Dragonriders of Pern 4 - Dragonsinger

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Nothing’s wrong. I want to see if the gather flag’s up.”

  “Gather flag?” Menolly recalled that Sebell had mentioned a gather.

  “Sure! It’s spring, and sunny. It’s a restday. Thread’s not due, so there ought to be a gather!” Piemur regarded her a long moment, then his face screwed up into an incredulous expression. “You mean, you don’t have gathers?”

  “Half Circle is isolated,” Menolly replied defensively. “And with Thread falling…”

  “Yeah, I forgot that. No wonder you’re such a smashing musician,” he said, shaking his head as if this were no real compensation. “Nothing to do but practice! Still,” he added somewhat skeptical, “you must have had gathers before Thread started?”

  “Of course we did. Traders came through the marshes three and four times a Turn.” Piemur was unimpressed. Menolly realized that she herself had only the vaguest memories of such events. Threadfall had started when she was barely eight Turns old.

  “We have gathers as often as it’s sunny on a restday,” Piemur said, chattering away, “and there isn’t any Thread due. Of course, our being a Hold with several small crafthalls, as well as the main Harper Craft Hall, does make for great gathers. You don’t happen,” and he cocked his head slyly, “to have any marks on you?”

  “Marks?”

  Piemur was thoroughly disgusted with her obtuseness. “Marks! Marks! What you get in exchange for what you’re selling at a gather?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out four small white pieces of highly polished wood, on which the numerals 32 had been incised on one side and on the other, the mark of the Smithcraft. “Only thirty-seconds, but with four I got an eighth, and Smithcraft at that.”

  Menolly had never actually seen marks before. All trading transactions had been carried out by her father, the Sea Holder. She was astonished that so young a boy Piemur had possession of marks and said so.

  “Oh, I sang, you know, even before I got apprenticed. I’d always get a mark of some amount or other. My foster mother kept them for me until I came here.” Piemur wrinkled his nose in disgust. “But you don’t get paid for singing at gathers if you’re a harper, and you have to do your own turn anyway. I haven’t anything to give the marksmen here. I keep trying, but Master Jerint won’t put his seal on my pipes, so I have to figure out other ways of turning the odd… Hey, look, Menolly,” and he grabbed her arm, “there goes the flag! There’ll be a gather!” He went flying across the court as fast as he could to the apprentice dormitory. On the top of the Fort Hold fire heights, Menolly now saw the bright yellow pennant, and flapping below it on

  the mast, the red and black barred streamer that apparently signaled a gather. She heard Piemur’s cries echoing in the apprentice dormitory and the sounds of sleepers stirring in complaint.

  As if Piemur’s sighting of the pennant had been a signal, the drudges, herded by Abuna and Silvina, entered the kitchen. The flag and pennant on the Hold mast were duly noted and the meal preparations were conducted in a cheerful humor.

  Menolly dispersed her fair to their sunning and bathing and, finding Silvina in the kitchen with Abuna, offered to take breakfast to the Harper and his bronze, whom he’d named Zair.

  “I told you, Abuna, that with Menolly to help, two more fire lizards would be no problem,” Silvina said, pushing the kitchen woman onto some other task as she smiled warmly at Menolly. “Not that the Harper will be here much with his, nor Sebell either,” she called to Abuna who went off grumbling to herself. “Long as she’s lived in the Harper Hall, you’d think she’d be used to change-about.”

  Menolly wanted to ask Silvina about the girls and their gossiping, but Silvina was avoiding her eye. Just then they both heard Menolly’s name being called in a frantic voice. Sebell came crashing down the kitchen steps, holding up his trousers with one bare arm, wincing at the clutch of his fire lizard queen on the other. Kimi was creeling wildly with hunger.

  “Menolly! There you are! I’ve been searching everywhere. What’s the matter with her? Ouch!” Sebell was wide-eyed with anxiety.

  “She’s only hungry.”

