Anne McCaffrey - Dragondrums

“The Oldtimers!” Silvina emphasized that guess with a snap of her fingers. “T’kul and Meron were always two cuts from the same rib.”

“What I cannot figure out is what besides fire lizards the association gains Meron…”

“You can’t?” Silvina was frankly skeptical. “Spite! Malice! Scoring off Benden!”

Robinton reflected on that opinion, turning his wine glass idly by the stem. “I’d like to know…”

“Yes, you would!” Silvina grinned at him, tolerance for his foibles as well as affection in her glance. “You and Piemur are paired in that respect. He has the same insatiable urge to know, and he’s a dab hand at finding out, too. Is that why you want his head mended? You’re sending him up to Candler at Nabol Hold?”

“No…” and the Harper drawled the word, pulling at his lower lip. “No, not directly to Nabol Hold. Meron might recognize him: the man’s never been a fool, just perverted in principle.”

“Just?” Silvina was disgusted.

“I’d like to know what’s going on there.”

“Today is not likely to be the last time Meron summons Master Oldive…” she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Robinton brushed aside the notion. “I hear that a Gather’s been scheduled at Nabol on the same sevenday as Lord Groghe’s…”

“Isn’t that just like Meron.”

“Consequently, no one would expect Hall harpers to be in attendance,” and Robinton ended his sentence on an upswing of tone, eyeing Silvina hopefully.

“The boy’ll be fit enough for a Gather, and undoubtedly it’s kinder to send him away from the Hall on that particular day. Tilgin’s come along amazingly.”

“Could he do aught else?” asked Robinton with real humor in his voice, “with both Shonagar and Domick spending every waking moment with him?”

Piemur drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of that day and most of the next, immeasurably reassured and comforted by the presence of Rocky or Lazy and Mimic who spelled the bronze fire lizard.

If Menolly’s fire lizards were with him, he reasoned, during the moments he drifted into consciousness, then Master Robinton couldn’t be annoyed that he’d been stupid enough to fall and hurt himself just when the Harper needed him. For that was how Piemur construed the Harper’s urgent query about his injury. He fretted, too, about what Clell and the others might do with his possessions until he saw his press against the wall beside his bed.

The first time Silvina appeared with a tray of food, he didn’t feel like eating.

“You’re not likely to be sick again,” she told him in a low but firm voice, settling on his bed to spoon the rich broth into him. “That was due to the crack you gave your head. You need the nourishment of this broth, so open your mouth. Too bad we can’t numbweed the inside of your head, but we can’t. Never thought to see the day you weren’t ready to eat. Now, there’s the lad. You’ll feel right as ever in a day or two more. Don’t mind if you seem to want to sleep. That’s only natural. And here’s Rocky to keep you company again.”

“Who’s been feeding him?”

“Don’t sit up!” Silvina’s hand pressed him back into the half-reclining position. “You’ll spill the broth. I suspect Sebell gave Menolly a hand. Not to worry. You’ll be back at that chore soon enough!”

Piemur caught at her skirt as she made a move. “There was grease on those steps, wasn’t there, Silvina?” Piemur had to ask the question, because he couldn’t really trust what he thought he’d heard.

“Indeed and there was!” Silvina frowned, pursing her lips in an angry line. Then she patted his hand. “Those little sneaks saw you fall, scampered down and washed the grease off the steps and handrail…but,” she added in a sharper tone, “they forgot there’d be grease on your boot as well!” Another pat on his arm. “You might say, they slipped up there!”

For a moment, Piemur couldn’t believe that Silvina was joshing him and then he had to giggle.

“There! That’s more like you, Piemur. Now, rest! That’ll set you right quicker than you realize. And likely to be the last good rest you’ll get for a while.”

She wouldn’t say more, encouraging him to go back to sleep, and slipping out of the room without giving him any hint to the plans for his future. If his things were here, he didn’t think he’d be going back to the drumheights. Where else could he be placed at the Hall? He tried to examine this problem, but his mind wouldn’t work. Probably Silvina had laced that broth with something. Wouldn’t surprise him if she had.

Complacent fire lizard chirpings roused him. Beauty was conferring with Lazy and Mimic, who were perched on the end of the bed. No one else was in the room, and then Beauty disappeared. Shortly, while he was fretting that no one seemed to be bothering about him, Menolly quietly pushed the door open, carrying a tray in her free hand. He could hear the normal sounds of shouting and calling, and he could smell baked fish.

“If that’s more sloppy stuff…” he began petulantly.

“ ‘Tisn’t. Baked fish, some tubers, and a special bubbly pie that Abuna insisted would improve your appetite.”

“Improve it? I’m starving.”

Menolly grinned at his vehemence and positioned the tray on his lap, then seated herself at the end of the bed. He was immensely relieved that Menolly had no intention of feeding him like a babe. It had been embarrassing enough with Silvina.

“Master Oldive checked you over last night when he returned. Said you undoubtedly have the hardest head in the Hall. And you’re not going back to the drumheights.” Her expression was as grim as Silvina’s had been. “No,” she added when she saw him glance at his press, “no more pranks. I checked. And I checked with Silvina to be sure all your things are accounted for.” She grinned, then, her eyes twinkling. “Clell and the other dimglows are on water rations, and they won’t get to the Gather!”

Piemur groaned.

“And why not? They deserve restriction. Pranks are one thing, but deliberately conspiring to injure—and you could have been killed by their mischief—is an entirely different matter. Only…” and Menolly shook her head in perplexity, “…I can’t think what you did to rile them so.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Piemur said so emphatically that he slopped the water glass on his tray. Rocky chirped anxiously, and Beauty took up the note in her trill.

“I believe you, Piemur.” She squeezed his toes where they poked up the sleeping furs. “I do! And, would you also believe, that that’s why you had trouble? They kept expecting you to do some typical Piemur tricks, and you were so busy behaving for the first time since you apprenticed here, no one could credit it. Least of all Dirzan, who knew all too much about you and your ways!” She gave his toes another affectionate tweak, “And you, bursting your guts with discretion to the point where you didn’t tell me or Sebell what you bloody ought to have. We didn’t mean for you to stop talking altogether, you know.”

“I thought you were testing me.”

“Not that hard, Piemur. When I found out what Dirzan…no, eat all your tubers,” and she snatched from his grasp the plate with the still bubbling pie.

“You know I only like ’em hot!”

“Eat all your dinner first. You’ll need your strength, and wits. You’re to go with Sebell to Nabol Hold for Meron’s Gather. That’ll get you away from here during Tilgin’s singing, though he has improved tremendously—and no one at Nabol will be expecting any extra harpers. Not that they’ve all that much to sing about in Nabol Hold anyhow.”