Dragonsinger (dragon riders of pern)

by Anne McCaffrey

  Above the fire lizards’ vibrant sounds, they all heard the Harper’s name bellowed.

  “Someone go and escort Lord Groghe,” ordered the Harper, his eyes never leaving the hearth and the two eggs.

  “Robinton!” It would seem that his order was unnecessary for the bellower was rapidly approaching. “Robin…. What? They are? D’you know what? That Merga of mine’s in another taking. Forced me to come here! Here now, what’s all this? Where is Robinton?”

  Menolly tore her eyes from the two eggs, though she was certain she saw a widening crack in the one on the left, to see the entrance of the Fort Lord Holder. As his voice indicated, he was a big man, almost as tall as the Harper but much broader in the torso, with thick thighs and bulging calves. He walked lightly for all his mass although he was breathing heavily from having come to the Hall at a fair pace.

  “There you are! What’s this all about?”

  “The eggs are about to hatch, Lord Groghe.”

  “Eggs?” The brows of the Holder’s florid face were contracted into a puzzled scowl. “Oh, your eggs. They’re hatching? And Merga’s reacting?”

  “I trust not at any inconvenience to you, Lord Groghe.”

  “Well, not so’s I wouldn’t come when she insisted. How’d the creature know?”

  “Ask Menolly.”

  “Menolly?” And suddenly Menolly found herself the object of his intense, frowning scrutiny. “You’re Menolly?” The brows went up in surprise. “Little bit of a thing, aren’t you? Not at all what I expected. Don’t blush. I don’t bite. My fire lizard might. Wouldn’t worry you, though, would it? These are all yours? Why, my queen’s beside yours, friendly as can be. They’re not dangerous at all.”

  “Menolly!” The Harper’s exclamation brought her attention back to the hearth.

  His egg had given a convulsive rock, all but spinning itself off the hearthstone. Gasping, he’d put out both hands to prevent its falling. The shell cracked wide open, and a little bronze fire lizard rolled into his hands, creeling with hunger, its body glistening.

  “Feed it! Feed it!” Menolly cried.

  Robinton, unable to take his eyes off the fire lizard, fumbled for the piled meat and shoved food into the fire lizard’s open mouth. The little bronze, shaking its wings out for balance, snatched ferociously at the meat, gobbling so fast that Menolly held her breath for fear the creature would choke in its greed.

  “Not too much. Make it wait! Talk to it. Soothe it,” Menolly urged. Just then the other egg split.

  “It's a queen!” shouted Sebell, rocking back on his heels in the excess of his surprise. Only Lord Groghe’s quick hand on his back kept him from falling over.

  “Feed her!” the Lord Holder barked.

  “But I’m not to have the queen!” For one split second, Sebell started to turn and offer the queen to the Harper.

  “Too late!” Menolly shouted, diving forward. to intercept the gesture. She jammed meat on Sebell’s seeking hand and then pushed it back to the frantically creeling queen. “You’re supposed to have a fire lizard. It doesn’t matter which!”

  The Harper was oblivious to the interchange. He was intent on his bronze, stroking it, feeding it, crooning to it. The little queen had gobbled Sebell’s initial offering, her tail wrapping so firmly about his wrist that he could not have disentangled himself had he managed to sustain his moment of sacrifice.

  Menolly turned to assist the Harper, but Lord Groghe was kneeling beside him, encouraging him. When the two hatchlings were bulging with food, Menolly removed the meat bowls.

  “They’ll burst with another mouthful,” she told the reproachful Harpers. “Now, hold them against you. Stroke them. They should fall asleep. There now.” As the men complied with her urgings, the new fire lizards, sated for the present, wearily closed their eyes, their little heads dropping to the protecting forearms. She’d forgotten what a scant handful a newly hatched fire lizard was. Her friends had grown so much since hatching. Lord Groghe’s Merga was as tall in the shoulder as Beauty, but not so deeply chested. The two were now exchanging compliments, stroking heads and touching curved wings.

  “It’s incredible,” the Harper said, his words no more than an articulated whisper, his eyes brilliant with joy. “It is absolutely the most incredible experience I have ever had.”

