All The Weyrs of Pern

20

A few riders in the third group suffered some physical attrition. M'rand, one of the older bronze riders of High Reaches, returned long after the rest of the Weyr and in terrible condition. He was tormented by bad dreams, insisting that he had returned to his Weyr but it had not been his Weyr. Tileth had been frantic, recognizing none of the other dragons there and finding a strange bronze asleep on the ledge of his Weyr. M'rand couldn't understand at first, but he had heard that bronzes could slip through time. He kept his wits and had tried to get home again, giving Tileth the most vivid images of their favorite view of High Reaches, with the blue M'rand knew was that day's watchdragon. That time they had emerged in the right place and the right time.

"Sloppy visualization," Lessa said when she and F'lar had also spoken with M'rand and the others: two in Fort Weyr and another in Igen. "And they're all older riders, leaving more up to their dragons than they ought."

Jaxom noticed that N'ton was regarding him with a quizzical expression, and he responded with a perplexed grin. He himself had felt woefully tired after the exertions of that momentous day, pausing only long enough to let Ruth feed on a juicy buck before returning home, and no one thought it odd that he slept nearly a day. Sharra was equally exhausted by her last few days in the laboratory, churning out zebedees.

Despite the fact that Aivas had repeatedly told everyone that the explosion would not take place for several more days and then would not be immediately visible due to light speed-which he had to explain again to some-a twenty-four-hour vigil was kept on the Yokohama. Every screen in the various areas on the ships where air was available was adjusted to the ships' main screens and the big telescope, aimed at the Red Star.

"Jaxom, aren't you going to watch?" Sharra asked. "You of all people ought to have the right!" She was baffled by his apparent indifference to the event.

"Frankly," he said, "I have a lot of more important things to do here in Ruatha than floating about on the bridge, waiting for the thing to blow. Unless, of course," he added considerately, "you really want to see it."

"Well..." Sharra paused, then smiled at him. "I've got those cultures going right now and..."

Jaxom grinned at her. "If there's enough warning, Ruth'll get us there in time."

Sharra gave him a startled sideways glance.

"All in a good cause," he said, trying for nonchalance, "and a minute or two isn't going to disrupt the universe. I'll ask Ruth to keep an ear open, if you like. There's always some fire-lizards or a dragon or two up at the Yokohama these days. Easy enough."

"If he can stay awake long enough to listen," Sharra replied, having noticed that Ruth seemed to be taking an unusual amount of sleep.

"He can sleep with one ear open," Jaxom said, and then they each went about the concerns of the day.

Brand had also observed Ruth's somnolence, and while he and Jaxom were checking the brood mares, he mentioned it.

"I don't think it's so very unusual, Brand," Jaxom said easily. "N'ton said that all the bronzes who went with us are also sleeping a good deal. I suspect none of the dragons care to admit that they had to work pretty hard to transfer those engines." Then Jaxom noticed his Steward's hesitation. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's just that there have been some complaints about Fort Weyr."

"What do you mean, Brand?" Jaxom and Ruth had not flown the most recent Fall with the Fort wings. "Have I missed something?"

Brand had shrugged expressively. "Well, because the bronzes are a big logy, they haven't been as, well, diligent in chasing airborne Thread. There have been a lot of unhappy groundcrews. And that's the other problem."

"Tell me."

"Somehow-" Brand paused to frame his explanation. "A lot of people thought that there'd be no more Thread now. That once the dragonriders had done this explosion thing, Thread wouldn't fall again."

"Oh!" Jaxom made a face. "Bloody shards, Brand. Don't they ever listen? Harpers have been explaining for the last four Turns that we can't stem this Fall, but there won't be any more!"

"They don't see it that way, I'm afraid, from the accounts I've heard. And Holder Grevil isn't a stupid man, as you know, but he hadn't understood and feels aggrieved, especially when a clump of Thread came down on his best field."

"I can appreciate his annoyance. Did you manage to soothe him?"

