“So long as we have power to run the library,” Danja added sourly.
“We will, we will,” Clisser said, with bright encouragement.
“Kalvi had his engineers up on the heights during the fly-past working on the sun panels. They’ll hook them up to the main banks tomorrow. “
“Other people worked today, you know. “
“Well, that’s a big consolation,” said Danja acidly.
Clisser refilled her glass. “And we’ll need some catchy tunes and good lyrics, too, I should think. Something to teach students from a very early age so that they learn all the signs of a Pass before they learn to ask questions about it.”
“One and one is two, two and two are four?” Danja sang the old multiplying song, then grinned wryly.
“The song remains an effective teaching aid,” Clisser said, filling his glass. “Shel, would you put on your composer’s hat and whip up some simple effective tunes?” Sheledon nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ve been saying for years that we ought to incorporate more basic stuff into a musical format. Jemmy’s good at little popular airs.” Most of his songs were geared to show off the talent of his soprano spouse, Sydra, who taught history and, in her spare time, was chronicling the early years of the colony.
Bethany’s face lit up with a great smile. Jemmy was a favorite pupil of hers, and she was his staunchest champion.
Even Danja looked mollified.
“So,” Clisser went on, having solved one of his immediate problems, what shall we do in the next set?”
“Just like that?” Danja demanded. “What’ll we do in this set? Clisser, will you get real!”
Clisser looked hurt. Bethany leaned over and patted his hand, smiling encouragingly.
“What did you mean by that, Danja?” Clisser asked.
“Don’t you realize what a huge responsibility you just so casually… and Danja lifted wide her arms, flinging her hands skyward in exasperation, laid on us all?”
“Nothing we can’t solve, dear,” Bethany said in her gentle manner. “With a little thought and time.”
“Back to time again. Do we have time?” Lozell was back in the discussion. ”Especially if the winter’s even half as bad as it was last year… and it’s supposed to be, with that damned Red Planet leering down on us… how are we going to cope?”
“We will. We always do,” Sheledon said with a sigh of resignation. ”Paulin will help us out. And certainly the Weyrs do.”
Danja glared at him. ”We’ve changed tunes, haven’t we? I thought you thought we didn’t have time.”
Sheledon shrugged diffidently. ”I think Lozell’s idea of making a survey a class project will solve that problem. And, if Jemmy can whistle up some lyrics, I can certainly churn out some tunes. Or maybe Jemmy can do both in his spare time.”
Sheledon’s face softened into a wry grin. He had had a tussle with himself, not to be jealous of Jemmy whose brilliance was multi-faceted. Though he wasn’t officially graduated from the Hall, he already ran several smaller study groups and seemed able to do a bit of everything - on a high level. The consummate Jack of all Trades, Clisser called him.
“And what if, by leaving it to the student body - who are, as most students, indifferent researchers - the best notion is missed?” Danja asked.
“That’s why we’re teachers, dear,” said Bethany. “To be sure they don’t miss an obvious solution. They can at least save us having to sort through pounds of material and present us with the most viable options. We can put Jemmy in charge; he reads the fastest and his eyes are younger.”
Just then, the instrumentalists on the stage wound up their last number and received an enthusiastic ovation from both the sweating dancers and the onlookers drinking at the tables.
They filed off the stage.
“All right, what set do we do, Clisser?” Sheledon asked, tossing off the last of his wine as he got to his feet.
“Those seniors did a lot of fast dance music,” Clisser said.
“Let’s give everyone a chance to catch their breaths and do some slow stuff… the old traditionals, I think. Start with ‘Long and Winding Road’ - Put everyone in a sentimental mood.”
“Hmmm… then we can get some supper while the juniors do what they so erroneously call ‘music’,” said Danja, who had considerable contempt for the contemporary loud and diatonic musical fad.
“Can’t please everyone all the time,” Clisser said, collecting his guitar. He drew back Bethany’s chair for her and offered her an arm.
Smiling in her gentle way at the courtesy, she picked up the flute in its worn hard-case, her recorders in their leather sleeves and the little reed whistle that had won its maker a prize that year. It had a particularly sweet, clear tone that young Jemmy had been trying to reproduce with other reeds. Then she limped forward, seemingly oblivious to her clubbed foot and awkward gait, her head high, her gaze directed ahead of her.
Jemmy joined them from his table, automatically taking Bethany’s flute case from her. He was drummer for their group, though he had been playing guitar with others. Unprepossessing in physical appearance, with pale hair and skin and oversized features, he was self-effacing, indifferent to his academic achievements. While not in the least athletic, he had won the long-distance races in the Summer Games for the last three years. He did not relate well, however, to his peer group.
“They don’t think the same way I do,” was his diffident self-appraisal.
That was, of course, accurate since he had tested off the scale of the standard aptitude tests given prospective scholars.
His family, fishers at Tillek Hold, didn’t understand him at all and at one point thought him retarded. At fourteen he had followed his siblings into training in the family occupation. He lasted three voyages. Though he had proven himself an able navigator, he had had such constant motion sickness - “never acquiring sea legs” - that he had been useless as a deck-hand: a source of much embarrassment to his family. Captain Kizan had interested himself in the lad and recommended the boy be trained as a teacher, and sent Jemmy to Fort Hold for evaluation. Clisser had joyfully accepted him - finding such an avid learner was a real boost to his morale. And, when Clisser had seen how Jemmy galloped through even the hardest lessons, he had set up an independent study program for him. Although Jemmy had perfect pitch, he couldn’t sing and started playing instruments to make up for that lack in himself. There was nothing he couldn’t play, given a few hours of basic training.
Although his family, and indeed the Lord Holder Bastom, too, had expected him to return to Tillek to teach, Clisser had argued hard that anyone could teach the basics to hold children: he would supply a suitably trained candidate. But Jemmy must be allowed to continue at the College Hall, benefiting the entire continent.
What no-one at the Hall mentioned beyond their most private sessions was that Jemmy seemed intuitively to know how to fill in the gaps left by improper copying or damaged records. His notations, short and concise, were models of lucidity. The College could not afford to do without his skills and intelligence. He wasn’t a good teacher, being frustrated by mental processes slower than his own, but he could, and did, produce manuals and guides that enhanced the basic texts the settlers had brought with them. Jemmy translated ‘Earth’ into ‘Pern’ If his peer group did not enjoy his company, he enjoyed that of his mentors and was fast outstripping all of them in knowledge and practical applications. It was also well known if tacitly ignored, that he idolized Bethany. She was consistently kind and encouraging to everyone, but refused to accept any partner. She had long since decided never to inflict her deformity on offspring and refused any intimacy, even a childless one.
Clisser wondered, though, as he and Bethany made their sedate way to the stage, if Jemmy might not breach the wall of her virginity. He was certain that Bethany cared more for the Tillek lad than anyone else in the thirty years he had known her - student and teacher. She was a lovely, gentle woman; she deserved to be loved and love in return.