Chapter 2

 

Harper, tell me of the road

That leads beyond this Hold,

That wends its way beyond the hill. . .

Does it go further on until

It ends in sunset’s gold?

 

Menolly roused briefly, reacting to an inner call that had nothing to do with the sun’s rising on this side of Pern. She saw dark night and stars through the window, felt the sleeping fire lizards tucked about her, and gratefully went back to sleep again. She was so tired.

Once the sun had cleared the roof of the outer side of the rectangle of buildings that comprised the main Harper Craft Hall, it shone directly at her windows, set in the eastern side of the Hall. Gradually the light penetrated the room, and the unusual combination of light and warmth on her face woke Menolly.

She lay, her body not yet responsive, wondering where she was. Remembering, she was uncertain what to do next. Had she missed some general waking call? No, Silvina had said that she was to sleep herself out. As she pushed back the sleeping furs, she heard the sound of voices chanting. The rhythm was familiar. She smiled, identifying one of the long Sagas. Apprentices were being taught the complicated timing by rote, just as she had taught the youngsters in Half-Circle Sea Hold when Petiron was sick and later after he died. The similarity reassured her.

As she slid from the bed, she clenched her teeth in anticipation of touching the cool hard stones of the floor, but to her surprise, her feet only felt stiff, not painful, this morning. She glanced out the window at the sun. It was well into morning by the cast of shadow: she’d really slept. Then she laughed at herself, for, to be sure she had: she was halfway round Pern from Benden Weyr and Half-Circle Hold, and she had had at least six hours more rest than usual. Fortunately the fire lizards had been as tired as she or they’d have wakened her with their hunger.

She stretched and shook out her hair, then hobbled carefully to the jar and basin. After washing with soapsand, she dressed and brushed her hair, feeling able to face new experiences.

Beauty gave an impatient chirp. She was awake. And very hungry. Rocky and Diver echoed the complaint.

Menolly would have to find them food and right soon. Having nine fire lizards would prejudice enough people against her, without having unmanageably hungry ones who would irritate even the most tolerant of people.

Resolutely, Menolly opened the door to a silent hallway. The aromatic odors of klah, baking breads and meats filled the air. Menolly decided she need only follow the smells to their source to satisfy her friends.

On either side of the wide corridor were doors; those on the outside of the Hall were open to let sun and air flood the inside. She descended from the uppermost level into the large entranceway. Directly in front of the staircase were dragon-high metal doors with the most curious closings she’d ever seen: on the back of the doors were wheels, which evidently turned the heavy bars into floor and ceiling. At Half-Circle Sea Hold there had been the heavy horizontal bars, but this arrangement would be easier to lock and looked much more secure.

To the left was a double-doored entrance into a Great Hall, probably the room where the Harper had been talking last night. To the right, she looked into the dining hall, almost as large as the Great Hall, with three long tables parallel to the windows. Also to her right, by the stairwell, was an open doorway, leading to shallow steps and the kitchen, judging by the appetizing odors and familiar sounds.

The fire lizards creeled in hunger, but Menolly couldn’t have the whole fair invading the kitchen and upsetting the drudges. She ordered them to perch on the cornices in the shadows above the door. She’d bring them food, she promised them, but they had to behave. Beauty scolded until the others settled meekly into place, only their glowing, jewel-faceted eyes giving evidence of their positions.

Then Beauty assumed her favorite perch on Menolly’s shoulder, her head half-buried in Menolly’s thick hair, and her tail wrapped securely about Menolly’s throat like a golden necklace.

As Menolly reached the kitchen, the scene with the drudges and cooks scurrying about preparing the midday meal fleetingly revived memories of happier days at HalfCircle. But here, it was Silvina who noticed her and smiled, as Menolly’s mother would not have done.

“You’re awake? Are you rested?” Silvina gestured imperatively at a slack-featured, clumsy-looking man by the hearth. “Klah, Camo, pour a mug of klah, for Menolly. You must be famished, child. How are your feet?”

“Fine, thank you. And I don’t want to bother anyone . . .”

“Bother? What bother? Camo, pour the klah into the mug.”

“It’s not for myself I’m here . . .”

“Well, you need to eat, and you must be famished.”

“Please, it’s my fire lizards. Have you any scraps . . .”

Silvina’s hands flew to her mouth. She glanced about her head as if expecting a swarm of fire lizards.

“No, I’ve told them to wait,” Menolly said quickly. “They won’t come in here.”

“Now, you are a thoughtful child,” Silvina said in so firm a tone that Menolly wondered why and then realized that she was the object of a good deal of furtive curiosity.

