Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

“They’ve got some blue boot hide, Menolly,” he said to her.

Knowing the shrewdness Piemur had already displayed, Menolly followed his cue, and, glancing at the tanner for permission, touched the thick wherry leather. She could see the belt over his shoulder, and the tongue had been fashioned like a slim fire lizard.

“Now, don’t tell me you have money in your trous, short stuff,” the tanner journeyman said to Piemur and then peered uncertainly at Menolly’s cropped hair, trousers and apprentice badge.

“Me? No, but she’s buying. Her slippers are a disgrace!” The tanner did look down, and Menolly wanted to hide her scuffed footwear.

“This is Menolly,” Piemur went on, blithely unaware of the embarrassment he was causing her. “She’s got nine fire lizards, and she’s Master Robinton’s new apprentice.”

Wondering what on earth was possessing Piemur, she glanced anywhere but at the curious journeyman. She caught a glimpse of bright filmy materials, and richly decorated tunics. She steadied her gaze and saw Pona, her arm through a tall lad’s. He was wearing the yellow of Fort Hold and the shoulder knot of the Lord Holder’s family: Behind Pona came Briala, Amania and Audiva, each of the girls escorted by a well-dressed youth, fosterlings of Lord Groghe’s to judge by the different hold colors and rank knots.

“Here, Menolly, what do you think of this hide?” asked Piemur.

“And be sure she has the marks for it,” said Pona, pausing. Her voice was too smooth to be insulting, and yet her manner gave her words an offensive ring. “For I’m certain she’s only wasting your time and will finger your wares dirty. Whereas I want to commission you to make me some soft shoes for the summer…”

She held up a well-filled waist pouch.

“She’s got two marks,” Piemur said, turning to challenge Pona, his eyes flashing with anger.

“If she does, she stole it,” replied Pona, abandoning her indolent manner. “She’d nothing on her when she was still permitted to live in the cot.”

“Stolen?” Menolly felt herself tensing with fury at the totally unexpected accusation.

“Stolen, nothing!” Piemur replied hotly. “Master Robinton gave it to her this morning!”

“I claim insult from you, Pona,” cried Menolly, her hand on her belt knife.

“Benis, she’s threatening me!” Pona cried, clinging to her escort’s arm.

“Now, see here, apprentice girl. You can’t insult a lady of the Holders. You just hand over that mark piece,” said Benis, gesturing peremptorily to Menolly.

“Menolly, don’t take insult,” Audiva pushed her way past the others and grabbed her arm, restraining her. “It’s what she wants.”

“Pona’s given me too many insults, Audiva.”

“Menolly, you mustn’t—”

“Get the mark, Benis,” Pona said in a hiss. “Make her pay for threatening me!”

“Out of the way, Benis, whoever you are,” said Menolly. “Pona has to answer for the insults she gives, lady holder or not.” Menolly moved sideways, countering Pona’s attempt to evade her.

“Benis, she can be dangerous! I told you so!” Pona’s voice went up in a frightened, breathless squeak.

“You mustn’t, Menolly,” Audiva said, catching Menolly’s sleeve. “She wants you to…Piemur, help me!”

“Don’t you dare, Audiva!” Pona’s voice was now edged with angry malice. “Or I’ll settle you good as well.”

“Come, girl, the money. Hand it over and we’ll say no more about attempted insult…” said Benis in a patronizing tone.

“Pona’s insulted Menolly!” cried Piemur indignantly. “Just because you’re a—”

“Close your mouth!” Benis wasted no courtesies on Piemur. He took a stride to close the distance between himself and Menolly, his jaw set in a disagreeable grin as he disdainfully measured the three slight and defiant adversaries.

Pona gave a little squeal as Benis left her standing on her own. Then, another as Menolly, stepping away from Benis, made a lunge at her, trying to catch her long plaited hair.

“Hey, now just a minute, you,” said the tanner in a loud voice, sensing an imminent fight. He ducked under the counter of his stall, emerging into the walkway. “This is a gather, not a…”

Benis was quick on his feet, too, and he grabbed Menolly by the shoulder, spinning her toward him and securing her left arm, which he immediately twisted up behind her. With a cry of triumph, Pona darted forward, her hands busy with Menolly’s belt pouch. Piemur sprang to Menolly’s assistance, kicking Benis in the shins and grabbing Pona by the hair. The kick made Benis loosen his hold on Menolly’s arm. With a strength developed by Turns of hauling and handling heavy nets, she wrenched free of his grasp, dancing out of his way.

“I settle Pona!” She shouted to Piemur, beckoning him away.

“Benis, save me!” Pona screamed, rushing to the young Holder, but Piemur was still hanging onto her plait.

Benis let fly a kick at Piemur, tripping him up and added another one to the ribs as the boy measured his length in the dust.

“Leave him alone!” Forgetting her quarrel with Pona, Menolly launched herself at Benis. Putting shoulder and body behind her fist, she drove it right into Benis’s face. He staggered back, roaring in outrage and pain. One of the other fosterlings came charging forward, fist cocked to slam Menolly, but Audiva hung onto his arm.

“Viderian! Menolly’s a seaholder! Help us!”

Startled, her escort bounded in to help Audiva, just as Menolly ducked under Benis’s swing and tried to protect Piemur, who was struggling to get on his feet, blood streaming from his nose.

The next moment, the air was full of shrieking, clawing, fighting fire lizards. Piemur was screaming that Benis better not hit the Harper’s apprentice, or there’d be real trouble; Camo was howling that his pretty ones were afraid, and he waded in, thick arms flailing, hitting indiscriminately at friend and foe. Menolly got a clout across the ear as she tried to restrain the misguided Camo. “Shells! It’s the Hall’s dummy!” “Scatter!” “Get her!” “Knock him down!” “Got her, Menolly!”

The fire lizards were not hampered by Camo’s inability to distinguish friend and foe. They went for Pona, Briala, Amania, Benis and the other lads. Menolly, trying to catch her breath, realized that things were completely out of hand and desperately tried to call off the fire lizards. The girls were scattering, screaming, vainly trying to cover their heads, hair and eyes. Attacked from above, so did the fosterlings.

“Be still! Everyone!” The bellow was stentorian enough to penetrate shriek, howl and battle cries, and stern enough to command instant obedience. “You there, hang on to Camo! Douse him with that skin of water! You, tanner, help them with Camo. Sit on him, knock his feet out from under him if necessary. Menolly, control your fire lizards! This is a gather, not a brawl!”

The Harper strode into the midst of the melee, yanking a fosterling to his feet, spinning one of the girls to the arms of the folk who had converged on the scene, giving a bloody-nosed Piemur a hand up from the dust. The Masterharper’s actions were somewhat hampered by the distressed squeals of the little bronze fire lizard clinging tightly to his left arm, but there was little doubt of the Master’s fury. A silence broken by the gulping sobs of Pona and Briala held attacker, attacked and witnesses alike.

“Now,” said the Harper, his voice controlled although his eyes were flashing with anger, “just what has been going on here?”

“It was her!” Pona staggered a step toward Master Robinton, jabbing her finger at Menolly and struggling to control her sobs. Long scratches marred her cheeks, her head scarf was torn and her hair pulled from its plaits. “She’s always causing trouble—”