  “Only hungry?”

  “‘Here, come with me,” and Menolly took Sebell by the arm, picked up the tray she had prepared for the Masterharper and pulled the journeyman out of the kitchen, to spare him Abuna’s black scowl, and into the relative peace of the dining hall. “Now, feed her!”

  “I can’t. My pants!” Sebell nodded to his trousers, which, beltless, threatened to slip off his hips.

  Stifling a giggle, Menolly unbuckled her own worn belt and secured Sebell’s pants for him. He grabbed a handful of meat and held it out for Kimi. The ungrateful wretch hissed and lunged at the meat, digging her claws into his forearm.

  Well, Menolly couldn’t give him her tunic, too. She spotted a scrap of toweling by the service hatch. Deftly she disengaged the queen’s legs from Sebell’s forearm and wrapped the cloth about his scratched and bleeding arm, then managed to redeposit Kimi before the queen was aware of being shifted.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” sighed Sebell, sinking to the nearest bench. “And you had nine of these creatures to feed every day?” He gave her a look of renewed respect. “I don’t know how you did it! I really don’t!”

  Menolly pointed to his klah as she took up a handful of meat. Kimi didn’t care whose hand held the meat, so Sebell gratefully gulped some klah.

  “Menolly!” Another voice roared from the top of the stairs.

  “Sir?” Menolly dashed to the foot of the steps.

  “He’s making the most outlandish noises,” the Harper yelled. “Is he hurt or just hungry? His eyes are flaming red.”

  “Here you are,” said Silvina, appearing from the kitchen with a second tray of food for human and fire lizard. “I thought we’d be hearing from him once Sebell appeared.”

  Menolly could not keep from laughing with Silvina. She took the steps two at a time without spilling so much as a drop of the klah or tumbling a glob of meat from the piled bowl.

  The Harper had taken time to dress, and he’d thought to wrap his arm against the needle-sharp claws of his little bronze, but he looked not a whit less harried or distressed than Sebell.

  “You’re sure it’s only hunger?” asked Master Robinton. But his fire lizard’s creeling abated with the first mouthful of meat.

  Robinton gestured Menolly toward his quarters, but the fire lizard, believing the food was being withdrawn, let out an indignant shriek and swatted at Menolly’s hand.

  “Here, here, eat, you greedy thing,” said the Harper with great affection in his voice. “Just don’t wake everyone. It’s restday.”

  “Too late,” remarked Domick, in an acid tone of voice, his sleeping rug pulled around him as he stood in the doorway of his room. “Between you howling like an injured dragon, Sebell sounding like a flight of ’em, and these pesky beasts with tones that could bend metal, no one’s going to enjoy a restday.”

  “The gather flag is flying,” the Harper said in a conciliatory way. He continued to feed Zair as he and Menolly proceeded to his room.

  “A gather? That’s all I need.” Domick slammed his door.

  “I trust there won’t be a repetition of this,” said Master Morshal as the Harper and Menolly came abreast of his room. He wore a loose robe, but he obviously had been drawn from his bed by the creeling and shouts. His sour gaze was directed fully on Menolly, as if she were the sole cause of the commotion.

  “Probably,” the Harper replied cheerfully, “until I figure out this precious creature’s habits. He only hatched yesterday, Morshal. Do give him a few days’ grace.”

  Morshal spluttered something, glared balefully and accusingly at Menolly, and then shut his door, pointedly without slamming it. Menolly all too clearly heard other doors closing along the corridor, and she was very grateful to be in the Harper’s company.

  “Don’t let old Morshal upset you, Menolly,” said Master Robinton in a quiet voice.

 
Menolly looked up quickly, grateful for his reassurance. He smiled again as he nodded for her to enter his room and gestured for her to set the tray down on the center of the sandtable.

  “Fortunately,” he went on, slouching in a chair, all the while supplying meat bits for Zair, “you don’t have sit classes with Morshal.”

