‘My uncle of Tillek says that fire lizards are going to be nothing more than pets, and I thought pets weren’t allowed in the cottages …’ said the dark girl, her mouth setting primly, as she cast a sideways look towards Menolly.
‘The Masterharper doesn’t rate fire lizards as pets, Briala,’ said Audiva in her droll way, and she winked at Menolly over Pona’s head. ‘Of course, you’ve only got one at Tillek Hold.’
‘Well, my uncle says the Weyrmen are spending too much time on those creatures when they ought to get down to basic problems and go after Thread on the Red Star. That’s the only way to stop this dreadful menace.’
‘What are the dragonriders supposed to do?’ asked Audiva scornfully. ‘Even you should know that dragons can’t go between blind.’
‘They ought to just flame the Red Star clean of Thread, that’s what.’
‘Could they really?’ asked the girl beyond Briala, her eyes round with amazement and a sort of hopeful horror.
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Amania,’ said Audiva in disgust. ‘No one’s ever been to the Red Star.’
‘They could try to get there,’ replied Pona. ‘That’s what my grandfather says.’
‘Who’s to say the first dragonmen didn’t try?’ asked Audiva.
‘Then why isn’t there a Record of the attempt?’ demanded Pona with haughty condescension.
‘They’d certainly have written a song about it if they had,’ said Briala, pleased to see Audiva confounded.
‘Well, the Red Star is not our problem,’ said Audiva.
‘Learning songs is.’ Briala’s voice had a wailing edge to it. ‘And when are we going to have a chance to learn that music Talmor set us today? We’ve got rehearsal tonight, and it’ll go on and on because those boys are always—’
‘The boys? Just like you to blame it on the boys, Briala,’ said Audiva. ‘You had plenty of time this afternoon to practise your lessons, same as the rest of us.’
‘I had to wash my hair, and Dunca had to let out the seams of my red gown …’
‘If you’d stop … Oh, not redfruit again?’ Pona sounded aggrieved, but Menolly eyed the basket of delicacies with surprised delight.
Pona might affect indifference, but she was quick to snatch the curiously shaped fruit from the basket when it was passed to her. Menolly took hers and ate it quickly, getting as much of the sweet, tangy juice as possible. She wished she had the courage to lick her fingers the way the boys were doing. But the girls were so stuffy and mannered, she knew they’d stare if she did.
Suddenly the demands of the day, the excitements and tensions, sapped the last of Menolly’s energy. She found it almost unbearable to have to sit at the table amid so many unknown people, unable to guess what more might be asked of her before she could seek the quiet and solitude of her bed. She worried about her fire lizards, and then tried not to, for fear they would seek her out. She was conscious of her throbbing feet; her hand ached, and the scar begged to be scratched. She shifted on the bench, wondering why they were held here at table. Restlessly she craned her neck to peer around at the Harper’s table. She couldn’t see Master Robinton but the others were laughing, obviously enjoying an aftermeal conversation. Was that why everyone was being held so long? Until the masters had stopped talking?
She longed for the peace of her cave near the Dragon Stones. Even for the little cubicle in her father’s Sea Hold. She’d usually been able to slip away to it without accounting to anyone for her disappearance. At least once the day’s work was done. And somehow, she’d never thought of the Harper Craft Hall being so … so populated, with so much to be done and doing, and all the masters, and Silvina and …
She was caught unawares and had to struggle to her feet as the others rose more gracefully to theirs. She was so relieved to be able to go that at first she didn’t realize no one was leaving the benches but masters and journeymen. Pona’s hiss caught her attention before she’d moved more than a few strides. Embarrassed, she stood with all the girls glaring at her as if she had committed a far more heinous crime than moving out of turn. She edged back towards her vacated place. Then, as soon as the apprentices and the girls began to saunter out of the dining hall, she sat down again. She did not want to be among people, especially all these strange people who had odd notions and different manners, and seemingly, no sympathy for the newcomer. The Weyr had been as big and well-populated, but she had felt at home there, with friendly glances and uncritical, smiling faces.