  “Know what you mean,” Lord Groghe replied in an embarrassed mumble, ducking his head, but Menolly could see that the burly Holder’s face was flushed. “Can’t forget it myself.”

  Carefully Master Robinton rose from his knees, his eyes on the sleeping fire lizard, his free hand poised in case an incautious movement unsettled the little bronze.

  “It explains so very much that I could never have understood about dragonriders. Yes, it opens a whole new area of understanding.” He sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now I can sense, dimly, what Lytol, what Brekke must have suffered. And I know why young Jaxom must have Ruth.” He smiled at Lord Groghe’s grunt at that statement. “Yes, I have stood so long peering through a small opening into another Hold of understanding. Now I can see without obstruction.” His chin had dropped to his chest as he spoke in soft reflective tones, more to himself than those close enough to catch the whispered words. He shook himself slightly and looked up, his smile again radiant. “What a gift you have made me, Menolly. What a magnificent gift!”

  Beauty came to perch on Menolly’s shoulder, her humming now diminished to a soft murmur of sound. Lord Groghe’s queen, Merga, flew to his shoulder, wrapping her tail about his thick neck, just as Beauty did.

  “I don’t know how it happened, Master Robinton,” Sebell said, rising from the hearth with exaggerated care. His manner was both defensive and apologetic. “The pots were in the wrong order. I don’t understand. You should have had the queen.”

  “My dear Sebell, I couldn’t care in the slightest. This bronze fellow is everything I could ever want. And frankly, I believe that it might be more advantageous for you to have the queen, going out and above the land as you’ll have to do. Yes, I think chance has worked more for than against us. And I am quite content, oh, indeed I am, with my bronze man here. What a lovely, lovely creature!” He had eased himself back against the bolster, the fire lizard snuggled in the crook of his arm, his other hand protectively cradling the open side. “Such a lovely big fellow!” His head fell back, his eyes heavy, all but asleep himself.

  “Now that’s a real miracle,” said Silvina in a very soft voice. “Asleep without wine or fellis juice? Out! Out!” She shook her hands at those crowding the door, but her gesture to Lord Groghe to precede her from the room was a touch more courteous. The Lord Holder nodded agreement and made a great show of tiptoeing quietly across the room. His exit cleared the doorway of onlookers.

  Silvina picked up the half-filled bowls by the fire and put one near the Harper’s hand. Menolly beckoned the rest of her fair and they flitted out the window.

  “Got them well-trained, haven’t you?” Lord Groghe said once Silvina had closed the door to the Harper’s chamber. “Want to have a long chat with you about ’em. Robinton says they’ll fetch and carry for you. D’you believe, as he does, that what one fire lizard knows, th’others do, too?”

  Too disconcerted to reply, Menolly glanced frantically at Silvina and saw her nod encouragingly. “It would seem logical, Lord Groghe. Ah…it would certainly account for…for what happened the other night. In fact, there’s no other way to account for that, is there? Unless you can speak to dragons.”

  “Unless you can speak to dragons?” Lord Groghe laughed ponderously, poking Menolly’s shoulder with his finger in good humor. “Speak to dragons? Hahaha.”

  Menolly felt herself grinning because his laughter was a bit contagious, and she didn’t know what else to do. She hadn’t meant to be funny. Then Silvina shushed them imperiously, pointing urgently at the Harper’s closed door.

  “Sorry, Silvina,” Lord Groghe said, contritely. “Most amazing thing! Woke me up out of a sound sleep, scared out
of my wits. Never happened to me before, I can tell you.” He nodded his head emphatically, and Merga chirped. ‘Wasn’t your fault, pet,” he said, stroking her tiny head with a thick forefinger. “Only doing the same as the others. That’s what I want you to teach me, girl.” The forefinger now pointed at Menolly. “You will, won’t you? Robinton says you have yours trained a treat.”

  “It would be my privilege, sir!”

  “Well spoken.” Lord Groghe turned his heavy torso in Silvina’s direction, favoring the headwoman with a fierce stare.

