Anne McCaffrey: Dragonsong

“Yanus will do what’s proper,” The finality in Mavi’s tone firmly ended that discussion.

Menolly heard footsteps crossing the old Harper’s room, and she ducked down the hall, around the nearest bend and down into the kitchen level.

It distressed Menolly to think of anyone, even another Harper, in Petiron’s room. Obviously it distressed others that there was no Harper. Usually such a problem didn’t arise. Every Hold could boast one or two musically able men and every Hold took pride in encouraging these talents. Harpers liked to have other instrumentalists to share the chore of entertaining their Holds during the long winter evenings. And it was also the better part of wisdom to have a substitute available for just such an emergency as Half-Circle was experiencing. But fishing was hard on the hands: the heavy work, the cold water, the salt and fish oils thickened joints and calloused fingers in the wrong places. Fishermen were often away many days on longer hauls. After a Turn or two at net, trap and sail line, young men lost their skill at playing anything but simple tunes. Harper Teaching Ballads required deft quick fingers and constant practice.

By putting to sea to fish so quickly after the old Harper’s burial, Yanus thought to have time enough to find an alternative solution. There was no doubt that the girl could sing well, play well, and she’d not disgraced Hold or Harper that morning. It was going to take time to send for and receive a new Harper, and the youngsters must not lose all progress in the learning of the basic Teaching Ballads.

But Yanus had many strong reservations about putting such a heavy responsibility on the shoulders of a girl not fifteen Turns old. Not the least of these was Menolly’s distressing tendency toward tune-making. Well enough and amusing now and again in the long winter evenings to hear her sing them, but old Petiron had been alive to keep her to rights. Yanus wasn’t sure that he could trust her not to include her trivial little whistles in the lessons. How were the young to know that hers weren’t proper songs for their learning? The trouble was, her melodies were the sort that stayed in the mind so a man found himself humming or whistling them without meaning to.

By the time the boats had profitably trawled the Deep and tacked for home, Yanus had found no compromise. It was no consolation to know that he wouldn’t have any argument from the other holders. Had Menolly sung poorly that morning…but she hadn’t. As Sea Holder for Half-Circle, he was obliged to bring up the young of the Hold in the traditions of Pern: knowing their duty and how to do it. He counted himself very lucky to be beholden to Benden Weyr, to have F’lar, bronze Mnementh’s rider, as Weyrleader and Lessa as Ramoth’s Weyrwoman. So Yanus felt deeply obliged to keep tradition at Half-Circle: and the young would learn what they needed to know, even if a girl had the teaching.

That evening, after the day’s catch had been salted down, he instructed Mavi to bring her daughter to the small room off the Great Hall where he conducted Hold business and where the Records were stored. Mavi had put the Harper’s instruments on the mantel for safekeeping.

Appropriately Yanus handed Menolly Petiron’s gitar. She took the instrument in a properly reverential manner, which reassured Yanus that she appreciated the responsibility.

“Tomorrow you’ll be excused from your regular morning duties to take the youngsters for their teaching,” he told her. “But I’ll have no more of those finger-twiddlings of yours.”

“I sang my songs when Petiron was alive and you never minded them…”

Yanus frowned down at his tall daughter.

“Petiron was alive. He’s dead now, and you’ll obey me in this…”

Over her father’s shoulders, Menolly saw her mother’s frowning face, saw her warning headshake and held back a quick reply.

“You bear in mind what I’ve said!” And Yanus fingered the wide belt he wore. “No tuning!”

“Yes, Yanus.”

“Start tomorrow then. Unless, of course, there’s Threadfall, and then everyone will bait longlines.”

Yanus dismissed the two women and began to compose a message to the Masterharper to go when he could next spare the sloop’s crew. They’d sail it to Igen Hold. About time Half-Circle had some news of the rest of Pern anyway. And he could ship some of the smoked fish. The journey needn’t be a wasted trip.

Once in the hallway, Mavi gripped her daughter’s arm hard. “Don’t disobey him, girl.”

“There’s no harm in my tunes, mother. You know what Petiron said…”

“I’ll remind you that the old man’s dead. And that changes everything that went on during his life. Behave yourself while you stand in a man’s place. No tuning! To bed now, and mind you turn the glowbaskets. No sense wasting light no eye needs.”

It was easy enough, at first, for Menolly to forget her tuning during the Teachings. She wanted to do Petiron proud so that when the new Harper came, he’d find no fault in the children’s recitations. The children were attentive: the Teaching was always better then gutting and preserving fish, or net mending, and longline baiting. Then, too, winter storms, the severest in many Turns, kept the fishing fleet docked and the Teaching eased the boredom.

When the fleet was in, Yanus would stop by the Little Hall where Menolly held her class. He’d scowl at her from the back of the Hall. Fortunately, he’d only stay a little while because he made the children nervous. Once she actually saw his foot tapping the beat; he scowled when he realized what he was doing and then he left.

He had sent the message sloop to Igen Hold three days after the burial. The crew brought back news of no interest to Menolly but the adults went around looking black: something about the Oldtimers and Menolly wasn’t to worry her head, so she didn’t. The crew also brought back a message slate addressed to Petiron and signed with the imprint of Masterharper Robinton.

“Poor old Petiron,” one of the aunties told Menolly, sighing and dabbing affectedly at her eyes. “He always looked forward to slates from Masterharper, Ah well, it’ll keep ’til the new Harper comes. He’ll know what to do with it.”

It took Menolly a while to find out where the slate was: propped up conspicuously on the mantel in her father’s Records room. Menolly was positive that the message had something to do with her, with the songs that Petiron had said he’d sent to the Masterharper. The notion so obsessed her that she got bold enough to ask her mother why Yanus didn’t open the message.

“Open a sealed message from the Masterharper to a man dead?” Mavi stared at her daughter in shocked incredulity. “Your father would do no such thing. Harpers’ letters are for Harpers.”

“I only remembered that Petiron had sent a slate to the Masterharper. I thought it might be about a replacement coming. I mean…”

“I’ll be glad when the new Harper does come, m’girl. You’ve been getting above yourself with this Teaching.”

The next few days were full of apprehension for Menolly: she conceived the idea that her mother would make Yanus replace her as Teacher. That was, of course, impossible for the same reasons that had forced Yanus to make her the teacher in the first place. But it was a fact that Mavi found all the smelliest, most boring or tedious jobs for Menolly once her teaching duty was done. And Yanus took it into his head to appear in the Little Hall more frequently.