“Camo, here. Give me that!” Silvina took the cup from the man, who was walking with exaggerated care not to slop an overfull container. “And get the big blue bowl from the cold room. The big blue bowl, Camo, from the cold room. Bring it to me.” Silvina deftly handed the cup to Menolly without spilling a drop. “The cold room, Camo, and the blue bowl.” She turned the man by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shove in the proper direction. “Abuna, you’re nearest the hearth. Do dish up some of the cereal. Plenty of sweetening on it, too, the child’s nothing but skin and bones.” Silvina smiled at Menolly. “No use feeding the fowl and starving the servant, as it were. I saved meat for your friends when we trussed up the roast,” and Silvina nodded toward the biggest hearth where great joints of meat were turning on heavy spits, “since meat’s what the Harper said fire lizards need. Now, where would the best place . . .” Silvina glanced about her undecidedly, but Menolly had noticed a low door that led up a short flight of steps to the comer of the courtyard.

“Would I disturb anyone out there?”

“Not at all, you are a considerate child. That’s right, Camo. And thank you.” Silvina patted the half-wit’s arm kindly, while he beamed with the pleasure of a job properly done and rewarded. Silvina tipped the edge of the bowl toward Menolly. “Is this enough? There’s more . . .”

“Oh, that’s a gracious plenty, Silvina.”

“Camo, this is Menolly. Follow Menolly with the bowl. She can’t carry it and her own breakfast. This is Menolly, Camo, follow Menolly. Go right out, dear. Camo’s good at carrying things . . . at least what doesn’t spill.”

Silvina turned from her then, speaking sharply to two women chopping roots, bidding them to slice, not stare. Very much aware of scrutiny, Menolly moved awkwardly to the steps, cup in one hand, bowl of warm cereal in the other, and Camo shuffling behind her. Beauty, who had remained discreetly covered by Menolly’s hair, now craned her neck about, smelling the raw meat in the bowl Camo carried.

“Pretty, pretty,” the man mumbled as he noticed the fire lizard. “Pretty small dragon?” He tapped Menolly on the shoulder. “Pretty small dragon?” He was so anxious for her answer that he almost tripped on the shallow steps.

“Yes, she is like a small dragon, and she is pretty,” Menolly agreed, smiling. “Her name is Beauty.”

“Her name is Beauty.” Camo was entranced. “Her name is Beauty. She pretty small dragon.” He beamed as he loudly declared this information.

Menolly shushed him, not wanting either to alarm or distract Silvina’s helpers. She put down her mug and bow and reached for the meat.

“Pretty small dragon Beauty,” Camo said, ignoring her as she pulled the bowl so firmly clutched in his huge, thick-fingered hands.

“You go to Silvina, Camo. You go to Silvina.”

Camo stood where he was, bobbing his head up and down, his mouth set in a wet, wide grimace of childish delight, too entranced by Beauty to be distracted.

Beauty now creeled imperiously, and Menolly grabbed a handful of meat to quiet her. But her cries had alerted the others. They came, some of them from the open windows of the dining hall above Menolly’s head, others, judging by the shrieks of dismay, through the kitchen and out the door by the steps.

“Pretty, pretty. All pretty!” Camo exclaimed, turning his head from side to side, trying to see all the flitting fire lizards at once.

He didn’t move a muscle as Auntie One and Two perched on his forearms, snatching gobblets of meat directly from the bowl. Uncle secured his talons to the fabric of Camo’s tunic, his right wingtip jabbing the man in the neck and chin as the littlest fire lizard fought for his fair share of the meat. Brownie, Mimic, and Lazybones ranged from Camo’s shoulders to Menolly’s as she tried to distribute the meat evenly.

Alternating between embarrassment at her friends’ bad manners and gratitude for Camo’s stolid assistance, Menolly was acutely aware that all activity had ceased in the kitchen to watch the spectacle. Momentarily, she expected to hear an irate Silvina order Camo back to his ordinary duties, but all she heard was the buzz of whispered gossiping.

“How many does she have?” she heard one clear whisper out of the general mumble.

“Nine,” Silvina answered, imperturbable. “When the two the Harper was given have hatched, the Harper Hall will have eleven.” Silvina sounded smugly superior. The buzz increased in volume. “That bread’s risen enough now Abuna. You and Kayla shape it.”

The fire lizards had cleared the bowl of meat, and Camo stared into its hollow, his face contorted by an expression of dismay.

“All gone? Pretties hungry?”

