The Dolphins of Pern (22 page)

“Now, lad, don’t take
it
so to heart. You told me and I told them.”

“Could … I go see him?”

Kindly the harper shook his head. “He’s too weak to see anyone, though he asked Alemi to tell you why he hadn’t been around.”

T’lion groaned again. “I—I—should have taken him right then to the Hold healer, right when Afo told us there was a bad thorn, but I was late to collect you …”

“And I was annoyed and rushed you off that day. It’s by no means all your fault, T’lion, and you mustn’t take it so hard. And”—the harper’s tone lightened and T’lion saw he was smiling wryly—“all the healers insist that Readis must swim every day to regain tone in the leg muscles.”

“They did?” Some of the heavy pressure in T’lion’s chest lightened.

“It’s the best chance he has to recover.”

“What does his mother say to that?”

Boskoney’s grin was even more ironic. “She has had to agree to the treatment. It
is
the only way he’ll walk again.”

“Ohhhhh!” T’lion buried his head in his hands again, shaking it from side to side. “He was like my brother …”

“Now, T’lion, enough of this guilt. It was an unfortunate concatenation of circumstances. However, I may say unreservedly that Readis is delighted. He
finds it no chore to have to associate with dolphins daily. I heard him tell his mother that he walks in water better than he can on land!”

T’lion gave a rueful laugh. “He would, wouldn’t he? He’s such a brave lad.”

“He’ll be fine. You will be, too.”

O
VER THE NEXT FOUR
T
URNS
, while Readis earnestly exercised his legs in the warm waters of Paradise Head, momentous events unfolded at Landing, Benden Weyr, Cove Hold, and Fort Hold. With advice and counsel from Aivas, Weyrs, Halls, and Holds combined their efforts with the technology available from Aivas and altered the orbit of the Red Star so that it would never again come close enough to Pern to threaten the planet with Threadfall. On the day that the explosion of the antimatter engines of the three colony ships was viewed through distance lenses, everyone on Pern celebrated the end of Thread tyranny. Only Thread did not stop falling, a demonstrable fact that confused many, including Readis.

“Then why did you celebrate?” he asked his father four days later, when Thread fell across Paradise River Hold.

“Because Thread
will
end—this is the last Pass.”

“It is? Harper says that we’ve had it for centuries
and every time we think it’s going to stop—in a long Interval—it comes back anyhow.”

Jayge grinned at his son, tall for his eleven Turns, and tried not to glance down at the wasted right leg, which cocked on tiptoe beside the uninjured left foot. He ruffled Readis’s curly hair and thought instead that it was unfair for the boys in the family to have the curls while the two girls had straight hair.

“The dragonriders have gone to the Red Star and steered it away from getting close enough to bring Thread to Pern ever again.”

“How could they move a star?” Readis demanded. “It’s too big, even for dragons.”

“They used the engines from the Dawn Sisters. They pulled the Star out of an orbit that brings it too close to Pern. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Sure. Harper’s told us all about our star system. He put a coconut down for the sun and then walked all the way to the edge of the river to put down a tiny pebble for Pern.” Readis giggled. “He said that’s the re-la-tive distances involved.” Patently Readis could only repeat what he had been told and did not quite comprehend the subtleties of the explanation. “Pern isn’t as small as that pebble. I know that!”

“You’ll understand better as you grow up.”

“Everyone’s always saying that,” Readis replied disgustedly.

“You’ll find it’s true,” Jayge said, hearing an echo of his own boyish voice. “However, Boskoney has advised us to enroll you in the Landing school.”

“Huh? And leave Paradise?” Readis was appalled at the very thought.

“Daytimes, six of a sevenday, with a break during the hot season.”

“Daaad!”

“You, Kami, and Pardure are enrolled. At that, Paradise River is exceedingly lucky to gain three places out of the twenty-five available to special students …”

“You mean, because of my leg I have to go away?”

“There’s not a thing wrong with Kami and Pardure, my young lad!” his father said sternly.

