Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

Menolly caught sight of the girls emerging from the cot, brightly clad, with filmy scarves to protect their hair from the light wind. Oh, what she’d like to do to their hair! Pona’s hair, with its long neat plaits to be pulled out by the roots… Menolly stopped her thoughts, a little appalled at the intensity of her dislike. After all, the girls had failed in their aim—to prejudice Lord Groghe against her. Why was she bothering her head about them? She’d better things to occupy herself with. She was an apprentice harper, not a sometime student. She was Masterharper Robinton’s apprentice. Of course, since he was Master of the Harper Hall, everyone within was his apprentice.

But she was an apprentice. And she intended to remain one. More than ever now that the girls had made an effort to jeopardize her tenure. She was going to stay, to spite them, and her parents. She was going to make her place here because this was where she belonged, as Master Robinton had said. Here was where she could perfect her music. Here she could make her own place for herself, not slip into a spot left by someone else, anyone else. Just as she’d made the cave her own, she would make her own place here in the Harper Hall. And no one, particularly a sneaky little twitterhead whose only claim to importance was being someone’s granddaughter, was going to dislodge her! Or a conniving coward like holder Dunca!

Menolly wondered if Silvina had done anything about settling the rumors. Really, it just wasn’t important, Menolly told herself sternly. Particularly when Lord Groghe seemed to approve of her and had actually suggested that she help him train his queen, Merga.

Menolly laughed to herself. Just wait till those sissies heard about that! She, apprentice trainer of fire lizards, the only successful one on Pern. The teacher just one step ahead of the student. She giggled now, covering her mouth with her hands because she knew she was acting the wherry. But she’d been silly not to see before that she had several tunes to play in this Harper Hall: the tunes she made, her fire lizards—yes, and how to gut fish and trim sail whenever some harper needed to know. And why did Sebell need to know? She sighed gustily.

Too bad about those girls, though. She wished Audiva didn’t have to stay with them; she was above the general sort at the cot, and it would have been nice to have a girl friend. Not that she didn’t have a good friend in Piemur. When Piemur grew up and lost his brilliant voice, would he have to leave the Craft Hall? No, because they must surely be training him to play one of those “other” tunes. She didn’t quite see him stepping into Master Shonagar’s slippers…

She rose from the window ledge, reminded of the task that Master Robinton had set her as his apprentice. She tuned her gitar and began to rehearse the Brekke song, softly lest the Harper was busy in his rooms. Did he honestly think that song, a twiddle to while the time away until Sebell returned, was good enough to be perfected? Of their own volition, her fingers were plucking out the melody. She found herself caught up once more in the poignancy of Brekke’s anguished command! Don’t leave me alone! She played the song through, agreeing with the Harper that the fourth phrase needed polishing…ah, yes, if she dropped to the fifth, it would intensify the phrase and compliment the chord.

The tocsin rang for mealtime finally, and shouts and laughter broke her concentration. She was almost angry with the disruption. But with a renewed awareness of her surroundings, she realized how her hand ached. Her back and neck muscles were stiff from crouching over the gitar. She’d no idea she’d been practicing that long, but the song was set in her hand and her fingers now. She would have it finished in next to no time once she had more ink and those paper sheets.

She changed into the clothes she wanted to wear to the gather: not as rich as the girls would be wearing, but new. The close-woven trousers and the contrasting colored tunic with the sleeveless hide jumper displaying the apprentice badge meant more to her than fine cloth and filmy scarves. As she pulled on her slippers, she noticed that the constant scuffing on the stone floors was wearing soles and toes out. At least here, she needn’t fear to approach Silvina, and perhaps her feet were healed enough for proper boots, which would last longer.

There was an excitement in the air of the dining hall, the boys chattering more loudly than ever, a conversational buzz that dropped off only slightly when they were seated and the heavy platters of steaming meat slices were brought around. She sat with Ranly, Piemur and Timiny, who all urged her to eat heartily for they’d be lucky to get stale bread for supper.

“Silvina counts on our stuffing ourselves on our own marks at the gather,” Piemur told Menolly as he crammed meat into his mouth. He groaned as she heaped tubers on his plate. “I hate ’em.”

“You’re lucky to have ’em. They were treats where I come from.”

“Then you have mine.” He was generosity itself, but she made him eat his own.

No one spent time over the meal, and the diners were dismissed as soon as Brudegan had called out the list of names. “Well, I’m not on a turn today,” said Piemur with the air of a last minute reprieve.

“Turn?”

“Yeah, being Harper Hall and all, this Hold expects continuous music, but no one does more than one set, either singing or dance music. No great problem. You know, Menolly, you’d better tell your fire lizards to stay away,” Piemur said as they all made their way across the courtyard to the archway. The other boys nodded in agreement. “No telling what ragtag is going to appear at a gather.” He sounded darkly foreboding.

“Who’d hurt a fire lizard?” Menolly asked, surprised.

“Not hurt ’em. Just want ’em.”

Menolly looked up and saw her friends sunning on the window ledges. As if her notice was sufficient, Beauty and Rocky came streaking down to her, chirping inquiringly.

“Couldn’t I just take Beauty? No one sees her when she hides in my hair.”

Piemur shook his head slowly from side to side. The other boys mimicked him with earnest expressions of concern.

“We,” and he meant Harpers, “know about you and having nine. There’re some dimwits coming today who wouldn’t understand. And you’re wearing an apprentice badge: apprentices don’t own nothing or count for anything. They’re the lowest of the low and have to obey any journeyman, or master, or even a senior apprentice in any other craft. Shells, you know how Beauty acts when someone tries to rank you? You can’t have Beauty taking a swipe at an honorable journeyman or craftmaster, now can you? Or someone from the Hold?” He jerked his thumb toward the cliffside as he dropped his voice to keep the mere possibility of such discourtesy from exalted ears.

“That would get Master Robinton in trouble?” Considering the gossip work already done at the Hold, Menolly would as soon remain anonymous to them.

“It could!” Ranly and Timiny nodded in solemn accord.

“How do you manage to stay out of trouble, Piemur?” Menolly asked.

“ ’Cause I watch my step at a gather. One thing to cut up in the Hall when it's all Harpers, but…”

“Hey, Piemur.” They all turned and saw Brolly and another apprentice whom Menolly did not know running toward them. Brolly had a brightly painted tambourine and the other a handsomely polished tenor pipe.