Dragonriders of Pern 4 - Dragonsinger

by Anne McCaffrey

“I don’t mean to make a habit of this with you, Menolly, because it’s more important that you create than that you copy. Any apprentice can copy. But, with so many journeymen going off…. That’s why Jerint is looking peeved. And wait ’till Arnor hears…”

  “Journeymen going off?”

  “You didn’t think they stayed here forever and moldered…”

  Actually Menolly had experienced a swift pang of regret because Talmor and Sebell were journeymen, and Sebell said he “journeyed.”

  “Don’t worry about our quartet,” replied Domick with sudden perception. “It’s one thing to send away someone who’s really needed here and quite another for a master to refuse to let a qualified journeyman go out of the Hall because he’ll be put to the bother of training a new assistant. The whole point of the Harper Hall is to extend knowledge.” Domick’s arms swept wide to include all Pern. “Not to confine it,” and his right fist made a tight ball. “That’s what’s been wrong with Pern, why we haven’t really matured; everything’s been kept in shallow little minds that forget important things, that resist new knowledge, and experience…” He grinned at her, “That is why, I, Domick, Composition Master, know that your songs are as important to the Craft Hall, and Pern, as my music. They are a fresh voice, fresh new ways of looking at things and people, with tunes no one can keep from humming.”

  “Would you ever leave the Hall?” asked Menolly, greatly daring. She was storing up his words to think about later.

  “Me?” Domick was startled, and then frowned. “I might, but it would serve little purpose. Might be good for me, at that.” Then he shook his head again, rejecting the idea, “Perhaps, when there’s a big occasion at one of the larger Holds or another Craft Hall…Or a Hatching…But there really isn’t a Hold or Craft that needs a man of my abilities.” Domick spoke without conceit and also with modesty. It was a fact.

  “Do masters always stay in the Hall?”

  “Shells, no. There are any number assigned to the larger Holds and Crafthalls. You’ll see. Ah, Dermently, just a moment…” and Domick signaled the journeyman who was about to leave by another door at the far end of the Archive’s well-lit hall.

  Menolly just had time to get to her room with an armload of supplies and off to the dining hall before everyone sat down. It was true that Master Jerint and Master Arnor wore expressions of sullen discontent. She wondered who was leaving. But she had no time to speculate. There was dinner, and then her lesson.

  No sooner was she released by Master Shonagar than she returned to her copying, this time of “The Fire Lizard Song.” At first she felt awkward copying her own music, then she began to relish the notion. Her songs, going inland so that people would get some understanding of seaside creatures that had once been thought to be pure invention. That lovely old sea song, one she’d heard at Half-Circle since her first conscious appreciation of music, was a fine one to teach inland people how the seaman regards the broad ocean.

  Domick’s attitude toward her music had been reassuring, too, It was a relief to her to know that there was no awkwardness between them. He thought her songs were serving a purpose, and that suited and pleased her.

  It was, Menolly thought, one thing to work hard day in and day out to bring in food enough to feed oneself, one’s family and one’s Hold; it was quite another thing, and vastly more satisfying, to provide comfort for other lonely minds and tuneless hearts. Yes, Master Robinton and T’gellan had been right: she did belong in the Harper Hall.

  Before she realized how time had flown, it was evening. She carefully put away her instruments, the ink and the unused sheets, delivered the music to Master Domick’s room, and went to the kitchen level to feed her friends.

  Beauty and the bronzes were crowded round her when, though scarcely sated, they suddenly looked skyward. Beauty crooned softly in her throat. Rocky and Diver answered, as if agreeing with her, then all three again demanded food.

  “What was all that about?” asked Piemur.

  Menolly shrugged.

  “Will you look at that?” Piemur cried, excitedly, pointing skyward as three, then four, dragons appeared in the sky, slowly circling down to the wide fields. “And your fire lizards knew! D’you realize that, Menolly? Your fire lizards knew there were dragons coming.”

  “Why would dragons be coming?” Menolly asked, and that lump of fear grew a few sizes larger. “It isn’t time for Threadfall again, is it?” She doubted that Lord Sangel would send dragonriders to discipline a mere apprentice.

  “I told you,” and Piemur sounded exasperated with her obtuseness. “The masters were closeted yesterday and today, reassigning journeymen. So,” and he shrugged as if that explained the presence of dragonriders, “the dragons transport them to the new holds. Two blues, a green, and…hey…a bronze!” He was impressed. “I wonder who rates the bronze!”

  Now the Fort Hold watch dragon bugled a welcome and was answered by the circling beasts. Beauty and the other fire lizards added their trill of greeting.

  “Oh, no,” Piemur groaned. “They’re landing in the field, and we just got it cleaned up!”

  “Dragons are not runner beasts,” said Menolly in a tart voice. “And don’t stuff Lazy, Rocky and Mimic so fast. They’ll choke. You’ll see the dragonriders soon enough, I expect, if they’re coming here for the journeymen.”

