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"It has always been so, Master Robinton," Aivas said, as accepting as ever. "Mankind has always put great faith in oracles."
"Oracles?" The word was unfamiliar to the Harper.
"A full explanation of the phenomenon should be kept until you have forty-four hours free, for the file on religion is lengthy. At this moment in time, how do you propose to satisfy the petitioners outside?"
"By sending in small groups to see and question you, however briefly."
"Then permit them all to enter. The outside sensors indicate the exact numbers that this room can now accommodate."
While Master Esselin looked on in dismay and disapproval, the entire gaggle hurried down the corridor.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Aivas said, his mellifluous voice startling the newcomers into awed silence. "Within the walls you are currently facing, there is an Artificial Intelligence Voice-Address System that stores information for retrieval. Or Aivas, to use the appropriate acronym. It is seen that there are among you those of the miner craft. No doubt you noticed that Masterminers attended the previous lecture. It would be of considerable value to you to consult with these men on the new methods of smelting ores. It is hoped that you two Stewards from Crom and Nabol have brought with you the Records of your Holds. These will be vital in assessing the present, and future, productivity of the properties you so ably manage for your Lord Holders. You glass-smiths and journeymen from the Halls at Igen and Ista have, in the sandpits and lead mines of your respective Holds, some of the best silicates in this world, which accounts for the fact that you produce the finest, most durable glass on the planet. If this facility may be of service in any way to your crafthalls, please ask Master Robinton to appoint a time for a longer discussion."
Most of the attendees simply gawked, trying to find the source of the disembodied voice. The Ista glass-smith took a hesitant step forward, swallowed hard, and spoke.
"Master Aivas, Master Oldive asked me to construct the lens of a microscope for him." The words came out in a rush.
"Yes, such an instrument is of vital importance to the Healer's Hall."
"I looked up our Records, Master Aivas." He pulled from his tunic some moldering sheets, stained, spotted, and full of holes. "But, as you see..." He held them out toward the screen.
"Place them over the lit panel on the worktop, Masterglasssmith."
Looking about for reassurance, the Istan hesitated, until the Harper shooed him forward. The others stared at the glass-smith for his audacity. Part of one page crumbled off even as he placed it over the lighted panel. His journeyman rushed forward and, with the air of a man greatly daring, shoved the missing corner up against the broken end.
Instantly the screen lit up with an image of the much damaged drawing. Magically an unseen point co
"Look! Look! Finer than the best draftsman we have could render it!" the excited man exclaimed.
"Next page, please," Aivas said, and the glass-smith, with some fumbling, managed to comply.
Very shortly the missing notes and explanations had been restored, and everyone in the room had had a chance to see the reconstructed sheets.
"Have you any queries regarding the manufacture of barrel, focusing devices, or lenses?" Aivas asked politely.
There were one or two questions from the journeyman; his master was too dazed to be coherent.
"If some should arise during manufacture-" Aivas finished.
"During what?" the journeyman was startled into asking by the unfamiliar word.
"During the making, either send your question to Master Robinton or return for additional explanations or further demonstration."
It was easy then for Robinton to move the group out of the room and speed them on their way down the hall.
"That took ten minutes," Aivas said in a low tone. "A useful disposition of time."
"Have you been advised to appoint me your aide?" the Masterharper asked in an amused tone.
"Your impartiality is legend, Master Robinton, and your scrupulous sense of fair play has just been demonstrated. Master Esselin's definition of priority is noticeably skewed toward rank. The glass-smith's need of stored information was indeed a priority that ought to have been immediately scheduled when he arrived early this morning. Master Esselin ignored him."
"He did?" Robinton was a
"If you will see to it that he does not exceed his very limited authority, considerable future ill-feeling will be avoided."
"I will see to that immediately, Aivas."
"If you should be unwilling to act in this capacity, perhaps D'ram, the bronze dragonrider, would assist. He, also, is held in the highest regard by peer group, Hall, and Hold. Is it true that he came forward in time four hundred Turns to fight Thread? That he has already spent a good portion of his life in that onerous task?"
"That is correct, Aivas."
"This generation, and his, are amazing, Master Robinton." Though the words were spoken levelly, the tone of admiration was unmistakable, and Robinton squared his shoulders proudly.
"We are of one mind in that." Then, brusquely, Robinton added, "As your aide, Master Aivas, I'll just set Master Esselin straight on the matter of assigning priorities without consultation. You may be sure he will obey you as promptly as he does myself or the Weyrleaders."
Back in the hall, Robinton cut short all of Master Esselin's tedious explanations and apologies. He found D'ram in the room where Piemur, Jancis, Jaxom, and Benelek were clattering away at their lessons on the small screens. They were each working on different projects, he could see; he recognized that Jancis was somehow replicating the diagram that Aivas had shown the miners.
"Come on, Master Robinton," Piemur said, looking up from his screen. "I fixed a station for you to experiment with."
Robinton held up his hands and backed away. "No, no, I've appointed myself aide to Master Aivas for the afternoon. You ca
"Ha! Yes, I can!" Piemur said emphatically.
"He's as thick as two short planks," Benelek grumbled. "And he doesn't like any of us coming and going as we need to."
"I don't have any trouble," Jancis said, but her eyes danced with mischief. "All I have to do is give him a cup of klah or something to eat from the tray when I bring it in." '
"And that's another score I'm going to settle with of Master fuddy-duddy Esselin," Piemur said heatedly. "You are not a kitchen drudge. Does he never see the Master tab on your collar? Doesn't he know you're Fandarel's granddaughter and top of your own Craft?"
"Oh, I think he will," Jaxom remarked without looking up from his board, his fingers flying across it. "I caught his paternal act this morning, and I reminded him that the proper form of address for Jancis is Mastersmith. You know, I don't think he had noticed the collar tabs."
"That's no excuse," Piemur retorted, likely to fume until he himself had settled the score with the old man.
"Perhaps Master Esselin should go back to his archives," D'ram said. "That's what he's supposed to be doing."
"And about all he's good for," Piemur muttered.
"However, since someone must take over his current responsibility, I think I shall appoint myself in his place."
"A marvelous notion, D'ram," Robinton said while the others let out a cheer. "Actually, Aivas had already recommended you in that capacity. He's heard that you are a well-respected and scrupulously honest character. He doesn't know you as well as I do, of course." When D'ram glanced apprehensively at him, Robinton broke into a teasing grin. "In fact, I think we should inveigle Lytol up here, too. Or would three honest men be too much for the job?"