The Smith snorted with such powerful scorn that a skin on the top of the pile slithered to the floor. No sons!
Thats all very well when one can count on dying in bed and at a given time, but I and the Craftmaster would like to see all knowledge available to all who need it, Terry said.
Flar gazed with increased respect at the stoop-shouldered Craft-second. Hed known that Fandarel relied heavily on Terrys executive ability and tactfulness. The man could always be counted on to fill in the gaps in Fandarels terse explanations or instructions, but it was obvious now that Terry had a mind of his own, whether it concurred with his Craftmasters or not.
Knowledge has less danger of being lost, then, Terry went on less passionately but just as fervently. We knew so much more once. And all we have are tantalizing bits and fragments that do almost more harm than good because they only get in the way of independent development.
We will contrive, Fandarel said, his ineffable optimism complementing Terrys volatility.
Do you have men enough, and wire enough, to install one of those things at Telgar Hold in two days? asked Flar, feeling a change of subject might help.
We could take men off flame throwers and hardware. And I can call in the apprentices from the Smithhalls at Igen, Telgar and Lemos, the Smith said and then glanced slyly at Flar. Theyd come faster dragonback!
Youll have them, Flar promised.
Terrys face lit up with relief. You dont know what a difference it is to work with Benden Weyr. You see so clearly what needs to be done, without any hedging and hemming.
Youve had problems with Rmart? asked Flar with quick concern.
Its not that, Weyrleader, Terry said, leaning forward earnestly. You still care what happens, whats happening.
Im not sure I understand.
The Smith rumbled something but there seemed to be no interrupting Terry.
I see it this way, and Ive seen riders from every Weyr by now. The Oldtimers have been fighting Thread since their birth. Thats all theyve known. Theyre tired and not just from skipping forward in time four hundred Turns. Theyre heart-tired, bone-tired. Theyve had too much rising to alarms, seen too many friends and dragons die, Threadscored. They rest on custom, because thats safest and takes the least energy. And they feel entitled to anything they want. Their minds may be numb with too much time between, though they think fast enough to talk you out of anything. As far as theyre concerned, theres always been Thread. Theres nothing else to look forward to. They dont remember, they cant really conceive of a time, of four hundred Turns without Thread. We can. Our fathers could and their fathers. We live at a different rhythm because Hold and Craft alike threw off that ancient fear and grew in other ways, in other paths, which we cant give up now. We exist only because the Oldtimers lived in their Time and in ours. And fought in both Times. We can see a way out, a life without Thread. They knew only one thing and theyve taught us that. How to fight Thread. They simply cant see that we, that anyone, could take it just one step further and destroy Thread forever.
Flar returned Terrys earnest stare.
I hadnt seen the Oldtimers in just that light, he said slowly.
Terrys absolutely right, Flar, said Lessa. Shed evidently paused on the threshold, but moved now briskly into the room, filling the Smiths empty mug from the pitcher of klah shed brewed. And its a judgment we ought to consider in our dealings with them. She smiled warmly at Terry as she filled his cup. Youre as eloquent as the Harper. Are you sure youre a smith?
That is klah! announced Fandarel, having drunk it all.
Are you sure youre a Weyrwoman? retorted Flar, extending his cup with a sly smile. To Terry he said, I wonder none of us realized it before, particularly in view of recent events. A man cant fight day after day, Turn after Turn though the Weyrs were eager to come forward He looked questioningly at Lessa.