  Piemur was not the only apprentice with sharp eyes. Soon the courtyard was spotted with groups of curious lads. The dragonriders strode out of the shadows of the arch, and Menolly distinguished the colors of Istan, Igen, Telgar and Benden Weyrs on the dragonriders' tunics. And none of them a watch-dragonrider wearing the colors of Boll. Then she recognized the Benden dragonrider as T'gellan.

  “Menolly! I’ve got ’em for you,” he shouted across the courtyard, waving an oddly shaped mass above his head. He spoke to his companions, who continued onward to the steps of the Hall where Domick, Talmor and Sebell waited to greet the dragonmen. T’gellan then strode at an oblique angle toward Menolly. As he neared her, she realized that he carried a pair of boots by their laces: boots tanned blue with cuffs of blue-hued wild wherry down.

  “Here you are, Menolly! Felena was in a state, worrying that those light slippers would wear out before you got these. I see the toes are going, aren’t they? Keeping you on ’em here, are they? But you’re looking good. Say, your fire lizards are growing, aren’t they?” He beamed approvingly at Menolly, then at Camo and Piemur, whose eyes were enormous at this proximity to a real bronze dragonrider. “Glad you’ve got some help.”

  “This is Piemur and that’s Camo, and they’ve been marvelous help.”

  “Will this lad be ready for a fire lizard then?” asked T’gellan with a sly wink at Menolly.

  “Why do you think he’s helping me?” asked Menolly, unable to resist teasing Piemur.

  “Aw, Menolly.” Unexpectedly Piemur was blushing, eyes downcast and so thoroughly out of countenance that Menolly relented.

  “Truly, T’gellan, Piemur’s been a staunch and true friend since the first day I got here. I couldn't manage without him and Camo.

  “Camo feed pretties. Camo very good feeding pretties!”

  T’gellan gave her a startled look, but he slapped the drudge affectionately on the back. “Good man, Camo. You keep on helping Menolly with her pretties.”

  “More food for pretties? Camo perked up. “No, no more now, Camo. Pretties aren’t hungry now,” Menolly said hurriedly.

  “‘Have you finished with Camo yet, Menolly?” Abuna appeared at the kitchen door, “Oh!” She was startled to see the company her half-witted drudge was keeping.

  “Camo help Abuna now. Pretties fed, Camo. You help Abuna!”

  Menolly gave Camo the customary turn and push toward the kitchen.

  “Now, Menolly, you sit there, on the steps,” said T’gellan pointing, “and try these boots on. Felena gave me explicit instructions that I was to see if they fit. Because if they don’t…” T’gellan left the threat hanging.

  �
�They ought to: the Weyr tanner took my measure…” said Menolly as she discarded the worn slippers and put on the right boot. “I don’t see how he could miss, even if my feet were still a bit swollen. Oh, it fits! It fits just fine. And so soft inside. Why,” and she put her hand the left boot, “he’s lined it with soft hide…”

  “You’ll need the double protection, Menolly,” said T’gellan, and then his face took on a look of pure mischief, “particularly if you do any more running…”

  “I’m not running anywhere anymore,” she said firmly. And hastily forgot about Lord Sangel and Pona. “Please thank Felena, and give my love to Mirrim, and thank Manora and everyone…”

  “Hey, hey, I just got here. I’m not going anywhere yet. I’ll see you before I go, but I’d better join the others now.”

  “And a dragonrider…a bronze dragonrider brings you blue harper boots…” Piemur’s eyes were enormous with astonishment as they both watched T’gellan’s lanky figure striding toward the Hall entrance.

  “I don’t suppose they wanted to waste leather they’d already cut to fit me when they thought I’d be staying on in the Weyr,” Menolly said, nonetheless deeply touched by the gift. She wiggled her toes against the smooth soft hide. She wouldn’t need to bother Silvina for new footwear now. And harper blue! Why, she was harper-garbed from head to toe now,

  The supper bell rang, and the curious knots of boys and journeymen blended into a throng, converging at various speeds on the steps. Along the walls opposite the dining hall as she and Piemur entered, Menolly saw backsacks and instrument cases.

  “I told you,” Piemur nudged her in the ribs. “Journeymen are being assigned tonight. There’ll be gaps at the oval tables tomorrow.” Menolly nodded, thinking that there would be some frantic masters, too, with fewer journeymen to help.

  T’gellan was at the round table, but Menolly noticed that the other dragonriders were standing on the journeymen’s side of the dining hall. She made her way to her seat beside Audiva, still that space left between Audiva and Briala. Piemur stood opposite Audiva and Menolly. Special meat and fish rolls accompanied the customary soup and there were sharp cheeses, bread and, afterward, wedges of beachberry pies. Piemur grumbled because the pies should be hot, and Menolly countered that he ought to be grateful for the treat so soon after a gather!

  Talk was spirited throughout the hall, although the Seven girls continued their silent treatment of Audiva and Menolly. There was a current of excitement in the air, much of it from the journeymen’s tables.