“No, Camo. They’ve had more than enough. They’re not hungry anymore.” In fact, their bellies were distended, they’d gorged so. “You go to Silvina. Silvina wants you, Camo,” and Menolly followed Silvina’s example: she took him by the shoulders, turned him down the steps, and gave him a gentle shove.

Menolly sipped the good hot klah, beginning to think that Silvina’s marked attentions and kindness were deliberate. Or was that foolish? Silvina was just a kind, thoughtful person: look how she treated dull-witted Camo. She was patience itself with his inadequacy. Nonetheless, Silvina was obviously the headwoman at the Harper Craft Hall and, like serene Manora at Benden Weyr, undoubtedly wielded a good deal of authority. If Silvina was friendly, others would follow her lead.

Menolly began to relax in the warm sun. Her dreams last night had been troubled though she couldn’t remember details now in the bright morning, only a sense of uneasiness and helplessness. Silvina had done much to dissipate the lingering misgivings. Nothing to fear from harpers. T’gellan had repeatedly told her.

Across the courtyard, young voices broke into a lusty rendition of the Saga previously chanted. The fire lizards rose at the eruption of sound, settling again as Menolly laughingly reassured them.

Then a pure sweet trill from Beauty soared in delicate descant above the apprentices’ male voices. Rocky and Diver joined her, wings half-spread as they expanded their lungs for breath. Mimic and Brownie dropped from the window ledge to add their voices. Lazy would not put himself to any such effort, and the two Aunties and blue Uncle were at best indifferent singers, but they listened, heads cocked, jeweled eyes whirling. The five singers rose to their haunches now, their throats thickening, their cheeks swelling as their jaws relaxed to emit the sweet pure notes. Their eyes were half-lidded as they concentrated, as good singers will, to produce the fluting descant.

They were happy then, Menolly thought with relief, and picked up the melody of the Saga, not that the fire lizards needed her voice with the apprentices supplying the tune and harmony.

They were on the last two measures of the chorus when Menolly suddenly realized that it was only herself and the fire lizards singing, that the male voices had ceased. Startled, she looked up and saw that almost every window about the courtyard was filled with faces. The exceptions were the windows of the hall from which the voices had come.

“Who has been singing?” demanded an irate tenor, and a man’s head appeared at one of the empty windows.

“Why, that’s a grand way to wake up, Brudegan,” said the clear baritone of the Masterharper from some point above Menolly and to her left. Craning her head up, she saw him leaning out of his window on the upper story.

“Good morning to you, Masterharper,” said Brudegan courteously, but his tone indicated that he was disgruntled by the intervention.

Menolly tried to sit small, heartily wishing herself between: she was certainly frozen motionless.

“I didn’t know your fire lizards could sing,” Silvina said, appearing on Menolly’s right and absently retrieving mug and bowl from the steps. “A nice compliment to your chorus, eh, Brudegan,” she added, raising her voice to carry across the courtyard. “You’d be wanting your klah now, Robinton?”

“It would be welcome, Silvina.” He stretched, leaned further out to peer down at Menolly. “Enter a fair of fire lizards singing! A lovely way to be wakened, Menolly; and a good morning to you, too.” Before Menolly could respond, a look of dismay crossed his face. “My fire lizard. My egg!” and he disappeared from sight.

Silvina chuckled and she regarded Menolly. “He’ll be of no use to anyone until it’s hatched and he’s got one of his own.”

At that point, Brudegan’s singers renewed their song. Beauty chirruped questioningly at MenoIly.

“No, no, Beauty. No more singing, not now.”

“They need the practice,” and Silvina gestured at the hall. “Now I’ve the Harper’s meal to see to and you to settle . . .” She paused, glancing about at the fire lizards. “But what to do with them?”

“They usually sleep when they’re as full as they are right now.”

“All to the good. . .but where? Mercy!”

Menolly tried not to laugh at Silvana’s astonishment, because all but Beauty, who took her usual perch on Menolly’s shoulder, had disappeared. Menolly pointed to the roof opposite and the small bodies landing there, apparently out of thin air.

“They do go between, don’t they?” Silvina said more than asked. “Harper says they’re much like dragons?” That was a question.

“I don’t know that much about dragons, but fire lizards can go between. They followed me last night from Benden Weyr.”

