All the Weyrs of Pern (45 page)

“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.”

Tumara 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, Tumara, 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 3°.”

“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?” Mirrim 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.