Jaxom looked around, inviting someone to take up his offer. When his first round of the startled faces produced no other responses than nervous throat clearings and foot shiftings, he fixed his audience with a look that dared them to volunteer.
“I’d like to go,” Larad said quietly, and Asgenar held up his hand, as well.
“And I,” Lytol added.
“One doesn’t see too much of the north from the
Yokohama
’s bridge,” Jaxom admitted, “but Aivas is hoping to repair the damaged port-side viewers. That should make some of the east coast visible from space.” He looked pointedly at Toronas who, after visible hesitation, raised his hand.
“How much of the Southern Continent is visible?” Toric asked in a hoarse bark.
“More, if we can repair the stern viewers,” Jaxom replied, delighted that Toric had responded.
“I don’t see what good’ll come from all this,” Begamon began querulously. “Risking lives on foolish sundreams of destroying Thread. It’s been with us for hundreds of Turns. And I say again, if the ancients knew so much, why didn’t they get rid of the stuff in
their
time? Huh? Why didn’t they?”
“Aivas has answered that to my satisfaction,” Lytol said firmly. “And don’t forget that every task we have undertaken since his discovery has benefited everyone on this planet.”
“How? Tell me, how?” Begamon demanded.
Lytol held up the pad, the ink pen, and a sheet of the weather reports that Aivas had been producing for the past two Turns to the delight and relief of holders, major and minor. Then he pointed to the ornate clock on the wall, ticking away the minutes of the meeting, and to the new clothing in which Begamon was dressed, made from one of Master Zurg’s latest fine fabrics.
“I also heard that you’ve new power to irrigate your fields and portable stoves to heat your orchards during frosts,” Lytol replied. “Not to mention the fact that your youngest granddaughter owes her life to Master Oldive’s new surgical techniques.”
“They’re things we can use, see, touch, Lytol.” Begamon waved his hand over his head. “Not something beyond our reach and our ken.”
“Then let the things you can use, see, and touch reassure you that there is more to be learned, more to be explored, more to be understood to improve our lives, to insure our lives,” Jaxom said, speaking so earnestly that even the oldest, most hidebound Holders listened with something akin to respect for his sudden authority.
“Thank you for your report, Lord Jaxom,” Lytol said, smoothly breaking the long pause. “Let us now address the subject of—” At the murmur of disagreement, he held up his hand. “You will all have plenty of time to speak to Lord Jaxom after the business of this Council is over. The second matter to be brought to your attention is a notification from the Mastercraftsmen of Pern.”
“Not
all
the Mastercraftsmen,” Corman said, jutting his chin out belligerently.
Lytol neither glared nor stared, but his look succeeded in making Corman feel abashed at having interrupted so rudely. “The Mastercraftsmen of Pern, with one exception, that of Master Norist of the Glass-smithcraft, notify this Council of their intention to form two new Halls: Printer Hall, to be loosely allied with the Harper Hall but independent and autonomous, with three main crafthalls: the main Hall to be at Landing, with additional installations at Ruatha, which currently harbors no Crafthall, and at Lemos, in conjunction with the paper industry of Masterwoodsmith Bendarek. The second new Hall is to be Technicians Hall, loosely allied with the Smithcrafthall, to deal with problems arising from the new equipment—”
“I’ll say no to that one immediately,” Sigomal said, jumping to his feet. “That’s catering to the Abomination and—”
“There will be no vulgar epithets at this table, Lord Sigomal,” Lytol said at his most censorious. “Nor should I have to repeat that the Mastercraftsmen have no need of your permission. You have only to abstain from the purchase of any materials produced by a Crafthall which distresses you. Since it comes to my notice that certain projects of yours have benefited from new gadgetry of which only Aivas could be the source, you would be wiser to refrain from uttering such arrant hypocrisies in the Council.”
Gaping, Sigomal sank back.
Jaxom managed not to smile at the Bitran Lord Holder’s discomfiture. One of the men who had tried to attack Aivas had been a Bitran, but that was scarcely proof that the Lord Holder had been connected with the attack. Bitrans hired out to anyone who would pay them enough to make the job worth their while. Still, this was the first time Sigomal had publicly labeled Aivas an abomination.
“We will be duly informed when the new Mastercraftsmen are chosen and the parameters of their professional spheres decided. Let me further remind the Lord Holders that such additions to the Crafthalls require no ratification by this Council since the Halls have, by long custom, been autonomous. This is a formal notification of intent.”