“And they’re obedient. I could wish the apprentices were half so willing.” Then Silvina motioned Menolly to follow her back into the kitchen. “Camo, turn the spit. Camo, now turn the spit. I suppose the rest of you have been watching the yard instead of the food,” she said, scowling indiscriminately about the kitchen. The cooks and drudges alike pretended industry, clanging, banging, splashing or bending with assiduous care over quieter tasks of paring and scraping. “Better yet, Menolly, you take the Harper his klah, and check that egg of his. He’ll be roaring for you soon enough, so we might as well anticipate. Then I shall want Master Oldive to see your feet, not that Manora hasn’t all but healed them anyway. And . . .” Silvina caught Menolly’s left hand and scowled at the red mark. “Wherever did you get such a fierce wound? And who bungled the healing of it? There now, can you grip with that hand?” Silvina had been assembling on a small tray the various items of the Harper’s breakfast, the last of which was a heavy pot of klah. Now she gave the tray to Menolly. “There now. His room is the second door on the right from yours, Menolly. Turn the spit, Camo, don’t just hold on to it. Menolly’s fire lizards are fed and sleeping. You’ll have another gawk at them later. Turn the spit now!”

As briskly as Menolly could move on her stiff feet, she made her way out of the kitchen and up the broad steps to the second level. Beauty hummed softly in her ear, a gently disobedient descant to the Saga that Brudegan’s pupils were singing lustily.

Master Robinton hadn’t sounded annoyed about the fire lizards’ singing, Menolly thought. She’d apologize to Journeyman Brudegan when she got the chance. She simply hadn’t realized she’d cause a distraction. She’d been so pleased that her friends were relaxed enough to want to sing.

Second door on her right. Menolly tapped. Then rapped, then knocked, hard enough to make her knuckles. sting.

“Come. Come. And, Silvina . . . oh, Menolly, you’re just the person I wanted to see,” the Harper said, throwing open the door. “And good morning to you, proud Beauty,” he added, grinning at the little queen who chirped an acknowledgement as he took the tray from Menolly. “Silvina’s forever anticipating me . . . Would you please check my egg? It’s in the other room, by the hearth. It feels harder to me . . .” He sounded anxious as he pointed to the farther door.

Menolly obediently entered the room, and he walked with her, setting the tray down as he passed the sandtable by the window and pouring himself a mug of klah before he joined her by the hearth in the next room where a small fire burned gently. The earthen pot had been set at the edge of the hearth apron.

Menolly opened it, carefully brushing aside the warm sand that covered the precious fire lizard egg. It was harder, but not much more so than when she had given it to the Masterharper at Benden Weyr the previous evening.

“It’s fine, Master Robinton, just fine. And the pot is warm enough, too,” she said, running her hands down the sides. She replaced the sand and the top and rose. “When we brought the clutch back to Benden Weyr two days ago, Weyrwoman Lessa said it would take a sevenday for them to hatch, so we’ve five days more!”

The Harper sighed with exaggerated relief. “You slept well, Menolly? You’re rested? Awake long?”

“Long enough.”

The Harper burst but laughing as she realized how much chagrin she’d put into her tone.

“Long enough to set a few people by the ears, huh? My dear child, did you not notice the difference in the chorus the second time? Your fire lizards have challenged them. Brudegan was only gruff with surprise. Tell me, can your fire lizards improvise descants to any tune?”

“I don’t really know, Master Robinton.”

“Still not sure, are you, young Menolly?” He didn’t mean the fire lizards’ abilities. There was such kindness in his voice and eyes that Menolly felt unexpected tears behind her eyes.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance . . .”

“Allow me to differ both to statement and content, Menolly . . .” Then he sighed. “You’re overyoung to appreciate the value of nuisance, although the improvement in that chorus is a point in my argument. However, it’s much too early in the morning for me to expound philosophy.” He guided her back into the other room, quite the most cluttered place she had ever seen and in direct contrast to the neatness of his bedchamber. While musical instruments were carefully stored on hook and shelf in cases, piles of record skins, drawings, slates-wax and stone-littered every surface and were heaped in comers and against the walls of the room. On one wall was a finely drawn map of the Pern continent, with smaller detailed drawings of all the major Holds and Crafthalls pinned here and there on the borders. The long sandtable by the window was covered with musical notations, some of them carefully shielded by glass to prevent erasure. The Harper had set the tray on the center island, which separated the sandtable into two halves. Now he pulled a square of wood to protect the sand and positioned the tray so be could eat comfortably. He smeared a thick slice of bread with soft cheese and picked up his spoon to eat his cereal, motioning with the spoon for Menolly to seat herself on a stool.

