of the threat no one knew, or admitted, but it gave Fandarel the schematics for a small device that Master Robinton was to wear at all times. “A locator,” Aivas termed it. “Wearing that, you can be traced anywhere on this planet and as far as the spaceships.”

That afforded all his friends far more relief than any would admit. With Aivas as protector, Master Robinton was surely safe.

17

   BY THE END of the summer, there was still no sign of would-be abductors. Nurevin collected Brestolli from the brewer’s cot in Bitra, limping bat still adamant about what he had overheard; a visit to Lord Sigomal by Benden Weyrleaders secured the release of the “contagious” harpers, and Master Sebell told the Bitran Lord Holder that, regretfully, he had no replacements suitable for a Hold of such stature. Several other Crafts withdrew their masters, leaving the Bitran Halls staffed by minor journeymen and apprentices of local origin.

   A similar withdrawal occurred at Nerat but not at Keroon, for despite his increasingly vocal distrust of all improvements originating from the “Abomination,” Lord Corman did not interfere with any of his Crafthalls or with the performance of their traditional duties to his Hold. He also made plain that he was distancing himself from Sigomal and Begamon.

   Every Weyrwoman kept her queen on her mark, and every harper tracked down the faintest whisper of clandestine activities. Major Crafthalls discreetly doubled security measures. And dragonriders continued to drill outside the Yokohama, the Bahrain, and the Buenos Aires. Hamian and his crews worked overtime producing protective covering for riders, as well as a garment that would fit like a glove on dragon hind paws to shield flesh from the burn of ice-cold metal. Oldive, Sharra, Mirrim, Brekke, and the others labored under Aivas’s close guidance to analyze and describe the peculiar organism that was Thread or, rather, that became Thread as it met its fiery frenzied doom in the skies of Pern.

   Sharra tried to explain to Jaxom the task Aivas had set his investigators, as much to hear herself explain what she was doing as to make it clear to her mate.

   “We had one marvelous day when Mirrim discovered the beads under the microscope. Aivas was excited, too, for he feels certain that the beads are the genetic information of the Thread organism.” She grinned as she remembered that moment of triumph. “The microscope was at sub-high for maximum magnification, so we could all see these tiny, tiny beads strung along one of those long wires I told you Thread has. Not the springs, but the wires, which are coiled ever so tightly in a volume no bigger than the tip of my finger. Aivas says these ring beads use the material of the Thread ovoid to reproduce themselves.” She made a face, indicating her ignorance of how that was done. “What he wants us to find now is a bacteriophage to infect the beads and then discover just the right one that will replicate itself fast before it uses up all the Thread material. We’ve done something of a similar nature, you know, when we located bacteria from wounds and learned how to disimprove their symbiotic bacteriophages so that they would kill their hosts. Our ancestors could certainly do marvelous things biologically to heal people. I hope we can begin to do as well as they did. This exercise could heal our planet.”

   “Then why didn’t they do it?” Jaxom asked. “Why are we left with the job?”

   Sharra grinned smugly. “Because we have dragons to replace fuel-less shuttles, fire-lizards who can nick Thread ovoids out of space, and Aivas to tell us exactly what to do. Even if I don’t always understand what we’re doing or why we’re doing it.”

   “I thought you said it was to disimprove the Thread’s symbionts. Though why that’s necessary with what the dragonriders are to do, I don’t know.”

   Sharra was silent a moment, considering that. “Aivas hates Thread, inasmuch as an inanimate machine is capable of hatred. He hates what it did to his captains and Admiral Benden. He hates what it’s done to us. He wants to be sure it can never menace us again. He wants to kill it in the Oort Cloud. He calls the project ‘Overkill.’”

   Jaxom regarded her in puzzled astonishment. “He’s more vindictive than F’lar!”

   Sharra sighed dejectedly. “I m not sure that we can do what he wants. It’s all so very complicated. And we’re so limited in our understanding. He may be the machine, but I feel like one, doing this and that without knowing why.”

   She was more buoyant three days later when she told Jaxom that Aivas had found the appropriate parasitic vector.

   “He says that similar life-forms were found in micro-gravity conditions in the asteroid belts. It’s very like the one found in the ecology of the Pluto/Charon pair in the original Earth Solar system.” Sharra frowned in perplexity. “Well, that’s what he says. He has named the springs ‘zebedees.’ And zebedees are what we will now use to make our tailored parasite, like a virus, jump from one Thread ovoid to the next... once the parasite has disimproved itself as a symbiont and became really destructive! We’ve got to culture it now, though.”

   Jaxom managed a suitably appreciative grin for her enthusiasm. “Who are we to protest an Aivas pronouncement? What next?”

   “Well, he’s got all the fire-lizards searching the ovoid streams for the springs. Sometimes they’re embedded right on the surface of an ovoid. We’ve had to start up nine more cold capsules to contain the things and infect them with the zebedee-makers.”

   “Zebedees, the Thread fleas!” Jaxom said, teasingly.

   “Well, fleas are parasites, and I could wish we were able to disimprove some of them quickly! As it is, the time we have is nowhere near long enough for the work we have to do.”

   She had been disgusted to discover canine fleas on Jarrol, who was incurably attached to one of the kitchen-spit animals. “Fleas!” She shook her head. “That will be my priority project, as soon as we’re finished with Aivas’s: to disimprove fleas.”

   “Whenever that’ll be,” Jaxom added. There were so many Aivas endeavors, at various stages of completion, that he wondered if any of them would get finished on time now that the deadline drew nearer.

   “Would you and Ruth have time to get me back to the Yokohama tomorrow before you fly Fall?” Sharra asked.

   Jaxom groaned. “I thought you’d be here a few days.”

   Sharra looked properly repentant. “I’ve been over everything for the Gather with Brand and the other Stewards, and all’s ready for our guests. But this is an especially critical time, Jaxom...” Her eyes pleaded for his understanding.

   “You’ll be exhausted. You won’t enjoy the Gather...” he heard himself saying, and then he pulled her into his arms, savoring the feel of her body against his, and the spicy fragrance of her hair. Gathers were always special times for them.

   “Please, Jaxom?” Her lips brushed his neck.

   “I’m just griping, love. I could never keep you where you didn’t wish to be.”

   “Won’t it be wonderful, when this is all over, to be just us again?” she asked. “I want a daughter, too, you know.”

   That earnest wish elicited a response he was glad to make.

   Threadfall was uneventful, though it was not one in which the spaceships’ shields had carved tunnels of Threadfree air. Then Hamian sent a message that he had a new glove for Ruth to test on an EVA. So, after Ruth had tested it and found it comfortable as well as a good shield with an easy buckle attachment to hold it in place, Jaxom reported the success to Aivas to pass on to Hamian. For a change, Jaxom and Ruth were alone on the bridge: Ruth was spread across the big window as usual, devouring his favorite view.