"I did, but he's sure to approach you on the matter the next time he can. I thought I'd warn you. And you should know that he blames the Aivas."

Jaxom compressed his lips against rash words, momentarily defeated by this news: especially coming from Grevil, who was usually a moderate man. "I thought we'd straightened all that out at the trial."

Brand shrugged, holding his hands up in an impotent gesture. "People will hear what they wish to hear, and believe what they want to. If they put the blame on Aivas, however, that absolves you, Jaxom, and even the Weyrs to a certain extent."

"I can't really count that as an advantage," Jaxom replied. "Why should Aivas bear any blame after all he's done to help Pern?"

"Ah, but the help is not so visible to some," Brand said. "It'll all sort itself out, Jaxom. But I did feel you should know current opinion."

"Hmmmm, yes, I should. How many has that new stallion covered of this lot?" he asked, welcoming the chance to change to matters less complicated.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt obliged to let the Harper Hall know, and those at Cove Hold. He hated to disrupt the mood of euphoria and triumph they would be feeling. He sent Meer, who had been shadowing him constantly while Ruth slept, with a message to Lytol, who could mention the report at an appropriate moment.

"What I don't understand," Sharra said when he mentioned the matter to her over their midday meal, "is that with all that has been explained so carefully to everyone who would listen, how they can possibly misconstrue what you and the Weyrs were doing, and its immediate consequences."

Jaxom grinned. "They probably stopped listening after the words 'Thread will be forever destroyed.' " He sipped his klah pensively.

F'lar and Lessa are up on the Yokohama, Ruth said in a sleepy voice. Ramoth says Aivas thinks the explosion wilt be any time now.

Sharra politely cocked her head at Jaxom, knowing that Ruth had spoken to him. "What woke him up?"

"It should be any moment now. The explosion. Want to go?"

"Do you want to?"

"Let's not play the you-first, no-you-first game. Do you want to go?"

She blinked rapidly, considering, and looking so like Jarrol that he grinned. "No," she said with a sigh. "I think I've seen quite enough of the insides of the Yokohama to last me the rest of my life. And everyone will be crowding about up there. But you want to go..."

He laughed, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips. "I think I won't. This moment should be F'lar's."

Sharra eyed him long and thoughtfully, her eyes beginning to sparkle. "You're a good man, but I do not concede that it is all F'lar's triumph."

"Don't be silly," he replied. "It took all the Weyrs of Pern to do it."

"And a white dragon!"

As she turned back to her soup, Jaxom wondered exactly what she meant by that. Could Sharra have guessed Ruth's unusual role?

After so many long days of watching the round ball that was the Red Star, the explosion, when it became visible, was an anticlimax. An orange-red fireball blossomed on the side of the wanderer planet.

"Only one?" F'lar exclaimed, feeling a certain chagrin that half the planet had not exploded, too, after all Aivas had told them about the awesome power of the antimatter.

"That is how it would appear at this distance," Aivas replied.

"It is rather spectacular," Robinton murmured.

"Then all three engines went off at the same time?" Fandarel asked.

"It would seem so," Aivas said.

"Well done, Aivas, well done." Fandarel beamed, evidently not bothered by a tinge of disappointment. "That junction was successful."

"And efficient," D'ram said, unable to resist the opportunity to tease Fandarel.

"It's odd, you know," Piemur began, more to Jancis than the others. "You work your butt off to achieve an end, and suddenly you've done it! And all the excitement, frustration, sleepless nights, and involvement are over! Gone!" He snapped his fingers. "In one large and impressive fireball! So what do we do with all that extra time we have on our hands now?"

"You," Robinton said, pointing a stern finger at the journeyman, "will now have the unenviable task as a harper of explaining the true facts of the achievement to those who didn't understand that this effort would not alter the path of Thread during the remainder of this Pass."

To Lytol's surprise, Robinton had not been at all dismayed by Jaxom's report. In fact, the Harper had seemed to expect such disgruntlements.

