Chapter 6
It was nice, reflected Ipominea, to have the chance to get to know two more of the girls before they started properly. T'rin had loaned the Printhall I'linne to teach Leseta; and when the little girl found out that her Harper was her senior apprentice's sister, she was thrilled! She and Leselly seemed quite sweet children, and Linnara ready to be friendly with them, her lifelong malaise having left her a little childish. Or, thought Ipominea, more likely that the lack of any attention save blows from her father and surreptitious babying from her mother had caused this more than the illness itself. It was a pity that Moora seemed content to leave the children to run to Ipominea; Moora was quite self-sufficient, and without being unkind she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the babes!
Ipominea almost withheld her candidateship at this point; but they had viewed the eggs once, and L'exa had smiled at her kindly in the way the sharp-eyed young logicator recognised as the way the talented Gold Rider smiled on those she felt form a bond, especially those destined to be fellow female riders.
Ipominea took Linnara aside.
"Linn, you know they don't expect you to Impress until you've grown out of fitting, don't you?" she said.
Linnara stared.
"Do they think I'll grow out of it so I'll have a chance one day? That would be splendid! Yes, I know I'm not expected to, but it was so Jeinna could keep an eye on me. I guess I need not stand at all, but, well…"
"It's pretty exciting," said Ipominea. "And you'll be right there if your sister Impresses, and I reckon she will. Only – if I do, can you grow up quick and keep an eye out for Laseta and Leselly? Moora has her, er, studies to think of."
"You mean she's got her head high in the clouds about dragons and is too selfish to care about us little ones," said Linnara.
Ipominea shrugged.
"It's a blunt way to put it. Living in a dorm with other crafters will maybe help her to think more of others, but right now…."
Linnara nodded.
"Thank you for thinking me trustworthy."
Ipominea grinned.
"Oh you can be a scatty piece, but your heart is in the right place, fundamentally. And I don't know what the other new one will be like… she's kind of ranking, and I guess if she wants to craft she has all the indications of being essentially a decent sort. She's your age, a couple of turns or more older than the little kids, so she may learn more than Moora, who's a turn older than the two of you."
"Not that it means anything; I always forget that you're a turn younger than me."
Ipominea laughed.
"At least half of that is the eclectic vocabulary," she said. "Anyway, it may not be necessary; but better to arrange things in plenty of time."
Linnara nodded.
"Will you be coming back to the dorm if you Impress?"
"I guess not … they're not built to house dragons, you know! It won't stop us being friends, but I'll have a turn's hard work as a weyrling with the other weyrlings before I can apply myself seriously to my craft again. I could almost wish to wait another turn round, but now the dragonets have had the chance to feel us, it'd be churlish to let them down."
"Will you weyr near the Hall?"
"If I do Impress, yes, eventually. We're having weyrs dug over the woodcrafter cavern, for Impressed woodcrafters and printers, and tunnelways through for easy access. But I'll not count my dragon until she's hatched," added Ipominea severely, hoping to herself that she had felt a pull as well as correctly interpreting L'exa's expression.
oOo
Tahnee also had her own ideas; L'exa's smile to her had held sympathy.
"I'm not going to, am I?" Tahnee asked, bluntly.
"I don't think so; not this time. Too many girls, too few greens," said L'exa, who admired the girl's matter of fact straight speaking.
Tahnee nodded.
"Probably just as well, considering the look you gave our Po. It'd be impolite to withdraw, I suppose, but I can't deny I'd be as happy not to Impress right now."
L'exa shrugged.
"You may never Impress, you know; your craft is so very important to you. Like Geriana."
Tahnee nodded. "I have wondered that. Of course, I am newly a Journeyman, in an absolutely new craft. I might feel ready to open myself to dragons when the shine has rubbed off around the edges." She laughed. "Or maybe not! If I Impress in the future, I shall be overwhelmed by amazement that I ever existed without it, no doubt, but you don't miss what you don't have. And I have so much already: a dragon too would be scarily too much joy, and I'd start wondering when things were going to go disastrously wrong!"
L'exa nodded.
"I felt that way too," she said. "Those of us who have had bad experiences need to take our time learning that what we consider overwhelmingly wonderful, others take for granted."
Tahnee grinned.
"I can't work out if I'm envious that they've never had anything bad happen to them, or if I'm the lucky one for appreciating so much even simple things like having people love me."
"I'd never thought of that in as many words – but yes, it is a dilemma," said L'exa. "I think anyone who has happiness – found or as a lifelong thing – is lucky. Not all people achieve happiness, even when they have every reason for it."
Tahnee nodded soberly. L'exa understood, more than most people; and she understood L'exa more than most people. It was an understated friendship that sprang from that brief conversation; but a profound one for all that.
oOo
When hatching came, the Printcrafters were so excited to attend that some of the youngest were almost sick!
