Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

“Menolly?” the baker looked up in surprise. “The girl who wrote the song about the fire lizards?” A seventh pie was set beside the others.

Menolly fumbled in her pocket for her two-mark piece, “Have a pie for welcome, Menolly, and any time you have a spare egg that needs a warm home…” He let the sentence peter out and gave her a broad wink, and a broader smile so she’d know he was joking.

“Menolly!” Piemur grabbed her wrist, staring at the two-marker, his eyes round with surprise. “Where’d you get that?”

“Master Robinton gave it to me this morning. He said I’m to buy a belt and some bubbly pies. So please, Journeyman, I’d like to pay for them.”

“No way!” Piemur was flatly indignant, knocking her extended hand away. “I said it was my treat ’cause this is your first gather. And I know that’s the first mark piece you’ve ever had. Don’t you go wasting it on me.” He had half turned from the baker and was giving Menolly a one-eyed wink.

“Piemur, I don’t know what I’d’ve done without you these past few days,” she said, trying to move him out of her way so she could give Palim the marker. “I insist.”

“Not a chance, Menolly. I keep my word!’

“Then put your money where your mouth is, Piemur,” said Palim, “you’re blocking my counter,” and he indicated the hulking figure of Camo bearing down on them.

“Camo! Where’ve you been, Camo?” cried Piemur. “We looked all over for you before we started for the pies. Here’s yours, Camo.”

“Pies?” And Camo came forward, huge hands outstretched, his thick lips moist. He wore a fresh tunic, his face was shining clean, and his straggling crop of hair had been brushed flat. He had evidently homed in on the sweet aroma of the pies as easily as Piemur.

“Yes, bubbly pies, just like I promised you, Camo.” Piemur passed him two pies.

“Well, now, you wasn’t having me on, was you, about feeding your mates. Although how come Menolly and Camo…”

“Here’s your money,” said Piemur with some haughtiness, thrusting the thirty-second piece into Palim’s hand. “I trust your pies will live up to standard!” Menolly gaped, because there were now nine small bubbly pies on the counter front.

“Three for you, Camo.” Piemur handed him a third. “Now don’t burn your mouth. Three for you, Menolly,” and the pastry was warm enough to sting Menolly’s scarred palm, “and three for me. Thank you, Palim. It’s good of you to be generous. I’ll make sure everyone knows your pies…” and despite the heat of the crust, Piemur bit deeply into the pastry, the dark purple juices dribbling down his chin, “…are just as good as ever,” and he said that last on a sigh of contentment. Then more briskly, “C’mon you two.” He waved to the baker who stared after them before he uttered a bark of laughter. “See you later, Palim!”

“We got nine pies for the price of six!” she said when they’d got far enough away from the stall.

“Sure, and I’ll get nine again when I go back, because he’ll think I’m sharing with you and Camo again. That’s the best deal I’ve pulled on him yet.”

“You mean…”

“Pretty smart of you to flash that two-marker about. He wouldn’t have been able to change it this early in the afternoon. I’ll have to try that angle again, next gather. The large marker, I mean.”

“Piemur!” Menolly was appalled at his duplicity.

“Hmmmm?” His expression over the rim of the pie was unperturbed, “Good, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but you’re outrageous. The way you bargain…”

“What’s wrong with it? Everyone has fun. ’Specially this early in the season. Later on they get bored, and even being small and looking sorrowful doesn’t help me. Ah, Camo,” and Piemur looked disgusted. “Can’t you even eat clean?”

“Pies good!” Camo had stuffed all three pies into his mouth. His tunic was now stained with berry juices, his face was flecked with pastry and berry skins, and his fist had smeared a purple streak across one cheek.

“Menolly, will you look at him! He’ll disgrace the Hall. You can’t take your eyes off him a moment. C’mere!”

Piemur dragged Camo to the back of the line of stalls until he found a water skin dangling from a thong on a stall frame. He made Camo cup his hands and wash his face. Menolly found a scrap of cloth, not too dirty, and they managed to remove the worst of the pie stains from Camo’s face and front.

“Oh, blast the shell and sear the skin!” said Piemur in a round oath as he took up his third pie. “It’s cold. Camo, you’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.”

“Camo trouble?” The man’s face fell into deep sorrowful lines. “Camo cold?”

“No, the pie’s cold. Oh, never mind. I like you, Camo, my friend.” Piemur patted the man’s arm reassuringly, and the numbwit brightened.

“Cold or not,” Menolly said after she took a bite from her third, and cooled, pastry, “they’re every bit as good as you said, Piemur.”

“Say,” and Piemur eyed her through narrowed lids, “maybe you’d better bargain the next lot out of Palim.”

“I couldn’t eat another…”

“Oh, not now. Later.”

“It’ll be my treat then.”

“Sure thing!” He agreed with such amiability that Menolly decided that she’d taken the bait, hook and all. “First,” he went on, “let’s find the tanner’s stall.” He took her by the hand and Camo by the sleeve and hauled them down the row. “So you’re really Master Robinton’s apprentice? Wow! Wait’ll I tell the others! I told ’em you would be.”

“I don’t understand you.”

Piemur shot her a startled look. “He did say that you were his apprentice when he gave you that two-marker, didn’t he?”

“He’d told me I was before today, but I didn’t think that was unusual, Aren’t all the apprentices in the Hall his apprentices? He’s the Masterharper…”

“You sure don’t understand.” Piemur’s glance was one of undiluted pity for her denseness. “Every master has a few special apprentices…I’m Master Shonagar’s. That’s why I’m always running his errands. I don’t know how they did it in your Sea Hold, but here, you get taken in as a general apprentice. If you turn out to be specially good at something, like me at voice, and Brolly at making instruments, the Master of that craft takes you on as a special apprentice, and you report to him for extra training and duties. And if he’s pleased with you, he’ll give you the odd mark to spend at a gather. So…if Master Robinton gave you a two-marker, he’s pleased with you, and you’re his special apprentice. He doesn’t tap many.” Piemur shook his head slowly from side to side, with a soft emphatic whistle. “There’s been lots of heavy betting in the dorm as to who he’d pick since Sebell took his walk as journeyman…not that Sebell doesn’t still look to the Masterharper even if he is a rank up…but Ranly was so sure he’d be tapped.”

“Is that why Ranly doesn’t like me?”

Piemur dismissed that with a gesture. “Ranly never had a chance, and the only one who didn’t know that was Ranly! He thinks he’s so good. Everyone else knew that Master Robinton was hoping to find you…the one who’d written those songs! Look, there’s the tanner’s stall. And just spy that beautiful blue belt. It’s even got a fire lizard for a buckle tongue!” He’d pulled her up and lowered his voice for the last words. “And blue! You let me bargain, hear?”

Before she could agree, Piemur approached the stall, acting casually, glancing over the tabards, soft shoes and boots displayed, apparently oblivious to the belt he’d just indicated to Menolly.