   “Aivas, just why are you so obsessed with this zebedee project?” Jaxom asked when he had delivered his message to Hamian. “Sharra says you call it Overkill. Why isn’t blowing the Red Star out of orbit sufficient?”

   “You are alone?” Aivas asked.

   That was an unusual question, as Aivas usually unerringly sensed additional presences.

   “Yes, I’m alone. Are you going to come clean?” Jaxom asked, half joking.

   “This is as good a time as any,” Aivas replied, startling the young Holder.

   “That doesn’t sound good.”

   “On the contrary, it is all to the good to know what has been expected of you since this facility learned of Ruth’s unusual abilities.”

   “His knowing when and where he is?” Jaxom asked slyly.

   “Precisely. An explanation is needed.”

   “They usually are, with you!”

   “Flippancy has always covered apprehension. Candor is required. There are three engines that must be exploded to push the Red Star out of an of hazardous to Pern. Two of those explosions have already taken place.”

   “What?” Jaxom sat upright in the comfortable chair and stared at the screen in front of him.

   “As you are aware, records from every Weyr, Hall, and Hold were presented and analyzed. Two small entries illuminate an anomaly.

   “Based on the position of the Red Star when Mankind first landed on Pern, that planet is not now in the orbit it should be tracking at this point in time. Repeated calculations were made during the First Fall by captains Keroon and Tillek. Eccentric it might be, but its current position differs from an extrapolation of those original calculations. Its path shows that it has suffered a perturbation of nine-point-three degrees off its original elliptical orbit. That is not consistent with the extrapolated position. Therefore, something has already altered its path. Substantiation occurs in two minor references found in Istan and Keroonian records in the Fourth and Eighth Passes, which were each prior to a long Interval. During each Pass, bright flashes were observed when the Red Star was at apogee in reference to Pern. Bright enough to be remembered and noted.”

   Stunned, Jaxom blinked, as if closing and opening his eyes would help him focus his thoughts on what Aivas was saying. “Those two craters?”

   “Your perception is acute.”

   “My fear is also, Aivas!”

   “Man is wise to fear: it sharpens the sense of self preservation.”

   “But what I felt when I saw the first crater was not fear. It was-it had to be-it was as if I knew it had to be there! I discounted such a ridiculous notion at the time. And you, Aivas, would not have me believe that I have been there before?”

   “The time paradox has bewildered many. Your presentiment of involvement with the crater is unusual, but similar incidents are reported in the annals of psychic phenomena.”

   “Are they?” Jaxom asked facetiously. “I’m not at all sure I appreciate the position you’ve put me in-that is, if I understand you correctly.”

   “How do you understand what has been said?”

   “That somehow I, on Ruth, with enough dragonriders to perform the task, took an engine back in time and deposited it in that Rift? Where it blew up to form the crater I find on my initial trip to the Red Star some eighteen hundred Turns in the later?”

   “You have done it twice. The second time was six hundred Turns ago. It is the only explanation. Furthermore, you know that you’ve done it.”

   “I don’t want to do it,” Jaxom protested, thinking how far back he would have to ask Ruth to take him and the others. Yet Aivas had been accurate in so many other unlikely things. “What if something went wrong?”

   “True to the time paradox, if something had, you wouldn’t be here, and there would be some thirty or forty dragons missing from this time.”

   “No, that’s wrong,” Jaxom said, struggling to understand. “We wouldn’t have gone yet. So wed still be here. We won’t be here if we fail when we try it. No, no!” He waved one hand irritably at his confusion.

   “You have gone. You have been successful, and each of those previous explosions has caused Long Intervals-which are inexplicable by any other rationale-thus setting up the planet for the final orbital dislocation.”

   “Now wait a minute,” Jaxom said, waggling his finger at the screen in an aggravated fashion. “We’ve done a lot of queer things to propitiate you, Aivas, and we’ve done them because you’ve proved to be right...”

   “This facility is correct in its findings and conclusions in this matter, as well, Lord Jaxom.”

   “Don’t try that tact on me, friend. It doesn’t work! The dragonriders are not going to go along with this. Timing it has always been extremely tricky. You know that Lessa nearly died going back four hundred Turns. You want us to go back eighteen hundred?”

   “You will be carrying your own oxygen supplies, so you will not suffer from asphyxia as she did. You are aware of the sensory deprivation syndrome and will not be disturbed by the disorientation...”

   Jaxom kept shaking his head. “You can’t ask bronzes to do that, even if they are able to. I don’t think F’lar times it. In fact, the only one I do know who has is Lessa.”

“And your Ruth. Furthermore, you have been proud of the fact that the white dragon always knows where and when he is going.”

   “You have said that Ruth always knows where and when he is going.”

   “I have, but-”

   “If Ruth knows where and when he is going-and specific guides are available-he can supply the necessary visual coordinates.”

   “But I know that the other riders won’t stand for this...”

   “They will not know!”

   Jaxom stared straight at the screen for another long moment.

   “How;” he asked at last in a very patient, saccharine tone, ‘will they not know’?”

   “Because you will not tell them. And since you now have been to the Red Star on several occasions, and since the distance in terms of travel between will not be appreciably longer than what they would expect, they will not know that they have been transported back in time and to the Red Star in the position required by the equations that cover the two disparate explosions.”

   Jaxom mulled that over and, inhaling deeply, realized that in his state of shock he had not been breathing regularly.

   I think we can do it, Ruth remarked with more confidence than Jaxom was feeling at that moment.

   Jaxom turned toward his beloved friend. “You may think we can, but I’m going to be bloody sure we can. Now, Aivas, let’s go through this again... The other riders are not to know the time of our destination. But there are to be three teams of us, taking the three engines...”

   “Harman will not have sufficient space suits for the three hundred beasts required to shift all three engines at the same time. You will lead two of the three groups. F’lar will, as planned, head the third. He will be the only one depositing an engine in this time. As you know,” Aivas went on, overriding Jaxom’s protest, “the locations chosen are not in sight of each other. Since F’lar will think that you are at one end of the Rift, Mon at the other, he will not know what you are doing.”

   “The timing’s wrong, Aivas. I cannot be in two places at once. Nor doing that kind of timing without a respite. Ruth doesn’t have auxiliary oxygen.”

   “You missed the point about insufficient space suits. Your team will have to get out of their suits and turn them over to the members of the second unit. That should allow Ruth sufficient time to regain energy. You will, of course, be certain that he eats well beforehand and can feed immediately afterward to restore himself.”

   I could do it the way Aivas suggests, Ruth said amiably.

   “I haven’t said I’ll risk us!” Jaxom roared, bringing both fists down on the console with such force that he hurt his hands. Rubbing them, he grumbled to himself.

