“Robinton, my queen’s doing it again… Ah, Menolly, just the person!” said Lord Groghe, his florid face lighting with a smile. “Merga’s been…humph! She’s stopped!” The Holder regarded his queen accusingly. “She’s been fussing! Right up until I reached the square…”
“That’s rather easily explained,” said Robinton in an off-handed manner.
“Is it? Both of ’em are at it now.”
Menolly had been aware of it first, because Beauty was chirping and squeaking at Merga through Lord Groghe’s conversation. She felt color rising in her cheeks. The discourse finished as quickly as it had begun. The two little queens flipped their wings closed on their backs and became totally disinterested in each other.
“What was that all about?” Lord Groghe demanded.
“I suspect they were catching up on the news,” said Robinton, with a chuckle, for that was what it had sounded like: a spate of urgent gossip. “Which reminds me, Lord Groghe; I heard that the wineman has a keg good, aged Benden wine.”
“He does?” Lord Groghe’s interest was diverted. “How did he get his hands on it?”
“I think we ought to check.”
“Humph! Yes! Now!”
“Wouldn’t do to waste good Benden wine on people unable to appreciate it, would it?” Robinton took Lord Groghe’s arm.
“Not at all.” But the Holder could not be completely diverted and turned to frown at Menolly. She steeled herself before she realized that his frown was not menacing. “Want a chance to talk to this girl. Didn’t seem the time or place to do so t’other day with the Hatching and all.”
“Of course, Lord Groghe, when Menolly's finished her bargaining…”
“Bargaining? Humph. Well, can't interrupt a bargain at a gather…humph!” Lord Groghe pushed out his lower lip as he looked from Menolly to the hovering tanner. “Don’t be all day about it, girl. Th’afternoon’s a good time to talk. Don’t have many chances to sit and talk.”
“Finish your dicker for that belt, Menolly,” the Harper told her, one arm gently propelling the Lord Holder away from the apprentices, “and then join us at the wineman’s stall. “And you,” the Masterharper’s forefinger pointed down at Piemur, “wash your face, keep your mouth closed, and stay out of trouble. At least until I’ve had some Benden wine to fortify me.” Lord Groghe humphed at the delay. “If it is Benden wine… This way, my Lord Holder.” The two men walked off together, in step, each steadying the fire lizards they carried.
A soft whistle at her elbow broke the trance holding Menolly as she stared after the two most influential men in the Hold. Piemur was dramatically dragging a hand across his brow to signalize a close escape.
“What do you bet, Menolly, that the subject of your cracking Benis in the face never comes up? And where’d you learn to punch like that?”
“When I saw that big bully kicking you, I was so flaming mad, I…I…”
“May I add my congratulations to Piemur’s,” asked a quiet voice. The two whirled to see Sebell, leaning against the side of the tanner’s stall. The eyes of his young queen were still whirling with the red of anger.
“Oh no,” said Menolly with a groan, “not you, too! What am I going to do with them?” She was utterly discouraged and dejected. It had been bad enough to have the fire lizards diving and swooping at plain noise; outrageous of them to have flown at Master Domick because he’d only spoken angrily to her. And now this very public fracas with the son of the Fort Lord Holder.
“It wasn’t your fault, Menolly,” said Piemur stoutly.
“It never is, but it is!”
“How long have you been here, Sebell?” Piemur asked, ignoring Menolly’s wail.
“On the heels of Lord Groghe,” said the journeyman, grinning. “But I caught a glimpse of young Benis making tracks out of the Hold proper, so it wasn’t hard to figure out where he got the scratches,” he went on, glancing at the perched fire lizards and absently stroking Kimi. “I have only one burning question: Who had the audacity to give Benis a colored eye?”
“A rare sight that was,” said the tanner who’d been keeping back but now stepped up. “The girl landed as sweet a punch in that young snot’s eye as ever I’ve seen, and I’ve been to many a gather that boasted a good brawl. Now, young harper girl, which belt had you in mind before the fracas started? I thought you was after boot leather.” He eyed Piemur sharply.
“Menolly wants the blue one with the fire lizard buckle.”
“It’d be much too expensive,” Menolly said hastily.