“Is that in the original Charter, too, Lytol?” Sangel asked nastily.
“No,” Lytol replied, not the least bit perturbed. “The Crafthall scheme was originated shortly before the end of the First Pass by Fort, Ruatha, and Benden Holds to preserve skills and educate young men and women in the various urgently needed crafts. Originally,” Lytol added, smiling slightly as he glanced toward Corman, “Ruatha Hold played host to the Masterbeastman and Masterfarmer until the wide plains of Keroon were explored and found more suitable to animal husbandry.”
Larad rose to address the Council. “It is also worth noting that both Mastersmith Fandarel and Masterharper Sebell are completely within their rights to propose additional, separate Halls without even consulting other Mastercraftsmen. But they have done so and received full support—”
“It isn’t full if one Mastercraftsman abstains!” Nessel took up the complaint in his peevish whine of a voice.
“Master Norist did not attend the meeting, though he was duly notified,” Larad said. “Both the Printer and Technicians Halls will supply the special training now required and unavailable elsewhere. We have all benefited by the new machineries, especially clearly printed instruction books and records. For more people to enjoy these benefits, additional craftsmen must be trained in the skills.”
“Why can’t the printers work under Master Sebell and the repairers under Master Fandarel?” Corman demanded. “Why all this fuss to create new crafthalls?”
“Master Fandarel is working all the hours of the day already, filling orders for new equipment,” Larad said. “He does not have the time, or the personnel, to oversee a new Craft.”
“Well, this printing could be handled by your Masterwoodsmith, Asgenar,” Corman replied. “He’s not overworked.”
Asgenar laughed. “He is, I am, and we still can’t keep up with the demand from every single Hall and Hold for paper in the sizes, qualities, and styles you all seem to feel you must have.” He shook his head. “Master Bendarek has a hall full of apprentices, only two journeymen, and no other master yet. He needs every pair of hands he can employ, but he can’t oversee the printing, as well. Papermaking takes all his time and energy.”
“Master Fandarel wished me to explain that specialist technicians will be required to keep all the new machinery operating at peak efficiency,” Larad continued. “Right now we have machinery only a few people can understand or repair, while others are able to operate but not repair them. Eventually, we’ll have men and women who can do both, but not right now.”
“Then why don’t you walk before you start running?” Corman demanded with a snort. “In my experience you can’t race a yearling runner or force an immature herdbeast to breed or lactate.”
Jaxom started to rise but felt Groghe lay a warning hand on his arm. It took a great deal of self-control for Jaxom to obey that tacit command. He fervently wished that he could speak for himself but grimly recognized that the older Lord Holders were not going to accept him as a peer. When he really had helped destroy Thread, would they consider him an equal then? Or would he still be classed as Holder by default?
“Machines
are
slightly different, Corman,” Groghe replied, grinning patronizingly at the Keroon Lord Holder. “Once a machine is built, it does what it was designed to do. When it breaks down, you replace the worn part. You can’t do that with livestock.”
“No, damaged livestock can be slaughtered and eaten. Whaddya do with worn-out machinery? First thing you know we’ll have piles of rusting scrap in every Hold and Hall. And probably the Weyrs, too, since this is all their fault.”
“Lord Corman!” Trembling with outrage, Jaxom wrenched his arm from Groghe’s grip and sprang to his feet, his fists clenched. “You may not disparage the Weyrs in my presence!”
He was only barely aware that Lord Groghe had risen beside him and clamped both hands on his left arm, while Asgenar, also on his feet, was restraining him on the other side. Larad was loud in his protest, as were Toronas, Deckter, Warbret, Bargen, and, to Jaxom’s immense surprise, Toric.
“Lord Corman, you will immediately apologize to this Council for that remark!” Lytol roared.
With ten Lord Holders on their feet in protest, Corman had no option but to apologize. When he mumbled a phrase, Lytol icily demanded that he speak loud enough to be heard. Then Lytol stared at each of the standing Lord Holders until they sank back into their chairs.
“If we are to eliminate the menace of Thread, it will be necessary to have the equipment—equipment we are able to manufacture, operate, and service—with which to achieve that elimination. That has already been the ambition of every Weyr since Fort was first established. It is the end to which every Hold and Hall has worked. If to destroy Thread completely causes some reevaluation of ways and means, a displacement of useless or archaic traditions, the price is not too high for the reward of Thread-free skies.” Lytol paused a moment, as if surprised by the vehemence of his own rhetoric. “There will be no mention of this incident when the Council is adjourned.
