Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

“Camo feed pretty ones? Camo feed?”

“Camo, get on with that cheese, there’s a good fellow,” said the woman Menolly remembered as Abuna.

“Camo must feed.” And the man had grabbed up a bowl, unceremoniously dumping its contents onto the table, and marched back to the storeroom.

“Camo! Come back and take care of this cheese!”

Menolly was sorry she’d come to the kitchen, but Abuna saw her.

“So you’re the problem with him. Oh, all right. He’ll be no use ’till he’s helped you feed those creatures! But keep them out of my kitchen!”

“Yes, Abuna. I’m sorry to bother you—”

“And so you should be in the middle of getting ready the supper but…”

“Camo fed pretty ones? Camo feed pretty ones?” He was back trailing gobbets of meat from an overfull bowl.

“Not in my kitchen, Camo. Outside with you. Outside now. And send him back in when they’ve et, will you, girl? One thing he can do is get the cheese ready!”

Menolly assured Abuna, and smiling at Camo, drew him out of the kitchen and up the steps. Beauty and the others immediately converged on them. The two Aunties and Uncle again perched on convenient portions of Camo. The man’s face was ecstatic, and he stood rigid, as if the slightest motion on his part would discourage his unusual guests, as the other fire lizards swooped to snatch food or clung to him long enough to eat directly from the bowl. Beauty, Rocky and Diver fed by preference from Menolly’s hands, but the bowl was soon empty.

“Camo get more? Camo get more?”

Menolly caught him, forcing him to look at her. “No, Camo. They’ve had enough. No more, Camo. Now you must work on the cheese.”

“Pretty ones leave?” Camo’s face became a mask of tragedy as he watched one after the other of the fire lizards circle lazily up to the gable points of the hall. “Pretty ones leave?”

“They’re going to sleep in the sun now, Camo. They’re not hungry anymore. You go back to the cheese now.” She gave him a gentle shove toward the kitchen. He went, bowl in both hands, staring back over his shoulder at the fire lizards so intently that this time he did bang right into the doorframe, corrected his direction without ever taking his eyes from the fire lizards, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Could I help feed them? Maybe? Once?” asked a wistful voice at her elbow. Startled, she whirled to see Piemur, fringe of hair damp about his face and a line of rearranged dirt on each side of his neck up to his ears.

Other lads and some of the journeymen were beginning to drift across the courtyard to the Hall. “Rascal,” Master Shonagar had called Piemur, and Menolly agreed, for a gleam lurked in Piemur’s eyes for all his plaintive voice. “Got a bet on with Ranly?

“Bet on?” Piemur gave her a searching look. Then he chuckled. “A small guy like me, Menolly, has got to stay a jump ahead of the big ones, like Ranly, or they put on me in the dorm at night.”

“So what did you put up with Ranly?”

“That you’d let me feed the fire lizards because they like me already. They do, don’t they?”

“You really are a rascal, aren’t you?” Piemur’s grin became a calculated grimace, and he shrugged admission of the charge.

“I’ve already got Camo falling aver himself to feed…”

“…‘Pretty Beauty,’ ” and Piemur mimicked the older man’s thick voice perfectly, “ ‘Feed pretty Beauty…’ Oh, don’t worry Menolly, Camo and me are friends. He won’t object to me helping, too.”

As if that had settled the matter, Piemur grabbed Menolly’s hand to pull her up the steps. “‘Hey, you don’t want to be late for the table again,” he said, leading her toward the dining hall. “Menolly!”

The two halted at the sound of the Harper’s voice and turned to see him descending the stairs from the upper level.

“How’s the day gone for you, Menolly? You’ve seen Domick, Morshal and Shonagar, have you? I must make you known to Sebell, too, very soon. Before the eggs hatch!” The Masterharper grinned, much as Piemur had just done, in anticipation of the event. “And this scamp has attached himself to you, has he? Well, maybe you can keep him out of trouble for awhile. Ah, Brudegan, a word with you before supper.”

“Quick…” Piemur had her by the arm and was hurrying her into the dining hall so that betwixt the Harper and Piemur, it looked to Menolly as if neither wished her to meet Journeyman Brudegan, whose practice her fire lizards had interrupted. “Sebell’s a real clever fellow,” Piemur added in such a casual fashion that Menolly berated herself for imagining things. “He’s to get the other egg.” Piemur whistled in his teeth. “You think you got troubles? Sebell’s only just walked the tables—”

“Walked the tables?” Menolly was startled.

“That’s what we say when you’ve been promoted a grade. It happens at supper. If you’re an apprentice, a journeyman stands by your seat and then walks you to your new place.” He was pointing from the long tables to the oval ones at the far end of the dining hall. “And a master escorts a journeyman from them to the round table. But it’ll be a long time before any of that happens to me,” he said, sighing. “If it ever does.”

“Don’t all apprentices become journeymen?”

“No,” replied the boy with a grimace. “Some get sent home as useless. Some get dull jobs around here, helping journeymen or masters, or sent to a smaller crafthall elsewhere.”

Maybe that was what the Masterharper had in mind for her, helping a journeyman or a master in some hold or crafthall. That made good sense, at least, but Menolly sighed, A sigh echoed by Piemur.

“How long have you been here?” Menolly asked. He looked a poorly grown nine or ten Turns, the age at which boys were customarily apprenticed, but he sounded as if he’d been in the Hall a long time.

“Two Turns I’ve been apprenticed,” he answered with a grin. “1 got taken in early on account of my voice.” He said that without the least bit of conceit. “Now, look, you go on over there where the girls sit. And don’t worry. You rank ’em.”

Without explaining that, he darted in between the first and second tables. Menolly tried not to hobble as she moved to the benches he had indicated, keeping her shoulders back, her head up, and walking slowly so as to disguise her pain-footed gait. She was aware of, and tried to ignore, the overt and covert glances of the boys already in position at the tables. She’d better let Piemur help her feed the fire lizards: keeping on his good side might be as important as staying in the Harper’s good graces.

The seats evidently reserved for the girls were marked by flaps of cushion on the hard wood. She took the end position, away from the fiercest heat of the hearth fire and stood politely waiting.

The girls entered the dining hall together. Together in more than one sense, for all regarded her steadily as they crossed to the table. Their unity was also maintained in their blank expressions. Menolly swallowed against the dryness in her throat, glanced around her, anywhere but at the fast approaching girls. She caught Piemur’s eyes, saw him grin impishly, and she had to smile back.

“You’re Menolly?” asked a quiet voice. The girls were ranged beyond their spokesman, again in a line that betokened unity.

“She couldn’t be anyone else, could she?” asked the dark girl just behind her.

“My name is Pona, my grandfather is Lord Holder of Boll.” She held out her right hand, palm up, and Menolly, who had never had an opportunity to make the gesture of formal greeting, covered it with hers.

“I am Menolly,” and, remembering Piemur’s comment about rank, she added, “my father is Yanus, Sea Holder of Half-Circle Sea Hold.”