"Menolly's already composed one ballad," Robinton went on, "with a chorus to hammer home the point that this is the Last Pass for Thread, that Pern will be forever free from the end of this Pass."

"A point!" Piemur said. "Is that certain, Aivas?"

"That is now guaranteed, Piemur. You must realize, of course, that an immediate alteration of the Red Star's orbit will not be perceived," Aivas said, "for some decades."

"Decades?" F'lar exclaimed, surprised.

"Naturally. If you consider the size of the object you were trying to move," Fandarel said, "and the scale of this solar system, there is no such thing as sudden change. Even chaos takes time to develop. But in several decades, that alteration will be measurable."

"Rest assured of that, Weyrleader," Aivas added in a tone so laden with certainty that F'lar's consternation eased.

"It's too bad Jaxom and Sharra didn't come," Lessa said, slightly irritated by their absence. "I knew that Ruth would strain himself, taking part in the second lift."

"Jaxom is quite capable of making his own decisions now, my dear," F'lar said, amused at her proprietary concern for the Ruathan Holder.

"There is one more minor adjustment to make, however," Aivas said, "which it is recommended to be undertaken by the lesser colors."

"Oh? What?" Lessa and F'lar were very much aware that the brown, blue, and green riders were somewhat aggrieved by their exclusion from the project. "All the Weyrs of Pern" had been limited to most of the bronze dragons and only a few of the other colors, even if it had been obvious that there wasn't space enough on the spars to accommodate every dragon who wished to take part, much less space suits to protect their riders in space.

"The matter of the Buenos Aires and the Bahrain."

I 'What about them?" F'lar asked just as Fandarel emitted an "ah" of comprehension.

"Readings on the orbits of the two smaller ships have shown a marked increase of frequency of adjustments. The adjustments take more and more power, and the prognosis is that their orbits are likely to decay over the next decades to the critical point. The Yokohama, of course, has the fuel to remain in a stable orbit and must be maintained as long as possible, since its telescope will be used to track the Red Star. But the other ships ought to be moved."

"Moved?" F'lar asked. "Where?"

"A slight alteration in their speed and altitude will break them out of orbit and send them coasting harmlessly off into space."

"Eventually to be captured by the sun's gravity and pulled into it," Fandarel added.

"Burned up?" Lytol asked.

"A heroic end for such valiant ships," Robinton murmured.

"You mentioned nothing of this before," F'lar said.

"There were more urgent priorities," Aivas replied. "It is certainly a task that must be accomplished sooner rather than later when the orbits have decayed, and while the skills your riders have learned for the more essential task are still fresh in their minds."

"It would certainly ease the tension in the Weyr," Lessa said. "We hadn't anticipated that."

"What exactly does this entail, Aivas?" F'lar asked.

"As stated, the dragons are to alter the direction of the two ships and give a 'push'; that is, transport the ship between, all moving at the same cue. There are many handholds on the exterior of the ships to give dragons a grip. Judging by what you were able to accomplish in transferring the engines, such a maneuver is well within the scope of your smaller creatures."

F'lar grinned. "You're no longer skeptical about them?"

"In no way, Weyrleader."

"What is the time frame on this?" Fandarel asked.

"Preferably within the next few weeks. There is no immediate danger, but do not let the dragons and riders lose the edge."

"I think that will be good news," F'lar said, nodding acceptance.

"Then you will set a time for this maneuver?"

"As soon as I can discuss it with the other Weyrleaders." Oddly enough, F'lar's spirits rose with the thought of another project. Flying Threadfall had become less exciting since the removal of the engines to the Red Star.

"It seems ungrateful to condemn those ships to death," Lessa murmured.

"It's a crime to waste all the material," Fandarel added.

"These ships were never designed for planetary landings, Master Fandarel," Aivas said.

"In one piece, that is," Piemur added.

"Yes, Piemur, the pieces could have lethal consequences if they were to enter the atmosphere without disintegrating entirely."

"I'll let you know," F'lar said. "Shall we go, Lessa?"

