Dragonriders of Pern 4 - Dragonsinger Page 3

  Menolly sipped the good hot klah, beginning to think that Silvina’s marked attentions and kindness were deliberate. Or was that foolish? Silvina was just a kind, thoughtful person: look how she treated dull-witted Camo. She was patience itself with his inadequacy. Nonetheless, Silvina was obviously the headwoman at the Harper Craft Hall and, like serene Manora at Benden Weyr, undoubtedly wielded a good deal of authority. If Silvina was friendly, others would follow her lead.

  Menolly began to relax in the warm sun. Her dreams last night had been troubled though she couldn’t remember details. now in the bright morning, only a sense of uneasiness and helplessness. Silvina had done much to dissipate the lingering misgivings. Nothing to fear from harpers. T’gellan had repeatedly told her.

  Across the courtyard, young voices broke into a lusty rendition of the Saga previously chanted. The fire lizards rose at the eruption of sound, settling again as Menolly laughingly reassured them.

  Then a pure sweet trill from Beauty soared in delicate descant above the apprentices’ male voices. Rocky and Diver joined her, wings half-spread as they expanded their lungs for breath. Mimic and Brownie dropped from the window ledge to add their voices. Lazy would not put himself to any such effort, and the two Aunties and blue Uncle were at best indifferent singers, but they listened, heads cocked, jeweled eyes whirling. The five singers rose to their haunches now, their throats thickening, their cheeks swelling as their jaws relaxed to emit the sweet pure notes. Their eyes were half-lidded as they concentrated, as good singers will, to produce the fluting descant.

  They were happy then, Menolly thought with relief, and picked up the melody of the Saga, not that the fire lizards needed her voice with the apprentices supplying the tune and harmony.

  They were on the last two measures of the chorus when Menolly suddenly realized that it was only herself and the fire lizards singing, that the male voices had ceased. Startled, she looked up and saw that almost every window about the courtyard was filled with faces. The exceptions were the windows of the hall from which the voices had come.

  “Who has been singing?” demanded an irate tenor, and a man’s head appeared at one of the empty windows.

  “Why, that’s a grand way to wake up, Brudegan,” said the clear baritone of the Masterharper from some point above Menolly and to her left. Craning her head up, she saw him leaning out of his window on the upper story.

  “Good morning to you, Masterharper,” said Brudegan courteously, but his tone indicated that he was disgruntled by the intervention.

  Menolly tried to sit small, heartily wishing herself between: she was certainly frozen motionless.

  “I didn’t know your fire lizards could sing,” Silvina said, appearing on Menolly’s right and absently retrieving mug and bowl from the steps. “A nice compliment to your chorus, eh, Brudegan,” she added, raising her voice to carry across the courtyard. “You’d be wanting your klah now, Robinton?”

  “It would be welcome, Silvina.” He stretched, leaned further out to peer down at Menolly. “Enter a fair of fire lizards singing! A lovely way to be wakened, Menolly; and a good morning to you, too.” Before Menolly could respond, a look of dismay crossed his face. “My fire lizard, My egg!” and he disappeared from sight.

  Silvina chuckled and she regarded Menolly. “He’ll be of no use to anyone until it’s hatched and he’s got one of his own.”

  At that point, Brudegan’s singers renewed their song. Beauty chirruped questioningly at Menolly.

  “No, no, Beauty. No more singing, not now.”

  “They need the practice,” and Silvina gestured at the hall. “Now I’ve the Harper’s meal to see to and you to settle…” She paused, glancing about at the fire lizards. “But what to do with them?”

  “They usually sleep when they’re as full as they are right now.”

  “All to the good…but where? Mercy!”

  Menolly tried not to laugh at Silvina’s astonishment, because all but Beauty, who took her usual perch on Menolly’s shoulder, had disappeared. Menolly pointed to the roof opposite and the small bodies landing there, apparently out of thin air.

  “They do go between, don’t they?” Silvina said more than asked. “Harper says they’re much like dragons?” That was a question.

  “I don’t know that much about dragons, but fire lizards can go between. They followed me last night from Benden Weyr.”

  “And they’re obedient. I could wish the apprentices were half so willing.” Then Silvina motioned Menolly to follow her back into the kitchen. “Camo, turn the spit. Camo, now turn the spit. I suppose the rest of you have been watching the yard instead of the food,” she said, scowling indiscriminately about the kitchen. The cooks and drudges alike pretended industry, clanging, banging, splashing or bending with assiduous care over quieter tasks of paring and scraping. “Better yet, Menolly, you take the Harper his klah, and check that egg of his. He’ll be roaring for you soon enough, so we might as well anticipate. Then I shall want Master Oldive to see your feet, not that Manora hasn’t all but healed them anyway. And…” Silvina caught Menolly’s left hand and scowled at the red mark. “Wherever did you get such a fierce wound? And who bungled the healing of it? There now, can you grip with that hand?” Silvina had been assembling on a small tray the various items of the Harper’s breakfast, the last of which was a heavy pot of klah. Now she gave the tray to Menolly. “There now. His room is the second door on the right from yours, Menolly. Turn the spit, Camo, don’t just hold on to it. Menolly’s fire lizards are fed and sleeping. You’ll have another gawk at them later. Turn the spit now!”

