Dragonsinger (dragon riders of pern)

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Pies good!” Camo had stuffed all three pies into his mouth. His tunic was now stained with berry juices, his face was flecked with pastry and berry skins, and his fist had smeared a purple streak across one cheek.

  “Menolly, will you look at him! He’ll disgrace the Hall. You can’t take your eyes off him a moment. C’mere!”

  Piemur dragged Camo to the back of the line of stalls until he found a water skin dangling from a thong on a stall frame. He made Camo cup his hands and wash his face. Menolly found a scrap of cloth, not too dirty, and they managed to remove the worst of the pie stains from Camo’s face and front.

  “Oh, blast the shell and sear the skin!” said Piemur in a round oath as he took up his third pie. “It’s cold. Camo, you’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.”

  “Camo trouble?” The man’s face fell into deep sorrowful lines. “Camo cold?”

  “No, the pie’s cold. Oh, never mind. I like you, Camo, my friend.” Piemur patted the man’s arm reassuringly, and the numbwit brightened.

  “Cold or not,” Menolly said after she took a bite from her third, and cooled, pastry, “they’re every bit as good as you said, Piemur.”

  “Say,” and Piemur eyed her through narrowed lids, “maybe you’d better bargain the next lot out of Palim.”

  “I couldn’t eat another…”

  “Oh, not now. Later.”

  “It’ll be my treat then.”

  “Sure thing!” He agreed with such amiability that Menolly decided that she’d taken the bait, hook and all. “First,” he went on, “let’s find the tanner’s stall.” He took her by the hand and Camo by the sleeve and hauled them down the row. “So you’re really Master Robinton’s apprentice? Wow! Wait’ll I tell the others! I told ’em you would be.”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  Piemur shot her a startled look. “He did say that you were his apprentice when he gave you that two-marker, didn’t he?”

  “He’d told me I was before today, but I didn’t think that was unusual, Aren’t all the apprentices in the Hall his apprentices? He’s the Masterharper…”

  “You sure don’t understand.” Piemur’s glance was one of undiluted pity for her denseness. “Every master has a few special apprentices…I’m Master Shonagar’s. That’s why I’m always running his errands. I don’t know how they did it in your Sea Hold, but here, you get taken in as a general apprentice. If you turn out to be specially good at something, like me at voice, and Brolly at making instruments, the Master of that craft takes you on as a special apprentice, and you report to him for extra training and duties. And if he’s pleased with you, he’ll give you the odd mark to spend at a gather. So…if Master Robinton gave you a two-marker, he’s pleased with you, and you’re his special apprentice. He doesn’t tap many.” Piemur shook his head slowly from side to side, with a soft emphatic whistle. “There’s been lots of heavy betting in the dorm as to who he’d pick since Sebell took his walk as journeyman…not that Sebell doesn’t still look to the Masterharper even if he is a rank up…but Ranly was so sure he’d be tapped.”

  “Is that why Ranly doesn’t like me?”

  Piemur dismissed that with a gesture. “Ranly never had a chance, and the only one who didn’t know that was Ranly! He thinks he’s so good. Everyone else knew that Master Robinton was hoping to find you…the one who’d written those songs! Look, there’s the tanner’s stall. And just spy that beautiful blue belt. It’s even got a fire lizard for a buckle tongue!” He’d pulled her up and lowered his voice for the last words. “And blue! You let me bargain, hear?”

  Before she could agree, Piemur approached the stall, acting casually, glancing over the tabards, soft shoes and boots displayed, apparently oblivious to the belt he’d just indicated to Menolly.

  “They’ve got some blue boot hide, Menolly,” he said to her.

  Knowing the shrewdness Piemur had already displayed, Menolly followed his cue, and, glancing at the tanner for permission, touched the thick wherry leather. She could see the belt over his shoulder, and the tongue had been fashioned like a slim fire lizard.

  “Now, don’t tell me you have money in your trous, short stuff,” the tanner journeyman said to Piemur and then peered uncertainly at Menolly’s cropped hair, trousers and apprentice badge.

  “Me? No, but she’s buying. Her slippers are a disgrace!” The tanner did look down, and Menolly wanted to hide her scuffed footwear.