   “You already have, or there would not be two craters on the Rift, and there would not have been records of bright flashes.”

   “You’re inveigling me, Aivas. And I’m not going to let you.”

   “You already have, Lord Jaxom. You are the only one who can, could, would, has. Think this proposal over carefully and you will see that the project is not only within the capabilities of yourself and Ruth, but feasible. And essential! Three explosions at this point in time will not have the desired effect on the future path of the Red Star.”

   Jaxom sighed deeply, almost as if he already felt it needful to fill his lungs for a jump timed eighteen hundred Turns away. His mind refused to settle into a logical examination of the affair.

   “Since this is a confessional moment, tell me why you are so obsessed with this project you’ve involved Sharra in? Especially,” he added with an ironic laugh, “if you say you know I’ve already succeeded even before I’ve begun.”

   “You do succeed, and there is an easy way to prove it,” Aivas said, his tone not quite ingratiating but as close to that as Jaxom had ever heard.

   “No, first explain to me about these zebedee things.”

   “It is extrapolated by the closer examination of the Thread ovoids that there is life, not as you know it, and not even as we see it brought here by the Red Star, but a whole ecology of life forms throughout the Oort Cloud. Some of them are probably quite intelligent, judging by the complexity of their nervous systems; but when they arrive here, they have lost most of their liquid helium and so can be termed only ‘rude mechanicals.’ It is these degenerate, warmth-tolerating forms that make it to the surface of Pern; they don’t live long enough to replicate themselves there, of course, or on the Red Planet. It is only these ‘mechanicals’ that can reproduce without helium in Pern’s orbit. But if these mechanicals could be contaminated, infected with our disimproved parasite, they would carry it with them to destroy all similar life-forms in the Oort Cloud itself, probably including the more intelligent ones, too. Then, no matter what happens, Pern will forever be freed of this menace. That is why there were Long Intervals: The disimproved zebedees that you will establish-have established long ago-on the surface of the Red Planet, twice in the past and once in the future will infect the Cloud when the Red Star cuts through it twice in every orbit.”

   “I’m also to be a disease carrier?” Jaxom was not sure which he felt more keenly: indignation, fury, or incredulity at the audacity of Aivas’s scheme.

   “You will seed the Red Star three times. That is why it is so important to breed up the disimproved zebedees. A triple thrust in two different areas.”

   “But if I’m to blow the planet out of orbit...”

   “The perturbation will be slight, and you can seed the zebedees at a sufficient distance from the Rift to insure their safety. There will be plenty of host ovoids on the planet’s surface as well as in orbit around it.”

   “We saw them on the surface, not in orbit.”

   “Were you looking for them?”

   “Not in space. Now, tell me how you can prove to me that all these incredible designs of yours will work-have worked!”

   “It is very simple. Access the file that gives you a graph of the Red Star’s current orbit.”

   Jaxom had no trouble doing that. The all-too-familiar diagram filled the screen.

   “Hold that on the monitor,” Aivas instructed.

   Jaxom pressed out that command.

   “Now, if you will mount Ruth, you can go forward in time fifty years-Turns-using the digital timepiece as your reference.”

   “No one goes forward in time, that’s the most dangerous...”

   “Only if alterations will have taken place,” Aivas replied. “There will be no changes on the bridge of Yokohama. That will be your responsibility. Today you will go forward in time, call up the orbit. Print it out. Then, with that hard copy, return here after a safe interval and compare the two graphs. The doors have been locked. No one is likely to come to this bridge at this moment, or until you have returned.”

   Every ounce of common sense Jaxom possessed shouted resistance to a timing forward. And yet... to have done so would be a feat no one else could possibly manage successfully. For he had Ruth.

   “Did you hear what Aivas said, Ruth?”

   I did. Given his assurances, and I know that he would not risk you, Jaxom

   “Or you,” Jaxom put in.

   I would like to see what Pern looks like in the future. I would like to know that the future is going to be a good one.

   And so would I, Jaxom thought.

   Then, before he could come up with too many arguments against this rash, foolhardy, reckless endeavor, he signaled for Ruth to float over to him.

   “You will, of course,” Aivas said drolly, “be very sure to keep oxygen tanks full on the bridge for fifty Turns to come.”

   Jaxom gave a grim smile. “I’m not going to take any chances, Aivas. I’ll just get into my suit.” He was becoming quite adept at inserting himself into the space gear. He mounted Ruth and buckled on the riding straps, just to be very sure, in case they emerged in nothingness. He also knew that Ruth would have no trouble anywhere-or anywhen-finding his way back to Ruatha Hold.

   He read the date exposed on the digital and added fifty to the year displayed: 2579. With that legend firmly in his mind, he told Ruth to transfer to that time.

   I know when I’m going, Ruth said cheerfully, and they were abruptly between.

   Jaxom counted the breaths he was taking and was rather pleased that they were slow and steady. At fifteen, they were back on the bridge-which had not, apparently, altered.

   The view hasn’t changed, Ruth said disconsolately.

   “No, it hasn’t,” Jaxom said, surprised to see the diagram still up on the screen. The digital clock, however, definitely registered fifty full Turns past his last view of it. He unhooked his straps and floated down from Ruth’s back to the screen.

   “I suppose I could have put this back up in preparation for my coming,” he told himself. “I’ll remember. I hope. Is there sir up here, Ruth?”

   Yes, but it’s not very fresh.

   Jaxom pulled off his gloves and put them down on the console. He didn’t bother to unsuit, since he had no intention of remaining longer than this errand required. He tapped out the appropriate code and saw the cursor outline a second orbit, deviating by several degrees from the earlier one and with the return path intersecting the orbit of the fifth planet and spiraling in! With trembling fingers, he pressed the print command and a sheet obediently emerged-a sheet that felt subtly different from the paper he had become accustomed to. Much whiter, softer! Bendarek had really improved the quality of paper over the intervening Turns. Then he compared its diagram to the one on the screen.

   “Shards! Aivas, the path of the Red Star has shifted. Aivas?” An iciness flowed across Jaxom’s midsections. “Aivas?”

   How can he hear you fifty Turns into the future, Jaxom? Ruth said in some amusement.

   “Oh, right... I suppose. Except he’d know when we were going...” Jaxom was still uneasy about Aivas’s silence. “I guess I have got so that I rely on him too much. But he was right. So we’re stuck with this new madness of his, aren’t we, Ruth?”

   I do not think it is madness to be certain we never have Thread again.

   “We’re not out of this Pass yet, even if it is possibly the last one we’ll have,” Jaxom said, pushing himself off the deck to grab at Ruth’s neck and swing his leg into the saddle. “The old bridge hasn’t changed... and yet, it feels awful still and unused!”

   I thought the view would have changed, Ruth said, clearly disappointed.