The tanner ducked back under his counter and picked the coveted belt from its hook. “This the one?” Menolly looked at it wistfully. Sebell took it from the tanner’s hands, examined it, gave it a tug to see if there were flaws or if the hide was too thin to wear well.
“Good workmanship in that belt, Journeyman,” the tanner said. “Proper for the girl to have it, with her owning the fire lizards.”
“How much were you asking for it?” asked Piemur, settling down to the business of bargaining. The tanner looked down at Piemur, stroked the belt, which Sebell had handed back to him, then glanced at Menolly.
Its yours, girl. And I’ll not take a mark from you. Worth it to me to see you plant one on that young rowdy’s face. Here, wear it in good health and long life.”
Piemur gaped, mouth wide, eyes popping.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” and Menolly extended the piece. The tanner promptly closed her fist over the marker and laid the belt on her wrist.
“Yes, you could and you will, apprentice harper! And that’s the end of the matter. I’ve struck the bargain.” He pumped her hand in the traditional courtesy.
“Ah, Tanner Ligand,” Sebell stepped up, leaning on the counter and beckoning the tanner to bend close to him. “While I didn’t see much of the affair…” Sebell began to rub his forefinger on one side of his nose, “it’s not exactly the sort of incident…”
“I take your meaning, Harper Sebell,” the tanner replied, nodding his head in acceptance of the adroit suggestion. His grin was rueful. “Not that the truth doesn’t make fine telling. Still, those fire lizards of yours are young, aren’t they, girl, excitable-like, not used to a gather, I expect… Oh, I’ll say what’s proper. Don’t you worry, harpers.” He patted Menolly’s hand, still outstretched with the marker. “Now cheer up, you’ve a face like a wet Turn. You’ve done more good than harm this gather day. And when you’ve the need for slippers to match the belt, just you send me the work. I won’t do you in the mark,” and he flashed a look at the skeptical Piemur. “Not that I don’t like a good tight bargain now and then…”
Piemur made a gargling sound in his throat and would have disputed the statement.
“Let’s clean you up, Piemur, as Master Robinton suggested,” said Sebell, warning the boy by the tilt of his head to be silent.
“I’ve a water-carrier at the back of the stall you’re welcome to use,” said Ligand, “And here’s a cleaner cloth than the one Menolly has!” He held out a white square to her and dismissed her profuse thanks with a smile and a wave to be off.
No sooner had Sebell and Menolly pulled Piemur to the back of the tanner’s stall than people began to step up to his counter.
“Hah!” said Piemur, looking over his shoulder. “He’s sly, that Ligand, giving you the belt. He’ll get three times as much business because you—”
“Close your mouth,” suggested Sebell, as he rubbed firmly at the bloody streaks on Piemur’s face. “Hold him, Menolly.”
“Hey…I…” but Piemur’s complaints were effectively muffled the damp cloth Sebell used in earnest.
“The less mentioned about this matter, Piemur, the better. And what I said to Ligand holds for you as well. Here and in the Hall. There’ll be enough rumor and wrangle without you adding your bits.”
“Do you think…mumble…mumble…I’d do anything…leave me alone…to hurt Menolly?”
Sebell suspended the cleaning operation and regarded the boy’s flash
ing eyes and the indignant set of his jaw. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. If only not to lose your chance at feeding the fire lizards…”
“Now, that’s not fair…”
“Sebell, what am I going to do about them?” Menolly asked, finally getting out the fears she’d been suppressing. “They were only protecting…” Piemur began, but Sebell silenced him with a hand over his mouth and a stern look.
“Today they apparently had cause, as Piemur said. The other evening they reacted to what was going on at Benden Weyr with F’nor and Canth, through Brekke’s fire lizard. Again, cause.” Sebell glanced back toward the tanner’s stall and noticed that some of the throng were surreptitiously regarding the three harpers. He motioned to Menolly and Piemur to walk out of sight, down behind the stalls, away from the curious.
“All of this,” and Sebell’s hand took in the towering face of the Hold cliff behind them, the Harper Hall across the paved square now lined with stalls, “is as new to you as to them. Enough to cause alarm and apprehension. They’re young and so are you, for all you’ve managed to accomplish. It’s again a question of discipline,” he said, but his smile was reassuring.