The impression of Telfer to dark Brown Vith was a joy for H'llon, Tahnee and Ipominea as well as for the woodcraft apprentices; Tahnee herself torn between sorrow and relief that she had not Impressed! There needed to be, after all, a decent Home Mother for the little girls; and Glenlys might be nice enough, but Tahnee thought her not as used to little ones as she, Tahnee, was.
Ipominea made straight for the egg she had thought she had felt a pull from; and waited.
It was a long wait, or it seemed so, but was worth it. Little Beth loved her!
Ipominea heard H'llon's whoop of delight; and her foster father was first to come and hug her!
"Which of your too many syllables shall we use in contraction?" he chuckled.
"Use Po to start," Ipominea suggested; for it was a nickname of affection that she associated with the first parental-type love she had ever known! "It IS my nickname," she pointed out.
R'gar came up.
"Po'nea," he said, firmly. "H'llon, get up into the tiers; there's trouble."
Po'nea glanced up.
A well-dressed man was shrieking imprecations that were most incomprehensible for his wrath; and his face was quite as purple as Master Zorg's special dye!
It all seemed to be about a boy called Rorik, or rather, R'rik, having Impressed a Green, for having finally settled down to weyr life after having been rather objectionable for a while. Po'nea did not know all the ramifications.
H'llon would sort it out, and was big enough to intimidate most people.
oOo
H'llon reached the boy's father as the man's protests reached a crescendo that THAT creature would warp his boy into One of Them and that he demanded IT be put down and the boy returned to him.
H'llon loomed at him; he had learned how to use his bulk as well as his authority. He presented the view of his Mastercrafter's knots so the Master could not avoid seeing them.
Young, H'llon might be; but the overall Master of a craft outranked any other Master regardless of whether Master Varik chose to ignore the authority of a Bronze Rider Wingleader.
"Stop making a fool of yourself and your craft" snapped H'llon "And if you dare to threaten a dragon again you'll be walking home forthwith!"
Varik pulled himself together at the threatening aspect of the giant young Bronze Rider; H'llon was furious at such comments and did not trouble to hide it.
Varik was furious too; he took the idea of his son being Impressed by a female dragon as a personal insult! He glowered.
"I want to go to my son" he said sullenly.
"Then give me your belt knife" said H'llon.
"What?"
"Give me your belt knife. You have threatened dragonkind in the presence of a Bronze Rider as witness; I don't trust you not to try to carry out your threat. It will be returned when you are back at your home" H'llon rumbled.
Varik flushed.
"Foolishness! You are quick to take up hot words – well if you must have it….." he fumbled with the knife as H'llon held out his hand silently.
oOoOo
H'llon escorted the angry Weaver to the Bowl, where R'rik was feeding Dilbeth, The boy grinned all over his face, still in the throes of the joy of Impression; and the smile slipped as he saw his father's furious face to be replaced by an expression of wary incomprehension.
"Father! See, I did Impress at last, isn't she beautiful?" he said, hoping to appease the man with his own success.
"Beautiful? No! It's an abomination! It'll twist you to become a girl-boy!" Varik almost spat.
Rorik blinked.
"But father, I was already gay!" he said "I only realised it recently, but it's worked out perfectly…." He tailed off and mover protectively in front of Dilbeth as his father raised a hand.
H'llon, for all his size, was fast; and he caught the man's wrist before the vicious blow could land, bearing the arm inexorably - and it has to be said, painfully – down.
"Striking a dragonman can mean exile to the Eastern Isles" the Bronze Rider growled.
"But he's my son! I have every right…."
"You have NO rights over a dragonman!" said H'llon sharply. "He is Weyrfolk; and worthy of honour. TRY to behave with the honour your knots as Master demand."
"Then he is no son of mine; I never want to see the filthy little turd again!" spat Varik.
"Such is your choice" said H'llon. "We wouldn't want you here anyway unless you could learn to behave like a civilised human being. Green Rider!" he called to a youngster with a Green dragon assisting passengers to their rides "Master Varik is leaving for High Reaches Hold; give him his knife back after you land there only."
"I'll sit with no girl-boy!" Varik spat.
"I'm a girl" said L'nna shortly "Can't you tell the difference Master? Or do you blow both ways that you cannot tell a boy from a girl?"
Varik almost raised his hand and fought with himself to resist the urge.
"Wise move" H'llon rumbled. "L'nna, that was pert. He is a Mastercrafter; apologise."
"I apologise for the manner of making the remark" said L'nna "But unless he's going to apologise for not being able to tell girls and boys apart I shan't go any further, sorry Bronze Rider. You can ride in front of me Master: I'd like to keep an eye on a man who is not to be trusted with his own knife."
oOoOo
H'llon worried until L'nna returned; she looked rueful.
"I'd better report to T'bor" she said. "The Weaver tried to take the knife back before I landed, grappled with me. I wasn't about to take any chances with my life or Polleth's so I took him by the scruff and dropped him off. I dropped the knife down to him too; but unfortunately it was too tightly sheathed to come out and spear him" she added regretfully.
"How high were you?" asked H'llon.