Watching the fireball soon lost its appeal for many on the Yokohama bridge that day. Shortly thereafter, when D'ram and the Eastern Weyr rider were ready to take the last watchers back to the Landing, Fandarel and Piemur cycled the life-support systems down to the holding mode.

"I'm glad we're able to keep the Yokohama," Piemur said. "I've gotten rather fond of this old girl." He let his fingers trail along the console.

"She has served long and well," Robinton said, sighing deeply.

"Why don't you write a ballad about her, Piemur?" Jancis suggested.

"You know, I think I will!"

As the last one entering the lift, Piemur palmed off the bridge lights.

Jaxom heard about the second expedition from N'ton, who dropped in to Ruatha Hall two days after the Red Star explosion. N'ton had been on the Buenos Aires with half a dozen of his wingleaders.

"I feel an affinity to that little ship," N'ton said, with a wry smile. "I'll be sorry to see her go."

"I wonder why she needs to," Jaxom said. "Surely the solar panels..."

"Aivas said that there have been too many corrections and the panels can't handle them."

"Hmm, that's quite possible."

"He also recommended doing it while we're still accustomed to working in weightlessness. There is, I might add," N'ton said with a broad grin, "great rejoicing among the riders of browns, blues, and greens. At that, they know that there are only two hundred and some suits available, so they'll have to draw lots. But that's fair enough."

"Let's hope the helmets are with the right suits this time."

"Oh, we made sure of that." N'ton rolled his eyes. "What a mess that was! I tried on twenty helmets before I found one that would attach snugly to the collar. Then I had to get the wingleaders to check every rider to be sure all the bloody things fitted properly. Some riders were just cramming helmets on any old way."

"The important thing is that everyone did get rigged out and we got where we were supposed to go."

N'ton regarded him for such a long moment that Jaxom wondered if the Fort Weyrleader had somehow guessed what had happened. Considering his disoriented bronze riders, a man as intelligent as N'ton might extrapolate the truth. As long as Jaxom didn't admit it, N'ton would be kept guessing.

"Maybe that's what happened to those disoriented riders," Jaxom went on as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Maybe they had badly fitting helmets and lost air."

"I hadn't thought of that," N'ton replied. "You know, that would certainly explain a lot."

Jaxom nodded in agreement, saying nothing more.

"F'lar's not best pleased to have to wait, yet again, to be sure the blastings did the trick," N'ton went on.

"Aivas was evidently satisfied."

"Yes, but he always sounds certain."

"Everything he's sounded certain about has worked just as he said. He's never prevaricated. I don't think an AI facility can."

"You'd know better than I." N'ton grinned at Jaxom over his wineglass. "We certainly can't fault Hold and Hall, then, for disbelief if the Benden Weyrleader is still skeptical."

"Again, Aivas has been right so often we have to trust him this time." Jaxom had a whimsical desire to confide in N'ton that he knew, incontrovertibly, that Aivas's great Plan had worked, at least as far as the orbit of the Red Star was concerned. That he had seen it with his own eyes-fifty Turns in the future.

"As he trusted our dragons?"

"Well, he did, in the end, didn't he?" Jaxom replied. "No, N'ton, don't fret. It'll be as Aivas has predicted. You wait, you'll see."

"Ah, but F'lar might not. And he's the one who wants to know for certain, or he will not have kept that promise!"

Maybe, Jaxom thought, he could just reassure F'lar.

I wouldn't, Ruth said. You'd have to explain everything to him then.

Not necessarily, Jaxom replied.

Ruth's silence indicated complete disagreement.

"So," N'ton went on, "now that we've solved the world's problems, what do you intend doing with all that spare time you've got?"

"What spare time, N'ton? I've only just scraped the surface of the information in Aivas's files. I was in the process of organizing Hold affairs before I resume my studies-at an easier pace, now that the urgency is over."

"We've Threadfall in two days. Are you and Ruth rested enough to join us?"

"I'd better, what with all these misconceptions about the end of Thread."