“We’re in a period of change and readjustment, Menolly,” he said, managing to speak and eat simultaneously without choking on food or garbling his words. “And you are likely to be a vital part of that change. Yesterday I exerted an unfair pressure on you to join the Harper Hall . . . Oh yes, I did, but you belong here!” His forefinger stabbed downward at the floor and then waggled out at the courtyard. “First,” and he paused to swallow klah, washing down bread and cereal, “we must discover just how well Petiron taught you the fundamentals of our craft and what you need to further your gifts. And . . .” be pointed now to her left hand, “. . . what can be done to correct that scar damage. I’d still like to hear you play the songs you wrote.” His eyes fell to her hands in her lap so that she was aware of her absentminded kneading of her left palm. “Master Oldive will set that right if anyone can.”

“Silvina said I was to see him today.”

“We’ll have you playing again, more than just those pipes. We need you, when you can craft songs like those Petiron sent me and the ones Elgion found stuck away at the back of the harper’s shelves in Half-Circle. Yes, and that’s a matter I’d better explain . . .” he went on, smoothing the hair at the back of his neck and, to Menolly’s amazement, appearing to be embarrassed.

“Explain?”

“Yes, well, you obviously hadn’t finished writing that song about the fire lizard queen . . .”

“No, I hadn’t actually . . .” Menolly felt that she was not hearing his words properly. For one thing, why did the Masterharper have to explain anything to her? And she’d only jotted down the little tune about the fire lizard queen, yet last night . . . Now she remembered that he’d mentioned the song, as if all the harpers knew about it. “You mean, Harper Elgion sent it to you?”

“How else would I have got it? We couldn’t find you!” Robinton sounded annoyed. “When I think of you, living in a cave, with a damaged hand, and you hadn’t been allowed to finish that charming song . . . So I did.”

He got up, rummaged among the piles of waxed slates under the window, extracted one and handed it to her. She looked at the notations obediently but, although they were familiar, she couldn’t make her mind read the melody.

“I had to have something about fire lizards, since I believe they’re going to be far more important than anyone has yet realized. And this tune . . .” his finger tapped the hard wax surface approvingly, “. . . was so exactly what I needed, that I just brushed up the harmonics, and compressed the lyric story. Probably what you’d’ve done yourself if you’d had the chance to work on it again. I couldn’t really improve on the melodic line without destroying the integral charm of . . . What’s the matter, Menolly?”

Menolly realized that she’d been staring at him, unable to believe that he was praising a silly tune she’d only scrawled down. Guiltily, she examined the slate again.

“I never did get a chance to play it . . . I wasn’t supposed to play my own tunes in the Sea Hold. I promised my father I wouldn’t . . . so you see-“

“Menolly!”

Startled, she looked up at his stem tone.

“I want you to promise me-and you’re now my apprentice-I want you to promise me to write down any tune that comes into your mind: I want you to play it as often as necessary to get it right . . . do you understand me? That’s why I brought you here.” He tapped the slate again. “That was a good song even before I tampered with it. I need good songs badly.”

“What I said about change affects the Harper Hall more than any other craft, Menolly, because we are the ones who effect change. just as we teach with our songs, so we also help people accept new ideas and necessary changes. And for that we need a special kind of harpering.”

“Now, I still have to consider Craft principles and standards. Especially in your unusual situation, the conventional procedure must be observed. Once we’ve dispensed with the formalities, we can proceed with your training as fast as you want to go. But this is where you belong, Menolly, you and your singing fire lizards. Bless me but that was lovely to hear this morning. Ah, Silvina, good morning and to you, as well, Master Oldive . . .”

Menolly knew it was impolite to stare at anyone and looked away as soon as she realized that she was staring, but Master Oldive required a long look. He was shorter than herself but only because his head was awry on his neck. His great lean face tilted up from its permanent slant, and she had the impression of enormous dark eyes under very shaggy brows taking in every detail of herself.

“I’m sorry, Master Robinton, have we interrupted you?” Silvina paused on the threshold indecisively.

“Yes, and no. I don’t think I’ve convinced Menolly but that will take time. Meanwhile, we’ll get on with the basics. We’ll speak again, Menolly,” said the Harper. “Go along with Master Oldive now. Let him do his best, or his worst, for you. She must play again, Oldive.” The Harper’s smile as he gestured to Menolly to follow the man implied complete faith in his ability. “And Silvina, Menolly says the egg’s safe enough for four or five days, but you’ll please arrange to have someone-“

“Why not Sebell? He’s got his egg to check, too, doesn’t he? And with Menolly here in the Hall . . .” Silvina was saying as Master Oldive, ushering Menolly out of the room before him, closed the door.