Readis was not completely mollified. He hated anyone making concessions for him. He rode the small runner Lord Jaxom had trained especially for him only because Ruth had said that he, the white dragon, had selected the beast for Readis, who had been so good about scrubbing his hide all these Turns. The little creature had made it possible for Readis to go wherever the other youngsters of the Hold roamed: the boy was as good a rider as he was a swimmer. Aramina preferred him to use Delky, the runner—anything to keep him out of the water and away from the dolphins. She could not be convinced that the dolphins were not responsible for his illness and subsequent crippling. It was Aramina who had heard about the proposed special classes to be held in the Admin Building, using the information machines that were the legacy of Aivas. Menolly had told Alemi, who had requested the concession not only for his own eldest daughter, but for Readis as well.

“How’ll I get there?” Readis demanded of his father, sticking his chin out almost impertinently.

“A-dragonback. I trust you won’t mind that.”
Jayge knew that the transport might be the final persuader.

“Every day?” Readis brightened considerably. “We’d have to ride a dragon every morning and every evening?” He hoped that T’lion and Gadareth would do the conveying. He’d never been able to convince his mother that T’lion wasn’t in some way responsible for his illness. He’d told her time and again that the dragonrider had told him, twice, to go see Temma for the thorn and he’d forgotten. So his illness, and his bad leg, were
not T’
lion’s fault, but his own. He heard what his father was saying then.

“This is a special dispensation for the three of you, until a dormitory can be set up for the pupils.”

“A-dragonback twice a day?” Readis did not hear the qualifier, his eyes shining with the prospect of riding dragons on a regular basis.

“Only as long as you study hard enough to deserve the honor,” his father said sternly.

Boskoney’s report listed Readis as his top student over Kami and the studious Pardure, Journeyman Weaver Parren’s eldest. While Pardure studied hard for his knowledge, everything seemed to come easily to Readis, who would benefit from the challenge of a more structured learning climate. Competition for the few places available had been intense, but Master Robinton, whose scheme this was, had insisted that the students be harper-recommended and that they be proportionately drawn from Weyr, Hall, and Hold.

Master Robinton wanted to be sure this current generation of young people grew up trained from an early age to absorb and utilize the vast amount of knowledge available through Aivas. He had started
special classes with just a few suitable pupils from the Landing residents, and each Turn, had increased the size of the classes. Aivas had agreed, remarking that it would be easier to train youngsters—since they would have no misinformation to be corrected—than to retrain men and women who would have to alter lifelong habits of thinking and learning. Now that the main push of everyone’s efforts—the Red Star project—was accomplished, the Halls could concentrate on spreading new devices that would raise living standards all across Pern. Once power could be generated in Holds, Halls, and Weyrs, the special equipment Aivas had taught people how to use could be extended throughout the planet, instead of centralized at Landing.

Wind and tide generators were being studied by Jayge and his crafthall residents to see which would suit their needs best. Using a powered loom, Journeyman Parren could produce in quantity the coveted fabrics he made from the local fiber plants. Better lights would be a tremendous help in every household, and fans would make life more bearable during the hot season. Other applications of power generation were being studied, especially the manufacture of ice so the fish catches would remain fresher longer. Alemi was very keen for that amenity.

Jayge found some of the concepts difficult to understand, so he was delighted that Readis would have the opportunity to start off absorbing the new wonders at a belter “learning” age. Such training would also make the boy more acceptable to the Council of Holders when it came time for him to be confirmed in his holding. In the meantime, Jayge was determined
to improve the Hold and its resources. The basics of figuring, reading, and scripting taught by harpers along with Traditional ballads and songs were well enough for those who would be apprenticed to a Craft, but a Holder needed a broader, overall view. Jayge had learned how to hold through trial and error back when he and Aramina had been shipwrecked on this coast, but he wanted more for his sons and daughters.

Readis was all set for his first session at school the following morning—his knapsack was packed and a flying jacket and cap on to protect him
between
—when a fire-lizard came screaming in to land on the porch. He heard its distressed cry at the same time as his family and reached the porch just as his father was unfastening the message tube the fire-lizard wore. As soon as he released it, the little creature, still desperately keening, flitted out and was gone, followed by the resident fair, who picked up its tormented cry.

“No, no, nonono,” Jayge said, shaking his head in denial as he scanned the message. “No. He can’t be!”

“What’s the matter, Dad?” Readis asked. He’d never seen such a look of anguish on his father’s face.