"Indeed!" From that succinct but heartfelt comment, Jaxom knew that N'ton had been heavily criticized for letting Thread get through the Fort Weyr wings.

"I'll be there!" Jaxom promised.

"Master Robinton, it is good to see you," Aivas said as the Harper entered.

"I've been meaning to come for the last week," Robinton remarked with a droll smile. Even that short walk down the corridor had taken more breath than he had in his body.

"You are well?"

Robinton laughed softly and eased himself into the chair he had occupied for so many hours in the recent past. "Can't fool you, can I?"

"No.'

Robinton sighed and stroked Zair, curled asleep on his shoulder. "I did forgive them, then, you know," he began slowly, so his words would not come out at the end of a gasp, "at the trial. I'm not so sure now that I would."

"The effects of inappropriate fellis administration?"

"Yes, I must assume so."

"You have not consulted Master Oldive?" Aivas's tone was sharp.

Robinton waved one hand, dismissing the advice. "He has enough to do, teaching his healers all the new techniques he learned while doing your work. That will take him the rest of his life."

"You must consult-"

"Why? You can produce no cures for worn-out human parts, can you, Aivas?" When there was silence, Robinton went on, still stroking Zair's soft body. "Neither Zair nor I will recover from that abduction. Sometimes, I think he stays out of spite."

"Or love of you, Master Robinton?"

The Harper had never heard that particular tone from Aivas.

"Quite likely, for they can be exceedingly loyal, these fire-lizards."

Robinton had his breath back now, and being in this room brought back some of the excitement of the early days of discovery. He felt at ease here in the Aivas room as he did not at Cove Hold, especially when Lytol and D'ram kept treating him like an invalid. Which, he had to admit, he was. He heard the chatter of students changing classes in the hall.

"The classes continue?" he asked, well pleased that they did.

"The classes continue," Aivas said, using that soft, almost rueful tone that had surprised the Harper before. "The machines now harbor all the information this world will need to build a better future."

"The future which you have given them."

"The priorities for this facility have now been met."

"That's true enough," Robinton said, smiling.

"This facility now has no further function."

"Don't be ridiculous, Aivas," Robinton said somewhat sharply. "You've just gotten your students to the point where they know enough to argue with you!"

"And to resent the superiority of this facility. No, Master Robinton, the task is done. Now it is wise to let them seek their own way forward. They have the intelligence and a great spirit. Their ancestors can rightfully be proud of them."

"Are you?"

"They have worked hard and well. That is in itself a reward and an end."

"You know, I believe you're right."

"'To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven,' Master Robinton."

"That is poetic, Aivas."

There was one of those pauses that Robinton always thought was the Aivas equivalent of a smile.

"From the greatest book ever written by Mankind, Master Robinton. You may find the entire quotation in the files. The time has been accomplished. This system is going down. Farewell, Masterharper of Pern. Amen."

Robinton sat straight up in his chair, fingers on the pressure plates, though he hadn't a single positive idea of how he could avert what Aivas was about to do. He half turned to the Hall, to call for help, but no one who had the knowledge-Jaxom, Piemur, Jancis, Fandarel, D'ram, or Lytol-was near enough at hand.

The screen that had paraded so much knowledge and issued so many commands and diagrams and plans was suddenly blank, lifeless. In .the right-hand corner, a single line blinked.

"'And a time to every purpose under heaven,' " Robinton murmured, his throat almost too tight for him to speak. He felt incredibly tired, overwhelmingly sleepy. "Yes, how very true. How splendidly true. And what a wonderful time it has been!"

Unable to resist the lethargy that spread from his extremities, he laid his head down on the inactive pressure plate, one hand holding Zair in the curve of his neck, and closed his eyes, his long season over, his purpose, too, accomplished.

D'ram found them there, for Zair had breathed his last as well, following the Harper as selflessly as any dragon followed his rider into death.

Tiroth lifted his head, his keening alerting all those at Landing and, indeed, broadcasting to every Weyr, every dragon, and every rider on Pern, and throughout the Halls and Holds, from mountain to plain, from sea to sea on both continents.