“I’m to see to your feet as well, Silvina tells me,” was the man’s comment as he indicated Menolly should lead the way to her room. The Master’s voice was unexpectedly deep. And while he might be shorter than herself in the torso, he’d as long a leg and arm and matched her stride down the corridor. As he pushed wider her door, she realized that his stature was due to a terrible malformation of his spine.

“By my life!” Oldive exclaimed, stopping abruptly as Menolly preceded him into the room. “I thought for a moment you were as blighted as myself. It is a fire lizard on your shoulder, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Now, there’s one on me, so it is. Is the creature friendly?” He peered up at Beauty, who chirruped pleasantly back, since Oldive was patently addressing her. “As long as I’m friendly to your Menolly, I take it? You’ll have to write another verse to your fire lizard song, proving the rewards of kindness,” he added, gesturing her to sit on the window side of the bed as he pulled up the stool.

“Oh, that’s not my song . . .” she said, removing her slippers.

Master Oldive frowned. “Not your song? But Master Robinton assigns it to you-constantly,”

“He rewrote it . . . he told me so.”

“That’s not unusual,” and Master Oldive dismissed her protest. “Proper mess you made of your feet,” he said, his voice taking on a distant, thoughtful quality as he looked at first one, then the other foot. “Running, I believe . . .”

Menolly felt reproved. “I was caught out during Threadfall, you see, far from my cave and had to run . . . oooh!”

“Sorry, did I hurt? The flesh is very tender. And will remain that way awhile longer.”

He began to smooth on a pungent-smelling substance, and she couldn’t keep her foot still. He grabbed her ankle firmly to complete the medication, countering her embarrassed apology by remarking that her twitching proved that she’d done the nerves no harm with the pounding she’d given her feet.

“You’re to keep off them as much as possible. I’ll tell Silvina so. And use this salve morning and night. Aids healing and keeps the skin from itching.” He replaced Menolly’s slippers. “Now, this hand of yours.”

She hesitated, knowing that his opinion of the bungled wound was likely to echo Manora’s and Silvina’s. Perversely she was alfficted by an obscure loyalty to her mother.

Oldive regarded her steadily, as if divining some measure of her reluctance, and extended his own hand. Compelled by the very neutrality of his gaze, she gave him her injured hand. To her surprise, there was no change of expression on his face, no condemnation or pity, merely interest in the problem the thick-scarred palm posed for a man of his skill. He prodded the scar tissue, murmuring thoughtfully in his throat.

“Make a fist.”

She could just about do that but, when he asked her to extend her fingers, the scar pulled as she tried to stretch the palm.

“Not as bad as I was led to believe. An infection, I suppose . . .”

“Packtail slime . . .”

“Hmm, yes. Insidious stuff.” He gave her hand another twist. “But the scar is not long healed, and the tissue can still be stretched. A few more months and we might not have been able to do anything to flex the hand. Now, you will do exercises, tightening your fingers about a small hard ball, which I will provide you, and extending the hand.” He demonstrated, forcing her fingers upward and apart so that she cried out involuntarily. “If you can discipline yourself to the point of actual discomfort, you are doing the exercise properly. We must stretch the tightened skin, the webbing between your fingers, and the stiffened tendons. I shall also provide a salve, which you are to rub well into the scar tissue to make it softer and more pliable. Conscientious effort on your part will determine the rate of progress. I suspect that you will be sufficiently motivated.”

Before Menolly could stammer her thanks, the astonishing man was out of the room and closing the door behind him. Beauty made a sound-half quizzical chirp, half approving burble. She’d come loose from Menolly’s neck during the examination, watching the proceedings from a depression in the sleeping furs. Now she walked over to Menolly and stroked her head against Menolly’s arm.

From the apprentices’ hall across the courtyard, the singing was renewed, with vigor and volume. Beauty cocked her head, humming with delight and then, when Menolly shushed her, looked wistfully up at the girl.

“I don’t think we should sing again just now, but they do sound grand, don’t they?”

She sat there, caressing Beauty, delighting in the music. Very close harmony, she realized approvingly, the sort only trained voices and well-rehearsed singers can achieve.

“Well,” said Silvina, entering the room briskly, “you have stirred them up. It’s good to hear that old rooter sung with some spirit.”

Menolly had no time to register astonishment at Silvina’s comment, for the headwoman poked at Menolly’s bundle of things on the table, and twitched the sleeping rug into neat folds.