  “This is Menolly,” Piemur went on, blithely unaware of the embarrassment he was causing her. “She’s got nine fire lizards, and she’s Master Robinton’s new apprentice.”

  Wondering what on earth was possessing Piemur, she glanced anywhere but at the curious journeyman. She caught a glimpse of bright filmy materials, and richly decorated tunics. She steadied her gaze and saw Pona, her arm through a tall lad’s. He was wearing the yellow of Fort Hold and the shoulder knot of the Lord Holder’s family: Behind Pona came Briala, Amania and Audiva, each of the girls escorted by a well-dressed youth, fosterlings of Lord Groghe’s to judge by the different hold colors and rank knots.

  “Here, Menolly, what do you think of this hide?” asked Piemur.

  “And be sure she has the marks for it,” said Pona, pausing. Her voice was too smooth to be insulting, and yet her manner gave her words an offensive ring. “For I’m certain she’s only wasting your time and will finger your wares dirty. Whereas I want to commission you to make me some soft shoes for the summer…”

  She held up a well-filled waist pouch.

  “She’s got two marks,” Piemur said, turning to challenge Pona, his eyes flashing with anger.

  “If she does, she stole it,” replied Pona, abandoning her indolent manner. “She’d nothing on her when she was still permitted to live in the cot.”

  “Stolen?” Menolly felt herself tensing with fury at the totally unexpected accusation.

  “Stolen, nothing!” Piemur replied hotly. “Master Robinton gave it to her this morning!”

  “I claim insult from you, Pona,” cried Menolly, her hand on her belt knife.

  “Benis, she’s threatening me!” Pona cried, clinging to her escort’s arm.

  “Now, see here, apprentice girl. You can’t insult a lady of the Holders. You just hand over that mark piece,” said Benis, gesturing peremptorily to Menolly.

  “Menolly, don’t take insult,” Audiva pushed her way past the others and grabbed her arm, restraining her. “It’s what she wants.”

  “Pona’s given me too many insults, Audiva.”

  “Menolly, you mustn’t—”

  “Get the mark, Benis,” Pona said in a hiss. “Make her pay for threatening me!”

  “Out of the way, Benis, whoever you are,” said Menolly. “Pona has to answer for the insults she gives, lady holder or not.” Menolly moved sideways, countering Pona’s attempt to evade her.

  “Benis, she can be dangerous! I told you so!” Pona’s voice went up in a frightened, breathless squeak.

  “You mustn’t, Menolly,” Audiva said, catching Menolly’s sleeve. “She wants you to…Piemur, help me!”

  “Don’t you dare, Audiva!” Pona’s voice was now edged with angry malice. “Or I’ll settle you good as well.”

  “Come, girl, the money. Hand it over and we’ll say no more about attempted insult…” said Benis in a patronizing tone.

  “Pona’s insulted Menolly!” cried Piemur indignantly. “Just because you’re a—”

  “Close your mouth!” Benis wasted no courtesies on Piemur. He took a stride to close the distance between himself and Menolly, his jaw set in a disagreeable grin as he disdainfully measured the three slight and defiant adversaries.

  Pona gave a little squeal as Benis left her standing on her own. Then, another as Menolly, stepping away from Benis, made a lunge at her, trying to catch her long plaited hair.

  “Hey, now just a minute, you,” said the tanner in a loud voice, sensing an imminent fight. He ducked under the counter of his stall, emerging into
the walkway. “This is a gather, not a…”

  Benis was quick on his feet, too, and he grabbed Menolly by the shoulder, spinning her toward him and securing her left arm, which he immediately twisted up behind her. With a cry of triumph, Pona darted forward, her hands busy with Menolly’s belt pouch. Piemur sprang to Menolly’s assistance, kicking Benis in the shins and grabbing Pona by the hair. The kick made Benis loosen his hold on Menolly’s arm. With a strength developed by Turns of hauling and handling heavy nets, she wrenched free of his grasp, dancing out of his way.

  “I settle Pona!” She shouted to Piemur, beckoning him away.

  “Benis, save me!” Pona screamed, rushing to the young Holder, but Piemur was still hanging onto her plait.

  Benis let fly a kick at Piemur, tripping him up and added another one to the ribs as the boy measured his length in the dust.

