Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

“Sir, we were minding our own business,” said Piemur indignantly, “which was buying a belt that you said Menolly ought to have, when Pona here—”

“That little sneak tripped me as we were passing, and then her hideous beasts attacked all of us. They’ve done it before. I have witnesses!”

She stopped mid-gulp, arrested by the look on the Harper’s face.

“Lady Pona,” he said in an all too gentle voice, “you are overwrought. Briala, take the child back to Dunca. The excitement of a gather appears to be too much for such a fragile spirit. Amania, I think you ought to help Briala.” Though his voice expressed concern for their well-being, it was obvious that the Harper was disciplining the three girls who bore evidence of the unfriendly attentions of the fire lizards.

Now he turned to the Hold fosterlings. Benis, his left eye already bruising, his lip cut, his hair tousled and forehead bearing fire lizard marks, was straightening his tunic and brushing dust from his sleeve and trousers. The other youths who had been escorting the now banished girls maintained the rigid stance they had adopted as soon as they recognized the Masterharper.

“Lord Benis?”

“Masterharper?” Benis continued to adjust his garments, awarding the briefest of glances to the Harper.

“I’m glad you know my rank,” said Robinton, smiling slightly.

Menolly had been soothing Beauty and Rocky who had refused to leave when she sent the others away. At his tone, she looked at the Harper, amazed that he could express so profound a reprimand with a brief phrase and a smile.

One of the other fosterlings jabbed Benis in the ribs, and the young man looked angrily about.

“I expect you have business elsewhere…now!” said the Masterharper.

“Business? This is a gather day…sir.”

“For others, indeed, it is, but not, I think, for you,” and the Masterharper indicated with his hand that Benis had better retire. “Or you, and you, and you,” he added, indicating the other fosterlings who displayed claw marks. “Will you occupy yourselves quietly in your quarters or will I have to mention this to Lord Groghe?” He accepted the frantic shakings of their heads.

Then he turned his back on them and pleasantly indicated to those who were avidly observing his summary justice that they should now continue their interrupted pursuits. He walked to where Camo was still being restrained by three large journeymen, blubbering noisily about his pretties being hurt and struggling to free himself.

“The pretties are not hurt, Camo. Not hurt. See? Menolly has the pretties.”

The Harper’s voice soothed the wretched man as he gestured for Menolly to come forward into Camo’s line of sight.

“Pretties not hurt?”

“No, Camo. Brudegan, who else is about?” the Harper asked his journeyman. Several other harpers obediently moved against the tide of the dispersing crowd. “Camo had better go back to the hall. Here,” and the Harper reached into his pouch and passed Brudegan a mark piece. “Buy him a lot of those bubbly pies on your way back. That’ll help settle him.”

The crowd had melted away. The Masterharper, stroking his gradually quieting fire lizard, turned back to the small group still clustered together. He gestured them to the unoccupied space between the nearest stalls.

“Now, let me hear the sequence of events, please,” said, but his voice no longer held that chilling note of displeasure.

“It wasn’t Menolly’s fault!” said Piemur, batting at Audiva’s hands as she tried to staunch the flow from his nose with the berry-stained cloth used earlier on Camo. “We were looking at belts…” He turned to the tanner for confirmation.

“I don’t know about belts, Master Robinton, but they weren’t causing any trouble when the blonde girl, Lady Pona, started pulling rank on your apprentice. Made a nasty accusation about the girl having money she oughtn’t to have.”

A look of dismay crossed the Harper’s face. “You didn’t lose the mark in the fuss, did you, Menolly?” He scuffed around the trampled area with his boot toe. “I don’t have many two-mark pieces, you know.”

The tanner stiffed a bark of laughter, and the Harper sighed with almost comic relief as Menolly solemnly displayed the cause of the trouble.

“That’s a mercy,” Master Robinton said with a smile of approval for Menolly. “Go on,” he added to the tanner.

“Then this lass,” and the tanner gestured toward Audiva, “took Menolly’s part. So did the young seaholder. I think all would have come to nothing if Camo hadn’t got upset, and the next thing I know the air’s full of fire lizards. Are they all hers?” He jerked his thumb at Menolly.

“Yes,” said the Harper, “a fact that ought to be borne in mind since they do seem able to recognize Menolly’s…ammm…”

“Sir, I didn’t call them…” Menolly said, finding her voice.

“I’m sure you didn’t need to.” He closed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

“Master Robinton, Pona bears a grudge against Menolly,” said Audiva in a rush as if she had to make the admission before she could change her mind. “And she’s got no real cause at all.”

“Thank you, Audiva, I’ve been aware of the prejudice.” The Harper made a slight bow, acknowledging the tall girl’s loyalty. “The Lady Pona will not trouble you further, Menolly, nor you, Audiva,” he continued, that hint of implacability tingeing an otherwise pleasant tone. “Good of you, Lord Viderian, to support another holder, though it is a loyalty I would prefer to render unnecessary.”

“My father, Master Robinton, is very much of your mind, which is why I am fostered in a landbound Hold,” said Viderian with a respectful bow. He stiffened, his eyes widening at some disturbing sight. He swallowed hard, anxiety plainly written on his face.

“Ah,” said the Harper, having followed the direction of Viderian’s gaze. “I wondered how long it would take Lord Groghe to respond to promptings…” He grinned, highly amused at some inner reflection. “Viderian, do make off with Audiva. Now! And enjoy yourselves!”

Audiva needed no urging and grabbed the young seaholder’s arm, hastening down the aisle until they were lost in the crowd.

“It’s Lord Groghe,” said Piemur in a croak, pulling at Menolly’s sleeve.

The Harper caught the boy by the shoulder. “You’ll stay by me, young Piemur, so we may have an end of this affair now!” Then he turned to the tanner. “Which belt tempted Menolly?”

“The one with the fire lizard on the buckle,” said Piemur in an undertone to the Harper and then edged himself carefully so that the Harper was between him and the oncoming Lord Holder.

“Robinton, my queen’s doing it again… Ah, Menolly, just the person!” said Lord Groghe, his florid face lighting with a smile. “Merga’s been…humph! She’s stopped!” The Holder regarded his queen accusingly. “She’s been fussing! Right up until I reached the square…”

“That’s rather easily explained,” said Robinton in an off-handed manner.

“Is it? Both of ’em are at it now.”

Menolly had been aware of it first, because Beauty was chirping and squeaking at Merga through Lord Groghe’s conversation. She felt color rising in her cheeks. The discourse finished as quickly as it had begun. The two little queens flipped their wings closed on their backs and became totally disinterested in each other.

“What was that all about?” Lord Groghe demanded.

“I suspect they were catching up on the news,” said Robinton, with a chuckle, for that was what it had sounded like: a spate of urgent gossip. “Which reminds me, Lord Groghe; I heard that the wineman has a keg good, aged Benden wine.”