"Oh, only a length or so….. won't be worse than a few broken bones unless he landed on his head when there'd be no damage at all."
"L'nna!" H'llon had to work not to laugh.
"Sorry, H'llon. Sorry to piss off YOU not for disrespecting HIM" she amended.
H'llon gave up.
The whole family were just as outspoken and if K'len had never been broken of it, it was doubtful that his sisters would be either.
oOo
T'bor heard the report; and shrugged.
"L'nna, you had no choice" he said "Protecting your dragon and yourself was the first priority and I'll make it clear in a report to Lord Bargen. He takes a dim view of those who manhandle weyrwomen. H'llon, will you go to Master Zorg at the Weavercrafthall? This fellow may lodge a complaint with him, and as a Master yourself I think you should get your retaliation in first."
H'llon nodded.
"I've a matter I wish to discuss with him anyhow" he said.
oOoOo
H'llon was, once this was sorted out, able to go and visit Master Zorg, to whom he also planned to make a report on the disgraceful incident. Master Zorg was something of a snob; and was happy to receive a Bronze Rider, even had H'llon not been a Craftmaster too. The Master took a dim view of Varik's behaviour, as H'llon had hoped he would; and the two Masters exchanged views on whose who brought their respective crafts into disrepute. H'llon had seen enough instances of Woodcrafters who had done so, after all.
Glad to get the unpleasantness over, H'llon moved on to the business of using special purple ink.
Once Master Zorg had understood that H'llon did not want the secret of the colour, and indeed preferred that no single crafthall held the secrets to both paper and ink, he was more than happy with the idea! Zorg took H'llon for a tour of his crafthall, even showing him the rare preserved scraps of silk, irreproducible without the weaving worms that the Ancients had not been able to adapt to life on Pern; and the complex brocades that even Fort's specialist Weaverhall could not fully reproduce.
"The pulleys on the draw looms have been useful, however," said Zorg. "The ones you suggested to Lynger."
"I'm glad," said H'llon. "They were an idea of the same apprentice who forged that mark for me … she Impressed today!" he grinned all over his face.
"A loss to the craft, surely?" said Zorg.
H'llon shook his head.
"Oh, no! We continue to train at High Reaches – once the dragonets are grown enough to need less care. Busy Riders are less likely to get into the sort of trouble we know too well in the Reaches."
Zorg nodded. It was rare for dragonmen to even tacitly acknowledge the bad behaviour of T'kul, especially to bring it up first! He appreciated the confidence shown in his discretion. He had a sudden thought.
"Will there be the option for the boy R'rik to go to Rivenhall, say, to finish his training to Journeyman?" he asked.
"I see no reason why not. He can be their smokeless weyrling while he confirms; I understand his SKILL is adequate, it was the attitude his father instilled that his Master objected to."
Zorg beamed.
"I'm glad. And you will give the lad my personal congratulations on Impressing?"
"Of course, Master Zorg; I shall be glad to. Listen, I have an idea… based on a musical box, actually … I think I can make brocade weaving much easier, and therefore more profitable. It wouldn't matter, would it, if the threads were pushed up not pulled?"
"No … so long as the shuttle could pass through."
"Good. I need to work on that," said H'llon, and wandered off, reaching in his pouch for a piece of paper to start to draw out ideas. Zorg laughed. He had seen pattern designers with the same look on their faces.
R'rik was borrowed by H'llon as soon as R'gar would let him go; and H'llon put his idea to the lad.
"I'm thinking of a drum with thick paper covering it, pierced with holes; and the holes permit spring-loaded pegs to come through them in a pattern and push up certain threads. Would that work? The drum would be turned by the next row of pattern, each time the shuttle was thrown."
R'rik frowned.
""The pattern would have to be exaggerated in the weft direction on the paper to have large enough pegs," he said. "But I don't see why not … could you build a loom? It would hardly need to be more than a table look with one heddle…"
H'llon nodded.
"No problem; that simple a loom I can build in an afternoon. Spring loaded pegs would be harder."
"I've been drawmonkey on my father's look, I know how brocading works … I could work out a pattern and see how much exaggeration was needed," said R'rik."
"Good lad! I reckon we'll be in business!" said H'llon. "After all, with repeat patterns, the logical way to share them between Halls would be to have the pattern printed on the paper, and each Hall cut the holes when they receive the pattern, so it IS a printcraft matter."
"And if there are blocks for each pattern, they can be reprinted when the first gets old and torn," said R'rik. "I'd need paper."
"Of course you will. And we will now experiment with how thick it must be to push pegs down whilst being thin enough to turn on a drum."
Po'nea was listening in shamelessly.
"Build the drum with a plate to depress the pegs as the first stage before they turn," she said. "Saves wear on the paper. Once they're down, only the ones where there are holes will rise for the next thread."
"I like," said H'llon.
He went off happily to build his newest invention!
Author's note: the French invented the jacquard loom in the 18th century. Computer programmers later stole the idea of punchcards and called it COBOL