  “I don’t?”

  Robinton chuckled at the note of relief in her voice and then laughed again as Zair missed a morsel, creeled anxiously until the Harper had retrieved it from the floor and deposited it neatly in the open mouth.

  “No, you don’t. Morshal teaches only at the apprentice level.” The Master Harper sighed. “He really is adept at drilling basic theory into rebellious apprentice minds. But Petiron already taught you more than Morshal knows. Relieved, Menolly?”

  “Oh, yes. Master Morshal doesn’t seem to like me.”

  “Master Morshal has always considered it a waste of time and effort to teach any girls. What good would it do them?”

  Menolly blinked, surprised to hear her father’s opinion echoed in the Harper Hall. Then she realized that Master Robinton had been speaking in deft mimicry of Master Morshal’s testy manner. Warm fingers caught her chin, and she was made to look up at the Harper. The lines of fatigue and worry were plainly visible, despite his good night’s rest.

  “Morshal’s dislike of the feminine sex is a standing joke in this Hall, Menolly. Give him the courtesy due his rank and age, and ignore his biased thinking. As I said, you don’t have to sit classes with him. Not that Domick will be any easier to study with. He’s a hard taskmaster, but Domick will take over your tuition where Petiron left off in musical form and composition until I can. Unfortunately,” and the Harper’s smile of regret was sincere, I am badly pressed for time with all that’s happening, much though I would prefer to undertake the task myself. Still, Domick’s understanding of the truly classical form is superior, and he’s keen to monopolize any instrumentalist capable of playing his intricate music. Don’t miss your lessons with Master Shonagar, for you must be able to sing your songs effectively, but,” and he lifted a warning finger, “don’t fall for Brudegan’s importunings about fire lizard choruses. That can be scheduled for a later time when we’ve settled you properly in your craft.

  I’d like you to concentrate on your instruments…as far and as fast as that hand of yours permits. How is it healing, by the way?” And he reached for her left hand. “Hmmm, you’ve done too much by the look of those splits. Does it hurt? I won’t have you crippling yourself in your zeal, Menolly, understand that!” Menolly, sensing his kind concern, swallowed against the lump in her throat and managed a tentative smile.

  “It is never easy, sweet child, to have a real gift: something else is withheld to compensate.”

  Menolly was startled at the sadness, that melancholy in his eyes and face, and he went on, almost to himself, “If you won’t surrender the mark, you’ll never be more than half alive. Speaking of marks…” and his expression altered completely. He leaned forward, across the sandtable, rummaging in the compartments of the central bridge built above the actual sand level. “Ah, here,” and he pressed something into her hand. “There’s a gather today, and you deserve some relaxation. I suspect diversions were few and infrequent in your Sea Hold. Find something pretty to wear at the stalls…a belt perhaps…and buy some of the bubbly pies. Piemur will lead you to them, the scamp.

  “But tomorrow,” and Master waggled a finger at her, “back to work for you. Sebell says you make a good copyist. Did you have a chance to polish the Brekke song yesterday evening? I think you’ll agree the melodic line falters in the fourth phrase…” and he hummed it. “Then I want you to rewrite the ballad observing all the traditional musical forms. Think of it as an exercise in musical theory. Mind you, I’m of the opinion that the strength of your work will lie in a looser, less formalized style. There are, however, purists in the Craft who must be mollified while you’re an apprentice.”

  Zair, his belly so swollen that the individual lumps of meat could be discerned against his skin, gave a sudden burp and collapsed into sleep in the crook of the Harper’s arm.

  “I say, Menolly, how long will he do nothing but eat and sleep?” The Harper sounded disappointed.

  “The first sevenday, and maybe a few days longer,” Menolly answered, still trying to assimilate his astonishing instructions and philosophy. “He’ll develop a personality in a very short time.”

