Dragonsinger (31 page)

‘But you told Master Domick that I hadn’t been told.’

‘Fair’s fair.’

‘Well, then, if fair’s fair, you did stand up with me against Pona
and
all those fosterlings when it really mattered. Let’s forget everything else … and just be friends. I’ve never had a girl friend before,’ Menolly added shyly.

‘You haven’t?’ Audiva was shocked. ‘Weren’t you fostered out?’

‘No, being the youngest and Half-Circle being so
isolated
and with Thread falling, and that’s what the Harper usually does, and Petiron never …’

‘Just as well old Petiron kept you by him, the way things turned out, isn’t it?’ Audiva grinned. ‘But
we’re
friends now, aren’t we?’

And they sealed the bargain with a handshake.

‘Are they really practising my song?’ asked Menolly, a little apprehensive.

‘Yes, and hating every minute of it because you wrote it.’ Audiva was delighted. ‘I’d be obliged if you’d teach me some simpler chords than the ones you’ve written. I cannot get my hands …’

‘They are simple.’

‘For you, maybe, but not for me!’ Audiva groaned over her inadequacy.

‘Here,’ and Menolly thrust her gitar at Audiva. ‘You can start with a simple E chord … go on, strum it … Now, modulate to an A Minor …’

Menolly soon realized that she didn’t have as much patience as she ought to with Audiva, especially since Audiva was her best friend now, and she certainly did try to follow Menolly’s instructions; but both girls were relieved when Beauty’s creeling interrupted the practice. Audiva declared that she’d have to fly to change before supper. She wouldn’t have the time after, or she’d be late to rehearsal. She gave Menolly a quick and grateful embrace, and dashed down the steps ahead of her.

Camo and Piemur were waiting for Menolly at the kitchen level. It seemed incredible to Menolly as she fed her hungry friends that she’d only been at the Harper Hall a sevenday. So much had happened. And yet the fire lizards had settled in as if they’d never lived anywhere else. She had established a routine in her sessions with Domick and the journeymen in the mornings, with Shonagar in the afternoon. Above all,
she
had the right, the exquisitely sweet right – no, an
injunction
from the Masterharper – to write the songs that had once been totally forbidden her.

Seven days ago, standing in this very courtyard, she’d been scared to tears. What had T’gellan said? Yes, he’d given her the sevenday to get adjusted. And he’d been right in that, though she’d doubted him at the time. He’d also said that she didn’t have anything to fear from harpers. True enough, but she had experienced envy and to some extent overcome it: she’d made staunch friends and good impressions on those in Hall and Hold who mattered to her future. She’d made not one, but several places for herself in the Craft Hall: with her songs, her fire lizards and, unexpectedly, her knowledge of seacraft.

Only one small worry nagged at her: what if the vengeful Pona could prejudice her grandfather, Lord Sangel, against a lowly apprentice in the Craft Hall? Not all Lord Holders were tolerant men like lord Groghe. Not all of them had fire lizards. Menolly had had too much stripped from her before in her home Hold to calm that anxiety.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

O Tongue, give sound to joy and sing

Of hope and promise on dragonwing!

DOMICK CAUGHT HER
before she left the dining hall the next morning.

‘That sea song you sang at the gather? Would it take you long to note it down? I never heard it before.’ Menolly wasn’t sure from his frown if he blamed her for that oversight or not. ‘Master Robinton wants sea songs inland and land songs on the seaside …’ Domick looked annoyed, until he saw Menolly’s expression. ‘Oh, I agree with him in principle, but he wants things done
now
. With the journeymen to be posted today, he wants as many copies to go with them as possible. Save trips later …’

‘I could make several copies as easily as one,’ she said.

Domick blinked as if he’d forgotten. ‘Of course, you could. And a mighty neat hand you’ve got. Even old Arnor had to admit that!’ For some obscure reason this amused Domick. He continued in a much better humour. ‘All right then, to save a lot of useless talk and wasted time, would you please copy that sea song? And do a couple of “The Fire Lizard Song”. I’m not certain how many Arnor has completed, and you got a taste of his attitude yesterday …’ Menolly grinned. ‘You remember who to go to if you need more materials? Dermently’s his name.’

With that he left Menolly, but he whistled absently as he strode towards the now closed door of the main hall.

Sea songs inland and land songs on the seaside, thought Menolly as she climbed the steps to her room. She wondered just how Yanus, her father, would approve of land songs at Half-Circle Sea Hold. Well and good, and wouldn’t it be the best of all jokes if the land songs introduced at Half-Circle by Harper Elgion were ones she herself had written or copied out? Disgrace the Hold, indeed!

Now she wondered if she should write her mother, Mavi, or her sister, and just casually mention that she was apprentice to the Masterharper of Pern. That all her twiddles and tunings had considerably more merit than anyone at Half-Circle had the wit to appreciate. Except, of course, Harper Elgion. And Alemi, her brother.

No, she wouldn’t write her mother or her father, and certainly not her sister. But she might write Alemi. He’d been the only one who cared. And he’d keep the knowledge to himself.

But right now she had things to do. She organized her materials, her ink and tools, and carefully set about copying down the sea song. She worked quickly, though she had to sand out several small errors. Nevertheless, she had six fair copies by the time the dinner bell rang.

Domick was in the hallway, in earnest conversation with Jerint who appeared annoyed about something. Domick caught sight of her, excusing himself from Jerint but with just that hint of reprieve that suggested Menolly’s appearance was a welcome excuse.

‘Six …’ he leafed through her sheets, ‘and every one a fair copy. My thanks, Menolly. Can you do … No, you must work with Shonagar this afternoon …’

‘I’d need more paper, Master Domick, but I’ll have time to do two or three more copies before supper, if you need them …’

Domick glanced at the slowly filling dining room. He took her hand. ‘If you could squeeze in maybe three copies of your fire lizard song, I’d be in your debt. Come with me. Arnor should have retreated from his domain, and we can get as much paper as we want from Dermently. At least, today.’

They were out the door with no more delay, heading towards the Archive room.

‘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 mouldered …’

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 signalled 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 towards 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 colours of Istan, Igen, Telgar and Benden Weyrs on the dragonriders’ tunics. And none of them a watch-dragonrider wearing the colours 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 towards 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 both been marvellous 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.