“The Harper Hall has assiduously kept accounts,” the Harper said eagerly, “though the oldest of them have become illegible over the hundreds of Turns which have passed. I think the more recent Records of the seventeen Turns of this current Pass would inform you adequately. Jaxom, could you and Ruth possibly go to the Harper Hall and collect them?”
The young Lord Holder immediately rose.
“If you wouldn’t mind, bring Sebell and Menolly,” Robinton added, glancing at F’lar, who nodded emphatically, “back with you?”
“The Records of my crafthall,” Fandarel began, inching forward on his stool, wringing his huge hands together in an uncharacteristic gesture of tension, “are missing so many words and explanations—perhaps even one about this Oort Cloud. Generally what’s missing is just where we cannot possibly figure out from the context what was meant. If you were able to tell us what words were missing or corrupted, you would be granting the most invaluable assistance to our efforts at self-improvement.”
He was about to continue when Robinton’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. They all heard Master Esselin come bustling down the corridor, directing those who carried food, cups, and wineskins to hand them over to Jancis and Piemur. He peremptorily gestured those carrying pallets and blankets into the smaller adjacent rooms. At a nod from F’lar, he hurried back down the corridor, out of earshot.
“A moment, dear friend,” Robinton said when Fandarel was about to continue his request for help. “Aivas, you may have all the information the colonists considered relevant, but I don’t really think we should dispense it without due consideration.”
“Exactly what I was about to say,” F’lar added.
“Discretion is a built-in feature of this Aivas model, Masterharper, Weyrleader. You should discuss among you who is to have access to this facility and in exactly what ways it may be of use to you.”
The Masterharper groaned, holding his head in both hands, and was immediately surrounded by Lessa, Piemur, and Jaxom.
“I’m all right, I’m all right,” he said testily, waving them off. “Have you all realized just what this source of knowledge can mean to us?” His voice was rough with emotion. “I’ve only now begun to absorb how profoundly this discovery could change our lives.
“I’ve been struggling to absorb that myself,” F’lar said with a grim smile. “If this Aivas knows something about Thread and the Red Star that would help us . . .” F’lar halted, his hope too precious to express aloud. Then he smiled wryly and held up his hand. “First, I believe it is extremely important to decide the question of who should be permitted into this room. As you pointed out, Robinton, Aivas cannot be accessible to everyone.”
“Definitely,” Master Robinton said. He took a long swig of the wine he had poured for himself. “Definitely. Considering that crowd in the hall, there’s no way we can censor the discovery of Aivas nor,” he added, holding up his hand at the protests, “do I think we should. However . . .” He grinned. “We can’t just have anyone who wants to popping up here and monopolizing—this—”
“Facility,” Piemur put in, his expression genuinely thoughtful. “When word of Aivas gets about, there’ll be any number of people who’ll want to talk to Aivas just to say that they had, because they don’t grasp its significance.”
“For once I agree with you, Piemur,” Lessa said. She looked around her. “I think there’s enough in this room right now with a real need to talk to Aivas and the common sense and courtesy to know when to stop.” She paused to cast a stern eye on Master Robinton, who grinned back amiably. “Certainly we are representative of the planet—Weyrleaders, Masters, and Lord Holders—so no one can say Aivas is being monopolized by one group. Or is that too many, Aivas?”
“No.” For some reason this easy acceptance made the Masterharper grin. Aivas went on. “The authority may be expanded or contracted as may be deemed necessary. To recapitulate, it is permitted for you . . .” And all those in the room were named in pleasant baritone tones.
“And Jaxom,” Piemur added quickly, since Jaxom had gone on Robinton’s errand and someone needed to speak up for the third party to the original discovery of Aivas.
“And Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold,” Aivas amended, “to command my services. Is that correct? Very good. The necessary voiceprints have been registered, including Lord Jaxom’s, whose voice I registered earlier, and this facility will respond to no others, or in the presence of others, until further notice.”
“As an added precaution,” Master Robinton said, “to change that roster, there must be one of the Weyrleaders, one Master, and one Lord Holder present in this room.” He glanced about to see if that precaution was acceptable.