‘Your feet hurting again?’ It was Piemur asking, his brows contorted in a worried scowl.
Menolly bit her lip.
‘I guess I’m just suddenly very tired,’ she said.
He wrinkled his nose drolly and then twitched it to one side. ‘I’m not surprised, your first day here and all, and having the masters giving you a poke and prod. Look, you can lean on my shoulder across to Dunca’s. I can still get back in time for rehearsal …’
‘Rehearsal? Do I have to be somewhere else now?’ Menolly fought an almost overwhelming desire to weep.
‘Shouldn’t think so, your first day here. Unless Master Shonagar said something? No? Well, they can hardly have sorted out what your standard is, even if you couldn’t play note one. And you know, you look ruddy awful. Awful tired, I mean. C’mon, I’ll help you.’
‘But you have a rehearsal …’
‘Don’t you worry your head about me, Menolly.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘Sometimes it’s an astest … asset … to be small,’ and he made a weaving motion with his hand, then squared his shoulders and stood, radiating innocent attention. He was so comic that Menolly giggled.
She rose, excessively grateful to him. He rattled on about the rehearsal for the usual spring affair at Fort Hold. The rehearsal was usually fun because Brudegan was in charge this season. He was good at explaining exactly what he wanted you to do, so if you listened sharp, you didn’t make mistakes.
The swift spring evening was settling over the complex of Hold and Hall so there were very few passers-by. Piemur’s physical presence and his chatter, blithely ignoring her silence, were more supportive than his bony shoulder, but she couldn’t have made the walk without it. Menolly was grateful that she’d only the short flight of steps to go. The fire lizards chirped sympathetically at her from the window ledge outside her fast-shuttered room.
‘You’re OK now, with them,’ said Piemur, grinning up at the fire lizards. ‘I’ll dash off. You’ll be fine in the morning, Menolly, with a good night’s rest under your ear. That’s what my foster-mother always told us.’
‘I’m sure I will, Piemur, and thank you so much …’
Her words trailed off because he was dashing and out of earshot. She opened the door, calling tentatively for Dunca but there was no answer, nor any sign of the plump cotkeeper. Grateful for that unexpected mercy, Menolly began to climb the steep steps, one at a time, pulling herself along by the railing and taking as much pressure off her feet as she could. Halfway up, Beauty appeared, chirruping encouragement. Rocky and Diver joined her on the top step and added their comforting noises.
With a sense of utmost relief, Menolly closed the door behind her. She hobbled to the bed and sank down, fumbling with the ties of the sleeping furs, not really aware of the scratching on the closed shutters until Beauty let out an authoritative squawk. Fortunately, Menolly only had to stretch out her arm to open the shutters. Aunties One and Two fell in, catching themselves by wing just off the floor, scolding her soundly as they flew about the room. Lazy, Brownie and Uncle entered with more dignity and Mimic waddled to the window edge, yawning.
Menolly remembered to rub the salve on her feet, though they were so tender, tears jumped to her eyes. Briefly she wished that Mirrim was there, with her brisk chatter and gentle touch. Feet were indeed very awkward to tend yourself. She rubbed the other stuff into her hand scar, restraining the urge to scratch the itching tissue. She slipped out of her clothes and under the sleeping furs, only vaguely aware that the fire liz
ards were making themselves comfortable about her. Nothing to fear from harpers, huh? T’gellan’s comment mocked her. As she fell deeply asleep, she wondered if envy was akin to fear?
CHAPTER FIVE
My nightly craft is winged in white;
A dragon of night-dark sea.
Swiftborn, dreambound and rudderless;
Her captain and crew are me.
I sail a hundred sleeping tides
Where no seaman’s ever been
And only my white-winged craft and I
Know the marvels we have seen.
