All The Weyrs Of Pern Part 11

"Hurrah!" Piemur and Jancis cheered together. And Piemur jumped from his stool and thumped Hamian's back.

The big smith from Southern Hold was not as tall or as ma.s.sive as Master Fandarel, but he was solid enough to absorb Piemur's hearty pounding without giving an inch. He grinned at his friend, his large and even teeth white in his tanned face. "Glad someone approves. Do you?" He looked directly at the Harper.

Robinton looked inquiringly at Dram. "And thus we make the first test of our authority?"

"I'd say Hamian is exactly the right man to try something so new-new to us at least," Dram said, nodding.

"So it's now up to him who knows," Robinton said, and jerked his head towards Aivas's room. "Let's ask."

All but Benelek traipsed along to hear what Aivas would say. Robinton beckoned for Hamian to stand squarely in front of the screen, then had to prod him when the big smith suddenly found it difficult to frame the question.

"Ask him. He hasn't bitten anyone," Robinton said.

"Yet," Piemur added, pretending to be worried.

"Ahem, Master Aivas . . ." Hamian faltered again.

"You are volunteering to learn how to make silicate-based plastics such as your ancestors used in building materials, Master Hamian?"

Hamian just nodded, his eyebrows raised in comical surprise. "How d he know that?" he asked in a low aside to the Harper.

"He's got long ears," Robinton replied, amused.

"Incorrect, Master Robinton," Aivas said. "This facility has far more sensitive receptors than ears, Master Hamian, and since the door to the adjacent room was open, the conversation was audible. To reiterate, you wish, Master Harman, to learn how to produce the plastics your ancestors used."

Hamian squared himself in front of the screen, throwing his head up. "Yes, Master Aivas, that is my wish. There are sufficient of my peers eager to improve the quality of iron, steel, bra.s.s, and copper, but, having seen the durability of the ancients' plastic materials, I would like to specialize in them. It is my belief that this could be as important a material to us as it was to our ancestors."

"The manufacture of plastics was a highly refined skill in your ancestors' time. Different polymers produced different end products that could be pliable, semimalleable, or rigid, depending on the chemical formulae. As surface petroleum was discovered near Drake's Lake, there is no reason you cannot revive organic plastic manufacture. However, you will have to understand considerably more chemistry than is currently part of your Mastery training. The manufacture itself can be defined as a continuous ma.s.s solution process. Two units were left in the Catherine Caves by Joel Lilienkamp."

"Lilienkamp?" Piemur cried, pivoting to point both forefingers at Jancis, who also cried, "Lilcamp?"

"Who was Joel Lilienkamp?" Piemur asked Aivas.

"The Expedition's supply officer: the person who preserved so many artifacts in the Catherine Caves."

"Jayge just has to be a descendant," Piemur crowed, and then abruptly apologized for his interruption.

"The two large polymerizing units are not marked as having been protectively packaged. Therefore they will have suffered decay and are unlikely to be operative. But they can be used as templates. You will learn much in the reconstruction, Master Hamian, and have more to learn in the chemistry and physics experiments that you will be set."

Hamian's grin stretched from ear to ear. "My pleasure, Master Aivas, my pleasure." He rubbed his big callused hands together in eagerness. "When do I start?"

"First, you must find the prototype models in the cave."

Aivas's screen lit up with the pictures of two thick cubes with a variety of curious extrusions. "These are what you must find. They will be heavy and c.u.mbersome to move."

"I've moved odder and heavier objects, Master Aivas."

A paper ill.u.s.trating the necessary objects extruded from the slot, and Piemur handed it to the Southern smith.

"You will require a workshop in which to disa.s.semble them and decide what materials you have readily available with which to a.s.semble a modern model. It is advisable that you not be the only one to study these basic sciences: The manufacture of suitable polymers will require a considerable team of workers trained in chemistry and physics."

Hamian smiled ruefully. "Study will obviously be necessary, just to understand the unfamiliar words you're using."

"I think it's safe to say," Master Robinton put in, glancing pointedly at Piemur and Jancis, "that you will have at least three or four more students in your cla.s.s, Aivas. I'm sure, Hamian, that you will want some members of your own Hall trained, as well."

"I've one or two likely fellows in mind, that's certain," Hamian replied. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "My thanks, Master Aivas."

"Acknowledged, Master Hamian."

"How'd you escape Toric?" Piemur asked softly, masking his words behind one hand.

"Escape doesn't enter into this, Piemur." Again Hamian said with a droll grimace, "I'm my own master. I've organized Southern's mines to produce with or without me leaning on anyone. Now I shall broaden my own horizons, as Toric did his. My thanks, Master Robinton, Dram. I know where the caves are. I'll start right away." And he strode purposefully out of the room and down the hall.

As soon as the smith had turned the corner, Master Esselin ducked out of one of the sleeping rooms on the corridor, his expression aggrieved.