  As briskly as Menolly could move on her stiff feet, she made her way out of the kitchen and up the broad steps to the second level. Beauty hummed softly in her ear, a gently disobedient descant to the Saga that Brudegan’s pupils were singing lustily.

  Master Robinton hadn’t sounded annoyed about the fire lizards’ singing, Menolly thought. She’d apologize to Journeyman Brudegan when she got the chance. She simply hadn’t realized she’d cause a distraction. She’d been so pleased that her friends were relaxed enough to want to sing.

  Second door on her right. Menolly tapped. Then rapped, then knocked, hard enough to make her knuckles sting.

  “Come. Come. And, Silvina…oh, Menolly, you’re just the person I wanted to see,” the Harper said, throwing open the door. “And good morning to you, proud Beauty,” he added, grinning at the little queen who chirped an acknowledgement as he took the tray from Menolly. “Silvina’s forever anticipating me… Would you please check my egg? It’s in the other room, by the hearth. It feels harder to me…” He sounded anxious as he pointed to the farther door.

  Menolly obediently entered the room, and he walked with her, setting the tray down as he passed the sandtable by the window and pouring himself a mug of klah before he joined her by the hearth in the next room where a small fire burned gently. The earthen pot had been set at the edge of the hearth apron.

  Menolly opened it, carefully brushing aside the warm sand that covered the precious fire lizard egg. It was harder, but not much more so than when she had given it to the Masterharper at Benden Weyr the previous evening.

  “It’s fine, Master Robinton, just fine. And the pot is warm enough, too,” she said, running her hands down the sides. She replaced the sand and the top and rose. “When we brought the clutch back to Benden Weyr two days ago, Weyrwoman Lessa said it would take a sevenday for them to hatch, so we’ve five days more.”

  The Harper sighed with exaggerated relief. “You slept well, Menolly? You’re rested? Awake long?”

  “Long enough.”

  The Harper burst out laughing as she realized how much chagrin she’d put into her tone.

  “Long enough to set a few people by the ears, huh? My dear child, did you not notice the difference in the chorus the second time? Your fire lizards have challenged them. Brudegan was only gruff with surprise. Tell me, can your fire lizards improvise descants to any tune?”

  �
�I don’t really know, Master Robinton.”

  “Still not sure, are you, young Menolly?” He didn’t mean the fire lizards’ abilities. There was such kindness in his voice and eyes that Menolly felt unexpected tears behind her eyes.

  “I don’t want to be a nuisance…”

  “Allow me to differ both to statement and content, Menolly…” Then he sighed. “You’re overyoung to appreciate the value of nuisance, although the improvement in that chorus is a point in my argument. However, it’s much too early in the morning for me to expound philosophy.” He guided her back into the other room, quite the most cluttered place she had ever seen and in direct contrast to the neatness of his bedchamber. While musical instruments were carefully stored on hook and shelf in cases, piles of record skins, drawings, slates—wax and stone—littered every surface and were heaped in corners and against the walls of the room. On one wall was a finely drawn map of the Pern continent, with smaller detailed drawings of all the major Holds and Crafthalls pinned here and there on the borders. The long sandtable by the window was covered with musical notations, some of them carefully shielded by glass to prevent erasure. The Harper had set the tray on the center island, which separated the sandtable into two halves. Now he pulled a square of wood to protect the sand and positioned the tray so he could eat comfortably. He smeared a thick slice of bread with soft cheese and picked up his spoon to eat his cereal, motioning with the spoon for Menolly to seat herself on a stool.

  “We’re in a period of change and readjustment, Menolly,” he said, managing to speak and eat simultaneously without choking on food or garbling his words. “And you are likely to be a vital part of that change. Yesterday I exerted an unfair pressure on you to join the Harper Hall… Oh yes, I did, but you belong here!” His forefinger stabbed downward at the floor and then waggled out at the courtyard. “First,” and he paused to swallow klah, washing down bread and cereal, “we must discover just how well Petiron taught you the fundamentals of our craft and what you need to further your gifts. And…” he pointed now to her left hand, “…what can be done to correct that scar damage. I’d still like to hear you play the songs you wrote.” His eyes fell to her hands in her lap so that she was aware of her absentminded kneading of her left palm. “Master Oldive will set that right if anyone can.”

  “Silvina said I was to see him today.”

  “We’ll have you playing again, more than just those pipes. We need you, when you can craft songs like those Petiron sent me and the ones Elgion found stuck away at the back of the harper’s shelves in Half-Circle. Yes, and that’s a matter I’d better explain…” he went on, smoothing the hair at the back of his neck and, to Menolly’s amazement, appearing to be embarrassed.