Just then, Esselin bustled down the corridor to ask if there were any further orders for the night.
“Yes, Esselin, assign the most responsible and least curious of your men to guard the building’s entrance. Only Lord Jaxom and those who accompany him are to be permitted to enter the building tonight.”
By the time Esselin had assured F’lar of his total cooperation, a rather tense discussion had started between Fandarel and Larad as to which crafthalls should have precedence in learning from Aivas.
“If I may interject a suggestion,” Aivas said loudly, startling them all, “it is a relatively simple matter to expand this facility to accommodate many requirements.” When the silence lengthened, Aivas added in a milder, almost apologetic tone, “That is, if the contents of the Catherine Caves are still intact and undamaged?”
“Do you mean the caves at the southern side of the grid?” Piemur asked.
“Those would be the ones.” To the bewilderment of the watchers, images of a variety of items appeared on the screen. “And these are the objects required to supply additional stations.”
“Your beaded panels, Piemur,” Jancis said, clutching at his sleeve with one hand and pointing excitedly with the other.
“You’re right,” Piemur said. “What are they, Aivas? We seem to have boxes and boxes of them, all different sorts.”
“Those are computer cards.” To the listeners, it sounded as if Aivas’s measured tone betrayed a discreet excitement. “Were there also any of these objects?” And boxes were displayed with screens that were smaller replicas of the screen facing them, along with rectangles resembling what Aivas had identified as a touch panel.
“Yes,” Master Robinton said with surprise. “I couldn’t think what they might be when I saw them, swathed in that thick film.”
“If there are sufficient parts in good working order, then there need be no contention for access to this facility. These were the remainder of the ordinary processors. All other voice-activated units were packaged for shipment to the north and, it seems, lost, but these elementary models will admirably suit the current need. With sufficient power, up to twelve stations can be accommodated without affecting response time.”
Once again the audience lapsed into numb silence.
“Do I understand you correctly?” Fandarel began, after clearing his throat. “You can
divide
yourself into twelve segments?”
“That is correct.”
“How can you do that?” Fandarel demanded, spreading his arms wide in disbelief.
“Surely, Mastersmith, you do not limit yourself to one hearth, or anvil or forge, one hammer, one fire?”
“Of course not, but I have many men . . .”
“This facility is not a single hearth or fire or hammer, but many, and each can work as diligently as the others.”
“This I find very hard to understand,” Fandarel admitted, scratching his balding pate and shaking his head.
“Before you is a machine, Mastersmith, which can be segmented, and each discrete part can function as a separate tool.”
“I don’t begin to understand how you can do that, Aivas, but if you can, it would certainly solve the problems of priorities,” Master Robinton said, grinning from ear to ear. Oh, the questions of past paradoxes that could now be answered by this marvelous creature! He took a large pull of his wine.
“To create these separate tools,” Aivas went on, “will, in itself, provide the first of many lessons that must be understood before you will be ready to attack your primary objective, the annihilation of Thread.”
“By all means, let us begin then,” F’lar said, rubbing his hands together, infused with the first stirrings of real hope he had felt during the last few grueling Turns of the current Pass.
“There isn’t enough space in here for a dozen of us all talking with a dozen of you, Aivas,” Lord Larad of Telgar said reasonably.
“There are other rooms in this building that can be utilized. Indeed, it would be wise to have separate offices, and perhaps one larger room where many could observe and learn. It is best to begin at the beginning,” Aivas said, and suddenly sheets began to roll out of a slot to one side of the main screen. “These are the items that will be needed in the morning, the tools that will be required to construct the additional stations, and a diagram of how to redesign this building to accommodate them.”
Being nearest, Piemur caught the sheets as they were spewed out. Jancis came to his aid.
“More material will soon be needed for the printer,” Aivas went on. “Rolls should be stored in the Catherine Caves with the other supplies. Paper would be an acceptable substitute.”
“Paper?” Larad exclaimed. “Wood-pulp paper?”
“If nothing else is available, that will do.”
“It would seem, Asgenar,” F’lar said with a chuckle, “that the skills of Master Bendarek were not developed a Turn too soon.”