“I had no discipline this afternoon,” she said, repenting of her attack on Pona. She might well have jeopardized everything, crying insult from Pona.
“What d’you mean? You had a fantastic right cried Piemur, demonstrating with a grunt. “And you’d every right to cry insult on Pona, after all she's done to you…” Piemur hastily covered his mouth, his eyes widening as he realized he was being indiscreet.
“You cried insult on Pona?” asked Sebell, frowning in surprise. “I thought that Silvina and I told you to leave the matter.”
“She called me a thief. She tried to get Benis to take my two-marker from me.”
“The two-marker that Master Robinton himself given Menolly to buy that belt,” said Piemur, staunchly confirming the affair.
“If Pona has added insult to the injury she’s already tried to do you,” said Sebell slowly, “then, of course, you had to take action, Menolly.” He smiled slightly, his eyes still considering her face.
“In fact, it’s good to know that you will take action on your own behalf. But, the fire lizards’ part…”
“I didn’t call them, Sebell. But, when Benis tripped Piemur and then kicked him, I was scared. He just lay there…”
“Sure, smartest thing to do in a kicking fight,” Piemur replied, unperturbed.
“I cannot, however, condone ‘apprentices fighting with each other or with holders…especially holders of any rank…
“Benis is the biggest bully in the Hold, Sebell, and you know we’ve all had trouble with him.”
“Enough, youngster,” said Sebell more sharply Menolly had yet heard him speak, As quiet and self-effacing as the journeyman usually was, when he spoke in that authoritative tone of voice, it would take a stalwart person to disobey him. “That was not, however, what I meant by discipline, Menolly. I meant the ability to stick with a project, like that song you wrote yesterday… Was it really only yesterday?” he added. He smiled tenderly down at Kimi who was now asleep in a ball, snuggled between his body and elbow.
“You wrote a new song?” Piemur brightened. “You didn’t tell me. When’ll we get to hear it?”
“When will you to hear it?” Menolly heard her voice cracking on the last few words.
“‘What’s the matter, Menolly?” Sebell took her arm and gave her a little shake but she could only stare at them.
“It’s just that…it’s so different…” she stammered, unable to express the upheaval in her mind, the reversal of all that she had been expected to do. “D’you know…d’you know what used to happen to me when I wrote a song?” She tried to stop the words that were threatening to burst from her, but she couldn’t, not with Piemur’s face contorted with distress for her. And Sebell quietly encouraging her to speak with the sympathy so plain on his face. “I used to get beaten by my father for tuning, for twiddles as he called them. When I cut my hand…she held it up, looking at the red scar and then turning it to them, “…gutting packtails, they let it heal all wrong so I wouldn’t be able to play. They wouldn’t even allow me to sing in the Hall, for fear Harper Elgion would figure out that it was me who’d taught the children after Petiron died. They were ashamed of me! They were afraid I’d disgrace them. That’s why I ran away. I’d rather have died of Threadscore than live in Half-Circle another night…”
Tears of bitter and keenly felt injustice streamed down Menolly’s cheeks. She was aware of Piemur urgently begging her not to cry, that it was all right, she was safe now, and he loved every one of her songs, even the ones he hadn’t heard. And he’d tell her father a thing or if he ever met him. She was conscious that Sebell had put his right arm about her shoulders and was stroking her with awkward consolation. But it was Beauty’s anxious chirping in her ear that reminded her that she’d better get her emotions under control. Master Robinton and Lord Groghe wouldn’t be pleased by a second alarm incited by her lack of self-discipline. Particularly if it dragged them away from good Benden wine.
She dashed the tears from her eyes, and gulping down one last sob, looked defiantly into the startled faces of Sebell and Piemur.
“And I wanted you to teach me how to gut fish!” Sebell let out a long sigh. “I wondered why you were so hesitant. I’ll find someone else, now I understand why you hate it.”
“Oh, I want to teach you, Sebell. I want to do everything I can, if it’s gutting fish or teaching you to sail. I may be only a girl, but I’m going to be the best harper in the entire Hall…”
“Easy, Menolly,” said Sebell, laughing at her excess. I believe you.”
“I do, too!” said Piemur in a low, intense tone of reassurance. “I never knew you’d had that kind of hold life. Didn’t anyone ever listen to your songs?”