  “They’re only told in advance that they’re being assigned, you know,” Piemur told Menolly and Audiva. “Not where. Eight of them going, if I counted the packs right. The Masterharper really means to spread the word.”

  “Word?” Timiny was baffled.

  “Don’t you listen to anything, Timiny?” Piemur was disgusted. “Bet you not one of those journeymen is going back to his own hold or crafthall, like they used to do. Master Harper’s set on shuffling everyone around. Cross-crafting with a vengeance. They all got copies of your songs, Menolly?”

  Suddenly the moment everyone had been anticipating happened. The gong shimmered, and before the metallic tones had died away, the hall was still. Every eye was on the Masterharper who had risen from the table.

  “Now, my friends, without further ado and to permit those holding their breaths to breathe, I will announce the postings.” He paused, grinning, as he glanced around the hall. Then he looked across the apprentices’ tables to the journeymen.

  “Journeyman Farnol, Gar is your assignment, in Ista. Journeyman Sefran, please do what you can to improve understanding and extend enlightenment in Telgar at Balen Hold. Journeyman Campiol, you are also Telgar-bound, to the Minercrafthall under Facenden. See what you can do to improve the quality of metal for our pipes and brasses. Journeyman Dermently, I’d like you to assist Wansor, the Starsmith at Telgar Smithcrafthall.” There was a murmur of surprise from Dermently’s companions. “You have the finest hand with drafting, and while I am sorry to rob Master Arnor of his most accurate copyist, your efforts are essential if Wansor’s studies are to progress and be properly recorded.

  “There’s a small seahold on Igen River mouth that requires a man of your tolerance and good nature, Journeyman Strud. I also want you to keep an eye on the beaches for possible fire lizard mounds. You are, however, to report them to your Holder, not to me.” The regret in the Masterharper’s voice caused a ripple of amusement to run through his audience. “Journeyman Deece is also Igen bound, to the Hold. Harper Bantur needs a young assistant. He’s a dab hand at bringing on a good harper to understand the complexity of a Masterharper’s job. And you’ve the new songs to give him as well. Journeyman Petillo, it’s no sinecure, but I need your patience and tact at Bitra to bolster Harper Fransman.

  “Journeyman Rammany, Lord Asgenar at Lemos has asked for someone from Master Jerint’s hands. You’ll work principally with Woodsmith Benelek, and I don’t think you’ll find that too onerous a task with such wood as Benelek dries for us. However, be sure you’re on hand to choose the next consignment of wood for our use, and Master Jerint will bless you.

  “Will all the journeymen please come to the Great Hall for a farewell cup of wine? Benden wine, of course. But first, I’ve one more very pleasant and unusual announcement.

  “To be a harper requires many talents, as you all ought to realize by now,” and he frowned at the very youngest of the apprentices who giggled nervously. “Not all of these skills need to be learned within these walls. Indeed, many of our most valuable lessons are more forcefully learned at some distance from this hallowed Hall,” and he frowned at the journeymen, who grinned back at him. “However, when the fundamentals of our craft have been well and truly learned, I insist that we hold no one back from the rank they are entitled to by knowledge and ability, and in this case, rare talent. Sebell, Talmor, since neither of you will resign in the other’s favor…”

  A silence emphasized by Piemur’s tiny gasp of astonishment fell over the dining hall as Sebell and Talmor rose from their table and walked up the aisle by the hearth. They stopped. Startled, Menolly looked up at Sebell’s shy grin and Talmor’s broad smile.

  She couldn’t grasp the significance of their presence, though she heard Audiva’s cry of joy and saw the stunned amazement on the faces of Briala and Timiny.

  She glanced wildly about her, saw Master Robinton grinning, nodding, gesturing for her to rise. But it wasn’t until Piemur kicked her on the shins that she shed her paralysis.

  “You’re supposed to walk the tables, Menolly,” Piemur said in an audible hiss. “Get up and walk. You’re a journeyman now. You’ve made journeyman.”

  “Menolly’s a journeyman! Menolly’s a journeyman!” echoed the other apprentices, clapping their hands in rhythm to their chant. “Menolly’s made journeyman. Walk Menolly, walk. Walk, Menolly, walk!”

  Sebell and Talmor took her by the elbows and lifted her to her feet.

  “Never saw an apprentice so loath to take a walk,” muttered Talmor under his breath to Sebell.

  We could carry her,” Sebell said, in a whisper, “because, between you and me, I don’t think her legs are going to walk her.”

  “I can walk,” said Menolly, shaking off their helping hands. “I’ve even got harper boots. I can walk anywhere!”

  The last vestige of anxiety lifted from Menolly’s mind. As a journeyman in blue, she had rank and status enough to fear no one and nothing. No further need to run or hide, She'd a place to fill and a craft that was unique to her. She’d come a long, long way in a sevenday. The pulse of her words suggested a tune. She’d think of that later. Now, holding her head high, while the fire lizards swept in from the windows, trilling their happy reaction, she walked between Talmor and Sebell to the oval tables of her new station in the Harper Craft Hall of Pern.

 
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