“You have lost the skill of extruding plastic from silicates?” Aivas asked. Master Robinton thought he heard a note of surprise in its voice.
“Silicates?” Master Fandarel asked.
“But one of the many skills we have lost,” Robinton said ruefully. “We will make diligent pupils.”
The flow of sheets stopped, and as Piemur and Jancis sorted them, they realized that there were six copies of each page. When they had assembled the sheets, they looked around expectantly at those in the room.
“Not tonight,” Lessa said firmly. “You’d break your necks stumbling about those caves in the dark. We’ve waited this long, we can wait until morning. And I think that we all should”—she swung around to pinion the Masterharper with a stern eye—“either seek a bed for the night or go back where we belong.”
“My dear Weyrwoman,” Robinton began, pulling himself erect. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, including your direst threat would compel me—” And suddenly he seemed to wilt and fold in on himself. Piemur caught the cup before it fell from the Harper’s hand. As he supported his Master’s limp body, he had a smug smile on his face.
“Except of course the fellis juice I put in his last cup of wine,” he said by way of explanation. “So let’s get him to bed.”
F’lar and Larad immediately started forward, but Fandarel held up one huge hand. Picking up the long Harper in his arms, he nodded to Jancis to show him where to put the sleeping Robinton to bed.
“Piemur, you haven’t changed, have you?” Lessa accused with a mock scowl that turned into a grin. Then, because she wondered at what the machine would think of what it had seen, she added, “Aivas, Masterharper Robinton often lets his enthusiasm get the better of his well-being.”
“This facility is able to monitor for physical stress,” Aivas said. “The Masterharper emanated considerable excitement but nothing harmful.”
“You are a healer, as well?” F’lar exclaimed.
“No, Weyrleader, but this facility is equipped to monitor the vital signs of those in this room. However, the medical information stored in files was updated to state-of-the-art at the time the expedition departed for this system. Your medics may wish to avail themselves of this information.”
F’lar’s groan was audible. “Master Oldive must come here as soon as possible.”
“Half the planet must come as soon as possible,” Lessa said tartly. She gave a gusty sigh. “I doubt twelve of Aivas will be half enough.”
“Then let us organize ourselves,” Fandarel said, returning from his errand. “We must contain our excitement and direct our energies in the most efficient way . . .” There were chuckles at the Mastersmith’s use of his favorite word. “You may laugh, but you know it is only sensible and time-saving to work efficiently, and we are each going in several directions at once tonight. We cannot but be stimulated by this sudden gift from our ancestors, but we should do nothing hasty. I will go back to Telgar crafthold now, if F’nor and Canth will be so kind. I shall make suitable arrangements and draft the services of those who can help us delve into the caves to find the required materials, and to find people to understand the diagrams Aivas has given us. But tomorrow is soon enough. F’nor?” And, raising his hairy eyebrows at the brown rider, Fandarel nodded to one and all, bowed courteously to the screen, and took his leave.
“A moment, F’nor,” Larad said, “for I should return to Telgar. Asgenar, do you join us?”
Asgenar looked about him and smiled ruefully. “I think I’d better leave now. My mind is seething with questions to put to Aivas, yet I don’t think I could actually come out with a sensible query. I’ll bring Bendarek with me in the morning.”
Lord Groghe, who had said very little but looked exceedingly thoughtful, asked N’ton to return him to Fort Hold.
“Jancis and I will stay here in case Master Robinton wakes,” Piemur told Lessa and F’lar. Then his mischievous grin surfaced. “And I won’t ask my eight thousand five hundred and thirty-two burning questions all in one breath, either.”
“Then I think we all bid you good night now, Aivas,” F’lar said, turning toward the dark screen.
“Good night.” The lights of the room dimmed to a faint glow. One pulsing green light remained at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen.
Two hours later Jaxom and Ruth arrived with both Harper Masters, Sebell and Menolly. The white dragon was festooned with sacks. By considerably reducing the level of klah in the beakers Esselin had provided, Piemur had managed to stay awake while Jancis got a nap.
“One of us has to be alert tomorrow to organize people,” she had told the young journeyman harper. “I’m better at that than you are, love.” She had given him a kiss to sweeten the comment.