“Petiron did, but after he died…”
“I can see now why it’s been so hard for you, Menolly, to appreciate how important your songs are. After what you’ve been through,” and Sebell gently squeezed her left hand, “it would be hard to believe in yourself. Promise me, Menolly, to believe from now on? Your songs are very important to the Harper, to the Hall and to me. Master Domick’s music is brilliant, but yours appeals to everyone, holder and crafter, landsman and seaman. Your songs deal with subjects, like the fire lizard and Brekke’s call to F'nor and Canth, that will help change the sort of set attitudes that nearly killed you in your home hold.
“There’s something wrong in not appreciating one’s own special abilities, my girl. Find your own limitations, yes, but don’t limit yourself with false modesty.”
“That’s what I’ve always liked about Menolly: she’s got her head on right,” said Piemur with all the sententiousness of an ancient uncle.
Menolly looked at her friend and then began to laugh, as much at Piemur as at herself. Her outburst had at long last lifted a weight of intolerable depression. She straightened her shoulders and smiled at her friends, flinging out her arms to signal her release.
They all heard the happy warbling of the fire lizards. Beauty crooned with pleasure, rubbing her head against Menolly’s cheek, and Kimi gave a drowsy chirp that made the trio of harpers laugh.
“You are feeling better now, aren’t you, Menolly?” said Piemur. “So we’d better follow orders, because it doesn’t do to keep a Lord Holder waiting, much less Master Robinton. You’ve got your belt and I’m washed up, so we’d better get to the wineman’s stall.”
Menolly hesitated just a moment.
“Well?” asked Sebell, raising his eyebrows to encourage her to answer.
“What if he finds out I’m the one who hit Benis?”
“Not from Benis he won’t,” replied Piemur with a snort. “Besides, he’s got fifteen sons. And only one fire lizard. He wants to talk to you about her. Not even the Masterharper knows as much about fire lizards as you do. Come on!”
Chapter 10
Then my fee
t took off and my legs went, too,
And my body was obliged to follow.
Me with my hands and my mouth full of cress
And my throat too dry to swallow.
Menolly’s “Running Song”
To Menolly’s intense relief, all Lord Groghe did want to talk about was the fire lizards—his in particular and in general. The four of them, Robinton, Sebell, Lord Groghe and herself, sat at a table apart from the others, on one side of the square, each of them with a fire lizard. Menolly was torn between amusement and awe that she, the newest of apprentices, should be in such exalted company. Lord Groghe, for all his clipped speech and an amazing range of descriptive grimaces, was very easy to talk to, once she got over her initial nervousness about the fracas with Benis. She heard, in detail, about the Hatching of Merga, smiled when Lord Groghe guffawed reminiscently over his early anxieties about her.
“Could’ve used someone with your knowledge, girl.”
“You forget, sir, that my friends broke shell at about the same time Merga did. I wouldn’t have been much help to you then.”
“You can be now, though. How do I go about teaching Merga to fetch and carry for me? Heard about your pipes.”
“She’s just one. It took all nine of mine to bring me the pipes. They’re heavy,” Menolly considered the problem, seeing the disappointment on Lord Groghe’s features. “For just Merga alone, it would have to be something light, like a message, and you’d have to want it very badly. It was…well, my feet still hurt and it was such a long walk to the cot…”
His eyes, which were a disconcertingly light brown, fixed on hers. “Got to want it badly, huh? Humph. Don’t know as I want anything badly!” He gave a snort of laughter at her expression. “You want things badly when you’re young, girl. When you’re my age, you’ve learned how to plan.” He winked at her. “Take the point, though, since Merga’s a bundle of emotion, aren’t you, pet?” He stroked her head with a remarkably tender touch for a big, heavy-fingered man. “Emotion, that’s what they respond best to. Want’s sort of an emotion, isn’t it? If you want something bad enough…Humph.” He laughed again, this time with an oblique look at the Harper. “Emotion, then, Harper, not knowledge, is what these little beasties communicate. Emotion, like Brekke’s fear t’other night. Hatching’s emotional, too. And today…” he turned his light eyes back to Menolly.
Dragonsinger (dragon riders of pern) Page 21
