"Indeed there is, Master." With considerable satisfaction on his face and not a trace of his usual impudence, Piemur spun out of his seat and went over to the shelf where the components were neatly stacked.
"I think I may regret this," Robinton said to himself.
"It is to be hoped that you will not, Master Robinton," was Aivas's low reassurance.
Zair nipping his ear roused Robinton from a doze. He had been leaning back in his chair, head resting on the support, legs propped up on the desk, and as he woke the first thing he was aware of was the crick in his neck. His knees wouldn't at first bend as he lowered his legs. When he groaned, Zair nipped him again, eyes flaming red-orange.
Instantly the Masterharper was alert. Down the hall, he could hear Aivas's voice explaining something and the lighter voice of one of the students querying. That was as it should be. He looked up at Zair, who was staring out the door into the night. It was then he caught the faint noise of something cracking, and the even fainter splashing of liquid.
He rose, silently swearing at the recalcitrance of aging joints that no longer functioned smoothly. As stealthily as he could, he moved across the entrance hall and out into the night. He knew it was near dawn; the insect sounds that had lulled him to sleep on his post had ceased and daytime noises had not yet begun. He crept forward, hearing that soft cracking noise again. To his left, where the banks of Fandarel's batteries had been installed against the wall, he saw darker shadows. Two men.
Two men busily smashing the glass tanks that held the battery fluid.
"Now, just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded, outraged. "Zair! Grab them! Pie... mur! Jancis! Someone!" He ran forward, determined to prevent any further damage to Aivas's power supply.
Later, he wondered what he had thought he was doing, an unarmed elderly man attacking vandals. Even as the pair came at him with upraised clubs or iron bars or whatever they had been using to smash the battery tanks, he wasn't afraid: just purely and simply furious.
Fortunately Zair had weapons, twenty sharp talons, and as the little bronze swooped to tear at the eyes of the first man, Piemur's Farli, Jancis's Trig, and half a dozen other fire-lizards joined the battle. Robinton caught a handful of tunic and tried to drag the man to the ground, but with a savage jerk, accompanied by an anguished squeal as fire-lizard claws racked facial skin, the man broke free and took to his heels. His companion swatted viciously at the aerial attackers and then ran off as well. The fire-lizards followed, dividing into two groups to follow the separating fugitives.
By the time human assistance arrived, even the sound of the vandals' retreat was lost to listening ears.
"Don't worry, Robinton," Piemur said. "We've only to check who got clawed. We'll find them! Are you all right, Master'?"
Robinton was clutching at his chest and panting from his exertions, and although he gestured fiercely for Piemur and the others to follow the fugitives, he became their first concern.
"I'm all right, I'm all right," he cried, trying to avoid their solicitude. "Go after them!" And he fell into a fit of coughing, caused more by frustration than by exercise.
By the time he had convinced them of his well-being, the firelizards had returned, looking exceedingly pleased with themselves for having chased the intruders. Disgusted at the vandals' escape, Robinton grabbed up a glowbasket and led the way to the point of attack.
"Five smashed, and if you hadn't heard-" Piemur began.
"I didn't hear. Zair did." Robinton was furious with himself for having dozed off.
"Same thing," Piemur replied with an impish grin. "And they didn't break enough tanks to jeopardize the power supply. Don't fret now, Master. There're spares in Stores."
"I'm fretting because it happened at all!" Robinton heard his voice rise in angry stress.
"We'll find the vandals," Piemur assured his master. Guiding the old Harper back to his chair, he poured him a cup of wine.
"Wed better," Robinton said savagely. He knew there was growing antagonism to Aivas, but he had not really considered, even for a moment, that someone would actually attack the facility.
But who? he wondered, sipping at the wine and feeling its usual efficacious soothing. Esselin? He doubted the fat old fool would dare, no matter how upset he might have been over losing his sinecure. Had any of Norist's glassmen been at Landing that day?
"Don't fret yourself," Piemur repeated, regarding his master with continued anxiety. "See? Zair's bloodied one of them. We'll find them, never fear."
The men were not found the next morning, although Piemur organized a discreet search of the entire complement at Landing. He even went so far as to rouse Esselin well before the indolent man was apt to be awake, but the round, fat face was blemish-free.
"They must have just kept running," he reported to the worried Harper, who was overseeing the replacement of the battery tanks.
"We must build a barrier across these," Robinton said. "We must mount a watch at all times. Aivas cannot be jeopardized."
"Have you decided who's the most likely suspect?" Piemur asked, watching his master's tired face.
"Suspect? I've a variety of choices. Proof, no!"
Piemur shrugged. "Then we watch harder." Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Why didn't Aivas sound an alarm? He usually sees what's going on, night or day."
When queried on that point, Aivas replied that the vandals had been operating under the level of the exterior visuals, and the only sound the audio sensors had picked up had been consistent enough with usual nocturnal activity.
"What about in here?" Robinton asked.
"This facility is safe. Do not fear vandalism in here."
Robinton was not all that reassured but could not argue the point, as the first of the new day's students were arriving.
"We'll keep this to ourselves for the time being, Piemur," Robinton said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"What about a message to all harpers to watch out for claw-marked faces?"
Robinton lifted his shoulders briefly. "I doubt they'll appear in public until they're healed, but send the message."
6
As events over the next few weeks proved, the self-appointment of the Harper, the old Weyrleader, and the retired Lord Warder as Aivas's custodians was providential. The management by three men who already enjoyed reputations for probity and impartiality went unchallenged. Certainly the accumulated knowledge of Harper, Weyrleader, and Lord Warder was utilized to its fullest in the rebirth and administration of Landing.
Some visitors-the merely curious-became disenchanted when they discovered that Aivas ignored foolish or egocentric questions. Those willing to be enlightened and to work hard to acquire the new disciplines stayed on and profited.
Until ten secondary stations were up and running, the three custodians arranged appointments for Aivas, deftly slotting in emergency consultations without offending anyone. And, because Aivas needed no rest, concentrated lessons, such as those for Master Oldive and other healers, were scheduled for the early hours of Landing's day.
The major crafthalls were not the only ones to send representatives; it became prestigious for the Lord Holders to send promising sons and daughters, as well as likely candidates from minor holds. There were so many at first, some of whom were obviously ill-equipped to deal with radical new concepts, that it was kinder and less bothersome to set each applicant a basic test: an aptitude test, Aivas called it. It certainly weeded out the idlers and those without true scholarship.
Lessa and F'lar never became proficient in their use of a console, mostly because, in the Harper's estimation, they had little time to spend learning the essentials; but they did grasp the fundamentals of accessing information. F'nor didn't even try, but his mate, Brekke, joined the Masterhealer's dedicated group in their striving to regain the lost medical techniques. Mirrim, determined to keep up with T'gellan, struggled on despite a most distressing start and succeeded. K'van became as adept as Jaxom and Piemur.