Dragonsinger

She couldn’t resist a pretense of disdain, and ignored him, but his expression was so genuinely panic-stricken that she relented sooner than she intended.

“Piemur, you’ve been my best and first friend in the Hall. And I really do think my fire lizards like you. Mimic, Rocky and Lazy let you feed them. I may not be able to help, but if I do ever have any say in the matter, you’ll get an egg from one of Beauty’s clutches.”

Piemur’s exaggerated sigh of relief attracted attention from the other girls, who were still pretending that that end of the table didn’t exist. Platters of stewed meats and vegetables were now being served, and Menolly took advantage of the general noise to ask Audiva how things were with her.

“All right, once the furor died down. I rank the rest them, even if rank is not supposed to be a consideration while we’re at the Harper Hall.”

“You’re also the best musician of the lot,” said Menolly, trying to cheer Audiva. She sounded very depressed, and she must have been crying a lot to have such puffy cheeks.

“Do you really think I can play?” asked Audiva, surprised and pleased.

“From what I heard that morning, yes. The others are hopeless. If there’s no reason you have to stay at Dunca’s when you have free time, maybe you’d like to come to my room. We could practice together if that would help.”

“Me? Practice with you? Oh, Menolly, could I please? I really do want to learn, but all the others want to do is talk about the fosterlings at the Hold, and their clothes, and who their fathers are likely to choose as husbands for them, and I want to learn how to play well.”

Menolly extended her hand, palm up, and Audiva gratefully seized it, her eyes sparkling, all traces of her unhappiness erased.

“Just wait till I tell you what happened in the cot,” she said in a confidential tone that reached only Menolly’s ears. She saw Piemur cocking his head to try and hear, and waved him away. “It was a treat! A rare treat! What Silvina said to Dunca!” Audiva giggled.

“But won’t there be trouble about Pona being sent back? She is the granddaughter of the Lord Holder of Boll.”

Audiva’s face clouded briefly. “The Harper has the right to say who stays in his own Hall,” replied Audiva quickly. “He has equal rank with a Lord Holder, who can dismiss any fosterling he chooses. Besides, you’re a holder’s daughter.”

“Holder’s, not Lord Holder’s. Only I’m an apprentice now!” Menolly touched her shoulder badge, which meant more to her than being her father’s daughter.

“You’re the Masterharper’s apprentice,” said Piemur who indeed had sharp ears if he’d heard their whispers. “And that makes you special.” He glanced toward Briala, who had also been trying to overhear what Menolly and Audiva were saying. “And you’d better remember that, Briala,” he said, making a fierce grimace at the dark girl.

“You may think you’re special, Menolly,” said Briala in a haughty voice, “but you’re only an apprentice, after all’s said and sifted. And Pona’s her grandfather’s favorite. When she tells him all that’s been going on here, you may not be that anymore!” And she snapped her fingers in a derisive gesture.

“Close your mouth, Briala! You talk nothing but nonsense,” said Audiva, but Menolly caught the note of uncertainty in her voice.

“Nonsense? Just wait’ll you hear what Benis plans for that Viderian of yours!” They were all distracted by a sudden groan from Piemur.

“Shells, Pona has gone! That means that I’m stuck with singing her part! What a ruddy bore!” His dismay was comic, but it turned the talk to a discussion of the upcoming Spring Festival.

Piemur told Menolly that if she thought a gather was fun, she should just wait for the Festival. Everyone in the Hold cliff doubled up so that the entire western half of Pern could be under shelter there for the two days of the Festival. Dragonmen came from all over, and harpers and craftmasters and holders, large and small. That’s when any new craftmasters were made, and new apprentices tapped, and it was great fun, even if he would have to sing Pona’s role, and there’d be dancing all night long instead of just until sundown.

The gong sounded, and the chores were assigned: most of the sections were to clean up the gather area and rake the fields where the beasts had been tethered. Piemur made a huge grimace since his section drew the field duty. Briala smiled maliciously at his chagrin, and he would have answered in kind, but Menolly toed his shins sharply again. He rolled his eyes at her but, when she cocked her head meaningfully and tapped her shoulder, he subsided, realizing that he would have to stay in her good record to get his fire lizard.

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 co

“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.