“We might just as well get you settled in Dunca’s cottage now,” Silvina continued. “Fortunately, there’s an outside room unoccupied . . .” The headwoman wrinkled her nose in a slightly disparaging grimace. “Those holder girls are impossible about being outside, but it oughtn’t to worry you.” She smiled at Menolly. “Oldive says you’re to keep off your feet, but some walking’s got to be done. Still, you won’t be in a chore section . . . another good reason to keep you at Dunca’s, I suppose . . .” Silvina frowned and then looked back at Menolly’s small bundle. “This is all you brought with you?”

“And nine fire lizards.”

Silvina laughed. “An embarrassment of riches.” She glanced out the window, peering across the courtyard to the far roof where the fire lizards were still sunning themselves. “They do stay where they’re told, don’t they?”

“Generally. But I’m not sure how good they are with too many people about or unusual noise.”

“Or fascinating diversions . . .” Silvina smiled again at Menolly as she nodded toward the windows and the music issuing from the apprentices’ hall.

“They always sang along with me ... I didn’t realize we shouldn’t-“

“How should you? Not to worry, Menolly. You’ll fit in here just fine. Now, let’s wrap up your bundle and show you the way to Dunca’s. Then Robinton wants you to borrow a gitar. Master Jerint is sure to have a spare usable one in the workshop. You’ll have to make your own, you know. Unless you made one for Petiron at the Sea Hold?”

“I had none of my own.” Menolly was relieved that she could keep her voice steady.

“But Petiron took his with him. Surely you . . .”

“I had the use of it, yes.” Menolly managed to keep her tone even as she rigidly suppressed the memory of how she had lost the use, of the beating her father had given her for forbidden tuning, playing her own songs. “I made myself pipes . . .” she added, diverting Silvina from further questions. Rummaging in her bundle, she brought out the multiple pipes she had made in her cave by the sea.

“Reeds? And done with a belt knife by the look of them,” said Silvina, walking to the window for more light as she turned the pipes in a critical examination. “Well done for just a belt knife.” She returned the pipes to Menolly with an approving expression. “Petiron was a good teacher.”

“Did you know him well?” Menolly felt a wave of grief at her loss of the only person in her home hold who had been interested in her.

“Indeed I did.” Silvina gave Menolly a frown. “Did he not talk of the Harper Hall at all to you?”

“No. Why should he?”

“Why shouldn’t he? He taught you, didn’t he? He encouraged you to write . . . Sent Robinton those songs Silvina stared at Menolly in real surprise for a long moment, then she shrugged with a little laugh. “Well, Petiron always had his own reasons for everything he did, and no one the wiser. But he was a good man!”

Menolly nodded, unable for a moment to speak berating herself for ever once doubting, during those lonely miserable days at Half-Circle after Petiron’s death, that he’d done what he said he’d do. Though the old Harper’s mind had taken to wandering . . .

“Before I forget it,” Silvina said, “how often do your fire lizards need to be fed?”

“They’re hungriest in the morning, though they eat any time, but maybe that was because I had to hunt and catch food for them, and it took hours. The wild ones seemed to have no trouble . . .”

“Fed ‘em once and they’re always looking to you, is that it?” Silvina smiled, to soften any implied criticism. “The cooks throw all scraps into a big earthen jar in the cold room . . . most of it goes to the watchwhers, but I’ll give orders that you’re to have whatever you require.”

“I don’t mean to be a bother . . .”

Silvina gave her such a look that Menolly broke off her attempt to apologize.

“Be sure that when you do bother me, I’ll inform you.” Silvina grinned. “Just ask any of the apprentices if I won’t.”

Silvina had been leading Menolly down the steps and out of the cliffhold of the Harper Hall as she talked. Now they passed under an arch that gave onto a broad road of paving stones, never a blade of grass or spot of moss to be seen anywhere.

For the first time Menolly had a chance to appreciate the size of Fort Hold. Knowing that it was the oldest and largest Hold was quite different from seeing it, being outside the towering cliff.

Thousands of people must live in the cliffholds and cottages that hugged the rock palisade. Awed, Menolly’s steps slowed as she stared at the wide ramp leading to the courtyard and main entrance of Fort Hold, higher in the cliff face than the Harper Craft Hall, and with rows of windows extending upward in sheer stone, almost to the fire heights themselves. In Half-Circle Sea Hold, everyone had been in the cliff, but at Fort Hold, stone buildings had been built out in wings from the cliff, forming a quadrangle similar to the Harper Craft Hall. Smaller cottages had been added onto the original wings, on either side of the ramp. There were dwellings bordering the sides of the broad paved road that led in several well-traveled directions; south to the fields and pastures, east down the valley toward the low foothills and west around to the pass in the cliff that would lead to the higher mountains of the Central Fort Range.