“Now,” he continued briskly, “let us show some unanimity of purpose and encourage the two new Halls. How say you, Lords? Write ‘yea’ or ‘nay.’ ”
Corman sat hunched in on himself, glowering, and his was probably the one blank sheet turned into Lytol. There were two boldly printed “nays,” but the “yeas” signified the approval that would be passed on to the two Mastercraftsmen involved.
“Who decides who’re to be Craftmasters and pay for the establishment of these Halls?” Nessel asked.
“Craftsmasters have not yet been chosen, but there are suitable candidates. Empty buildings at Landing have already been altered for both new Crafts,” Lytol went on, consulting his notes, “and the additional Halls will be built by those seeking to apprentice themselves to the new Crafts. Anyone wishing to transfer to either the Printer Hall or the Technicians Hall will need the permission of their Mastercraftsman and the Master of their present Hall.”
“What about those working without their Mastercraftsman’s permission?” Sangel asked disparagingly. Everyone knew he meant Morilton.
“That is an internal Craft matter,” Lytol said, “and will be resolved by the parties involved, not by this Council.”
“But what if we can’t get glass—”
“There’s no shortage of glass,” Groghe said, curtly. “We buy what we choose from whom we choose. Simple as that! And there’s many of us who patronize one Hall in preference to another. Always have, always will. It’s only sensible, human nature being what it is.”
Master Robinton wants to know what’s delaying the announcement,
Ruth said to Jaxom.
Talk. The choice has been made, but Lytol’ll peel me if I usurp his prerogative.
Just hearing Ruth’s voice helped to soothe Jaxom, who was seething at the subtle, and not so subtle, currents. At least he now knew which Holders to watch: Corman, Nessel, Sangel, and Begamon. Corman was blunt enough to speak his mind, but the others had been nursing their resentment and grievances, and that wasn’t healthy. Did their intransigence stem more from fear of Aivas, or from a stubborn intractable resistance to change?
“Is there any other business before the Council?” Lytol asked as procedure dictated.
“I have a question,” Toric said, rising.
“Yes, Lord Toric?”
“Who is to be Lord Holder of Landing?”
For once even Lytol lost his composure and gawked at the Southern Holder.
Toric gave a faint smile of satisfaction. “Certainly a place as important as Landing cannot be left without proper supervision.” He sounded eminently reasonable, but Jaxom almost guffawed at the shock registered on the faces of the other Holders. The expressions were even more indicative of which Lord Holders felt Landing was important; Jaxom noted those who did not, confirming his guesses: Sangel, Nessel, Sigomal, Corman, Begamon, and Laudey, though the Igen Holder seemed more diffident than antagonistic.
“You’ve not been keeping up with such minor details in the east,” Jaxom heard himself saying in an amused drawl. “Lord Warder Lytol, Masterharper Robinton, and D’ram, Tiroth’s rider, jointly administer Landing and equably represent the interests of Hold, Hall, and Weyr. The shared authority works well. You have always been welcome at Landing, Lord Toric.”
“The moment the discovery of the Aivas was made,” Lytol said, firmly taking charge, “a meeting was called on the site. The eight Lord Holders, eight Craftmasters, and seven Weyrleaders unanimously decided that, in view of its historical significance and its current educational status, Landing would remain an uncontested area.”
Corman growled irritably to Nessel, but when Lytol gestured for him to speak up, he morosely subsided.
“How much of an area?” Toric all but pounced on Lytol with the question.
Lytol regarded him in subtle rebuke before answering. “The same area that was encompassed by the Landing site on the settlers’ maps, of course.”
Toric flicked a grimace at Lytol and sat down, his enigmatic stare checking the expressions of the others at the round table. Jaxom, scrutinizing him under cover of a hand on his brow, could not guess what thoughts might be going through the Southerner’s covetous mind. Surely the man knew that further territorial acquisitions would be met with resistance from Hall, Hold, and Weyr—especially the Weyrs. Jaxom began to regret that he had given Toric a solution to the problem of the Big Island:
that
problem had kept the man from looking eastward for over two full Turns. Jaxom sighed. Sometimes one solved a problem only to create a half-dozen more.