“Did you know him well?” Menolly felt a wave of grief at her loss of the only person in her home hold who had been interested in her.
“Indeed I did.” Silvina gave Menolly a frown, “Did he not talk of the Harper Hall at all to you?”
“No. Why should he?”
“Why shouldn’t he? He taught you, didn’t he? He encouraged you to write…Sent Robinton those songs…” Silvina stared at Menolly in real surprise for a long moment, then she shrugged with a little laugh. “Well, Petiron always had his own reasons for everything he did, and no one the wiser. But he was a good man!”
Menolly nodded, unable for a moment to speak, berating herself for ever once doubting, during those lonely miserable days at Half-Circle after Petiron’s death, that he’d done what he said he’d do. Though the old Harper’s mind had taken to wandering…
“Before I forget it,” Silvina said, How often do your fire lizards need to be fed?”
“They’re hungriest in the morning, though they eat any time, but maybe that was because I had to hunt and catch food for them, and it took hours. The wild ones seemed to have no trouble…”
“Fed ’em once and they’re always looking to you, is that it?” Silvina smiled, to soften any implied criticism. “The cooks throw all scraps into a big earthen jar in the cold room…most of it goes to the watchwhers, but I’ll give orders that you’re to have whatever you require.”
“I don’t mean to be a bother…” Silvina gave her such a look that Menolly broke off her attempt to apologize.
“Be sure that when you do bother me, I’ll inform you.” Silvina grinned. “Just ask any of the apprentices if I won’t.”
Silvina had been leading Menolly down the steps and out of the cliffhold of the Harper Hall as she talked. Now they passed under an arch that gave onto a broad road of paving stones, never a blade of grass or spot of moss to be seen anywhere.
For the first time Menolly had a chance to appreciate the size of Fort Hold. Knowing that it was the oldest and largest Hold was quite different from seeing it, being outside the towering cliff.
Thousands of people must live in the cliffholds and cottages that hugged the rock palisade. Awed, Menolly’s steps slowed as she stared at the wide ramp leading to the courtyard and main entrance of Fort Hold, higher in the cliff face than the Harper Graft Hall, and with rows of windows extending upward in sheer stone, almost to the fire heights themselves. In Half-Circle Sea Hold, everyone had been in the cliff, but at Fort Hold, stone buildings had been built out in wings from the cliff, forming a quadrangle similar to the Harper Craft Hall, Smaller cottages had been added onto the original wings, on either side of the ramp. There were dwellings bordering the sides of the broad paved road that led in several well-traveled directions; south to the fields and pastures, east down the valley toward the low foothills and west around to the pass in the cliff that would lead to the higher mountains of the Central Fort Range.
Silvina guided Menolly now toward a cottage, a good-sized one with five windows, all of them shuttered tight, on the upper floor. The cottage nestled against the slope of the ramp. As they got close enough, Menolly realized that the little cot was also quite old. And the cottage door was metal, too! Incredible! Silvina opened it, calling out for Dunca. Menolly had just time to notice that the metal door closed as the one at the Harper Hall did, with a small wheel throwing the thick rods into grooves in ceiling and floor.
“Menolly, come and meet Dunca who holds the cottage for the girls who study at the Harper Hall.”
Menolly dutifully greeted the short, dumpy little woman with bright black eyes and cheeks like a puff-belly’s sides. Dunca gave Menolly a raking look, at odds with her jolly appearance, as if measuring up Menolly to the gossip she’d already heard. Then Dunca saw Beauty peeking around Menolly’s ear. She gave a shriek, jumping back.
“What’s that?”
Menolly reached up to calm Beauty, who was hissing and raising her wings, getting one entangled in Menolly’s hair.
“But, Dunca, surely you knew—” Silvina’s voice chided the woman, “—that Menolly had Impressed fire lizards.”
Menolly’s sharp ear caught the edge to Silvina’s voice, and so did the little queen, for Beauty thrummed softly and warningly in her throat as her eyes whirled at Dunca. Menolly silently called her to order.
“I’d heard, but I don’t always credit things I’m told,” said Dunca, standing as far away from Menolly and Beauty as the hall permitted.