  “Leave him alone!” Forgetting her quarrel with Pona, Menolly launched herself at Benis. Putting shoulder and body behind her fist, she drove it right into Benis’s face. He staggered back, roaring in outrage and pain. One of the other fosterlings came charging forward, fist cocked to slam Menolly, but Audiva hung onto his arm.

  “Viderian! Menolly’s a seaholder! Help us!”

  Startled, her escort bounded in to help Audiva, just as Menolly ducked under Benis’s swing and tried to protect Piemur, who was struggling to get on his feet, blood streaming from his nose.

  The next moment, the air was full of shrieking, clawing, fighting fire lizards. Piemur was screaming that Benis better not hit the Harper’s apprentice, or there’d be real trouble; Camo was howling that his pretty ones were afraid, and he waded in, thick arms flailing, hitting indiscriminately at friend and foe. Menolly got a clout across the ear as she tried to restrain the misguided Camo. “Shells! It’s the Hall’s dummy!” “Scatter!” “Get her!” “Knock him down!” “Got her, Menolly!”

  The fire lizards were not hampered by Camo’s inability to distinguish friend and foe. They went for Pona, Briala, Amania, Benis and the other lads. Menolly, trying to catch her breath, realized that things were completely out of hand and desperately tried to call off the fire lizards. The girls were scattering, screaming, vainly trying to cover their heads, hair and eyes. Attacked from above, so did the fosterlings.

  “Be still! Everyone!” The bellow was stentorian enough to penetrate shriek, howl and battle cries, and stern enough to command instant obedience. “You there, hang on to Camo! Douse him with that skin of water! You, tanner, help them with Camo. Sit on him, knock his feet out from under him if necessary. Menolly, control your fire lizards! This is a gather, not a brawl!”

  The Harper strode into the midst of the melee, yanking a fosterling to his feet, spinning one of the girls to the arms of the folk who had converged on the scene, giving a bloody-nosed Piemur a hand up from the dust. The Masterharper’s actions were somewhat hampered by the distressed squeals of the little bronze fire lizard clinging tightly to his left arm, but there was little doubt of the Master’s fury. A silence broken by the gulping sobs of Pona and Briala held attacker, attacked and witnesses alike.

  “Now,” said the Harper, his voice controlled although his eyes were flashing with anger, “just what has been going on here?”

  “It was her!” Pona staggered a step toward Master Robinton, jabbing her finger at Menolly and struggling to control her sobs. Long scratches marred her cheeks, her head scarf was torn and her hair pulled from its plaits. “She’s always causing trouble—”

  “Sir, we were minding our own business,” said Piemur indignantly, “which was buying a belt that you said Menolly ought to have, when Pona here—”

  “That little sneak tripped me as we were passing, and then her hideous beasts attacked all of us. They’ve done it before. I have witnesses!”

  She stopped mid-gulp, arrested by the look on the Harper’s face.

  “Lady Pona,” he said in an all too gentle voice, “you are overwrought. Briala, take the child back to Dunca. The excitement of a gather appears to be too much for such a fragile spirit. Amania, I think you ought to help Briala.” Though his voice expressed concern for their well-being, it was obvious that the Harper was disciplining the three girls who bore evidence of the unfriendly attentions of the fire lizards.

  Now he turned to the Hold fosterlings. Benis, his left eye already bruising, his lip cut, his hair tousled and forehead bearing fire lizard marks, was straightening his tunic and brushing dust from his sleeve and trousers. The other youths who had been escorting the now banished girls maintained the rigid stance they had adopted as soon as they recognized the Masterharper.

  “Lord Benis?”

  “Masterharper?” Benis continued to adjust his garments, awarding the briefest of glances to the Harper.

  “I’m glad you know my rank,” said Robinton, smiling slightly.

  Menolly had been soothing Beauty and Rocky who had refused to leave when she sent the others away. At his tone, she looked at the Harper, amazed that he could express so profound a reprimand with a brief phrase and a smile.

  One of the other fosterlings jabbed Benis in the ribs, and the young man looked angrily about.

  “I expect you have business elsewhere…now!” said the Masterharper.

  “Business? This is a gather day…sir.”

  “For others, indeed, it is, but not, I think, for you,” and the Masterharper indicated with his hand that Benis had better retire. “Or you, and you, and you,” he added, indicating the other fosterlings who displayed claw marks. “Will you occupy yourselves quietly in your quarters or will I have to mention this to Lord Groghe?” He accepted the frantic shakings of their heads.