  “That’s a relief.” The Harper heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I’d been worrying that perhaps his brains had got addled, going between so much in the egg. Not that I’d care for him any the less,” and he smiled tenderly down at the sprawled form. “How did you ever manage to fill nine rapacious bellies?” Now his smile was all for her. “And what a relief to have you here to help us. In this I am your apprentice.” His eyes held hers a moment longer, still twinkling with amusement although his face settled into a serious expression. “In all other matters, you are to consider yourself my apprentice, you know.”

  “Now, you may take the tray back to the kitchen, and you are dismissed to the gather. Unless, of course,” he added with that winning smile, “something untoward happens to this fellow.”

  She brought the tray and empty dishes to the kitchen, where Abuna, with more than her usual courtesy, suggested that Menolly had better get some breakfast before it was all gone. They’d be clearing the tables soon, and if the lazybones hadn’t eaten, too bad. Not but what they couldn’t stuff themselves at the gather’s stalls.

  That reminded Menolly of the mark that the Harper had put in her hand. At first she thought it was the dim light of the passage, but when she got into the entrance hall, she could plainly see that the two was underscored: it wasn’t a halfmark, which would have been scored above. She clenched the precious piece in her fist, amazed. The Master Harper had given her a whole two-mark piece to spend on herself. Two whole marks! Why, she could buy anything!

  No, he’d said that she was to buy something pretty to wear. A belt. The Harper’s keen eye had noted the absence of hers. And it was a worn belt, anyhow. But a new one, instead of one handed down…a belt she could choose for herself! How very kind of Master Robinton. And he’d said she was to buy bubbly pies. She looked about the scattering of boys at the apprentice tables for Piemur’s curly head of hair. He was, as usual, deep in conversation with several boys, and probably planning mischief to judge by the closeness of all the heads. There were no masters at the circular table and just a few journeymen at the oval ones, clustered about Sebell, admiring Kimi, asleep on his arm.

  “She couldn’t give ’em away if she wanted to,” Piemur was saying in a strident tone as Menolly approached his group. Someone must have jabbed him in the ribs because he glanced over his shoulder and, while he looked in no way abashed, it was obvious from the expression of the others that Menolly had been the “she” he’d meant. “Can you?” he asked bluntly.

  “Can I what?”

  “Give anyone else one of your fire lizards?”

  “No.”

  “I told you!” Piemur pointed an accusing finger at Ranly. “So Sebell couldn’t have given Robinton the queen. Could he, Menolly?”

  “But the Masterharper should have had the queen,” said Ranly, rebellious and unconvinced.

  “Sebell did offer the queen to Master Robinton when she hatched,” Menolly said quickly, “but it was too late. Impression had occurred, and that can’t be altered.”

  “Well, just how did Sebell get his hands on the queen egg?” Now Ranly’s eyes hotly accused her of complicity.

  “Completely by accident,” she said, mastering her irritation at such an outrageous suggestion. “First, there really isn’t any positive way of knowing which is the queen egg in a fire lizard clutch. Second, it isn’t anyone’s business but Master Robinton’s and Sebell’s.” She’d just lay this divisive rumor into an early grave and repay a little of her great debt to both men. ‘“Third, I picked the two biggest eggs in the cl
utch for Master Robinton,” and the boys nodded with approval, “but they could both have been bronzes.” Then she laughed. “It all happened so fast when the eggs started to hatch, no one bothered to see which pot was whose. Master Robinton and Sebell just grabbed because both pots were rocking fit to fall. The little bronze hatched first, right into Master Robinton’s hands, and that was that, right then. He caught it just before it could fall from the hearthstone.” The boys snatched in breath for that near catastrophe. “And. then there was Sebell with a queen in his hands. Then, he tried to give her to the Harper, but Zair had Impressed so had little Kimi. There’s no way to change that. And I don’t want to hear another word from any of you as to who got what and who shouldn’t have. There’s enough gossip flying about this Hall.” She wished she could forget her worries about what those girls had told the Lord Holder.