THE NEXT DAY did not start propitiously for Menolly. Her sleep was broken by shrieks: Dunca’s, the girls, and the fire lizards. Dazed, Menolly at first tried to calm the fire lizards swooping about the room, but Dunca, standing in the doorway, would not be quiet; and her terror, whether assumed or real, only stimulated the fire lizards into such aerial acrobatics that Menolly ordered them all out the window.
This only changed the tone of Dunca’s screams because the woman was now pointing at Menolly’s nudity until she could snatch up the discarded shirt and cover herself.
‘And where were you all night?’ Dunca demanded in a sobbingly angry voice. ‘How did you get in? When did you get in?’
‘I was here all night. I got in by the front door. You weren’t in the cottage.’ Then, seeing the look of complete disbelief on Dunca’s plump face, Menolly added, ‘I came here directly after supper. Piemur helped me across the court.’
‘He was at rehearsal. Which was just after supper,’ said one of the girls crowding in at the door.
‘Yes, but he got there out of breath,’ Audiva said, frowning, ‘I remember Brudegan rounding him on it.’
‘You must always inform me when you come in,’ said Dunca, by no means pacified.
Menolly hesitated and then nodded her head in acquiescence; it was useless to argue with someone like Dunca, who had obviously made up her mind not to like Menolly and to pick every fault possible.
‘When you are washed and decently attired,’ and the tone of Dunca’s voice suggested that she doubted Menolly was capable of either, ‘you will join us. Come, girls. There is no reason for you to delay your own meal.’
As the girls filed obediently past the open doorway, most of the faces reflected Dunca’s disapproval. Except Audiva who winked solemnly and then grinned before she schooled her features into a blank expression.
By the time Menolly had attended to her feet, had a quick wash, dressed and found the small room where the other girls were eating, they were almost finished. As one, they stared critically at her before Dunca brusquely motioned her to take the empty seat. And as one, they all watched her so that she felt doubly awkward about the simple acts of chewing and swallowing. The food tasted dry and the klah was cold. She managed to finish what had been set before her and mumbled thanks. She sat there, looking down at her place, only then noticing the fruit-stains on her tunic. So, they had reason to stare. And she had nothing to change into while this top was washed, except her old things from her cave days.
Though she had eaten, she was still conscious of hunger pangs. The fire lizards were waiting to be fed! She doubted that Dunca would supply her need, but her responsibility to her friends gave her the courage to ask.
‘May I be excused, please? The fire lizards must be fed. I have to go to Silvina …’
‘Why would you bother Silvina with such a detail?’ demanded Dunca, her eyes popping slightly with indignation. ‘Don’t you realize that she is the headwoman of the entire Harper Craft Hall? The demands on her time are enormous! And if you don’t keep those creatures of yours under proper control …’
‘You startled them this morning.’
‘I’m not having that sort of carry-on every morning, frightening my girls with them flying at such dangerous speeds.’
Menolly refrained from pointing out that it had been Dunca’s screaming that had alarmed the fire lizards.
‘If you don’t control them … Where are they now?’ She looked wildly about her, her eyes bulging with alarm.
‘Waiting to be fed.’
‘Don’t get pert with me, girl. You may be the daughter of a Sea Holder, but while you are in the Harper Craft Hall and in my charge, you are to behave yourself. We’ll have no ranking here.’
Half-torn between laughter and disgust, Menolly rose. ‘If I may go, please, before the fire lizards come in search of me …’
That sufficed. Dunca couldn’t get her out of the cot fast enough. Someone sniggered, but when Menolly glanced up she wasn’t sure if it had been Audiva or not. It was a small encouragement that someone had recognized Dunca’s hypocrisy.
As she stepped out into the crisp morning air, Menolly realized how stuffy the cot had been and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, all the shutters, except her own, were closed tight. As she crossed the wide court, she received morning grins and greetings from the farmholders making their way to the fields, from apprentices dashing to their masters. She looked about her for her fire lizards and saw one wheeling down behind the outer wing of the Craft Hall. As she walked under the arch, she saw the others clinging to the kitchen and dining hall ledges. Camo was in the doorway, a great bowl in the crook of his left arm, a hunk of something dangling from his right hand as he tried to entice the fire lizards to him.