   Jaxom thought vividly of the digital in his correct present, added thirty seconds to prevent an overlap, and Ruth took them between. Exactly fifteen breaths later he was looking straight at the digital advanced the thirty seconds. He did, however, feel very tired, and as he looked at Ruth’s neck, he noticed a definite tinge of gray exhaustion in the usually lustrous hide.

   “And?” Aivas queried him.

   “I must have put the graph up, because it was there when I arrived.”

   “And?”

   Jaxom undid his helmet, determined to spin the scene out for all it was worth. “Well, I must have remembered to keep the oxygen tanks topped up, for there was some, even if Ruth said it wasn’t fresh-Shards!” He looked down at his bare hands. “I left my gloves there.”

   “Then. You will have left your gloves then.” Aivas could play the same game.

   Jaxom grinned. “I think I’ll just wait and retrieve them... later. Here’s what came up in the future. Is the variation sufficient for you, lord and master?” He placed the graph from fifty Turns in the future in front of the sensor so that Aivas could see and compare.

   “Yes,” Aivas said, unperturbed, “that will be sufficient. The explosions have accomplished exactly the desired dislocation. Jaxom, your vital signs show a depletion. You must eat carbohydrates.”

   “Ruth’s a bit gray, too. He needs to eat more than I do.”

   You should have told me wed be doing this today, Jaxom. We have flown Fall, and I haven’t eaten since those wherries last week.

   “As soon as you’re feeling able, dear heart, you shall have as many fat bucks and wherries as you can stuff down your maw.”

   Then let us go now. I really feel very hungry.

   “Jaxom?” Aivas said as the white rider started peeling off his space suit.

   “Yes?”

   “Will you comply?”

   “With your mad scheme? It appears I must because I have. Haven’t I?”

   Ruatha Hold was gay with banners in the bright autumnal air, and folk had been flowing down all the roads to the immense camping grounds near the racing course. One of the first tasks Jaxom had undertaken upon being confirmed as Lord Holder had been to revive Ruatha’s breeding of runners. The animals he had produced since had won significant races from time to time at other Gathers, and he hoped that today, racing on home ground, they would perform even better.

   He and Ruth had transferred from the Yokohama immediately to an upland meadow where the white dragon had replenished his energies on three bucks and two does. He had then glided home, emitting an occasional satisfied burp so that Jaxom could eat a more substantial meal than the handfuls of berries he had found in the bushes surrounding the field. Jaxom had seen his dragon comfortably curled up on the weyr couch, given orders to the first Steward he saw that he was not to be disturbed even if Thread fell out of phase, and grabbed some bread and cheese from the kitchen, which he consumed on his way to his quarters. There, somewhat sated, he removed his boots and riding belt and crawled under the sleeping furs to sleep.

   Sometime during that exhausted rest, Sharra must have joined him, for when he awoke just as the sky was lightening, she was there, nestled against him. What had roused him were unmistakable greetings of Gatherers, arriving after an overnight journey. His nose told him that the spits were already turning over open flames in the roasting pits, and his stomach told him that he needed to fill it. He must have slept an entire day.

   “Mmmm, Jax?” Sharra murmured, sleepily reaching for him.

   “Yes, love, who else were you expecting?” He leaned over and kissed her. “You let me sleep?”

   “Hmmm. Ruth said you were very tired. Meer wouldn’t let anyone in the room but me.”

   He angled himself up to a sitting position, scrubbing at his tousled hair, running his tongue around his teeth, and hoping that his breath wasn’t too rank. Meer appeared, Talla right behind him, chirping a gentle inquiry.

   “We’re up, we’re up!” Jaxom assured them although Sharra hauled her pillow more firmly under her head, her eyes determinedly shut.

   The two fire-lizards disappeared, and very shortly there was a timid scratch at the door of the bedroom.

   “Come!” He could smell the aroma of klah as soon as the door opened. A drudge who looked freshly scrubbed and attired entered with a well-stocked tray.

   Once he had had some klah and had cajoled Sharra into waking up enough to join him, he revived sufficiently to bathe and dress in new Gather finery.

   “Whatever were you doing that exhausted you and Ruth so much?” Sharra asked as she let him fasten her new Gather gown, a splendid affair in the golds and rusts that so suited her.

   “Well, there was Fall, and then Ruth and I had to test those new gloves Hamian’s produced and-” He waved his hand airily. “I guess things just mounted up. Did you get enough rest?” he asked solicitously, dropping a kiss on her bare neck before he fastened the topaz necklace which had been his nameday present to her.

   “Well...” she began in the tone he knew was to make him feel guilty, but then she turned in his arms, her face alight with love and mischief. “I did the honors of the Hold for our guests from Cove Hold, and Lord Groghe and those from Fort Hold and”-she grinned up at him-“they said I’d better get an early night and they’d make themselves comfortable. Master Robinton was well on the way through the first wineskin, but he was so pleased that you had some of the ‘sixteen’ for him.”

   A loud halloo from the dawn-lit road brought them to the window, and they saw a huge contingent of riders, bearing Tillek’s banners.

   “Come, we must greet Ranrel,” Sharra said, grabbing him by the hand. “And it’s high time the Lord of Ruatha Hold showed himself to his diligent Stewards and staff.”

   The Gather attracted hordes from every Hold, Hall, and Weyr. This was one of those few days when there was no Fall to be met, and it would be one of the last of the Northern Gathers before winter weather made roads impassable. Jaxom and Sharra, accompanied by Jarrol and Shawan, now a sturdy toddler, walked the long line of booths until Shawan had to be carried and Jarrol revived by one of the first bubbly pies out of the oven. There was an exuberance and buoyancy to the day that affected everyone and was mirrored in the gay new clothing and high spirits. Harpers strolled up and down the Gather line, playing and singing; children congregated in knots to play their favorite games; adults settled in their own groupings or at tables around the huge dancing square where brewers and wine sellers were doing a brisk business.

   Jaxom and Sharra hosted a midday meal in the Hold at which those Lord Holders, Weyrleaders, and Craftmasters gracing the day were entertained. Robinton, Menolly, and Sebell gave a special performance of the latest ballads and airs with full orchestral accompaniment, conducted by Master Domick. It was a leisurely meal, and Jaxom enjoyed it, though he noted that Lords Sigomal, Begamon, and Corman were conspicuous by their absence-which caused him to recall the abduction plot.

   The racing went very well, with one Ruathan sprinter winning its first race and their other runners taking placings in almost every one of the eight starts. Among the beasts for sale, Jaxom and Sharra found a well-trained little runner to start Jarrol riding, for they had nothing in the beasthold suitable for a beginner. Saddlery then had to be arranged with the Tanner Hall. In between these chores, Jaxom and Sharra circulated among their guests, speaking to all the small holders that looked to Ruatha.