“Very wise of you,” replied Silvina. The set of the headwoman’s lips and the wary amusement in her glance told Menolly that Silvina was not overly fond of the little cotholder. “Now you’ve a windowed room vacant, have you not? I think it’s best if we settled her there.”
“I don’t want another hysterical girl who’ll panic during Threadfall and scare us all with imagining that Thread is actually in the cottage!”
Silvina’s eyes danced with suppressed laughter as she glanced Menolly’s way. “No, Menolly won’t panic. She is, by the way, the youngest daughter of Yanus Sea Holder of Half-Circle Sea Hold, beholden to Benden Weyr. The sea breeds stern souls, you know.”
Dunca’s bright little eyes were almost lost in the folds of her eye flesh as she peered up at Menolly.
“So you knew Petiron, did you?”
“Yes, I did, Dunca.”
The cotholder gave a disgusted snort and turned so quickly her full skirt followed in hasty swirls as she made for the stone steps carved into the wall at the back of the hallway. She kept twitching her skirt, grunting at the steepness of the risers as she heaved her small fat person upward.
Two narrow corridors, lit at either end by dimming glows, went left and right from the stairwell. Dunca turned right, led them to the far end and threw open the last door on the outside.
“Lazy sluts,” she said truculently, fumbling at the catch of the glowbasket. “They’ve cleared the glows.”
“Where are they kept?” asked Menolly, wishing to ingratiate herself with the cotkeeper. Fleetingly she wondered if she’d always be trotting up and down narrow steps after glows.
“Where’s your drudge, Dunca? It’s her task to bring glows, not Menolly’s,” said Silvina as she walked past Dunca and flipped open first one, then a second set of shutters, flooding the room with sunlight.
“Silvina! What are you doing?”
“Threadfall’s not for two more days, Dunca. Be sensible. The room’s fusty.”
Dunca’s answer was a shriek as the other fire lizards swooped in through the opened window, diving about the room, chittering excitedly. There was nothing for them to cling to, since the walls were bare of hangings and the bed a frame, empty of rushes, the sleeping fur rolled up on the small press. The two green Aunties and blue Uncle fought for landing space on the stool and then zoomed out the window again as Dunca’s screams startled them. The little cotholder cowered in the corner, skirts about her head, shrieking.
Menolly ordered the browns to stop diving, told Auntie One and Two and Uncle to stay on the window ledge, got Rocky and Diver to settle on the bedstead while Silvina calmed Dunca and led her from the corner. By the time the cotholder had been cajoled into watching Silvina handle Lazybones, who’d let anyone caress him so long as it involved no effort on his part, Menolly realized that Dunca would never be comfortable in their presence and that the woman disliked Menolly intensely for witnessing her fearfulness. For a long, sad moment, Menolly wished that she could have stayed at the Weyr where everyone could accept fire lizards equably.
She sighed softly to herself as she stroked Beauty, absently listening to Silvina’s reassurances to Dunca that the fire lizards wouldn’t harm anyone, not her, not her charges; that Dunca’d be the envy of every other cotholder in Fort to have nine fire lizards…
“Nine?” Dunca’s protest came out in a terrified squeak, and she reached for her skirts to throw over her head. “Nine of those beastly things flitting and diving about my home—”
�
�They don’t like to stay inside, except at night,” said Menolly, hoping to reassure Dunca. “They’re rarely all with me at one time.”
From the horrified and malicious look Dunca gave her, Menolly realized that she herself would be rarely with Dunca if the cotholder had anything to say in the matter.
“We can stop here no longer now, Menolly. You’ve to pick a gitar from the workshop,” said Silvina. “If you need more rushes, Dunca, you’ve only to send your woman to the Hall,” she added as she motioned Menolly to precede her from the room. “Menolly will be more closely involved with the Hall than the other girls…”
“She’s to be back here at shutter time, same as the others, or stay at the Hall,” said Dunca as Silvina and Menolly went down the steps.
“She’s strict with the girls,” Silvina remarked as they emerged into the bright midday sun and started across the broad paved square, “but that’s to the good with all those lads vying for their attention. And take no heed to her grumbles over Petiron. She’d hoped to wed him after Merelan died. I’d say Petiron resigned as Fort Hold Harper as much to get free of Dunca as to clear the way for Robinton. He was so very proud that his son was elected Masterharper.”
