Anne McCaffrey - Dragonsinger

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Menolly arrived in triumph at the Harper Hall, aboard a bronze dragon. She had run away from home and lived in a cave, outrun the dread Threadfall, impressed nine fire lizards and written songs that pleased the Masterharper of Pern. But what was her future at the hall to be? It seemed she was always late or her fire lizards under foot, and why didn’t any of the other girls like her? Now that there was nothing to keep her from her beloved music and fire lizards, could Menolly learn to live among others, realize her talent and find her rightful place in the future of Pern?

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“I told you,” Piemur nudged her in the ribs. “Journeymen are being assigned tonight. There’ll be gaps at the oval tables tomorrow.” Menolly nodded, thinking that there would be some frantic masters, too, with fewer journeymen to help.

T’gellan was at the round table, but Menolly noticed that the other dragonriders were standing on the journeymen’s side of the dining hall. She made her way to her seat beside Audiva, still that space left between Audiva and Briala. Piemur stood opposite Audiva and Menolly. Special meat and fish rolls accompanied the customary soup and there were sharp cheeses, bread and, afterward, wedges of beachberry pies. Piemur grumbled because the pies should be hot, and Menolly countered that he ought to be grateful for the treat so soon after a gather!

Talk was spirited throughout the hall, although the Seven girls continued their silent treatment of Audiva and Menolly. There was a current of excitement in the air, much of it from the journeymen’s tables.

“They’re only told in advance that they’re being assigned, you know,” Piemur told Menolly and Audiva. “Not where. Eight of them going, if I counted the packs right. The Masterharper really means to spread the word.”

“Word?” Timiny was baffled.

“Don’t you listen to anything, Timiny?” Piemur was disgusted. “Bet you not one of those journeymen is going back to his own hold or crafthall, like they used to do. Master Harper’s set on shuffling everyone around. Cross-crafting with a vengeance. They all got copies of your songs, Menolly?”

Suddenly the moment everyone had been anticipating happened. The gong shimmered, and before the metallic tones had died away, the hall was still. Every eye was on the Masterharper who had risen from the table.

“Now, my friends, without further ado and to permit those holding their breaths to breathe, I will announce the postings.” He paused, grinning, as he glanced around the hall. Then he looked across the apprentices’ tables to the journeymen.

“Journeyman Farnol, Gar is your assignment, in Ista. Journeyman Sefran, please do what you can to improve understanding and extend enlightenment in Telgar at Balen Hold. Journeyman Campiol, you are also Telgar-bound, to the Minercrafthall under Facenden. See what you can do to improve the quality of metal for our pipes and brasses. Journeyman Dermently, I’d like you to assist Wansor, the Starsmith at Telgar Smithcrafthall.” There was a murmur of surprise from Dermently’s companions. “You have the finest hand with drafting, and while I am sorry to rob Master Arnor of his most accurate copyist, your efforts are essential if Wansor’s studies are to progress and be properly recorded.

“There’s a small seahold on Igen River mouth that requires a man of your tolerance and good nature, Journeyman Strud. I also want you to keep an eye on the beaches for possible fire lizard mounds. You are, however, to report them to your Holder, not to me.” The regret in the Masterharper’s voice caused a ripple of amusement to run through his audience. “Journeyman Deece is also Igen bound, to the Hold. Harper Bantur needs a young assistant. He’s a dab hand at bringing on a good harper to understand the complexity of a Masterharper’s job. And you’ve the new songs to give him as well. Journeyman Petillo, it’s no sinecure, but I need your patience and tact at Bitra to bolster Harper Fransman.

“Journeyman Rammany, Lord Asgenar at Lemos has asked for someone from Master Jerint’s hands. You’ll work principally with Woodsmith Benelek, and I don’t think you’ll find that too onerous a task with such wood as Benelek dries for us. However, be sure you’re on hand to choose the next consignment of wood for our use, and Master Jerint will bless you.

“Will all the journeymen please come to the Great Hall for a farewell cup of wine? Benden wine, of course. But first, I’ve one more very pleasant and unusual announcement.

“To be a harper requires many talents, as you all ought to realize by now,” and he frowned at the very youngest of the apprentices who giggled nervously. “Not all of these skills need to be learned within these walls. Indeed, many of our most valuable lessons are more forcefully learned at some distance from this hallowed Hall,” and he frowned at the journeymen, who grinned back at him. “However, when the fundamentals of our craft have been well and truly learned, I insist that we hold no one back from the rank they are entitled to by knowledge and ability, and in this case, rare talent. Sebell, Talmor, since neither of you will resign in the other’s favor…”

A silence emphasized by Piemur’s tiny gasp of astonishment fell over the dining hall as Sebell and Talmor rose from their table and walked up the aisle by the hearth. They stopped. Startled, Menolly looked up at Sebell’s shy grin and Talmor’s broad smile.

She couldn’t grasp the significance of their presence, though she heard Audiva’s cry of joy and saw the stunned amazement on the faces of Briala and Timiny.

She glanced wildly about her, saw Master Robinton grinning, nodding, gesturing for her to rise. But it wasn’t until Piemur kicked her on the shins that she shed her paralysis.

“You’re supposed to walk the tables, Menolly,” Piemur said in an audible hiss. “Get up and walk. You’re a journeyman now. You’ve made journeyman.”

“Menolly’s a journeyman! Menolly’s a journeyman!” echoed the other apprentices, clapping their hands in rhythm to their chant. “Menolly’s made journeyman. Walk Menolly, walk. Walk, Menolly, walk!”

Sebell and Talmor took her by the elbows and lifted her to her feet.

“Never saw an apprentice so loath to take a walk,” muttered Talmor under his breath to Sebell.

We could carry her,” Sebell said, in a whisper, “because, between you and me, I don’t think her legs are going to walk her.”

“I can walk,” said Menolly, shaking off their helping hands. “I’ve even got harper boots. I can walk anywhere!”

The last vestige of anxiety lifted from Menolly’s mind. As a journeyman in blue, she had rank and status enough to fear no one and nothing. No further need to run or hide, She'd a place to fill and a craft that was unique to her. She’d come a long, long way in a sevenday. The pulse of her words suggested a tune. She’d think of that later. Now, holding her head high, while the fire lizards swept in from the windows, trilling their happy reaction, she walked between Talmor and Sebell to the oval tables of her new station in the Harper Craft Hall of Pern.

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