"Master Robinton, I told that smith he wasn't to-"

"Master Esselin..." Robinton adopted his most charming manner as he put an arm around the man's fleshy shoulders and turned him around. Dram closed in on the other side, so that Esselin was inexorably led toward the entrance hall. "I do believe that you have been most shamefully treated lately."

"I?" Esselin's fretful look turned to surprise as he laid one plump hand on his chest. "Yes, Master Robinton, when bullies like that Southern smith pay absolutely no attention to my orders...

"You're quite right, Master Esselin. Most shameful, and I think your good nature in suspending your invaluable archival contributions to this site has been woefully abused. Therefore, it has been decided that Weyrleader D'ram, Lord Warder Lytol, and myself should relieve you of this onerous duty and let you get back to your own responsibilities."

"Oh, but, Master Robinton..." Esselin would have slowed his pace if the other two had let him. "I didn't mean to imply that I was unwilling... unwilling..."

"You have been willingness itself," D'ram said, shaking his head. "And all to your credit, Master Esselin, but fair's fair, and you've been more than kind to officiate. We will now take over from you."

Master Esselin continued his protests all the way out the door and down the walk to the path that led to the Archive complex. Gently but firmly Weydeader and Harper gave him a final push, smiling and nodding and totally ignoring his repeated demurrals.

"There!" D'ram said once they were back in the building. He brushed his hands together in satisfaction. "I'll take the first watch, Robinton." He turned to one of the guards. "I'm in charge now. What's your name?"

"Gayton, sir."

"I'd take it kindly, Gayton, if you'd fetch something cool to drink from the kitchens. Bring enough for all of us here. And no, Robinton, he is not going to bring you any wine quite yet. You'll have to have a cool head when you stand your watch, you know."

"Why, you old coot!" Robinton exclaimed. "My head remains cool no matter how much wine I take. The very notion."

"Take yourself off, Robinton." Grinning, Dram shooed him away. "Get into mischief somewhere else."

"Mischief?" The Harper grumbled with mock indignation, but just then they both heard a triumphant shout from Piemur, so he hurried along to see what had occurred.

"I did it! I did it!" Piemur was still carrying on when the Harper arrived. Jancis and Jaxom both both looked looked slightly envious; slightly envious; Benelek adopted a distant att.i.tude. Benelek adopted a distant att.i.tude.

"Did what?"

"Made a program all by myself."

The Harper peered at the enigmatic words and letters on the screen and then at his journeyman. "That... is a program?"

"Sure is. Dead easy once you get the hang of it!" Piemur's elation was infectious.

"Piemur," the Harper found himself saying, "I have a few hours to spare right now while D'ram's on duty. Did you or raid you not mention that there was a spare one of these contraptions? "

"Indeed there is, Master." With considerable satisfaction on his face and not a trace of his usual impudence, Piemur spun out of his seat and went over to the shelf where the components were neatly stacked.

"I think I may regret this," Robinton said to himself.

"It is to be hoped that you will not, Master Robinton," was Aivas's low rea.s.surance.

Zair nipping his ear roused Robinton from a doze. He had been leaning back in his chair, head resting on the support, legs propped up on the desk, and as he woke the first thing he was aware of was the crick in his neck. His knees wouldn't at first bend as he lowered his legs. When he groaned, Zair nipped him again, eyes flaming red-orange.

Instantly the Masterharper was alert. Down the hall, he could hear Aivas's voice explaining something and the lighter voice of one of the students querying. That was as it should be. He looked up at Zair, who was staring out the door into the night. It was then he caught the faint noise of something cracking, and the even fainter splashing of liquid.

He rose, silently swearing at the recalcitrance of aging joints that no longer functioned smoothly. As stealthily as he could, he moved across the entrance hall and out into the night. He knew it was near dawn; the insect sounds that had lulled him to sleep on his post had ceased and daytime noises had not yet begun. He crept forward, hearing that soft cracking noise again. To his left, where the banks of Fandarel's batteries had been installed against the wall, he saw darker shadows. Two men.

Two men busily smashing the gla.s.s tanks that held the battery fluid.

"Now, just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded, outraged. "Zair! Grab them! Pie... mur! Jancis! Someone!" Jancis! Someone!" He ran forward, determined to prevent any further damage to Aivas's power supply. He ran forward, determined to prevent any further damage to Aivas's power supply.

Later, he wondered what he had thought he was doing, an unarmed elderly man attacking vandals. Even as the pair came at him with upraised clubs or iron bars or whatever they had been using to smash the battery tanks, he wasn't afraid: just purely and simply furious.

Fortunately Zair had weapons, twenty sharp talons, and as the little bronze swooped to tear at the eyes of the first man, Piemur's Farli, Jancis's Trig, and half a dozen other fire-lizards joined the battle. Robinton caught a handful of tunic and tried to drag the man to the ground, but with a savage jerk, accompanied by an anguished squeal as fire-lizard claws racked facial skin, the man broke free and took to his heels. His companion swatted viciously at the aerial attackers and then ran off as well. The fire-lizards followed, dividing into two groups to follow the separating fugitives.

