Dragonsinger

“Piemur, I don’t know what I’d’ve done without you these past few days,” she said, trying to move him out of her way so she could give Palim the marker. “I insist.”

“Not a chance, Menolly. I keep my word!’

“Then put your money where your mouth is, Piemur,” said Palim, “you’re blocking my counter,” and he indicated the hulking figure of Camo bearing down on them.

“Camo! Where’ve you been, Camo?” cried Piemur. “We looked all over for you before we started for the pies. Here’s yours, Camo.”

“Pies?” And Camo came forward, huge hands outstretched, his thick lips moist. He wore a fresh tunic, his face was shining clean, and his straggling crop of hair had been brushed flat. He had evidently homed in on the sweet aroma of the pies as easily as Piemur.

“Yes, bubbly pies, just like I promised you, Camo.” Piemur passed him two pies.

“Well, now, you wasn’t having me on, was you, about feeding your mates. Although how come Menolly and Camo…”

“Here’s your money,” said Piemur with some haughtiness, thrusting the thirty-second piece into Palim’s hand. “I trust your pies will live up to standard!” Menolly gaped, because there were now nine small bubbly pies on the counter front.

“Three for you, Camo.” Piemur handed him a third. “Now don’t burn your mouth. Three for you, Menolly,” and the pastry was warm enough to sting Menolly’s scarred palm, “and three for me. Thank you, Palim. It’s good of you to be generous. I’ll make sure everyone knows your pies…” and despite the heat of the crust, Piemur bit deeply into the pastry, the dark purple juices dribbling down his chin, “…are just as good as ever,” and he said that last on a sigh of contentment. Then more briskly, “C’mon you two.” He waved to the baker who stared after them before he uttered a bark of laughter. “See you later, Palim!”

“We got nine pies for the price of six!” she said when they’d got far enough away from the stall.

“Sure, and I’ll get nine again when I go back, because he’ll think I’m sharing with you and Camo again. That’s the best deal I’ve pulled on him yet.”

“You mean…”

“Pretty smart of you to flash that two-marker about. He wouldn’t have been able to change it this early in the afternoon. I’ll have to try that angle again, next gather. The large marker, I mean.”

“Piemur!” Menolly was appalled at his duplicity.

“Hmmmm?” His expression over the rim of the pie was unperturbed, “Good, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but you’re outrageous. The way you bargain…”

“What’s wrong with it? Everyone has fun. ’Specially this early in the season. Later on they get bored, and even being small and looking sorrowful doesn’t help me. Ah, Camo,” and Piemur looked disgusted. “Can’t you even eat clean?”

“Pies good!” Camo had stuffed all three pies into his mouth. His tunic was now stained with berry juices, his face was flecked with pastry and berry skins, and his fist had smeared a purple streak across one cheek.

“Menolly, will you look at him! He’ll disgrace the Hall. You can’t take your eyes off him a moment. C’mere!”

Piemur dragged Camo to the back of the line of stalls until he found a water skin dangling from a thong on a stall frame. He made Camo cup his hands and wash his face. Menolly found a scrap of cloth, not too dirty, and they managed to remove the worst of the pie stains from Camo’s face and front.

“Oh, blast the shell and sear the skin!” said Piemur in a round oath as he took up his third pie. “It’s cold. Camo, you’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.”

“Camo trouble?” The man’s face fell into deep sorrowful lines. “Camo cold?”

“No, the pie’s cold. Oh, never mind. I like you, Camo, my friend.” Piemur patted the man’s arm reassuringly, and the numbwit brightened.

“Cold or not,” Menolly said after she took a bite from her third, and cooled, pastry, “they’re every bit as good as you said, Piemur.”

“Say,” and Piemur eyed her through narrowed lids, “maybe you’d better bargain the next lot out of Palim.”

“I couldn’t eat another…”

“Oh, not now. Later.”

“It’ll be my treat then.”

“Sure thing!” He agreed with such amiability that Menolly decided that she’d taken the bait, hook and all. “First,” he went on, “let’s find the ta

“I don’t understand you.”

Piemur shot her a startled look. “He did say that you were his apprentice when he gave you that two-marker, didn’t he?”

“He’d told me I was before today, but I didn’t think that was unusual, Aren’t all the apprentices in the Hall his apprentices? He’s the Masterharper…”

“You sure don’t understand.” Piemur’s glance was one of undiluted pity for her denseness. “Every master has a few special apprentices…I’m Master Shonagar’s. That’s why I’m always ru

“Is that why Ranly doesn’t like me?”

Piemur dismissed that with a gesture. “Ranly never had a chance, and the only one who didn’t know that was Ranly! He thinks he’s so good. Everyone else knew that Master Robinton was hoping to find you…the one who’d written those songs! Look, there’s the ta

Before she could agree, Piemur approached the stall, acting casually, glancing over the tabards, soft shoes and boots displayed, apparently oblivious to the belt he’d just indicated to Menolly.

“They’ve got some blue boot hide, Menolly,” he said to her.

Knowing the shrewdness Piemur had already displayed, Menolly followed his cue, and, glancing at the ta

“Now, don’t tell me you have money in your trous, short stuff,” the ta

“Me? No, but she’s buying. Her slippers are a disgrace!” The ta

“This is Menolly,” Piemur went on, blithely unaware of the embarrassment he was causing her. “She’s got nine fire lizards, and she’s Master Robinton’s new apprentice.”

Wondering what on earth was possessing Piemur, she glanced anywhere but at the curious journeyman. She caught a glimpse of bright filmy materials, and richly decorated tunics. She steadied her gaze and saw Pona, her arm through a tall lad’s. He was wearing the yellow of Fort Hold and the shoulder knot of the Lord Holder’s family: Behind Pona came Briala, Amania and Audiva, each of the girls escorted by a well-dressed youth, fosterlings of Lord Groghe’s to judge by the different hold colors and rank knots.

“Here, Menolly, what do you think of this hide?” asked Piemur.

“And be sure she has the marks for it,” said Pona, pausing. Her voice was too smooth to be insulting, and yet her ma