She was halfway across the courtyard before she realized that it was much easier to walk on her feet today. However, that was one of the few good things that happened. Camo was chastised by Abuna for trying to coax the fire lizards to eat when he should have been delivering the cereal to the dining hall (for fire lizards would not eat from his hands until Menolly arrived). Then the fire lizards were frightened away when the apprentices and journeymen came tearing out of the dining hall, filling the courtyard with yells and shrieks and wild antics as they made their way to their morning classes. Menolly looked vainly for Piemur, and then, as abruptly, the courtyard was clear. Except for some older journeymen. One of them paused by her, officiously demanding to know why she was hanging about the yard. When she said that she hadn’t been told where to go, he informed her that she obviously should be with the other girls and to get herself there immediately. As he gestured in the general direction of the archroom, Menolly assumed that was where the girls met.
She reached the archway room to find the girls already practising scales on their gitars with a journeyman, who told her she was late, to get her instrument and see if she could catch up with the others. She mumbled an apology, found her precious gitar, and took a stool near the others. But the chords were basic and even with her injured hand she had no trouble with the drill. Not so the others. Pona seemed unable to bridge strings with forefinger: the joint kept snapping up; and although the journeyman, Talmor, patiently showed her an alternative chording, she couldn’t get to it fast enough to keep the rhythm of the exercise. Talmor had great patience, Menolly thought, and idly ran silent fingers down the neck of her gitar, doing his alternative placement. Yes, it was a bit awkward if you were after speed, but not as impossible as Pona was making it out to be.
‘Since you are so good at it, Menolly, suppose you demonstrate the exercise. In the time …’ and Talmor directed the beat.
She caught it with her eyes, keeping her head still, for Petiron abhorred a musician who had to use unnecessary body motion to keep a rhythm going. She went through the chords on the scale as directed and then saw Audiva regarding her with fierce intent. Pona and the others glowered.
‘Now use the regular fingering,’ Talmor said, coming over to stand by Menolly, his eyes intent on her hands.
Menolly executed the run. He gave a sharp nod of his head, eyed her inscrutably, and then returned to Pona, asking her to try it again, though he outlined a slower time. Pona mastered the run the third time, smiling with relief at her success.
Talmor gave them another set of scales and then brought out a large copy of a piece of occasional music. Menolly was delighted because the score was
completely new to her. Petiron had been, as he phrased it, a teaching Harper, not an entertainer, and though she had learned the one or two occasional pieces of music he had in his possession, he had never acquired more. The Sea Holder, Menolly knew, had preferred to sing, not listen; and most occasional music was instrumental. In the bigger Holds, Petiron had told her, the Lord Holders liked music during the dinner hour and at night when they entertained guests in conversation rather than song.
This was not a difficult piece, Menolly realized, scanning it and silently fingering the one or two transitional chords that might be troublesome.
‘All right, Audiva, let’s see what you can make of it today,’ Talmor said, smiling at the girl with encouragement.
Audiva gulped, exhibiting a nervousness that puzzled Menolly. As Audiva began to pick out the chords, nodding her head and tapping one foot at a much slower rhythm than the musical notation required, Menolly’s perplexity grew. Well, she thought, charitably, maybe Audiva was a new student. If she was, she was far more competent than Briala, who apparently had trouble just reading the music.
Talmor dismissed Briala to the table to copy the score for later practice. Pona was no improvement on the other two. The sly-faced, fair-haired girl played with great banging against the gitar belly, at time, but with many inaccuracies. When it was finally her own turn, Menolly’s stomach was roiled by frustrated listening.
‘Menolly,’ said Talmor at the end of a sigh that expressed his own frustration and boredom.
It was such a relief to play the music as it should be that Menolly found herself increasing the time and emphasizing the chords with a variation of her own in the strum.
Talmor just looked at her. Then he blinked and exhaled heavily, pursing his lips together.
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