Dragonsinger

“And increases now with so many fire lizards about her,” added Lord Groghe with a grunt. “How much more d’you think they’ll grow, girl, if yours are the same age as Merga?” He was frowning at Beauty and glancing back to Merga.

“Mirrim’s three fire lizards at Benden Weyr were from the first clutch, weren’t they? They’re not more than a fingertip longer,” said Menolly, eagerly seizing on the new topic. “They’d be older by several sevendays, I think!’ She glanced at the Masterharper who nodded in confirmation. “When I first saw F’nor’s queen, Grall, I thought it was my Beauty.”

Beauty squeaked indignantly, her eyes whirling a little faster. “Only for a moment,” Menolly told her in apology and stroked Beauty’s head, “and only because I didn’t know the Weyrs had also discovered the fire lizards.”

“Any notion how old they must be to mate?” asked Lord Groghe, scowling in hopes of a favorable answer.

“Sir, I don’t know. T’gellan, Monarth’s rider, is going to keep a watch on the cave where my fire lizards hatched, to see if their queen will come back to clutch there again.”

“Cave? Thought fire lizards laid their eggs in sand on the beaches?”

Master Robinton indicated that she was to speak freely to the Lord Holder, so Menolly told him how she’d seen the fire lizard queen mating near the Dragon Stones, how she’d happened to be back that way, looking for spiderclaws (“Good eating, those,” Lord Groghe agreed and gestured for her to get on with the tale)…and helped the little fire lizard queen lift the eggs from the sea-threatened strand into the cave.

“You wrote that song, didn’t you?” Lord Groghe’s frown was surprised and approving. “The one about the fire lizard keeping the sea back with her wings! Liked that one! Write more like it! Easy to sing. Why didn’t you tell me a girl wrote it, Robinton?” His scowl was now accusatory.

“I didn’t know it was Menolly at the time we circulated the song.”

“Humph, Forgot about that. Go on, girl. Did it happen just as you wrote the song?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How come you were there in the cave when they hatched?”

“I was hunting spiderclaws and went further down coast than I should have. Threadfall was due. I was caught out, and the only shelter I could think of was the cave where I’d put the fire lizard eggs. I arrived…with my sack of spiderclaws…just as the eggs began break. That’s how I Impressed so many. I couldn’t very well let them fly out into Thread. And they were so hungry, just out of the shell…”

Lord Groghe grunted, sniffed and mumbled to the effect that he’d had enough trouble keeping one fed, his compliments for handling nine! As if mention of food had penetrated their sleep, Kimi and Zair roused, creeling.

“I mean no discourtesy, Lord Groghe,” said Master Robinton, rising as hastily as Sebell.

“Nonsense. Don’t go. They eat anything, anywhere.” Lord Groghe swung his heavy torso about. “You there, what’s your name…” and he waved impatiently at the wineman’s apprentice, who came ru

“No, sir; thank you, sir.”

“Making a liar out of me, harper girl? Bring back some bubbly pies, too,” the Lord Holder roared after the departing apprentice. “Hope he heard me. So you’re the daughter to Yanus of Half-Circle Sea Hold.”

Menolly nodded acknowledgement of the relationship.

“Never been to Half-Circle. They brag about that cavern of theirs. Does it hold the fishing fleet?”

“Yes, sir, it does. The biggest can sail in without stepping the masts, except, of course, when the tides run exceptionally high. There’s a rock shelf for repairs and careening, a section for building, as well as a very dry inside cave for storing wood.”

“Hold above the docking cavern?” Lord Groghe seemed dubious about the wisdom of that.

“Oh, no, sir. Half-Circle Sea Hold really is a half circle.” She cocked her thumb and curved her forefinger. “This,” and she angled her right hand to show the direction of the curve, after squinting to see where the sun was, “my thumb is the docking cavern, and this,” and she pointed to the length of her forefinger, “is the Hold…the longer part of the half circle, and then this much,” and she touched the webbing, “is sandy beach. They can draw dinghies up on it or gut fish, sew nets and mend sail there in fair weather.”

“They?” asked Lord Groghe, his thick eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Yes, sir, they. I’m a harper now.”

“Well said, Menolly,” replied Lord Groghe, slapping his thigh with a crack that made Merga squeal in alarm. “Girl or not, Robinton, you’ve a good one here. I approve. I approve.”

“Thank you, Lord Groghe, I was confident you would,” said the Masterharper with a slight smile, which he shared with Sebell before he nodded reassuringly at Menolly.

Beauty chirped a question, which Lord Groghe’s Merga answered in a sort of “that’s that” tone.

“Cross-crafting works, Robinton. Think I’ll have to spot a few more of my sons about. Seaholds, too.”

The notion of Benis in Half-Circle Sea Hold appealed to Menolly, though she didn’t know if that was whom Lord Groghe had in mind.

The slap of ru

As the new fire lizards were fed, Menolly saw that more and more people were filing into the central square, taking seats at tables and benches. At one end was a wooden platform. Now a group of harpers took their places and began to tune up. Immediately sets were formed for a call-dance. A tall journeyman harper gave his tambourine a warning shake and then called out the dance figures in a loud voice that carried above the music while his tambourine emphasized the step rhythm.

Those watching on the sidelines clapped in time to the music, shouting good-natured encouragements to the dancers. To Menolly’s surprise, Lord Groghe added a hearty smacking beat of his hands, stamping his feet and cheerfully gri

Once the music started, the square filled up, and still more benches were angled into any free space. Menolly saw colors of all the major crafts on journeymen and apprentices from the halls of the Fort Hold complex. Groups of men stood about, drinking wine and watching the dancing, their heavy boots and clean, though earth-stained, trousers marking them as small holders in from neighboring farms for the restday and a bit of trading at the gather. Their womenfolk had congregated along one side of the square, chattering, tending smaller children, watching the dancing. When the sets changed, some of the holders dragged their giggling but willing women out to make up new groups as the musicians began another foot-tapping, hand-clapping tune.

The third was a couple’s dance, a wild gyration of swinging arms and skipping legs, an exercise that rendered every participant breathless and thirsty to judge by the calls on the wineman’s lads when the dance ended.

A change of harpers occurred now, the dance-players giving up the platform to Brudegan and three of the older apprentices who ranged themselves slightly behind Brudegan. At his signal they sang the song that Elgion had sung the night of his arrival at Half-Circle Sea Hold: it was one Menolly had never had a chance to learn. She leaned forward, eager to catch every word and chord. On her shoulder, Beauty sat up, one forepaw lightly clasping Menolly’s ear for balance. The little queen gave a trill, glanced inquiringly at Menolly.

“Let her sing,” said Master Robinton. Then he leaned forward, “But, if you can keep the others where they are on the roofs, I think that might be wise.”