All the Weyrs of Pern (12 page)

In the broad new courtyard, several knots of folk were arguing vociferously with each other while, above their heads, fire-lizards made raucous sounds of agitation. Most of the people wore the shoulder knots of Masters and journeymen from various Crafts; their tunic devices told Robinton that they came from different Holds, as well.

“Free-for-all?” D’ram asked, dropping to the ground beside Robinton.

“That’s what it certainly sounds like,” Robinton did not recognize any of the dissenters, though he noted four of Master Esselin’s biggest workmen standing in front of the closed doors of the building. He took a deep breath and strode forward.

“Now, just what seems to be the trouble here?” he asked loudly. It took only a moment for all the disputants to realize who was addressing them; immediately he was encircled, each plaintiff demanding his attention.
“Now wait just a moment!”
he bellowed. Behind him on the hill, bronze and gold dragons added their authoritative bugle, and silence fell. Then he pointed at one man wearing a Masterminer’s knot and Crom’s device.

“Master Esselin will not let us in,” the man said belligerently.

“And my Lord Holder”—a man wearing the head-Steward knots of Boll pushed forward from the group—“insists that we be given the facts about this mysterious being.”

“Deckter charged me to do the same,” a Steward from Nabol said in the most aggrieved tone of the three. “We demand to know the truth about this Aivas. And I’m to see this marvel before I return to Nabol.”

“Yes, you all have been unconscionably slighted,” Robinton said soothingly. “And those of us who have been fortunate to hear Aivas
know
that seeing Aivas is the first step in believing what he can do for us all, Hold, Hall, and Weyr. Why,
I’ve
only just been allowed to return.” He feigned indignation at such an omission. That the much respected Harper of Pern should be denied access, too, seemed to appease them. “Now, you must realize that the room where Aivas is installed is quite small, though I notice there have been attempts to enlarge the space.” He craned his neck as if trying to see just how much larger it was. “Hmmm. Yes, working day and night from the look of it. Most commendable really. Now, if you’ll just bide here, I’ll see what can be done about your quite legitimate request to see Aivas.”

“I don’t want to just
see
it,” the miner complained. “I want it to tell me how to get back to the main lode of a very rich vein of ore. The ancients located all the ores on Pern. I want it to tell me where to dig, since it knows everything about Pern.”

“Not everything, my dear fellow,” Robinton said, less than surprised that Aivas was already being considered an omniscient being. Should he emphasize that Aivas was only—only? he thought bemusedly—a machine, a device that had served their ancestors as the receptacle of information? No, their understanding of machinery, craftsmen though many of them were, was too rudimentary. They would not grasp the concept of so complex a mechanical apparatus, let alone the concept of an
artificial
intelligence. The Masterharper didn’t understand that all too well himself. He sighed with resignation. “And he knows very little about Pern as it is today, though a great deal about Pern as it was twenty-five hundred Turns ago. I suppose none of you heard that you were supposed to bring Hall Records with you? Aivas particularly wants to bring himself up to current times with every Hall, Hold, and Weyr.”

“No one said anything about Records,” the miner said, taken aback. “We heard it knew everything.”

“Aivas will be the first to inform you that while his knowledge extends to many subjects and skills, he is
not
, happily, all-knowing. He is . . . a talking Record, and far more accurate than ours, which tunnel snakes, time, and other perils have rendered illegible.”

“We was told he knew everything!” the miner insisted stubbornly.

“Not even
I
know everything,” Robinton responded gently. “Nor has Aivas even once suggested that he does. He knows a great deal more, however, than we do. And we shall all learn from him. Now, let me speak to Master Esselin on your behalf. There are, let’s see, how many of you?” And he did a quick head count. “Thirty-four. Well, that’s too many for one go. D’ram, choose by lots. You all know D’ram here as a fair man. You’ll all have a turn—brief it may be, but Aivas you shall see.”

Master Esselin was delighted to see the Harper but appalled at Robinton’s solution to the matter of the plaintiffs.

“We can’t send them away unhappy, Esselin. They have every bit as much of a right to see Aivas as a Lord Holder. More, even, because they’ll be the
doing
of Aivas’s grand plans over the next few years. Who’s in there now?”

