Anne McCaffrey: Dragonsinger

She stretched and shook out her hair, then hobbled carefully to the jar and basin. After washing with soapsand, she dressed and brushed her hair, feeling able to face new experiences.

Beauty gave an impatient chirp. She was awake. And very hungry. Rocky and Diver echoed the complaint.

Menolly would have to find them food and right soon. Having nine fire lizards would prejudice enough people against her, without having unmanageably hungry ones who would irritate even the most tolerant of people.

Resolutely, Menolly opened the door to a silent hallway. The aromatic odors of klah, baking breads and meats filled the air. Menolly decided she need only follow the smells to their source to satisfy her friends.

On either side of the wide corridor were doors; those on the outside of the Hall were open to let sun and air flood the inside. She descended from the uppermost level into the large entranceway. Directly in front of the staircase were dragon-high metal doors with the most curious closings she’d ever seen: on the back of the doors were wheels, which evidently turned the heavy bars into floor and ceiling, At Half-Circle Sea Hold there had been the heavy horizontal bars, but this arrangement would be easier to lock and looked much more secure.

To the left was a double-doored entrance into a Great Hall, probably the room where the Harper had been talking last night. To the right, she looked into the dining hall, almost as large as the Great Hall, with three long tables parallel to the windows. Also to her right, by the stairwell, was an open doorway, leading to shallow steps and the kitchen, judging by the appetizing odors and familiar sounds.

The fire lizards creeled in hunger, but Menolly couldn’t have the whole fair invading the kitchen and upsetting the drudges. She ordered them to perch on the cornices in the shadows above the door. She’d bring them food, she promised them, but they had to behave. Beauty scolded until the others settled meekly into place, only their glowing, jewel-faceted eyes giving evidence of their positions.

Then Beauty assumed her favorite perch on Menolly’s shoulder, her head half-buried in Menolly’s thick hair, and her tail wrapped securely about Menolly’s throat like a golden necklace.

As Menolly reached the kitchen, the scene with the drudges and cooks scurrying about preparing the midday meal fleetingly revived memories of happier days at Half-Circle. But here, it was Silvina who noticed her and smiled, as Menolly’s mother would not have done.

“You’re awake? Are you rested?” Silvina gestured imperatively at a slack-featured, clumsy-looking man by the hearth. “Klah, Camo, pour a mug of klah, for Menolly. You must be famished, child. How are your feet?”

“Fine, thank you. And I don’t want to bother anyone…”

“Bother? What bother? Camo, pour the klah into the mug.”

“It’s not for myself I’m here…”

“Well, you need to eat, and you must be famished.”

“Please, it’s my fire lizards, Have you any scraps…”

Silvina’s hands flew to her mouth. She glanced about her head as if expecting a swarm of fire lizards.

“No, I’ve told them to wait,” Menolly said quickly. “They won’t come in here.”

“Now, you are a thoughtful child,” Silvina said in so firm a tone that Menolly wondered why and then realized that she was the object of a good deal of furtive curiosity. “Camo, here. Give me that!” Silvina took the cup from the man, who was walking with exaggerated care not to slop an overfull container. “And get the big blue bowl from the cold room. The big blue bowl, Camo, from the cold room. Bring it to me.” Silvina deftly handed the cup to Menolly without spilling a drop. “The cold room, Camo, and the blue bowl.” She turned the man by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shove in the proper direction. “Abuna, you’re nearest the hearth. Do dish up some of the cereal. Plenty of sweetening on it, too, the child’s nothing but skin and bones!” Silvina smiled at Menolly. “No use feeding the fowl and starving the servant, as it were. I saved meat for your friends when we trussed up the roast,” and Silvina nodded toward the biggest hearth where great joints of meat were turning on heavy spits, “since meat’s what the Harper said fire lizards need. Now, where would the best place…” Silvina glanced about her undecidedly, but Menolly had noticed a low door that led up a short flight of steps to the corner of the courtyard.

“Would I disturb anyone out there?”

“Not at all, you are a considerate child. That’s right, Camo. And thank you.” Silvina patted the halfwit’s arm kindly, while he beamed with the pleasure of a job properly done and rewarded. Silvina tipped the edge of the bowl toward Menolly, “Is this enough? There’s more…”

“Oh, that’s a gracious plenty, Silvina!”

“Camo, this is Menolly. Follow Menolly with the bowl. She can’t carry it and her own breakfast. This is Menolly, Camo, follow Menolly. Go right out, dear. Camo’s good at carrying things…at least what doesn’t spill!”

Silvina turned from her then, speaking sharply to two women chopping roots, bidding them to slice, not stare. Very much aware of scrutiny, Menolly moved awkwardly to the steps, cup in one hand, bowl of warm cereal in the other, and Camo shuffling behind her. Beauty, who had remained discreetly covered by Menolly’s hair, now craned her neck about, smelling the raw meat in the bowl Camo carried.

“Pretty, pretty,” the man mumbled as he noticed the fire lizard. “Pretty small dragon?” He tapped Menolly on the shoulder. “Pretty small dragon?” He was so anxious for her answer that he almost tripped on the shallow steps.

“Yes, she is like a small dragon, and she is pretty,” Menolly agreed, smiling. “Her name is Beauty.”

“Her name is Beauty.” Camo was entranced. “Her name is Beauty. She pretty small dragon.” He beamed as he loudly declared this information.

Menolly shushed him, not wanting either to alarm or distract Silvina’s helpers. She put down her mug and bowl and reached for the meat.

“Pretty small dragon Beauty,” Camo said, ignoring her as she pulled the bowl so firmly clutched in his huge, thick-fingered hands.

“You go to Silvina, Camo. You go to Silvina.”

Camo stood where he was, bobbing his head up and down, his mouth set in a wet, wide grimace of childish delight, too entranced by Beauty to be distracted.

Beauty now creeled imperiously, and Menolly grabbed a handful of meat to quiet her. But her cries had alerted the others. They came, some of them from the open windows of the dining hall above Menolly’s head, others, judging by the shrieks of dismay, through the kitchen and out the door by the steps.

“Pretty, pretty. All pretty!” Camo exclaimed, turning his head from side to side, trying to see all the fitting fire lizards at once.

He didn’t move a muscle as Auntie One and Two perched on his forearms, snatching gobblets of meat directly from the bowl. Uncle secured his talons to the fabric of Camo’s tunic, his right wingtip jabbing the man in the neck and chin as the littlest fire lizard fought for his fair share of the meat. Brownie, Mimic, and Lazybones ranged from Camo’s shoulders to Menolly’s as she tried to distribute the meat evenly.

Alternating between embarrassment at her friends’ bad manners and gratitude for Camo’s stolid assistance, Menolly was acutely aware that all activity had ceased in the kitchen to watch the spectacle. Momentarily, she expected to hear an irate Silvina order Camo back to his ordinary duties, but all she heard was the buzz of whispered gossiping.

“How many does she have?” she heard one clear whisper out of the general mumble.

“Nine,” Silvina answered, imperturbable. “When the two the Harper was given have hatched, the Harper Hall will have eleven.” Silvina sounded smugly superior. The buzz increased in volume. “That bread’s risen enough now Abuna. You and Kayla shape it.”