  “Explain?”

  “Yes, well, you obviously hadn’t finished writing that song about the fire lizard queen…”

  “No, I hadn’t actually…” Menolly felt that she was not hearing his words properly. For one thing, why did the Masterharper have to explain anything to her? And she’d only jotted down the little tune about the fire lizard queen, yet last night… Now she remembered that he’d mentioned the song, as if all the harpers knew about it. “You mean, Harper Elgion sent it to you?”

  “How else would I have got it? We couldn’t find you!” Robinton sounded annoyed. “When I think of you, living in a cave, with a damaged hand, and you hadn’t been allowed to finish that charming song… So I did.”

  He got up, rummaged among the piles of waxed slates under the window, extracted one and handed it to her. She looked at the notations obediently but, although they were familiar, she couldn’t make her mind read the melody.

  “I had to have something about fire lizards, since I believe they’re going to be far more important than anyone has yet realized. And this tune…” his finger tapped the hard wax surface approvingly, “…was so exactly what I needed, that I just brushed up the harmonics, and compressed the lyric story. Probably what you’d’ve done yourself if you’d had the chance to work on it again. I couldn’t really improve on the melodic line without destroying the integral charm of… What’s the matter, Menolly?”

  Menolly realized that she’d been staring at him, unable to believe that he was praising a silly tune she’d only scrawled down. Guiltily, she examined the slate again.

  “I never did get a chance to play it… I wasn’t supposed to play my own tunes in the Sea Hold. I promised my father I wouldn’t…so you see—”

  “Menolly!”

  Startled, she looked up at his stem tone.

  “I want you to promise me—and you’re now my apprentice—I want you to promise me to write down any tune that comes into your mind: I want you to play it as often as necessary to get it right…do you understand me? That’s why I brought you here.” He tapped the slate again. “That was a good song even before I tampered with it. I need good songs badly.

  “What I said about change affects the Harper Hall more than any other craft, Menolly, because we are the ones who effect change. Just as we teach with our songs, so we also help people accept new ideas and necessary changes. And for that we need a special kind of harpering.

  “Now, I still have to consider Craft principles and standards. Especially in your unusual situation, the conventional procedure must be observed. Once we’ve dispensed with the formalities, we can proceed with your training as fast as you want to go. But this is where you belong, Menolly, you and your singing fire lizards. Bless me but that was lovely to hear this morning. Ah, Silvina, good morning and to you, as well, Master Oldive…”

  Menolly knew it was impolite to stare at anyone and looked away as soon as she realized that she was staring, but Master Oldive required a long look. He was shorter than herself but only because his head was awry on his neck. His great lean face tilted up from its permanent slant, and she had the impression of enormous dark eyes under very shaggy brows taking in every detail of herself.

  “I’m sorry, Master Robinton, have we interrupted you?” Silvina paused on the threshold indecisively.

  “Yes, and no. I don’t think I’ve convinced Menolly but that will take time. Meanwhile, we’ll get on with the basics. We’ll speak again, Menolly,” said the Harper. “Go along with Master Oldive now. Let him do his best, or his worst, for you. She must play again, Oldive.” The Harper’s smile as he gestured to Menolly to follow the man implied complete faith in his ability. “And Silvina, Menolly says the egg’s safe enough for four or five days, but you’ll please arrange to have someone—”

  “Why not Sebell? He’s got his egg to check, too, doesn’t he? And with Menolly here in the Hall…” Silvina was saying as Master Oldive, ushering Menolly out of the room before him, closed the door.

  “I’m to see to your feet as well, Silvina tells me,” was the man’s comment as he indicated Menolly should lead the way to her room. The Master’s voice was unexpectedly deep. And while he might be shorter than herself in the torso, he’d as long a leg and arm and matched her stride down the corridor. As he pushed wider her door, she realized that his stature was due to a terrible malformation of his spine.

  “By my life!” Oldive exclaimed, stopping abruptly as Menolly preceded him into the room. “I thought for a moment you were as blighted as myself. It is a fire lizard on your shoulder, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Now, there’s one on me, so it is. Is the creature friendly?” He peered up at Beauty, who chirruped back, since Oldive was patently addressing her. “As long as I’m friendly to your Menolly, I take it? You’ll have to write another verse to your fire lizard song, proving the rewards of kindness,” he added, gesturing her to sit on the window side of the bed as he pulled up the stool.

  “Oh, that’s not my song…” she said, removing her slippers.

  Master Oldive frowned. “Not your song? But Master Robinton assigns it to you—constantly.”

  “He rewrote it…he told me so.”

  “That’s not unusual,” and Master Oldive dismissed her protest. “Proper mess you made of your fe
et,” he said, his voice taking on a distant, thoughtful quality as he looked at first one, then the other foot. “Running, I believe…”