Read Online Dragonseye by Anne McCaffrey - Free Book Online

experience would give him.
    Clisser and Jemmy provided support for Bethany to ascend the unrailed steps to the stage, and then, with a swirl of the long skirts that covered the built-up shoe she wore, she settled herself in her chair. She placed her flute case and the recorders where she wanted them, and the little reed flute on the music stand. Not that this group of musicians required printed sheets to read from, but the other groups did.
    Danja lifted her fiddle to her chin, bow poised, and looked at Jemmy, who hummed an A with his perfect pitch for her to tune her strings. Sheledon softly strummed his guitar to check its tuning, and Lozell ran an arpeggio on his standing harp. The continent’s one remaining piano—his preferred instrument—was undergoing repairs to the hammers: they had not yet managed to reproduce quite the same sort of felt that had been originally used.
    Clisser nodded at Jemmy, who did a roll on his hand drum to attract attention, and then, on Clisser’s downbeat, they began their set.
     
     
    It was several days before Clisser had a chance to discuss the project with Jemmy.
    “I’ve wondered why we didn’t use the balladic medium to teach history,” Jemmy replied.
    “It isn’t history we’ll be setting to music.”
    “Oh yes, it is,” Jemmy had contradicted him in the flat and tactless way he had. It had taken Clisser time to get used to it. “Well, it will be when the next generation gets it . . . and the next one after that.”
    “That’s a point, of course.”
    Jemmy hummed something but broke off and sprang across to the table, where he grabbed a sheet of paper, turning it to the unused side. He slashed five lines across it, added a clef, and immediately began to set notes down. Clisser was fascinated.
    “Oh,” Jemmy said offhandedly as his fingers flew up and down the lines, “I’ve had this tune bugging me for months now. It’s almost a relief to put it down on paper now that I’ve a use for it.” He marked off another measure, the pen hovering above the paper only briefly, before he was off again. “It can be a showpiece anyhow. Start off with a soprano—boy, of course, setting the scene. Then the tenors come in . . . they’ll be the dragonriders, of course, and the baritones . . . Lord Holders, with a few basses to be the professionals . . . each describing his duty to the Weyr . . . then a final chorus, a reprise of the first verse, all Pern confirming what they owe the dragons. Yes, that’ll do nicely for one.”
    Clisser knew when he wasn’t needed, and left the room, smiling to himself. Now, if Bethany was right and this term’s students could perform the research satisfactorily, he could make good on his blithe promise to the Council. He did hope that the computers would last long enough for a comprehensive search. They had got so erratic lately that their performance was suspect at most times. Some material was definitely scrambled and lost among files. And no one knew how to solve the problem of replacement parts. Of course, the PCs were so old and decrepit, it was truly a wonder that they had lasted as long as they had. Was there any point these days in holding a course on computer electronics?
    Which thought reminded him that he had interviews with two sets of parents who were insisting that their offspring be put in the computer course since that was the most prestigious of those offered. And the one involving the least work since there were so few computers left. Where would they practice the skills they learned? Clisser wondered. Furthermore, neither of the two students concerned had the aptitude to work with mechanical objects. They just
thought
it was what they wanted. There were always a few cases like that in an academic year. And one set of holder parents who did
not
like their daughter associating with “lesser breeds without the law” . . . as Sheledon put it.
    As if there was room, or facilities, for more than one