  Then he turned his back on them and pleasantly indicated to those who were avidly observing his summary justice that they should now continue their interrupted pursuits. He walked to where Camo was still being restrained by three large journeymen, blubbering noisily about his pretties being hurt and struggling to free himself.

  “The pretties are not hurt, Camo. Not hurt. See? Menolly has the pretties.”

  The Harper’s voice soothed the wretched man as he gestured for Menolly to come forward into Camo’s line of sight.

  “Pretties not hurt?”

  “No, Camo. Brudegan, who else is about?” the Harper asked his journeyman. Several other harpers obediently moved against the tide of the dispersing crowd. “Camo had better go back to the hall. Here,” and the Harper reached into his pouch and passed Brudegan a mark piece. “Buy him a lot of those bubbly pies on your way back. That’ll help settle him.”

  The crowd had melted away. The Masterharper, stroking his gradually quieting fire lizard, turned back to the small group still clustered together. He gestured them to the unoccupied space between the nearest stalls.

  “Now, let me hear the sequence of events, please,” said, but his voice no longer held that chilling note of displeasure.

  “It wasn’t Menolly’s fault!” said Piemur, batting at Audiva’s hands as she tried to staunch the flow from his nose with the berry-stained cloth used earlier on Camo. “We were looking at belts…” He turned to the tanner for confirmation.

  “I don’t know about belts, Master Robinton, but they weren’t causing any trouble when the blonde girl, Lady Pona, started pulling rank on your apprentice. Made a nasty accusation about the girl having money she oughtn’t to have.”

  A look of dismay crossed the Harper’s face. “You didn’t lose the mark in the fuss, did you, Menolly?” He scuffed around the trampled area with his boot toe. “I don’t have many two-mark pieces, you know.”

  The tanner stiffed a bark of laughter, and the Harper sighed with almost comic relief as Menolly solemnly displayed the cause of the trouble.

  “That’s a mercy,” Master Robinton said with a smile of approval for Menolly. “Go on,” he added to the tanner.

  “Then this lass,” and the tanner gestured toward Audiva, “took Menolly’s part. So did the young seaholder. I think all would have come to
nothing if Camo hadn’t got upset, and the next thing I know the air’s full of fire lizards. Are they all hers?” He jerked his thumb at Menolly.

  “Yes,” said the Harper, “a fact that ought to be borne in mind since they do seem able to recognize Menolly’s…ammm…”

  “Sir, I didn’t call them…” Menolly said, finding her voice.

  “I’m sure you didn’t need to.” He closed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

  “Master Robinton, Pona bears a grudge against Menolly,” said Audiva in a rush as if she had to make the admission before she could change her mind. “And she’s got no real cause at all.”

  “Thank you, Audiva, I’ve been aware of the prejudice.” The Harper made a slight bow, acknowledging the tall girl’s loyalty. “The Lady Pona will not trouble you further, Menolly, nor you, Audiva,” he continued, that hint of implacability tingeing an otherwise pleasant tone. “Good of you, Lord Viderian, to support another holder, though it is a loyalty I would prefer to render unnecessary.”

  “My father, Master Robinton, is very much of your mind, which is why I am fostered in a landbound Hold,” said Viderian with a respectful bow. He stiffened, his eyes widening at some disturbing sight. He swallowed hard, anxiety plainly written on his face.

  “Ah,” said the Harper, having followed the direction of Viderian’s gaze. “I wondered how long it would take Lord Groghe to respond to promptings…” He grinned, highly amused at some inner reflection. “Viderian, do make off with Audiva. Now! And enjoy yourselves!”

  Audiva needed no urging and grabbed the young seaholder’s arm, hastening down the aisle until they were lost in the crowd.

  “It’s Lord Groghe,” said Piemur in a croak, pulling at Menolly’s sleeve.

  The Harper caught the boy by the shoulder. “You’ll stay by me, young Piemur, so we may have an end of this affair now!” Then he turned to the tanner. “Which belt tempted Menolly?”

  “The one with the fire lizard on the buckle,” said Piemur in an undertone to the Harper and then edged himself carefully so that the Harper was between him and the oncoming Lord Holder.