"There was a time, Corman," F'lar said, with a slight smile that reminded the Lord Holder of another occasion when the Benden Weyrleader had faced the massed and armed disapproval of the Lord Holders and bested them, "when you and all the other Lord Holders urgently required me to put an end to Threadfall. Surely you want me to get on with that task as swiftly as possible?"
"You've done exactly as you ought," Groghe said, daring Corman to protest.
"Indeed you have, Weyrleader," Toronas agreed. F'lar found the new Benden Holder a vast improvement on the previous one, Lord Raid.
"However," the Weyrleader went on, "it is painfully obvious that we have lost most of the skills our ancestors had. We must relearn them, with Aivas's guidance, so that we can indeed remove forever from this planet the menace of Threadfall." F'lar looked from Norist to Corman to Warbret and then other Lord Holders, who had not taken part in the argument. "Isn't it sensible to start on the program as soon as possible? To restore what we have lost?"
"And you expect all of us to take our orders from this Aivas?" Norist asked sarcastically. He had been exceedingly reticent when Aivas had queried him about his Craft.
"Master Norist," Fandarel began in his slow deliberate way, "if there are opportunities to improve our Craft skills, surely it is incumbent on us to do so?"
"What that Aivas suggested I do in the Craft which I have Mastered, and efficiently, for the past thirty Turns, goes against every established procedure of my Hall!" Norist wasn't going to give an inch.
"Including the now illegible ones in your oldest Records?" Master Robinton asked gently. "And here is Master Fandarel, fretting to get on with the restoration of an ancestral power station, quite willing to accept new principles from Aivas."
Something akin to a sneer curled Norist's thick, scarred lip. "We all know that Master Fandarel is endlessly fiddling about with gadgets and gimmicks."
"Always efficient ones," Master Fandarel replied, ignoring the disparagement. "I can plainly see that every Craft can benefit from the knowledge stored in Aivas. This morning Bendarek was given invaluable advice on how to improve his paper, Aivas called it, and speed up its production. Very simple, but Bendarek immediately saw the possibilities and has gone back to Lemos to develop this much more efficient method. That's why he's not here."
"You and Bendarek," Norist said, a flick of his fingers dismissing the newest Mastercraftsman's products, "may exercise your prerogatives. I prefer to concentrate on maintaining the high standards of my Halls without dissipating effort on frivolous pursuits."
"You don't, however," Lord Asgenar said, with a droll grin, "object to making use of the frivolous pursuits of other crafthalls. Such as the load of sheets delivered to you last month. Bendarek expects to be able to increase production of paper" Asgenar grinned more broadly-"so that no one will be kept waiting for supplies."
"Glass is glass, made of sand, potash, and red lead," Norist stated stubbornly. "You can't improve on it."
"But Aivas suggested ways to do just that," Master Robinton said at his most reasonable and persuasive.
"I've wasted enough time here already." Norist stood up and stalked off down the hall.
"Damned fool," Asgenar muttered under his breath.
"Back to the important point, F'lar," Warbret said, leaning forward across the table to the Weyrleaders. "The possibility of eliminating Thread. Just how does this Aivas propose to go about this? F'nor didn't have much luck when he tried."
Remembering how close F'nor had come to dying in his attempt to go between to the Red Star itself, F'lar stared at him for a moment, then collected himself and went on. "Lord Warbret, until you have first listened to and seen the history Aivas has to tell you, you will not appreciate how much we will have to learn before we can even understand his explanations of what we have to do."
"And Aivas's showing and telling beggars my poor skill," Robinton said with unusual humility. "For he was there! He knew our ancestors. He was created on the planet of our forebears! He witnessed and recorded events which have become our myths and legends." His voice rang with such feeling that there was a moment of respectful silence.
"Yes, you and Lord Corman should hear Aivas before you dismiss the gift we have been offered," Lessa added softly but just as fervently.
"Mind you, I'm not against going along with your course of action," Warbret said, after a moment, "if it can help us eradicate Thread. And if you say, Weyrwoman, that we should hold our decision until we've heard this Aivas speak, when will that be possible?"
"Hopefully, later today," F'lar replied.
"The batteries should be in place now," Fandarel reminded him, "but I must go. Aivas is going to need much more power. And I will see that he gets it." He rose and stood there for a moment, surveying the gathering. "Some of us will be called upon to change the ways and patterns of a lifetime, which is not an easy thing to do, but the benefits will more than compensate for that effort. We have endured enough of Thread. Now we have the chance to eradicate this menace, and we must grasp it firmly in both hands and succeed! Facenden," he said, turning to his journeyman, "stay in my stead and report to me later."
Then he left, his heavy steps audible down the short corridor.
"I think this meeting has gone on long enough, too," Corman said. "Do as you wish, Weyrleader. You generally do anyhow." But this time his comment held no rancor. "Just see that there is a full report of these activities for the quarterly Convocation."
He also got to his feet, nudging Bargen to join him. But the High Reaches Lord Holder only regarded him thoughtfully and did not rise.
"Will you not stay to hear the history, Corman?" Robinton asked.
"In that stuffy little room?" Corman asked indignantly. "Have my harper learn it and I'll hear it in my own Hold, in comfort and at my own convenience." And with that he left.
"I will listen," Bargen said. "I have come this far, though I am by no means certain that it is the wisest course to encourage this awesome Aivas thing."
"At least you will listen," Robinton said, giving an approving nod. "Sebell, how many can we comfortably accommodate in that stuffy little room?" He said it blandly enough, but several of the Weyrleaders smiled.
"Certainly all here who wish to attend," Sebell said. "There are now enough benches and stools, and if a few of us have to stand, I gather no one minded yesterday. I certainly won't."
"We don't have to ask this creature's permission?" Bargen asked.
"Aivas is nothing if not accommodating," Master Robinton said, grinning broadly.
They filed down the hall then; three Lord Holders, the Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen, and the Craftmasters. Terry was already there, looking mightily pleased with himself but warding people away from the bundle of cords that wound from Aivas and stretched along the left-hand wall and out into the adjacent room. A window had been inserted, high on the right-hand wall, allowing fresh air to circulate through the room. There turned out to be enough benches and stools to seat almost everyone, including Lord Groghe, who had decided to sit through Aivas's telling a second time. Menolly stood beside Sebell. She groped and found his hand when the first vision of Pern in the blackness of space lit the screen.
"Now that's amazing," Bargen exclaimed, but he was the last to speak until Aivas ended its account with the final view of an airsled disappearing through the ashfall to the west. Then, slightly dazed, he muttered, "Corman's an old fool. Norist, too."
"Thank you, Aivas," Groghe of Fort Hold said, rising and shaking out stiffened limbs. "Of course, I saw it yesterday, but it's worth seeing again. And any time I can." He nodded emphatically at F'lar. "You know that I'll support you, dragonriders. You will, too, won't you, Warbret, Bargen?" His question was more of a demand, and he jutted his chin at his peers, ready to coerce them into agreement.