“Half-Circle Sea Hold is a long way from Fort Hold!”
Silvina chuckled. “And one of the few places isolated enough to prevent Dunca from following him, child. As if Petiron would ever have taken another woman after Merelan. She was the loveliest person, a voice of unusual beauty and range. Ah, I miss her still.”
More people were about: field workers coming in for their midday meal; a party of men on leggy runners, slowing to an amble through the crowd. An apprentice, intent on his errand, ran right into Menolly. He was mouthing an apology when Beauty, peering through Menolly’s hair, hissed at him. He yelped, ducked with an apprentice’s well-developed instinct, and went pelting back the way he’d come.
Silvina laughed. “I’d like to hear his tale when he gets back to his hall.”
“Silvina, I’m—”
“Not a word, Menolly! I will not have you apologizing for your fire lizards. Nor will Master Robinton. There will always be fools in the world like Dunca, fearful of anything new or strange.” They had entered the archway of the Harper Hall. “Through that door, across the stairhall, and you’ll find the workshop. Master Jerint is in charge. He’ll find you an instrument so you can play for Master Domick. He’ll meet you there.” With an encouraging pat and a smile, Silvina left her.
Chapter 3
Speak softly to my lizard fair
Nor raise your hand to me.
For they are quick to take offense
And quicker to champion me.
Menolly wished that Silvina had stayed long enough to introduce her to Master Jerint, but she guiltily realized how much of the headwoman’s valuable time she had already had, So, squaring her shoulders against her ridiculous surge of nervousness, Menolly entered the square stairhall and saw the door that must lead to the workshop, of Master Jerint.
She could hear the sounds of workshop industry: hammering, the scrape of saw on wood, toots and thumps; but the instant she opened the door, she and Beauty got the full impact of various noises of tuning, sanding, sawing, pounding, the twanging of tough wherhide being stretched over drum frames and snapping back. Beauty let out a penetrating shriek of complaint and took off, straight for the bracing beams of the high-ceilinged workshop. Her raucous call and her flight suspended all activity in the room. The sudden silence, and then the whisperings of the younger workers, all staring at Menolly, attracted the attention of the older man who was bent almost double, gluing a crucial piece of inlay on the gitar in his lap. He looked up and around at the staring apprentices.
“What? Well?”
Beauty gave another cry, launching herself from the rafter beam back to Menolly’s shoulder now that the distressing sounds had ceased.
“Who made that appealing noise? It was animal, not instrumental.”
Menolly didn’t see anyone pointing at her, but suddenly Master Jerint was made aware of her presence by the door.
“Yes? What are you doing here? And what’s that thing on your shoulder? You oughtn’t be carting pets about, whatever it is. It isn’t allowed. Well, lad, speak up!”
Titters in various parts of the workroom indicated to the man that he was in some error.
“Please, sir, if you’re Master Jerint, I’m Menolly…”
“If you’re Menolly, then you’re no lad.”
“No, sir.”
“And I’ve been expecting you. At least, I think so!” He peered down at the inlay he’d been gluing as if accusing the inanimate object of his absentmindedness. “What is that thing on your shoulder? Did it make that noise?”
“Yes, because she was startled, sir.”
“Yes, the noise in here would startle anyone with hearing and wit.” Jerint sounded approving and now craned his head forward, withdrawing the instant Beauty gave one of her little chirps and frowning in surprise that she reacted to his curiosity. “So she is one of those mythical fire lizards?” He acted skeptical.
“I named her Beauty, Master Jerint,” Menolly said, determined to win other friends for her fire lizards that day. She firmly unwound Beauty’s tail from her neck and coaxed her to her forearm. “She likes to have her headknob stroked…”
“Does she?” Jerint caressed the glowing golden creature. Beauty closed the inner lid of her brilliant eyes and submitted completely to the Master’s touch. “She does!”
“She’s really very friendly, it’s just all that noise and so many people.”
