Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

“He does?” Lord Groghe’s interest was diverted. “How did he get his hands on it?”

“I think we ought to check.”

“Humph! Yes! Now!”

“Wouldn’t do to waste good Benden wine on people unable to appreciate it, would it?” Robinton took Lord Groghe’s arm.

“Not at all.” But the Holder could not be completely diverted and turned to frown at Menolly. She steeled herself before she realized that his frown was not menacing. “Want a chance to talk to this girl. Didn’t seem the time or place to do so t’other day with the Hatching and all.”

“Of course, Lord Groghe, when Menolly's finished her bargaining…”

“Bargaining? Humph. Well, can't interrupt a bargain at a gather…humph!” Lord Groghe pushed out his lower lip as he looked from Menolly to the hovering tanner. “Don’t be all day about it, girl. Th’afternoon’s a good time to talk. Don’t have many chances to sit and talk.”

“Finish your dicker for that belt, Menolly,” the Harper told her, one arm gently propelling the Lord Holder away from the apprentices, “and then join us at the wineman’s stall. “And you,” the Masterharper’s forefinger pointed down at Piemur, “wash your face, keep your mouth closed, and stay out of trouble. At least until I’ve had some Benden wine to fortify me.” Lord Groghe humphed at the delay. “If it is Benden wine… This way, my Lord Holder.” The two men walked off together, in step, each steadying the fire lizards they carried.

A soft whistle at her elbow broke the trance holding Menolly as she stared after the two most influential men in the Hold. Piemur was dramatically dragging a hand across his brow to signalize a close escape.

“What do you bet, Menolly, that the subject of your cracking Benis in the face never comes up? And where’d you learn to punch like that?”

“When I saw that big bully kicking you, I was so flaming mad, I…I…”

“May I add my congratulations to Piemur’s,” asked a quiet voice. The two whirled to see Sebell, leaning against the side of the tanner’s stall. The eyes of his young queen were still whirling with the red of anger.

“Oh no,” said Menolly with a groan, “not you, too! What am I going to do with them?” She was utterly discouraged and dejected. It had been bad enough to have the fire lizards diving and swooping at plain noise; outrageous of them to have flown at Master Domick because he’d only spoken angrily to her. And now this very public fracas with the son of the Fort Lord Holder.

“It wasn’t your fault, Menolly,” said Piemur stoutly.

“It never is, but it is!”

“How long have you been here, Sebell?” Piemur asked, ignoring Menolly’s wail.

“On the heels of Lord Groghe,” said the journeyman, grinning. “But I caught a glimpse of young Benis making tracks out of the Hold proper, so it wasn’t hard to figure out where he got the scratches,” he went on, glancing at the perched fire lizards and absently stroking Kimi. “I have only one burning question: Who had the audacity to give Benis a colored eye?”

“A rare sight that was,” said the tanner who’d been keeping back but now stepped up. “The girl landed as sweet a punch in that young snot’s eye as ever I’ve seen, and I’ve been to many a gather that boasted a good brawl. Now, young harper girl, which belt had you in mind before the fracas started? I thought you was after boot leather.” He eyed Piemur sharply.

“Menolly wants the blue one with the fire lizard buckle.”

“It’d be much too expensive,” Menolly said hastily.

The tanner ducked back under his counter and picked the coveted belt from its hook. “This the one?” Menolly looked at it wistfully. Sebell took it from the tanner’s hands, examined it, gave it a tug to see if there were flaws or if the hide was too thin to wear well.

“Good workmanship in that belt, Journeyman,” the tanner said. “Proper for the girl to have it, with her owning the fire lizards.”

“How much were you asking for it?” asked Piemur, settling down to the business of bargaining. The tanner looked down at Piemur, stroked the belt, which Sebell had handed back to him, then glanced at Menolly.

Its yours, girl. And I’ll not take a mark from you. Worth it to me to see you plant one on that young rowdy’s face. Here, wear it in good health and long life.”

Piemur gaped, mouth wide, eyes popping.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” and Menolly extended the piece. The tanner promptly closed her fist over the marker and laid the belt on her wrist.

“Yes, you could and you will, apprentice harper! And that’s the end of the matter. I’ve struck the bargain.” He pumped her hand in the traditional courtesy.

“Ah, Tanner Ligand,” Sebell stepped up, leaning on the counter and beckoning the tanner to bend close to him. “While I didn’t see much of the affair…” Sebell began to rub his forefinger on one side of his nose, “it’s not exactly the sort of incident…”

“I take your meaning, Harper Sebell,” the tanner replied, nodding his head in acceptance of the adroit suggestion. His grin was rueful. “Not that the truth doesn’t make fine telling. Still, those fire lizards of yours are young, aren’t they, girl, excitable-like, not used to a gather, I expect… Oh, I’ll say what’s proper. Don’t you worry, harpers.” He patted Menolly’s hand, still outstretched with the marker. “Now cheer up, you’ve a face like a wet Turn. You’ve done more good than harm this gather day. And when you’ve the need for slippers to match the belt, just you send me the work. I won’t do you in the mark,” and he flashed a look at the skeptical Piemur. “Not that I don’t like a good tight bargain now and then…”

Piemur made a gargling sound in his throat and would have disputed the statement.

“Let’s clean you up, Piemur, as Master Robinton suggested,” said Sebell, warning the boy by the tilt of his head to be silent.

“I’ve a water-carrier at the back of the stall you’re welcome to use,” said Ligand, “And here’s a cleaner cloth than the one Menolly has!” He held out a white square to her and dismissed her profuse thanks with a smile and a wave to be off.

No sooner had Sebell and Menolly pulled Piemur to the back of the tanner’s stall than people began to step up to his counter.

“Hah!” said Piemur, looking over his shoulder. “He’s sly, that Ligand, giving you the belt. He’ll get three times as much business because you—”

“Close your mouth,” suggested Sebell, as he rubbed firmly at the bloody streaks on Piemur’s face. “Hold him, Menolly.”

“Hey…I…” but Piemur’s complaints were effectively muffled the damp cloth Sebell used in earnest.

“The less mentioned about this matter, Piemur, the better. And what I said to Ligand holds for you as well. Here and in the Hall. There’ll be enough rumor and wrangle without you adding your bits.”

“Do you think…mumble…mumble…I’d do anything…leave me alone…to hurt Menolly?”

Sebell suspended the cleaning operation and regarded the boy’s flashing eyes and the indignant set of his jaw. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. If only not to lose your chance at feeding the fire lizards…”

“Now, that’s not fair…”

“Sebell, what am I going to do about them?” Menolly asked, finally getting out the fears she’d been suppressing. “They were only protecting…” Piemur began, but Sebell silenced him with a hand over his mouth and a stern look.

“Today they apparently had cause, as Piemur said. The other evening they reacted to what was going on at Benden Weyr with F’nor and Canth, through Brekke’s fire lizard. Again, cause.” Sebell glanced back toward the tanner’s stall and noticed that some of the throng were surreptitiously regarding the three harpers. He motioned to Menolly and Piemur to walk out of sight, down behind the stalls, away from the curious.