Dragonsinger (dragon riders of pern)

by Anne McCaffrey

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  Robinton gestured Menolly toward his quarters, but the fire lizard, believing the food was being withdrawn, let out an indignant shriek and swatted at Menolly’s hand.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

  “I kept trying to tell them,” said Piemur, throwing his hands out, his eyes bright with injured innocence because Menolly was now glaring at him. Then he clutched dramatically at his throat because his voice had squeaked on the last word. “I’ve gone hoarse talking…”

  “Can’t have the golden throat hoarse, can we?” said Ranly sarcastically.

  Piemur was testing klah pots on the table to see if there were any that was still warm. Finding one he poured two mugs, offering one to Menolly. He gurgled as he downed half a mug, rubbed his hand across his mouth and then told her that she’d better eat quickly because they’d be clearing any minute.

  “Now, let’s get back to the mark problem. This will be only the second gather of the Turn, so I figure that they’ll be sending an older journeyman from the Smithcraft Hall, to keep an eye on the younger fellows and supervise the bargaining. And that journeyman is just likely to be my father’s friend, Pergamol; and if it’s Pergamol, then I can guarantee that you’ll get top marks for your work. And…” he held up a silencing hand as Ranly opened his mouth to comment, “if it isn’t Pergamol, it’ll be someone who knows him.”

  “And if it’s just a young journeyman who’s on to you, Piemur?” Ranly asked in a caustic tone.

  “Then I blubber!” Piemur dismissed this problem with all the disdain of the practiced dissembler. “I’m just a li’l feller, and I never have much and I…” Great tears welled up in his eyes, and his face was a mask of trusting and anxious innocence.

  “If I may disturb this tactical meeting,” said a different voice, and all the boys looked guiltily around to see Sebell, fire lizard cradled in his arm, “for a few words with Menolly…”

  She rose and followed the journeyman to the window. He pressed her rolled-up belt in her hand, as he thanked her for saving his dignity that morning.

  “Now, can I keep Kimi with me all the time?” he asked, lightly stroking the fire lizard’s folded wings. Even in her sleep she responded to his touch with a sigh.

  “The more she’s with you the stronger the bond will grow. If not on you, near you.”

  “Is she too young to be taught to sit on my shoulder like your Beauty does? I’ve got to have both hands for a while today.”

  “When she wakes, put her on your shoulder!” Menolly grinned. “And get used to having your neck throttled.”

  “How often does she eat?”

  “She’ll let you know.” Menolly laughed at Sebell’s consternation. “At least you don’t have to go catch it. Keep a few meatrolls in your belt pouch, although I’m sure Camo will always be ready to chop-chop for you any time.” Sebell chuckled, too. “One thing you’ll need to do daily is oil her skin.”

  “Does it have to stink like the stuff you use?” Sebell was dismayed.

  Menolly suppressed a giggle. “Master Oldive had that oil on hand. He said he makes it for the ladies of the Hold to use on their faces…”

  “Oh, no.”

  “But I’m sure he’d make you something more suitable for your…” She paused, not certain just how much she could tease Sebell.

  “My male dignity and rank?” Sebell grinned at her. “I’ll just have a word with him now,” and he strolled off with a lilt in his step.

  Menolly was very pleased that she’d suppressed the boys’ misapprehension over the fire lizards’ hatching. Sebell was so nice. And, it wasn’t as if Master Robinton had been upset at Impressing the bronze. He genuinely hadn’t cared a whit once Zair had Impressed and was his very own. And if Master Robinton was content, the rest of the Hall shouldn’t quarrel!

  Then she worried about the girl’s gossip: if the apprentices could take a simple switch like the Hatching and derive deep insult from it, what had the girls done with her reputation at the Hold?

  “Look, Menolly,” Piemur said, popping up beside her, “I gotta couple of things to do now, but after dinner, you want me to take you round the gather? Seeing as how you haven’t been to one…here, that is.”

  She readily agreed, curious to see just how his plans would affect his bargaining. He darted out of the Hall then, the others boys hard on his heels.

  A few journeymen still lounged at
the oval table, drinking klah, but most of the apprentices had dispersed. At the round table, Master Morshal now glowered darkly at her as he ate in solitary dignity. Menolly left the dining hall for the sanctuary of her room.

  Her fire lizards were curled up on the deep window ledge, their wings glinting brilliantly in the sun but their jeweled eyes closed behind their several lids. Beauty stirred, raised her head, parted the outer lid, squeaked softly and, when Menolly stroked her reassuringly, sighed and resumed her interrupted nap.

  From the vantage point of the second level, Menolly could see the square beyond the Harper Hall and the broad roadway. There was already considerable activity: burdenbeasts moving up the river road, their slow long stride one of indolence, rather than labor under heavy weight. Stalls were being assembled, forming a loose square about an open space. Tables and benches were already in place, facing the dance square. For dancing there would surely be, with a hundred or more harpers to do the playing. There’d be more dancing than she’d ever seen. And probably different dances from the ones popular in her Sea Hold. Oh, this would be a grand gather. Her first here, and her first since Thread started falling.

  Menolly caught sight of the girls emerging from the cot, brightly clad, with filmy scarves to protect their hair from the light wind. Oh, what she’d like to do to their hair! Pona’s hair, with its long neat plaits to be pulled out by the roots… Menolly stopped her thoughts, a little appalled at the intensity of her dislike. After all, the girls had failed in their aim—to prejudice Lord Groghe against her. Why was she bothering her head about them? She’d better things to occupy herself with. She was an apprentice harper, not a sometime student. She was Masterharper Robinton’s apprentice. Of course, since he was Master of the Harper Hall, everyone within was his apprentice.

  But she was an apprentice. And she intended to remain one. More than ever now that the girls had made an effort to jeopardize her tenure. She was going to stay, to spite them, and her parents. She was going to make her place here because this was where she belonged, as Master Robinton had said. Here was where she could perfect her music. Here she could make her own place for herself, not slip into a spot left by someone else, anyone else. Just as she’d made the cave her own, she would make her own place here in the Harper Hall. And no one, particularly a sneaky little twitterhead whose only claim to importance was being someone’s granddaughter, was going to dislodge her! Or a conniving coward like holder Dunca!