Jaxom was amused that, whenever Wansor made a sweeping statement, he said we but when he announced a discovery, he said I.
“We believe that as soon as this blue star is released from the influence of the yellow star of our spring horizon and swings to the high east, Threadfall will resume the pattern which F’lar originally observed.
“With this equation,” Wansor rapidly jotted the figures down on the board, and Jaxom again noticed that for a sloppy looking person, his notations were conversely precise, “we can compute further conjunctions which will affect Threadfall during this Pass. Indeed, we can now point to where the various stars have been at any time in the past and will be at any time in the future.”
He was writing equations at a furious pace and explaining which stars were affected by which equations. He turned then, his round face settling into a very serious expression. “We can even predict, on the basis of this knowledge, the exact moment when the next Pass will begin. Of course, that’s so many Turns in the future that none of us need worry about it. But I think it’s comforting to know nonetheless.”
Scattered chuckles caused Wansor to blink and then hesitantly grin, as if he belatedly realized that he’d said something humorous.
“And we must make sure that no one forgets in the long Interval this time,” Mastersmith Fandarel said, his bass voice startling everyone after Wansor’s light tenor. “That’s what this union is all about, you know,” Fandarel added, gesturing to the audience.
Several Turns before, when Ruth’s life expectancy, had been short, Jaxom had held a private if egocentric theory about the sessions at the Smithcrafthall. He had convinced himself that they had been initiated to give him an alternative interest in living in case Ruth died. Today’s meeting let the substance out of that notion, and Jaxom snorted at his self-centered whimsy. The more people-in every Hold, in the Weyrs-who knew what was being done in each of the Crafthalls, by the individual Craftmasters and by their chief technicians, the less chance there was that the ambitious plans to preserve all Pern from the ravages of Thread would be lost again.
Jaxom, F’lessan, Benelek, Mirrim, Menolly, T’ran, Piemur, various other likely successors to Lord Holders and advanced junior craftsmen formed the nucleus of the regular school at the Smith and Harper crafthalls. Each student learned to appreciate the other crafts.
Communication is essential. That was one of Robinton’s tenets. Wasn’t he always saying, “Exchange information, learn to talk sensibly about any subject, learn to express your thoughts, accept new ones, examine them, analyze. Think objectively. Think toward the future.”
Jaxom let his eyes drift about the room at the gathering, wondering how many of them could accept all of Wansor’s explanations. True, with this lot he had the advantage that most of them had watched the stars form and reform their patterns, night after night, season after season until those stately patterns could be reduced to Wansor’s clever diagrams and numbers. The trouble was that everyone was here in this room because he was willing to listen to new ideas and accept new thoughts. The ones who needed to be influenced were those who hadn’t listened-such as the Oldtimers now exiled to the Southern Continent.
Jaxom surmised that some sort of a discreet watch was kept on happenings there. N’ton had once made an oblique reference to the Southern Hold. The students had a very detailed map of the land about the Hold and of some of the neighboring areas which indicated that the Southern Continent extended far deeper into the Southern seas than anyone had guessed even five Turns ago. During one of his talks with Lytol, Robinton had once let slip something that led Jaxom to believe the Masterharper had been in the Southern lands recently. It amused Jaxom to wonder how much the Oldtimers knew of what occurred on the mainland. There were some obvious changes which even those with the most closed minds would have to admit seeing. What of the ever-increasing spreads of forestland about which the Oldtimers bad protested-expanses now protected by the burrowing grubs that farmers had once tried to exterminate, erroneously considering them a bane instead of a carefully contrived blessing and safeguard.