“Well, I find her quite friendly,” Jerint replied, one long calloused and glue-covered finger stroking the little queen with growing confidence as Beauty began to hum with pleasure. “Very friendly indeed. Are dragons’ skins as soft as hers?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Charming creature. Quite charming. Much more practical than dragons.”
“She sings, too,” said a stocky man sauntering from the back of the hall, wiping his hands on a towel as he came.
As if this newcomer released a hidden spring, a murmurous wave of half giggle, half excited whisperings rippled through the apprentices. The man nodded at Menolly.
“Sings?” asked Jerint, pausing in mid-caress so that Beauty butted her nose at his hand. He continued to stroke the now coyly curved neck. “She sings, Domick?”
“Surely you heard this morning’s glorious descant, Jerint?”
This stocky man was Master Domick for whom she must play? True, he wore an old tunic with a faded journeyman’s markings, but no journeyman would have addressed a master by his bare name nor would be so self-assured.
“This morning’s descant?” Jerint blinked with surprise, and some of the bolder apprentices chortled at his confusion. “Yes, I remember thinking the pitch was a bit unusual for pipes, and besides that Saga is traditionally sung without accompaniment, but then Brudegan is always improvising…” He gave an irritable wave of his hand.
Beauty reared up on Menolly’s arm, startled into fanning her wings for balance and digging her talons painfully through Menolly’s thin sleeve.
“Didn’t mean you, you pretty thing,” Jerint said by way of apology and caressed Beauty’s headknob until she’d subsided to her former position. “But all that sound from this little creature?”
“How many were actually singing, Menolly?” asked Master Domick. “Only five,” she replied reservedly, thinking of Dunca’s reaction to the figure nine.
“Only five of them?”
The droll tone made her glance apprehensively at the stocky Master, wondering if he were taunting her, since the half-smile on his face gave her no real hint.
“Five!” Master Jerint rocked back on his heels with amazement. “You…have five fire lizards?”
“Actually, sir, to be truthful…”
“It is wiser to be truthful, Menolly,” agreed Master Domick, and he was teasing her, not too kindly either.
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br /> “I Impressed nine fire lizards,” said Menolly in a rush, “because, you see, Thread was falling outside the cave, and the only way I could keep the hatchlings from leaving and getting killed by Thread was to feed them and that…”
“Impressed them, of course,” Domick finished for her, when she faltered because Master Jerint was wide-eyed with astonishment and incredulity. “You will really have to add another verse to your song, Menolly, or possibly two.”
“The Masterharper has edited that song as he feels necessary, Master Domick,” she said with what she hoped was quiet dignity.
A slow smile spread across the man’s face. “It is wiser to be truthful, Menolly. Didn’t you train all your fire lizards to sing?”
“I didn’t actually train them, sir. I played my pipes, and they’d sing along…”
“Speaking of pipes, Jerint, this girl has to have an instrument until she can make one herself. Or didn’t Petiron have enough wood to teach you, girl?”
“He explained how…” Menolly replied. Did Master Domick think Yanus Sea Holder would have wasted precious timber for a girl to make a harper’s instrument?
“We’ll see in due time how well you absorbed that explanation. In the meantime, Menolly needs a gitar to play for me and to practice on…” He drawled the last two words, his stern glance sweeping around the room at all the watchers.
Everyone was suddenly exceedingly occupied in their interrupted tasks, and the resultant energetic blows, twangs and whistles made Beauty spread her wings and screech in protest. “I can hardly fault her,” said Domick as Menolly soothed the fire lizard.
“What an extraordinary range of sounds she can make,” remarked Master Jerint.
“A gitar for Menolly? So we can judge the range of sounds she can make?” Domick reminded the man in a bored tone.
“Yes, yes, there’s any number of instruments to choose from,” said Jerint, walking with jerky steps toward the courtyard side of the L-shaped room.
And indeed there were, Menolly realized as they approached the corner clutter of drums, pipes, harps of several sizes and designs, and gitars. The instruments depended from hooks set in the stone and cords attached to the ceiling beams, or sat dustily on shelves, the layers of dust increasing as the instruments went beyond easy range.
Dragonsinger (dragon riders of pern) Page 4