Jayge bowed his head to his chest and slumped against the railing, covering his eyes with one hand while the other held the message, a narrow strip of paper.

“Dad?” Readis felt the first twinge of panic. Something terrible had happened. “Dad?” Readis needed to be reassured.

“Readis, go tell Boskoney to come. Take Delky.”
He gestured toward the little runner, standing hipshot in the shade at the corner of the house.

As Readis vaulted to her back, he looked over his shoulder and saw his father, sagging and motionless. He dug his heels into the willing little beast’s ribs and she was away in a flash. Readis really liked having Delky to ride on land, but it wasn’t a patch on swimming with Kib or Afo. For all she was patient and willing, Delky couldn’t talk to him, not as the dolphins and the dragons did, so he found her distinctly lacking. Even fire-lizards gave one some sort of reaction. Delky only did what she was asked to do. Still, she was useful. He sat back on her rump and, as she’d been trained, she came to a complete halt, showering sand into the harper’s open doorway.

“What’s the rush, now, m’lad?” Boskoney asked, coming to the door.

“Dad wants you. Urgent. Fire-lizard brought a message and it’s upset him.”

“It has?”

Readis gestured for Boskoney to mount behind him, though the harper’s legs would catch any bushes on the way back. Obedient and uncomplaining, Delky swiveled neatly on her hindquarters and cantered back as easily with her double burden as she had with only Readis’s light body.

“What sort of message?” Boskoney demanded, reaching through Readis’s arms to clutch Delky’s mane.

“He didn’t say. Just told me to get you. He hasn’t moved a muscle since I left,” Readis muttered to Boskoney as the harper dismounted at the porch steps. Readis was really worried now. Bad news
didn’t often trouble Paradise River. When something did go wrong, his father was more apt to curse and pace and wave his arms about, but he was never silent and all drawn in on himself like now.

Hearing the harper’s step, Jayge reached the message strip in his direction. Boskoney scanned it. Then, in the act of stepping up, the harper halted, foot held midair a long moment before he sort of turned and sank to the top step, head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. Readis kneed Delky around the house to the door of the kitchen, where his mother was preparing their supper.

“Mother,” Readis said, edging into the house and touching her arm, “I think you better go see what’s wrong with Father.”

“What could be wrong with your father, dear?” she asked in a voice that suddenly seemed too loud to Readis.

“He got some bad news and sent me for Boskoney. Now
he’s
sitting on the porch and—what would make a harper cry, Mother?”

Aramina shot her son a startled look before she took the heavy pan off the fire and half ran to the front of the house. Readis moved after her in the touch-toe/step gait he had adopted to get him places almost as quickly as anyone else on two good feet. Before he could reach the porch, he heard his mother crying, not loudly as she had when she learned of Granddad’s death but softly, as if the pain inside her was unbearable. She had her arms about Jayge and was comforting him even as she wept.

The scene was too much for Readis, and he retraced his steps, vaulted up on Delky’s back again,
and raced her toward the cluster of cotholds down the riverbank.

“I think you better get up to the hold, Aunt Temma, Uncle Nazer. You, too, Uncle Swacky,” he added when the burly figure of the grizzled old soldier appeared in the doorway. “I don’t know what’s happened but it’s made Dad, Mother,
and
Boskoney cry.” He didn’t wait to see if they followed but turned Delky around again and had her galloping past the tableau on his porch and on to Alemi’s hold. He brought Alemi back with him on Delky, leaving Kitrin and the other fishmen to follow on foot.

When Alemi arrived, Temma, Nazer, Swacky, Parren, and his wife and oldest daughter were standing about, weeping, too. The strip of paper was passed to Alemi, who began to breathe deeply and swallow while tears crept down his cheeks. Seeing his chance, Readis turned Unclemi’s hand toward him so he could read this awful message.

“‘Master Robinton and Zair have died. Aivas, too.’ “The stark words did not immediately make sense to him. Master Robinton couldn’t die. Everyone needed him. Readis knew that. And how could a machine die? He knew that Aivas was a machine, a very intelligent machine who knew a great deal—but still a machine. Machines didn’t die, they just … just ran down? Wore out?