“Watch for the grubs, the Records say,” Andemon repeated and then suddenly his shoulders began to shake, his whole torso became involved. Lessa caught F’lar’s eyes, concerned for the man. But he was laughing, if only at the cruel irony. “Watch for the grubs, the Records say. They do not, they do not say destroy the grubs. They say most emphatically ‘watch for the grubs.’ So we watched. Aye, we have watched.”

The Harper extended the wine bottle to Andemon.

“That’s a help, Harper. My thanks,” Andemon said, wiping his lips with the back of one hand after a long pull at the bottle.

“So someone forgot to mention why you were to watch the grubs, Andemon,” F’lar said, his eyes compassionate for the man’s distress. “If only Sograny’d been as reasonable. Once, so many men must have known why you were to watch for the grubs, they didn’t see a need for further implicit instructions. Then the Holds started to grow and people drifted apart. Records got lost or destroyed, men died before they’d passed on the vital knowledge they possessed.” He looked around at the tubs. “Maybe they developed those grubs right here in Benden Weyr. Maybe that’s the meaning of the diagram on the wall. There’s so much that has been lost.”

“Which will never be lost again if the Harpercraft has any influence,” said Robinton. “If all men, Hold, Craft, Weyr have full access to every skin—” he held up his hand as Andemon started to protest, “well, we’ve better than skin to keep Records on. Bendarek now has a reliable, tough sheet of his wood pulp that holds ink, stacks neatly and is impervious to anything except fire. We can combine knowledge and disseminate it.”

Andemon looked at the Harper, his eyes puzzled. “Master Robinton, there are some matters within a Craft that must remain secret or…”

“Or we lose a world to the Thread, is that it, Andemon? Man, if the truth about those grubs hadn’t been treated like a Craft secret, we’d have been hundreds of Turns free of Thread by now.”

Andemon gasped suddenly, staring at F’lar. “And dragonmen—we wouldn’t need dragonmen?”

“Well, if men kept to their Holds during Threadfall, and grubs devoured what fell to the ground, no, you wouldn’t need dragonmen,” F’lar replied with complete composure.

“But dragonmen are su-supposed to fight Thread—” the Farmer was stuttering with dismay.

“Oh, we’ll be fighting Thread for a while yet, I assure you. We’re not in any immediate danger of unemployment. There’s a lot to be done. For instance, how long before an entire continent can be seeded with grubs?”