   About midafternoon, young Pell brought his intended to meet his lord and lady, and Sharra was warm in her responses to the darkly pretty girl, daughter of a hill holder from Fort. There was nothing in Pell’s manner to suggest that he was not totally engrossed in his future as a joiner, especially after his lady showed Jaxom and Sharra the beautiful little coffer Pell had made her.

   Ruth, his white hide radiant after a restoring sleeps. had emerged sometime in the morning and was on the fireheights, sunning himself with the other dragons. Hundreds of fairs swarmed about the Hold, their cheerful voices a descant to whatever music the harpers were making.

   Whether it was the long sleep or the stimulation of the day, or both, Jaxom found himself in fine fettle for the Gather exertions. He and Sharra led several of the energetic dance figures, and then he allowed Sharra to be swirled away by N’ton, then F’lar, while he partnered Lessa. During one of the breaks, he sat at the harpers’ table with Robinton, D’ram, and Lytol and made certain that the Masterharper had sufficient wine. A dark-haired young drudge whom Jaxom did not recognize-so many were hired temporarily to assist during a Gather-kept the Harper supplied with food, even bringing some tidbits for Zair.

   It was no wonder then that Robinton would need a short nap, and because Jaxom was busy doing his duty dances with Lady Holders, he only noticed as he danced past that Robinton was alone at his table, asleep, Zair curled up beside him.

   It was Piemur who discovered that it was not Robinton asleep at the table, but a man dressed in clothing similar to Robinton’s Gather suit-a dead man. And it was Piemur who realized that Zair was barely breathing, his color dangerously dull and his weak breath tainted with a sickly odor. Piemur had the good sense not to alarm anyone, sending Farli to summon Jaxom and Sharra, then D’ram, Lytol, and the Benden Weyrleaders.

   “This man’s been dead a long time,” Sharra said, putting her hand on a cold cheek and testing the muscular resistance. She shuddered. “This is too macabre!”

   “Robinton’s ill?” Lessa asked in a hoarse whisper as she and F’lar arrived. “That isn’t Robinton!” First relief and then fury distorted her features. “They did abduct him! Right out of a Gather.”

   She, Jaxom, F’lar, and D’ram alerted their dragons.

   “Don’t just jump about in panic,” Lytol said, even as the big dragons landed quietly in the shadows beyond the dancing square. “Let us decide what to do and who is to search where. There’re enough dragons here to cover every possibility. Why did it have to be here, where that device of Aivas’s won’t reach to Landing?”

   Sharra was bending over the limp Zair. “He’d find Robinton no matter where he is. Union, Zair.”

   “D’you need your medical kit?” Jaxom asked.

   “I’ve already sent for it.” But her face as she turned to Jaxom was anxious. “Lessa, is your healer here? She knows more about dragon and fire-lizard care than I do. Zair’s been poisoned, but I don’t know what was used.”

   Jaxom picked up a half-eaten piece of meat from the table, sniffed cautiously at it, and promptly sneezed vociferously. Sharra took it from him and smelled more daintily.

   “Fellis, all right,” she announced, “but mixed with something else to disguise taste and smell. Poor Zair. He doesn’t look good. How wicked!”

   F’lar picked up the wine goblet Robinton had been using and carefully sipped. He spat it out immediately. “Fellis in the wine, too. I should have known Robinton wouldn’t pass out from mere wine.” The Weyrleader was disgusted with himself.

   Jaxom groaned. “I saw him sleeping, and I ought to have known he never sleeps at a Gather...”

   “Many’s the night he’s outlasted everyone else at a Gather,” Lessa said. “How much of a head start do these miserable fiends have? Which way would they go?”

   Jaxom snapped his fingers. “There are marshals on every road. They would have seen who left and in which direction.”

   “We’ll each take a different road,” F’lar said, gesturing for all the riders to mount their beasts and check with the marshals. “You stay here as if there was nothing amiss,” he told Lytol, Piemur, and Sharra.

   But each dragonrider returned shortly. No one, the marshals had assured them, had been seen leaving the Gather, no riders or wagons on any road.

   Tell the fire-lizards to search, Ruth said to Jaxom.

   “Ruth says to tell all the fire-lizards to hunt for Robinton,” Jaxom said aloud.

   “That’s exactly what Ramoth just said,” Lessa said. The noise of sudden winged exodus could be heard above the rollicking dance tune that was encouraging the dancers to outdo themselves.

   “If we announce this to the Gather,” Lytol suggested, “we’d have sufficient people to search the entire Hold from border to border.”

   “No,” Jaxom said. “There’d be a panic! You know how well loved Robinton is. It can’t be more than an hour, at the most. That’s not enough time to get to the coast...”

   “Up into the hills?” Lytol suggested. “There are so many caves up there wed never be able to search them all.”

   “The fire-lizards can-and will,” Piemur said.

   “There are only so many tracks to the hills,” Jaxom said. “Ruth and I will start the search. Lytol...” And then Jaxom hesitated.

   Lytol clutched his arm. “D’ram and Tiroth will take me. I know Ruatha as well as you do, lad.”

   “So do I,” Lessa said roughly.

   “I’ll go northeast to the Nabol Pass,” F’lar said.

   “We’ll need some Fort Riders,” Lessa said.

   “And some to follow the river to the sea,” Lytol added.

   “We’ll stay here for the fire-lizards,” Piemur said, nodding to Sharra. There were tears running down his cheeks. “Just find him!” Then abruptly he sat down, where the shadow of his body fell across the dead man dressed in harper blue.

   Dawn was breaking by the time the dragonriders, augmented by Fort Weyr riders, admitted defeat and returned to Ruatha. A few folk were awake, preparing to return home, but most of the Gather area was populated by those sleeping off the night’s excesses.

   “Not a single wagon is leaving here without being searched,” Sharra told Jaxom when he got back. “That was Piemur’s notion.”

   “And a good one,” Jaxom said, gratefully taking the cup of klah she handed him. “For there was nothing moving on the tracks, and I went as far as the Ice Lake, and Ruth was particularly vigilant over the wooded areas.”

   He saw then that someone had thrown a blanket across the dead man’s shoulders. Piemur and Jancis sat nearby as if guarding their master’s sleep.

   “We thought it wiser to pretend it’s Master Robinton,” Sharra murmured. “Sebell and Menolly know, of course, and her ten fire-lizards have been out searching all night. Sebell’s gone back to the Harper Hall to alert everyone. You heard the drums?”

   “You can’t miss them.” She grimaced. “Asgenar and Larad know harper codes, and they were talking of mounting an attack on Bitra.”

   “They’d never have been fool enough to imprison the Harper there. Sigomal’s not stupid. He’d know it would be the first place we’d look.”

   “That’s what Lytol told them, but they feel badly because they heard of the abduction first. Larad says that he ought to have confronted Sigomal immediately and demanded that he forget such a heinous scheme.”