By the time human a.s.sistance arrived, even the sound of the vandals' retreat was lost to listening ears.

"Don't worry, Robinton," Piemur said. "We've only to check who got clawed. We'll find them! Are you all right, Master'?"

Robinton was clutching at his chest and panting from his exertions, and although he gestured fiercely for Piemur and the others to follow the fugitives, he became their first concern.

"I'm all right, I'm all right," he cried, trying to avoid their solicitude. "Go after them!" And he fell into a fit of coughing, caused more by frustration than by exercise.

By the time he had convinced them of his well-being, the firelizards had returned, looking exceedingly pleased with themselves for having chased the intruders. Disgusted at the vandals' escape, Robinton grabbed up a glowbasket and led the way to the point of attack.

"Five smashed, and if you hadn't heard-" Piemur began.

"I didn't hear. Zair did." Robinton was furious with himself for having dozed off.

"Same thing," Piemur replied with an impish grin. "And they didn't break enough tanks to jeopardize the power supply. Don't fret now, Master. There're spares in Stores."

"I'm fretting because it happened at all!" Robinton heard his voice rise in angry stress.

"We'll find the vandals," Piemur a.s.sured his master. Guiding the old Harper back to his chair, he poured him a cup of wine.

"Wed better," Robinton said savagely. He knew there was growing antagonism to Aivas, but he had not really considered, even for a moment, that someone would actually attack the facility.

But who? he wondered, sipping at the wine and feeling its usual efficacious soothing. Esselin? He doubted the fat old fool would dare, no matter how upset he might have been over losing his sinecure. Had any of Norist's gla.s.smen been at Landing that day?

"Don't fret yourself," Piemur repeated, regarding his master with continued anxiety. "See? Zair's bloodied one of them. We'll find them, never fear."

The men were not found the next morning, although Piemur organized a discreet search of the entire complement at Landing. He even went even went so far as to so far as to rouse rouse Esselin well before Esselin well before the the indolent man was apt to be awake, but the round, fat face was blemish-free. indolent man was apt to be awake, but the round, fat face was blemish-free.

"They must have just kept running," he reported to the worried Harper, who was overseeing the replacement of the battery tanks.

"We must build a barrier across these," Robinton said. "We must mount a watch at all times. Aivas cannot be jeopardized."

"Have you decided who's the most likely suspect?" Piemur asked, watching his master's tired face.

"Suspect? I've a variety of choices. Proof, no!"

Piemur shrugged. "Then we watch harder." Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Why didn't Aivas sound an alarm? He usually sees what's going on, night or day."

When queried on that point, Aivas replied that the vandals had been operating under the level of the exterior visuals, and the only sound the audio sensors had picked up had been consistent enough with usual nocturnal activity.

"What about in here?" Robinton asked.

"This facility is safe. Do not fear vandalism in here."

Robinton was not all that rea.s.sured but could not argue the point, as the first of the new day's students were arriving.

"We'll keep this to ourselves for the time being, Piemur," Robinton said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"What about a message to all harpers to watch out for claw-marked faces?"

Robinton lifted his shoulders briefly. "I doubt they'll appear in public until they're healed, but send the message."

6.

As EVENTS OVER the next few weeks proved, the self-appointment of the Harper, the old Weyrleader, and the retired Lord Warder as Aivas's custodians was providential. The management by three men who already enjoyed reputations for probity and impartiality went unchallenged. Certainly the acc.u.mulated knowledge of Harper, Weyrleader, and Lord Warder was utilized to its fullest in the rebirth and administration of Landing.

Some visitors-the merely curious-became disenchanted when they discovered that Aivas ignored foolish or egocentric questions. Those willing to be enlightened and to work hard to acquire the new disciplines stayed on and profited.

Until ten secondary stations were up and running, the three custodians arranged appointments for Aivas, deftly slotting in emergency consultations without offending anyone. And, because Aivas needed no rest, concentrated lessons, such as those for Master Oldive and other healers, were scheduled for the early hours of Landing's day.

The major crafthalls were not the only ones to send representatives; it became prestigious for the Lord Holders to send promising sons and daughters, as well as likely candidates from minor holds. There were so many at first, some of whom were obviously ill-equipped to deal with radical new concepts, that it was kinder and less bothersome to set each applicant a basic test: an apt.i.tude test, Aivas called it. It certainly weeded out the idlers and those without true scholarship.

Lessa and F'lar never became proficient in their use of a console, mostly because, in the Harper's estimation, they had little time to spend learning the essentials; but they did grasp the fundamentals of accessing information. F'nor didn't even try, but his mate, Brekke, joined the Masterhealer's dedicated group in their striving to regain the lost medical techniques. Mirrim, determined to keep up with T'gellan, struggled on despite a most distressing start and succeeded. K'van became as adept as Jaxom and Piemur.

To the surprise and delight of his close a.s.sociates, the taciturn Lytol became an avid user, accessing files from the widest range of topics. He insisted on taking the late shift, as he never required more than four hours of sleep anyway.