D'ram was so tear-blinded that he did not notice the opacity of the screen, or read the blinking message.

In Ruatha Hold, Ruth gave out a bellow of anguish that had everyone in the Great Hall rushing to the door.

The Harper! The Harper!

Jaxom didn't think. He grabbed Sharra by the hand and propelled her down the steps to where Ruth had reared, head back, wings extended.

"Jaxom!" she exclaimed.

"The Harper! Something's happened to the Harper!"

She needed no more urging. They scrambled astride the white dragon.

"We need Oldive for this, Ruth," Jaxom said. "Take us first to the Healer Hall."

They emerged almost immediately in the central court of the Hall, Ruth just barely managing to avoid setting down on anyone. Oldive, jacket flapping from one hand, his medical case in the other, was limping down the stairs.

I told him! Ruth said.

Just then the Fort Hold dragon began to keen, and swirling storms of fire-lizards, ululating in weird descant, flashed in and out of the court.

"What has happened to the Harper?" Oldive demanded, handing his case up to Sharra and struggling into his jacket. "Neither of you has a jacket!"

"Don't worry about us." Jaxom sat, leaning down to grab Oldive's arm and haul him up. Is it Landing? Or Cove Hold? he asked Ruth.

Landing!

"Take us there! We must be in time!"

Neither Jaxom nor Sharra even noticed the dread chill of between in that anxious trip. Dragons were arriving from all directions, so Ruth, ducking low, skimmed the tops of the houses and landed in front of the Aivas building, once again missing collisions with those on the ground rushing in response to the emergency. ,

It is too late! Ruth said, and folded his wings over his head.

"It can't be too late! Move aside, let us through. Let Oldive through!" Jaxom pushed their way through, one hand hauling the Masterhealer along beside him, the limping Oldive somehow keeping up with him. "Make way here. Make way!"

At the doorway, he came to an abrupt stop. Piemur, Jancis, D'ram, and Lytol stood around the chair, the Harper's silverhaired pate visible where it rested against the back. Choking back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him, Jaxom slowly approached, moving to one side so that he could see. The Harper looked as if he were merely sleeping. Zair, gray with death, curled against his neck.

"He just-went-to-sleep," Piemur said brokenly. "He's not even warm anymore."

"I thought he was just asleep," D'ram said, "the last time I looked in. I never thought..." Hand to his face, he turned away.

"Aivas!" Jaxom roared. "Aivas, why didn't you call someone? You must have been aware-"

"Look," Sharra said, touching his arm and then pointing to the screen and the blinking message there.

"'And a time for every purpose under heaven'? What is that supposed to mean, Aivas? Aivas!"

Only then did Jaxom realize the difference in the screen, as lifeless as it had been the very first time he had entered the room. "Aivas?"

He pressed a "restore" sequence. Then, cursing at fingers that fumbled, he tried other codes, but got no response.

"Piemur? Jancis? What do we do?"

Sharra grabbed his trembling hands and held them, her tearing eyes bright with the knowledge that he could not accept.

"Aivas has gone, too," she said, her voice rough. "See the smile on Master Robinton's face? Just as you and I have seen him smile so many times. The message was for him as it is there for us."

"We'll go back, we'll go back to when he was still alive-" Jaxom began, reaching for Master Oldive and heading toward the door. If he and Ruth could time it... F'lar and Lessa stood in the doorway. He didn't care if they knew he meant to time it.

Oldive grabbed his arm, shaking his head, his eyes blurred with tears. "We could do nothing for him, Jaxom. 'A time for every purpose under heaven,' Jaxom. And it was time for the Harper."

"He wouldn't let us tell anyone," Sharra said to Jaxom, "how serious his condition was."

"It was only a matter of time," Oldive murmured, peering up at him, his long face grooved with sorrow. "His heart was badly strained by the abduction. This was a kind ending, Jaxom, no matter how abrupt and unexpected."

