All the Weyrs of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page A

intended for conferences, was prepared for that purpose again. Remembering what she had seen stored in the cave, Lessa sent for enough furnishings to make the room useful: tables, desks, and as many chairs as could be easily reached without getting in Fandarel’s way. All these were washed down, revealing bright colors that made cheerful accents in the otherwise bare rooms. The room farthest from all the activity was turned into a private retreat for the Masterharper, complete with a comfortable bed, a well-cushioned chair, and a table.
    “The only problem will be in getting him to use it,” Lessa said, giving the table a final swipe with her cleaning cloth. She had smudges on her cheeks, across her fine-bridged nose, and on her strong chin. Her long black hair was coming loose from its braids. Menolly and Jancis exchanged glances to decide who would tell her how dirty her face was. Jancis thought that the Weyrwoman’s disarray, as well as her energetic cleaning, made her suddenly more accessible. The young Smithmaster had always been scared of the famous Weyrwoman.
    “Somehow I never thought that I’d see the Weyrwoman of Pern working like a drudge,” Jancis murmured to Menolly. “She does it with a vengeance.”
    “She had practice,” Menolly said with a wry chuckle, “hiding herself away from Fax in Ruatha Hold before Impressing Ramoth.”
    “But she looks as if she was enjoying this,” Jancis said in faint surprise. Actually, she was, too. It gave her a sense of achievement to return a dirty room to cleanliness and order.
    The charts that Lessa had requisitioned from Esselin’s archives arrived, and the Weyrwoman had the girls hold them up on the various walls to decide the best position.
    “Is it really right to put such precious artifacts to such a . . .” Jancis struggled to find the appropriate word.
    “Mundane use?” Menolly asked with a grin.
    “Exactly.”
    “They were initially used in this way,” Lessa said, quirking her lips and shrugging her shoulders. “So why not put them back up?”
    Applying herself to the task had restored the Weyrwoman’s equilibrium; the discovery of Aivas and its promise to help F’lar achieve his deepest ambition had shaken her. She desperately wanted what was promised, almost as much as F’lar did, but she was fearful of the consequences. The morning’s scrubbing attack had allowed her to expend some of her anxiety. Now she felt herself peculiarly revived.
    “Since the maps haven’t deteriorated—amazing material the settlers used—I see no reason why we shouldn’t use them for the purpose they were designed for,” she went on briskly. She had decided that “settlers” was a less intimidating word than “ancestors.” She studied one of the maps. “The Southern Continent certainly does spread out, doesn’t it?” And she smiled, half to herself. “Lift your corner a trifle, Jancis. There! Now it’s straight!”
    She smoothed the map of the Southern Continent against the wall. Then, with considerable satisfaction, she sited a tack and hammered it in with a rectangular lump of rock she had found. Esselin had dithered so much about giving them two baskets and a shovel that she hadn’t bothered to ask for a hammer. The rock did as well.
    She stood back with the girls to survey her handiwork. The lettering on the maps still took her moments to decipher. It was familiar and yet different, and certainly larger. She wondered how Aivas had fared reading the crabbed tight script that Master Arnor had used in writing up the Records. Poor Master Arnor.
    Not to mention poor Robinton, who had been so mortified to learn that there had been language shifts despite all the hard work that the Harper Hall had put into keeping it pure. Old Arnor’s mind was notoriously inflexible, and the old fellow might have spasms when he heard that. Which was yet another aspect of this discovery: Its knowledge and its obvious intelligence put Aivas into the role of a Master