  “Well-spoken child. Not what I expected. Can’t trust other people’s opinions. Never did. Never will. I’ll arrange something with Robinton later. Not too much later. But later. Good day to you all.” With that the Lord Holder of Fort strode from the room, nodding and smiling to the harpers still gathered in the corridor.

  Menolly saw Sebell and Silvina exchanging worried glances, and she moved across the room to stand before them.

  “What did Lord Groghe mean, Silvina? I’m not what he expected?”

  “I was afraid you’d catch that,” Silvina said, her eyes narrow with a contained anger. She patted Menolly’s shoulder absently. “There’s been loose talk, which has done them no good and you no harm. I’ve a few knees to set knocking, so I have.”

  Menolly was thoroughly and unexpectedly consumed with anger. Beauty chittered, her eyes beginning to whirl redly.

  “Those cot girls stay up at the Hold during Threadfall, don’t they?”

  Silvina gave Menolly a long, quelling look. “I said I’ll handle the matter, Menolly. You,” and Silvina pointed at her, “will occupy yourself with harper business.” She was clearly as furious as Menolly, and flicked imaginary dust from her skirt with unnecessary force. “You’re to stay here, both of you, and be sure nothing disturbs the Harper. Nothing, you understand!” She pinned apprentice and journeyman with a stern glare. “He’s asleep, and he’s to stay asleep as long as that little creature lets him. That way he might get caught up on himself for a change before he’s worn to death.” She picked up the tray. “I’ll send your suppers up with Camo. And their suppers as well!”

  She closed the door firmly behind her. Menolly looked at the closed door for a long moment, still feeling the anger in her guts. She’d not really done the girls any kind of harm, so why would they try to prejudice the Lord Holder against her? Or perhaps it was all Dunca’s connivance? Menolly knew that the little cotholder hated her for the humiliation caused by the fire lizards. Now that Menolly was at the Hall, why should Dunca persist? She glanced back to Sebell, who was regarding her even as he cradled his sleeping queen.

  “Leave it, Menolly,” he said in a quiet but emphatic tone. He gestured her to the sandtable. “Harper business is better business for you now. Master Robinton said you were to copy the song onto sheets.” Moving carefully so as not to disturb his little queen, he got supplies from the shelves and put them on the center board. “So, copy!”

  “I don’t understand what they thought they’d accomplish, prejudicing Lord Groghe against me. What would he do?” Sebell said nothing as he hooked a stool under him, and sat down. He pointed at the music. “It’s only right for me to know. The insult is mine to settle.”

  “Sit down, Menolly. And copy. That’s far more important to the Harper and the Hall than any petty machinations of envious girls.”

  “They could do me a mischief, couldn’t they? If they’d got Lord Groghe to believe what they said. I never hurt those girls.”

  “True enough but that is not harper business. The song is. Copy it! And one more word from you on any other subject and I’ll—”

  “If you’re not quiet, you’ll wake your fire lizard,” Menolly said, but she sat down at the table and started copying. She could recognize obstinacy when she saw it, and it would do her no good to set Sebell against her. “What are you going to name her?” she asked.

  “Name her?” Sebell was startled, and Menolly was dismayed to realize how much of his joy in his queen had been diminished by her silly concern over gossip. “Why, I can have the privilege of naming her, can’t I? She’s mine. I think…” and his eyes glowed with affection for the hatchling, “I think I’ll call her Kimi.”

  “That’s a lovely name,” replied Menolly and then bent to her copying with a good heart.

  Chapter 8

  Gather! Gather! It’s a gather day!

  No work for us, and Thread’s away.

  Stalls are building, square’s swept clear,

  Gather all from far and near.

  Bring your marks and bring your wares,

  Bring your family for there’s

  Food and drink and fun and song.

  The Hold flag flies: so gather along!

  “What’s wrong with the Hold?” Menolly asked Piemur the next morning as she, the boy and Camo were feeding the fire lizards. Piemur kept craning his neck past the roofs of the Harper Hall to see the fire heights of Fort Hold.

  “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.