   “That would have done no good,” Jaxom said wearily.

   “And it was such a lovely Gather...” Sharra said, turning into his shoulder and weeping softly.

   Jaxom put his arms about her, smoothing her rumpled hair back from her forehead and wanting very much to give way to the tears that burned his eyes.

   “Zair?” he asked, suddenly remembering the little creature.

   “Oh! Yes.” Sharra pulled herself from his arms, mopping her eyes and sniffing. “He’ll recover, Campila says. She purged him and,” she added managing a little smile, “he looked so embarrassed. I’ve never seen that particular shade in fire-lizard eyes before.”

   “When will he be able to help us find Master Robinton?”

   Sharra bit her lower lip. “He’s terribly weak and awfully confused. I didn’t ask her that, because if they’ve drugged Master Robinton and he’s comatose, not even Zair could find him.”

   Suddenly the air was full of agitated fire-lizards, shrieking and bugling.

   They’ve found him! Ruth cried. In three mighty hops, he landed at Jaxom’s side.

   Jaxom was astride the white dragon before he realized his own intention and then Ruth was aloft with such speed that his rider was nearly unseated. Other dragons were airborne as quickly. Like an arrow composed of many bodies-all flying so closely together that many must have been winglocked-the fire-lizards pointed the southeastern direction.

   Can you understand who or where from them? Jaxom asked Ruth.

   It is not far, and they picture a wagon. You can see the tracks plainly.

   And then Jaxom saw the marks, visible over the headlands of fields recently plowed under. The abductors had been clever, taking to the fields instead of the roads, and the cart had to be a small one, or they could not have maneuvered over muddy fields and the rocky terrain beyond the cultivated lands. The dragons had not been airborne long when they saw the first of the foundered runners, splay-legged and gasping, its feet bound in thick rags to muffle its passage. Ten minutes onward, another exhausted beast lay on the ground, breathing its last, its sides covered with bloody welts that indicated how it had been driven.

   Tell the others, Ruth, that they must be heading to the sea. Have some riders go on ahead.

   They go, Ruth replied, and Jaxom saw spaces opening up all around him as dragons went between.

   But dragon wings were quicker than the fleetest of runners, even with a head start of some six hours, and at last Jaxom saw the cart bouncing its way down the final slope to the sea and the small ship waiting for this clandestine cargo. Dragons had encircled the ship, and from his vantage point, Jaxom could see men diving from it, vainly attempting to evade capture.

   Then Ruth and the Benden contingent swooped down to halt the cart.

   There was a brief attempt at innocence by the three men: two on the driving seat, and one inside, lying on a thick mattress and pretending to be ill.

   The fire-lizards, however, were far more interested in the unusual dropped load bed, swarming over it, crooning encouragement, bugling triumph. The “sick” man was unceremoniously dumped out of the cart, the mattress rolled out of the way, and the boards of the false bottom pulled free. And there they discovered the Masterharper, looking ashen and almost wizened.

   Carefully they lifted him out, rearranging the mattress for his comfort.

   “He may just need air,” F’lar said, “stuffed in that pit and jostled like a package...”

   He glared at the three who were struggling in the rough grip of angry riders. Overhead, fire-lizards made as if to bombard them, claws and beaks held in attack readiness.

   “We need Sharra,” Lessa told Jaxom urgently. “Unless Oldive is still at the Gather...”

   Jaxom vaulted to Ruth’s back.

   “Don’t meet yourself coming, Jaxom!” Lessa shrieked at him.

   Despite his anxiety and fury, Jaxom recognized the sense of that warning; still, he didn’t waste any time returning with Sharra and her medical case.

   “I think they gave him too much,” she said, her face paler than the Harper’s. “We must get him back to Ruatha where I can treat him properly.”

   The limp figure was handed up to Jaxom astride Ruth, with Sharra to help hold the Harper between them. When they arrived back at Ruatha, N’ton was already in the courtyard with Oldive, so Jaxom knew that the Fort Weyrleader had risked timing his errand.

   “Hold on, Sharra,” Jaxom told her. “Ruth’s going to take us straight to our room.”

   “Will he fit-” Sharra broke off as they reappeared in the large living room; Ruth quickly folded his wings and scrunched down, and managed to knock over only a few pieces of furniture.

   By the time N’ton and Oldive arrived, Jaxom and Sharra had the Harper in their bed, his clothing removed. Sharra held the Harper’s head, and Master Oldive quickly emptied a vial down his throat. Then he examined Robinton’s eyes and listened to his heart.

   “We must get him warm,” the Masterhealer said, but Sharra was already tucking furs about the lax body. “His body has had a dreadful shock. Who did this?”

   “We’ll find out who’s behind all this. The abductors were nearly to the beach,” Jaxom said. “A ship was waiting to take him who knows where.”

   “We’ll have the answer to that, too,” N’ton said in a grating tone. “Master Robinton will recover, won’t he, Oldive?”

   “He must,” Sharra said fervently, kneeling beside the bed. “He must!”

18

   IT WAS FORTUNATE for the conspirators that Master Robinton recovered from the overdose of fellis and suffered only bruises from that wild cross-country journey. Until he was certain that Zair, too, would recover, he was not disposed to charity, but then he started murmuring about no real harm having been done.

   “They have been grossly misguided,” he began.

   “Misguided!” Lytol, D’ram, F’lar, Jaxom, Piemur, Menolly, and Sebell chorused in outrage.

   “The very idea that they intended to abduct you” -Lessa’s expression was so fierce that Robinton regarded her with widened eyes and open mouth-to force us to destroy Aivas... bloody nearly killing you and Zair! And you call them misguided?”

   “I’ve another name for it entirely,” Lord Groghe said, his face flushed with anger. “I’m certain that almost every other Lord Holder will come to the same conclusion after hearing the confessions we’ve heard. Norist has never made any bones about his disagreement, but for Sigomal to actively assist him! Norist may call Aivas the Abomination, but it is he and Sigomal who have acted abominably! Infamously!”

   “The masters will deal with Norist now,” Sebell said implacably. Master Oldive was in complete agreement.

   A special convocation of both the Lord Holders and the Mastercraftsmen was hastily called for that next evening. Together the two groups would hear the evidence against the scofflaws, although they would deliberate on their verdict separately, meting out justice as each group saw fit.

   “These sessions are rare in Pernese Records,” Lytol said, trying to find precedents in now-legible Ruatha Hold records.

   “They’ve rarely been required,” Lord Groghe remarked with a snort. “By and large, Hold, Hall, and Weyr have regulated their own members with few grievances spilling over. Everyone knows what is expected of them, what rights, privileges, and responsibilities are due or required.”

   “It is such a pity,” Robinton said, his voice still reflecting his exhaustion, “that they should take such a perverse view.”