"I know Robinton wasn't well," Jaxom went on, shaking his head, tears coursing down his cheeks. "But I don't understand about Aivas, too."

"He tells us plainly enough," D'ram said, having recovered his composure. He pointed to the message. "He has served his purpose in helping us destroy Thread. You will come to realize just how wise Aivas was in this. We were beginning to count on him too heavily."

"Machines can't die!" Jaxom chewed the words out resentfully.

"The knowledge he gave us will not," F'lar said, and stood aside to let Menolly and Sebell enter the room. "Now let us all honor Masterharper Robinton."

The day was inappropriately beautiful when the Masterharper, wrapped in a harper-blue shroud, was laid to rest in the beautiful blue-green waters of his beloved Cove Hold. Master Idarolan had dispatched his fastest ship and came a-dragonback to captain it himself. Master Alemi, with his sloop from Paradise River, and the small ketches that fished in Monaco Bay, assembled to accommodate the many people who would escort Master Robinton to his resting place.

All the Weyrs of Pern hovered in the sky, and while fire-lizards made sad swirls around them the ship sailed out of Cove Hold. Lord Holders and Craftmasters lined the decks amid harpers of every degree.

Sebell and Menolly sang all the songs that had made the Masterharper so beloved by everyone, Menolly remembering the day that she had sung farewell to his father, Petiron, the day that had begun the major change in her own life.

And as the ship moved into the Current, scores of shipfish led the way, slipping, diving, gliding, and weaving among the ships' bow waves.

When his body was consigned to the sea, the dragons bugled one last note for Masterharper Robinton.

Jaxom, aloft on Ruth, watched the ripples spread and then meld into the waves. After a bitter night, he had come to terms with his grief for Master Robinton and his wild notion that he and Ruth could or should have forestalled that peaceful death.

But he could find no surcease yet for the bitter blow of losing Aivas. He felt that he had been abandoned just when he had the most grievous need of Aivas's wisdom and support. Had he not done everything Aivas wished? Put himself and Ruth in danger to fulfill those bleeding priorities of the ungrateful machine?

I understand your grief, Jaxom, Ruth said quietly, his head, like that of every other dragon, watching the scene below as the ships tacked about for their return to Cove Hold. Why do you harbor such anger and resentment?

"He left us, and with Master Robinton gone, we need him now more than ever."

Not we, you. But that is the wrong way to think about this.

Aivas left behind all the information you need and you have only to access it to solve problems now.

For the first time in their long association, Jaxom resented Ruth's words.

Probably, Ruth said at his drollest, you know I'm right. I think that Aivas was as tired as the Harper, having waited all those long Turns to complete his tasks and keep faith with his makers.

Though Jaxom resisted the thought, the words of Aivas's last message reverberated in his head. How much Robinton had enjoyed Aivas! Had Aivas ended his existence before, or after, Master Robinton had fallen into his last sleep? Surely if Aivas had been aware of Robinton's condition, he would have summoned help. Those options had exercised everyone yesterday.

But everyone had agreed with D'ram that Aivas had achieved those ancient priorities-with great honor.

Then give Aivas the honor that is due him, Jaxom. Anger and resentment cloud your mind and heart.

Jaxom sighed, accepting the gentle reproach of his white dragon. "I haven't been thinking straight, have I?"

Think of what we have done together, you and I, to show Aivas that we could. We did the impossible because I knew where and when to do it. It's as well you cracked my shell that Hatching Day, Jaxom, or where would Pern be now?

Laughter burst from Jaxom, provoked by the dragon's sly cajolery. But draconic logic had lifted him out of his depression.

"'And a time for every purpose under heaven'!" he cried into the air about them. What Ruth said was true: Only he, Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha Hold, and Ruth, the white dragon, could have done what had to be done to free Pern forever from Thread, serving their world as only dragon and rider could, united in mind and heart to their purpose.

And so Jaxom and Ruth turned back to Cove Hold, ready to delve into the legacy of knowledge that Aivas had left for them.