“Master Terry with Masters and journeymen from every Smithcrafthall in the world.” Then his eyes went round with anxiety. “And Master Hamian from Southern Hold and two of his apprentices.”

“Ah, Toric’s finally sent an emissary?” Robinton wasn’t sure if the news pleased or worried him. He had rather hoped not to have to contend with Toric’s avarice yet.

“I don’t think he comes on Lord Toric’s behalf.” Esselin shook his head, his eyes still wide with apprehension. “Master Hamian did say to Master Terry that his sister, the Lady Sharra of Ruatha, suggested that he drop everything and come here immediately.”

“And so he should. So he should,” Robinton agreed affably. Hamian would be an excellent man to have involved here. A clever innovator who had already put back to use what the ancients had left behind in a Southern mine. “I’ll just see when it’s convenient to interrupt them for a few moments. Believe me, Esselin, it’s the better part of discretion to give those fellows out there the chance to see Aivas for themselves.”

“But they’re only Stewards and small miners . . .”

“There are more of those than of Lord Holders and Crafthallmasters and Weyrleaders, Esselin, and every single one of them has the right to approach Aivas.”

“That wasn’t what I was told,” Master Esselin said, resorting to his usual obstructive attitude, thrusting his heavy chin belligerently forward.

Robinton eyed him pityingly for such a long moment that even the thick-skinned Esselin could not fail to notice that his behavior was unacceptable to the Harper.

“I think you will find before the day is out that you will be told differently, Master Esselin. Now, if you will excuse me . . .” And with that Robinton strode down the hall to the Aivas chamber.

As he approached, he could hear Aivas’s sonorous voice using the sort of penetrating tone that suggested he was addressing a large group. When Robinton quietly opened the door, he was first amazed at how many people were standing in the room, and then that even more occupied the new wings on either side of the Aivas facility. Two doors had been opened into the large annexes on either side. The two walls enclosing Aivas were intact, of course, but much more space had been made for larger audiences. This afternoon the group was composed of smiths who were, in general, possessed of large, powerful bodies. Master Nicat, the Masterminer, was seated at the front on a bench with Terry and two of his best Masters, who were all busily copying the diagrams on the main Aivas screen. Jancis was also there, in a corner, bent over a drawing board on her lap. Others in the room were doing their best to draw, too, some using the backs of others to steady their pads. Robinton could make no sense of the complicated design, but it was obvious from the rapt attention it was being given that it was of great importance to the Smithcrafters. Aivas was explaining, adding numbered specifications that also meant nothing to the Harper. The measured voice enjoined his listeners to ask questions on any point that was not clear.

“You have explained in such detail,” Master Nicat said, his swarthy face wearing a most respectful expression, “that even the most simple-minded apprentice would understand.”

“Ah, if you don’t mind, Aivas . . .” A Masterminer whom Robinton knew to be the Master of the works at one of the larger Telgar iron foundries raised his hand. “If faulty melts can be remedied up to standard, then can we repair the damage to ones long since discarded?”

“That is correct. The process can be applied to used metals. In fact, quite often the use of old metal improves the final product.”

“Even metals made by the ancients?” Master Hamian asked. “We have found some in what I understand were the original workings at Andiyar’s Stake in Dorado.”

“Once in the crucible, the melt burns off impurities of all kinds.” Then, to Robinton’s astonishment, Aivas added, “Good afternoon, Master Robinton. What assistance do you need today?”

Robinton found himself embarrassed. “I do not intend to interrupt . . .”

“You aren’t,” Terry replied, rising and stretching. “Right, Nicat?” he added to the Masterminer, who looked like a man hoping that he had understood his orders.

The other craftsmen began low conversations with neighbors, and those nearest the door began to file out, carefully folding their drawings and notes.

As Robinton moved farther into the room, he caught the pungency of sweating bodies, laced with the taint of metal’s acidity and the odd dank smell of deep mine shafts. As the room emptied, he could appreciate the size of the room that had been achieved overnight.