   “Especially when they’ve had no scruples about using the things which Aivas helps us produce,” Lytol said in outrage.

   “There may be some justification for their attitude,” Robinton began again.

   “There’s no talking to the man,” Menolly said, disgusted. “He must still be very tired to come out with twaddle like that!” She gestured for Robinton’s visitors to leave.

   “It’s not twaddle, Menolly,” Robinton replied testily, restlessly thrashing about in the bed where Oldive had insisted he remain. Zair, curled up comfortably in the furs by the Harper’s feet and looking considerably more bronze than tan, chirped a protest. “We harpers failed somehow...”

   “Failed nothing!” Menolly said, furious. “Those misbegotten idiots nearly killed you... and Zair...” She caught Robbinton’s scowl. “Hah! At least you care about him, even if you don’t give two hoots and a holler about your own skin. Out, everyone. Robinton must rest if he’s to be fit for the Council.”

   With so much excitement charging the air, few had left Ruatha’s Gather site when the dragonriders returned with Robinton and his captors. The riders had then been forced to protect the nine men from being torn to pieces by the incensed crowd. Jaxom had them interned separately in some of the small, dark inner rooms of the Hold, supplying them with only water and dim glowbaskets. The little drudge who had served the Harper the drugged food was found, and although she was plainly of very limited understanding, she was also placed in confinement.

   The ship’s captain, it turned out, was one of Sigomal’s sons, which strongly suggested the Bitran Holder’s involvement. It was remarkable, N’ton commented, how willing a man became to talk after he had been dangled a while in midair from a dragon’s forearm.

   When a wing of Benden dragonriders had appeared at Bitra Hold, Sigomal loudly and indignantly denied any involvement with such a dreadful, contemptible business; he had bitterly denounced a son who would bring so much dishonor to his sire and his Hold.

   F’lar admitted later that he had come very close to smashing Sigomal’s lying mouth-only Mnementh had saved the man. The big bronze dragon had been so incensed by his rider’s anger that a little curl of flame had escaped his lips, which had had the immediate effect of silencing Sigomal.

   G’narish of Igen Weyr and his bronze riders took into custody Master Norist, five of his masters, and nine journeymen, all of whom had been implicated. By then the abduction cart, and the abused runners, had been brought back to Ruatha. Two would have to be put down. To compound the offense, they had been stolen out of a Ruathan paddock. While the Ruathan beastmaster attended to the poor creatures, the woodsmith and Master Fandarel inspected the vehicle that had been used to carry Robinton away. Bendarek found the maker’s name on the footrest: Tosikin, a journeyman joiner in Bitra.

   “Purpose-made,” Fardarel murmured.

   “No question of it,” Bendarek replied, “with this sunken load bed, padded and long enough to accommodate a tall man like Master Robinton. Look at this lock top, these extra springs, heavy-duty axle, and larger, reinforced wheels. It was made to be used for fast, hard going.” Then Bendarek scowled, noticing a poorly mitered edge and nails that had been badly sunk. “And for the one use. Man shouldn’t have put his name to such a shoddily made contraption.”

   “Shall we have him here to speak his piece?” Fandarel asked, his dark eyes sparking as he rubbed his big hands together.

   “Might as well. I wouldn’t trust Sigomal not to slip out of this if he possibly can.”

   “I doubt he will this time,” Fandarel said somberly.

   The original intention had been to hold the extraordinary convocation in Ruatha’s Great Hall. So many people flocked to the Hold, adding to all those Gatherers who had stayed over, that Jaxom, after conferring with Groghe, Lytol, D’ram, and F’lar, transferred the proceedings to the outside court. The weather, while crisp with autumn, remained clear, and by using the dance-square light standards, the court would be brilliantly illuminated if the matter took time. Dragons massed on the fireheights, their eyes glowing with vivid whirling color, added a bizarre display accented by the fairs of fire-lizards whipping restlessly about.

   When Lord Begamon sent word that he could not attend, F’lar despatched F’nor and two wings to see that he did, for the Neratian was also implicated. The drudge, however, was excused. Sharra, Lessa, and Menolly had talked with her, kindly enough when they realized how simple she was. She had been told by a man in “beautiful new clothes” to be sure to feed the Master Harper well from special provisions that had been brought a great distance, just for him. She had been shown the wineskins that were reserved only for Master Robinton, and she had also been instructed to feed the fire-lizard only meat from a special bowl.

   “Clearly she didn’t know she was doing wrong,” Lessa said after the interview. Then her expression hardened. “Appalling of them to make use of a simple child like that.”

   “Clever, too,” Menolly said, with a grim twitch of her lips. “Zair would have sensed an open threat to Robinton, so they had to use an innocent pawn.”

   “Clever, but not clever enough, Menolly,” Jaxom said. “Where does she come from?”

   “A hold near a big mountain,” Sharra said, sighing. “And she was so excited to be allowed to come to a Gather and serve someone as pleasant as the man in blue. I’ll keep her here. She’ll be safe from misuse at Ruatha. The cook says she’s very good with the spit animals.”

   As soon as Lord Corman arrived that evening, he stomped up to Jaxom, who was standing with Groghe, Ranrel, Asgenar, and Larad.

   “I don’t agree with what you are doing to Pern. I don’t like to see so many of our traditional ways and values flouted by what that-that machine is teaching you, but what you others do is your business. What I refuse to do is mine!”

   Larad nodded solemnly. “Which is your prerogative.”

   “Just so that my position is understood,” Corman said, his brows running together in a fierce scowl.

   “No one doubts your integrity, Lord Corman,” Jaxom said.

   Corman raised his eyebrows, seemed about to take umbrage at the youngest Holder’s comment, then reconsidered and, scowling once more, allowed Brand to lead him to a chair.

   A dais had been hastily constructed in the shape of a flat-bottomed V: one side provided for the Lord Holders and the other for the Craftmasters. In the center Jaxom, as resident Lord Holder, would be seated, with Lytol on one side and D’ram on the other. Robinton would sit just below them, facing the accused, who would be accommodated on benches in the space between the wings. Lytol had tried to find an impartial spokesman to represent the accused, following the legal practices about which he had been reading in Aivas’s historical files. Harpers generally performed such services but as no harper could be truthfully called “impartial” in this case and no one else could be found to perform that function, it was decided that the accused would have to speak for themselves-if Piemur had remarked, there could be anything that would mitigate their offense since their guilt was already proved.

   Promptly at the appointed hour, the accused were brought to the court, where they were jeered at and reviled by the huge throng, comprising representatives from all parts of Pern. It took some time to restore order, but at last all involved were seated and Lord Holders and Master Craftsmen took their places.

   Jaxom rose, holding up his arms for silence. Then he spoke.

   “Last evening Master Robinton was drugged and taken from the Gather without his consent and knowledge. A dead man who has not been identified was left in his place, wearing similar clothing. So there are two crimes which must be answered tonight: abduction and murder.

