Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

She reported, as ordered, to Master Oldive who checked her feet and pronounced them sound enough. He suggested that she see Silvina about boots. Her hand showed improvement, but she was to be careful not to overstretch the scar tissue. Slowly but surely was the trick, and she wasn’t to neglect the healing salve.

As she crossed the courtyard for her lesson with Master Shonagar, the fire lizards appeared in the air. Beauty landed on her shoulder, broadcasting images of a lovely swim in the lake and how warm the sun had been on the flat rock. Merga had evidently been with them, for Beauty projected a second golden queen on the rocks. They were all in good spirits.

Master Shonagar had not moved. One thick fist upheld the heavy head on the supporting arm, his other arm was cocked, hand on thigh. At first Menolly thought he was asleep.

“So, you return to me? After singing at the gather?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to sing?” Menolly halted so in her astonishment at the reprimand in his voice that Beauty cheeped in alarm.

“You are never to sing without my express permission.” The massive fist connected with the tabletop.

“But the Masterharper himself…”

“Is Master Robinton your voice instructor? Or am I?”

“You are, sir. I only thought…”

“You thought? I do the thinking while you are my student…and you will remain my student for some time, young woman, until your voice is properly trained for your duties as a harper! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t know I was disobeying…”

“Well,” and his tone abruptly modified to one of such benevolence that Menolly again stared in disbelief, “I hadn’t actually mentioned that I didn’t consider you ready to sing in public yet. So I accept your apology.”

Menolly gulped, grateful for the reprieve.

“You didn’t, all things considered, perform too badly yesterday,” he went on.

“You heard me?”

“Of course heard you!” The fist landed again on the table, though with less force than the previous thump. “I hear every singing voice in this Hall. Your phrasing was atrocious. I think we’d better go over that song now so that you can correct your interpretation.” He heaved a sigh of profound resignation. “You will undoubtedly be obliged to sing it again in public; that’s obvious, since you wrote it, and it is undeniably popular. So you might just as well learn to sing it well! Now, we shall start with breathing exercises. And we can’t,” another crash on the sandtable, “do that when you’re halfway across hall and trembling all over. I won’t eat you, girl,” he added in the gentlest of the voices he had yet used in her presence. A slight smile parted his lips. “But I will,” and his tone took on a sterner note, “teach you to make the most of your voice.”

Although the lesson began with a totally unexpected scolding, Menolly left Master Shonagar’s presence with a feeling of considerable accomplishment. They had gone over “The Fire Lizard Song,” phrase by phrase, occasionally accompanied by Beauty’s trilling. By the end of the session, Menolly stood in further awe of Master Shonagar’s musical acumen. He had drawn from her melody every possible nuance and shading of tone, heightening its total impact.

“Tomorrow,” Master Shonagar said as he dismissed her, “bring me a copy of that latest thing you wrote. The one about Brekke. At least you have wit enough to write music you can sing, that lies in the best part of your voice. Tell me, do you do that on purpose? No, no, that was an invidious question. Unworthy of me. Inapplicable to you. Away with you now, I’m excessively wearied!” His fist came up to support his head, and he was snoring before Menolly could express her gratitude for his stimulating lesson.

Beauty flew to her perch on Menolly’s shoulder, chittering happily, and Menolly, beginning to feel as weary as Master Shonagar claimed to be, absently checked to see where her other friends were. As usual, they were sunning on the rooftops, where they’d undoubtedly remain until feeding time.

Menolly entered the Hall, wondering if she should ask Silvina about boots, but she could hear a lot of bustle and noise from the kitchen and decided to bide her time. She made her way to her room, saw the door ajar, and was surprised to find Audiva waiting for her.

“I took you at your word, Menolly, but, honestly, if I had to stay one more moment in that poisonous atmosphere…”

“I meant it.”

“You look tired. Master Shonagar’s lessons are exhausting. We have only one in the week, and you have to go every day? Was he in one of his banging moods?” Audiva giggled, and her eyes sparkled with merriment.

Menolly laughed, too. “I sang yesterday at the gather without his express permission.”

“Oh! Great stars.” Audiva was torn between giggles and concern. “But why would he complain? You sang so beautifully. Viderian said it was the best he’d heard that sea song done. You’ve made another good friend in Viderian, if that’s any consolation. That fist in Benis’s face. He’s wished so often that he could bang that arrogant booby.”

“Audiva, could Lord Sangel of Boll make Master Robinton…”

“You didn’t heed to that spiteful wherry, Briala? Oh, Menolly…”

“But can an apprentice…”

“An apprentice, an ordinary apprentice, yes," Audiva said with a reluctant sigh for the truth, “because apprentices have no rank. Journeymen do. But you are Master Robinton’s own special apprentice, just as Piemur said, and it’d take more than a Lord Holder to shift Master Robinton when he’s made up his mind. Besides, you weren’t at fault. Pona was. Bearing false witness. Now, you listen to me, Menolly, don’t you dare let that bunch of sly slippers worry you! They’re just jealous. That was Pona’s problem, too. Besides,” and Audiva’s face brightened as she thought of the telling argument, “Lord Groghe needs you here to help him train Merga. There’s your new song. Oh, Menolly, Talmor was playing it, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. ‘Live for my living/or else I must die.’ ” Audiva had a throaty contralto voice that throbbed poignantly on the deep note. “I wanted to weep, and while I know I’m just a silly girl—”

“You’re not just silly. You stood up for me against Pona…”

Audiva bit her lip guiltily, her expression contrite. “I didn’t tell you about Master Domick’s first message…” She paused, full of self-reproach. “I knew about it. I heard him tell Dunca. We all did. And I knew they were trying to make trouble for you because you had the fire lizards…”

“But you told Master Domick that I hadn’t been told.”

“Fair’s fair.”

‘Well, then, if fair’s fair, you did stand up with me against Pona and all those fosterlings when it really mattered. Let’s forget everything else…and just be friends.” I’ve never had a girl friend before,” Menolly added shyly.

“You haven’t?” Audiva was shocked, “Weren’t you fostered out?”

“No, being the youngest and Half-Circle being so isolated and with Thread falling, and that’s what the Harper usually does, and Petiron never…”

“Just as well old Petiron kept you by him, the way things turned out, isn’t it?” Audiva grinned. “But we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

And they sealed the bargain with a handshake.

“Are they really practicing my song?” asked Menolly, a little apprehensive.

“Yes, and hating every minute of it because you wrote it.” Audiva was delighted. “I’d be obliged if you’d teach me some simpler chords than the ones you’ve written. I cannot get my hands…”