“Well, well!” he murmured, noticing the windows on either ends, opened to a breeze which began to circulate freely as the last of the craftsmen left. Jancis alone remained in her corner, furiously scribbling.

She looked up and smiled at the Harper. “We’ve accomplished so much today, Master Robinton.”

“And did you get any sleep last night, young woman?”

Her cheeks dimpled in a mischievous smile. “Indeed we did!” And then she colored. “I mean, we both slept. I mean, Piemur fell asleep first—oh, blast!”

Robinton laughed heartily. “I won’t misconstrue, Jancis, even if it mattered. You’re not going to let all this fuss and fascination delay your formal announcement, are you?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I want to bring the date forward.” She blushed prettily but kept the eye contact. “It would make things easier.” She gathered up her things. “The others are all in the computer room. You might want to take a crack at it, too.”

“Me?” The Harper was dumbfounded. “That’s for young resilient minds like yours and Piemur’s and Jaxom’s.”

“Learning is not limited to the young, Master Robinton,” Aivas said.

“Well, we’ll see,” the Harper replied, hedging and running his fingers nervously over his face. He was acutely conscious that he could no longer retain the words and notes of new music and had few doubts that the problem would extend to other areas. He did not think himself a vain man, or excessively proud, but he did not wish to show to disadvantage. “We’ll see. Meantime, we have a minor problem . . .”

“With that lot out there, determined against all Master Esselin’s prejudice on seeing Aivas?” Jancis asked.

“Hmm, a minor miner problem,” Robinton heard himself saying, and groaned.

Jancis pleased him by chuckling. “It is apt,” she said. “They
need
to see Aivas so that they can tell their lords and masters that they have?”

“That’s about the size of it. Aivas, if you would agree, I shall waft them in and out, with just time enough to say that they’ve been here.”

“Is that your true wish in this instance?”

Robinton cleared his throat. “I could wish that as many men and women as possible on this planet could be exposed to your fund of knowledge, but even with these enlarged accommodations, that is neither possible nor wise. The parochially minded tend to flog petty issues to a nubbin. The worried assume their problems are uniquely threatening, or that you are omniscient enough to solve any problem put to you.”

“It has always been so, Master Robinton,” Aivas said, as accepting as ever. “Mankind has always put great faith in oracles.”

“Oracles?” The word was unfamiliar to the Harper.

“A full explanation of the phenomenon should be kept until you have forty-four hours free, for the file on religion is lengthy. At this moment in time, how do you propose to satisfy the petitioners outside?”

“By sending in small groups to see and question you, however briefly.”

“Then permit them all to enter. The outside sensors indicate the exact numbers that this room can now accommodate.”

While Master Esselin looked on in dismay and disapproval, the entire gaggle hurried down the corridor.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Aivas said, his mellifluous voice startling the newcomers into awed silence. “Within the walls you are currently facing, there is an Artificial Intelligence Voice-Address System that stores information for retrieval. Or Aivas, to use the appropriate acronym. It is seen that there are among you those of the miner craft. No doubt you noticed that Masterminers attended the previous lecture. It would be of considerable value to you to consult with these men on the new methods of smelting ores. It is hoped that you two Stewards from Crom and Nabol have brought with you the Records of your Holds. These will be vital in assessing the present, and future, productivity of the properties you so ably manage for your Lord Holders. You glass-smiths and journeymen from the Halls at Igen and Ista have, in the sandpits and lead mines of your respective Holds, some of the best silicates in this world, which accounts for the fact that you produce the finest, most durable glass on the planet. If this facility may be of service in any way to your crafthalls, please ask Master Robinton to appoint a time for a longer discussion.”

Most of the attendees simply gawked, trying to find the source of the disembodied voice. The Ista glass-smith took a hesitant step forward, swallowed hard, and spoke.

“Master Aivas, Master Oldive asked me to construct the lens of a microscope for him.” The words came out in a rush.

“Yes, such an instrument is of vital importance to the Healer’s Hall.”

“I looked up our Records, Master Aivas.” He pulled from his tunic some moldering sheets, stained, spotted, and full of holes. “But, as you see . . .” He held them out toward the screen.

“Place them over the lit panel on the worktop, Masterglass-smith.