   “These three men-” Jaxom pointed to each of them, holding his hand up to still the angry murmur from the crowd. “-drove the vehicle which transported Master Robinton without his knowledge or consent. These six men-” Again Jaxom pointed. “-were aboard the ship awaiting them, to take Master Robinton to a place of concealment without his knowledge or consent. I now read their statements, taken in the presence of a Harper, myself as Lord Holder, and Master Fandarel, representing the crafthalls.”

   Each statement began with the name and origin of the man involved and summarized the job he had been hired to do. Lord Sigomal and Master Norist were named as those who had given the orders and supplied both marks and equipment. The Glassmasters and journeymen also assembled had delivered messages to those involved and passed payments on. Master Idarolan produced a bill of sale for the ship, signed by one Federen, Masterglass-smith, now seated among the accused. It turned out that he had also led the initial attack on the batteries supplying Aivas, and he was the older brother of one of the men involved in the assault that Aivas had foiled. He was very bitter about his brother’s punishment and deafness. Lord Begamon, too, was implicated: he was accused of supplying marks, the horses used on the abortive assault on Aivas, and a safe harbor for the ship.

   Journeyman Tosikin, a meek and obsequious fellow plainly awed and terrified by the experience, pointed to Gomalsi, Lord Sigomal’s son and the captain of the ship, as the man who had commissioned the strange cart. The journeyman had had no idea of its purpose and had tried to argue them into a different sort of vehicle to carry a “delicate cargo.” No, he had not known that a man was to be the cargo.

   Brestolli had asked to be allowed to speak of what he had overheard. He further provided a positive identification of three of the Bitrans from the ship as those he had overheard in the brewer’s. That caused a surge of consternation and recriminations among the accused.

   “You will each be allowed to speak in your own defense and inform this panel of any mitigating circumstances,” Jaxom said, pointing first to the three men who had absconded with Robinton. But before any of them could speak, Lord Sigomal got to his feet, suddenly rousing from his apathy.

   “I am innocent, innocent, I tell you! My son has been misguided, led astray by bad companions whom I pleaded with him to give up, little knowing what they were involved in-”

   “I protest!” Gomalsi shouted, jumping to his feet, eyes blazing at his father. “You told me to do what I could to discredit that machine. You told me to destroy the batteries-and where to look for them. You gave me money to hire men-”

   “You fool! You imbecile!” Sigomal shrieked back, stepping forward and clouting Gomalsi so hard across the face that the young man fell backward over the bench.

   Immediately Jaxom signaled for guards to force Sigomal back to his place and to help Gomalsi.

   “Any more outbursts, and Lord Holder or not, you’ll be gagged,” Jaxom said sternly to Sigomal. He motioned for the guards to remain behind the two Bitrans. Then he pointed at the first of the three actual abductors. “You may speak in your defense. First tell your name and your rank.”

   There was a soundless conference, and then the oldest of the three stood.

   “My name is Halefor. I have no rank, nor hold, nor craft. I hire my services to whoever pays enough. This time it was Lord Sigomal. The three of us struck a price with him and were paid half in advance to take the Harper in the cart to the ship. That was all we was hired to do. Not to kill. That was an accident. Biswy had to drink some of the wine, so the fumes would be on him. But he was not meant to die from it. Nor did we wish any harm to Master Robinton. I didn’t much like that part, but Lord Sigomal said it had to be him because he was so well liked. They’d smash the machine to get Master Robinton back.” He looked all about, first at the Lord Holders and then at the Mastercraftsmen, gave a sharp nod of his head, and sat down.

   From the men who were Gomalsi’s crew came much the same story: They had been hired to do a job, to man a ship from Ruatha to an island off the eastern shore of Nerat. Lord Begamon groaned at that and hid his head in his hands. He continued to moan off and on through the rest of the proceedings. When asked harshly by Master Idarolan if any of them were either apprentices or journeymen, two replied that they had sailed a few seasons in fishing fleets but hadn’t much cared for the long hours. Master Idarolan looked relieved that no craftsman of his had been involved.

   Jaxom could understand Master Idarolan’s desire to settle that point in the hearing of his peers and the Lord Holders. In many seacoast holds, boys and girls grew up able to handle a small skiff adequately. Knowing one end of a ship from the other was no crime. What offended Idarolan was the audacity of Gomalsi, who was not trained in seamanship and had thought that he could sail that small craft safely from Ruatha to the eastern coast of Nerat, across the Currents and into some of the trickiest waters of the planet, risking Robinton’s safety every wave of the way.

   Unlike the others, Master Norist stood proud and defiant.

   “I did what my conscience dictated, to rid this world of that Abomination and all its evil works. It encourages sloth and dalliance among our young, distracting them from traditional duties. I see it destroying the very structure of our Halls and our Holds. Contaminating our Pern with vicious complexities that deprive honest men of work and their pride in workmanship, turning whole families away from what has been proved good and wholesome for twenty-five hundred Turns. I would do it again. I will do all in my power to destroy the spell this Abomination has placed on you!” He extended his arm and swept his pointing finger at every one of the Masters who sat in judgment on him. “You have been deluded. You will suffer. And all Pern will suffer because of your blindness, your lapse from the purity of our culture and knowledge.”

   Two of his Masters and five of his journeymen cheered their master.

   Jaxom could see the shocked expression of other Craftmasters. The Lord Holders were solemn to a man. Toric was plainly scornful whenever he looked toward either Sigomal or Begamon. Corman was disgusted and didn’t try to hide that any more than he had hidden his own distrust of Aivas.

   The Neratian Holder did not choose to say anything in his defense. When Jaxom asked him again, he just kept on shaking his head and moaning and refused to speak.

   “Lord Jaxom,” Master Oldive said, rising, “my colleagues have just handed me their opinion concerning the cause of the dead man’s state.”

   “And?”

   “There is sufficient bodily evidence to suggest that his end was due to a heart attack. There were no visible wounds or damage to his skull. His lips and nails, however, were blue, a common indication of heart failure.” Oldive cleared his throat. “His stomach contained a great deal of fellis, which possibly caused his heart to stop.”

   “Under these circumstances, it would seem that the deceased met his death by misadventure rather than by the design of the defendants, so the charge of murder is no longer applicable.” Jaxom noticed the palpable relief of Halefor. “Has the matter of the premeditated abduction of Masterharper Robinton been established?”

   He ignored the vehement affirmatives shouted, almost in chorus, from the audience. The Lords Holder duly raised hands, even Corman. Brand wrote down the count. Then Jaxom repeated the question to the Craftmasters. Every hand was raised, Idarolan’s as high as he could push his clenched fist in the air. “Then you may retire to the Great Hall to consider your verdicts.”