Silvina guided Menolly now toward a cottage, a goodsized one with five windows, all of them shuttered tight, on the upper floor. The cottage nestled against the slope of the ramp. As they got close enough, Menolly realized that the little cot was also quite old. And the cottage door was metal, too! Incredible! Silvina opened it, calling out for Dunca. Menolly had just time to notice that the metal door closed as the one at the Harper Hall did, with a small wheel throwing the thick rods into grooves in ceiling and floor.

“Menolly, come and meet Dunca who holds the cottage for the girls who study at the Harper Hall.”

Menolly dutifully greeted the short, dumpy little woman with bright black eyes and cheeks like a puffbelly’s sides. Dunca gave Menolly a raking look, at odds with her jolly appearance, as if measuring up Menolly to the gossip she’d already heard. Then Dunca saw Beauty peeking around Menolly’s ear. She gave a shriek, jumping back.

“What’s that?”

Menolly reached up to calm Beauty, who was hissing and raising her wings, getting one entangled in Menolly’s hair.

“But, Dunca, surely you knew-“ Silvina’s voice chided the woman, “-that Menolly had Impressed fire lizards.”

Menolly’s sharp ear caught the edge to Silvina’s voice, and so did the little queen, for Beauty thrummed softly and warningly in her throat as her eyes whirled at Dunca. Menolly silently called her to order.

“I’d heard, but I don’t always credit things I’m told,” said Dunca, standing as far away from Menolly and Beauty as the hall permitted.

“Very wise of you,” replied Silvina. The set of the headwoman’s lips and the wary amusement in her glance told Menolly that Silvina was not overly fond of the little cotholder. “Now you’ve a windowed room vacant, have you not? I think it’s best if we settled her there.”

“I don’t want another hysterical girl who’ll panic during Threadfall and scare us all with imagining that Thread is actually in the cottage!”

Silvina’s eyes danced with suppressed laughter as she glanced Menolly’s way. “No, Menolly won’t panic. She is, by the way, the youngest daughter of Yanus Sea Holder of Half-Circle Sea Hold, beholden to Benden Weyr. The sea breeds stem souls, you know.”

Dunca’s bright little eyes were almost lost in the folds of her eye flesh as she peered up at Menolly.

“So you knew Petiron, did you?”

“Yes, I did, Dunca.”

The cotholder gave a disgusted snort and turned so quickly her full skirt followed in hasty swirls as she made for the stone steps carved into the wall at the back of the hallway. She kept twitching her skirt, grunting at the steepness of the risers as she heaved her small fat person upward.

Two narrow corridors, lit at either end by dimming glows, went left and right from the stairwell. Dunca turned right, led them to the far end and threw open the last door on the outside.

“Lazy sluts,” she said truculently, fumbling at the catch of the glowbasket, “They’ve cleared the glows.”

“Where are they kept?” asked Menolly, wishing to ingratiate herself with the cotkeeper. Fleetingly she wondered if she’d always be trotting up and down narrow steps after glows.

“Where’s your drudge, Dunca? It’s her task to bring glows, not Menolly’s,” said Silvina as she walked past Dunca and flipped open first one, then a second set of shutters, flooding the room with sunlight.

“Silvina! What are you doing?”

“Threadfall’s not for two more days, Dunca. Be sensible. The room’s fusty.”

Dunca’s answer was a shriek as the other fire lizards swooped in through the opened window, diving about the room, chittering excitedly. There was nothing for them to cling to, since the walls were bare of hangings and the bed a frame, empty of rushes, the sleeping fur rolled up on the small press. The two green Aunties and blue Uncle fought for landing space on the stool and then zoomed out the window again as Dunca’s screams startled them. The little cotholder cowered in the corner, skirts about her head, shrieking.

Menolly ordered the browns to stop diving, told Auntie One and Two and Uncle to stay on the window ledge, got Rocky and Diver to settle on the bedstead while Silvina calmed Dunca and led her from the corner. By the time the cotholder had been cajoled into watching Silvina handle Lazybones, who’d let anyone caress him so long as it involved no effort on his part, Menolly realized that Dunca would never be comfortable in their presence and that the woman disliked Menolly intensely for witnessing her fearfulness. For a long, sad moment, Menolly wished that she could have stayed at the Weyr where everyone could accept fire lizards equably.

She sighed softly to herself as she stroked Beauty, absently listening to Silvina’s reassurances to Dunca that the fire lizards wouldn’t harm anyone, not her, not her charges; that Dunca’d be the envy of every other cotholder in Fort to have nine fire lizards . . .

“Nine?” Dunca’s protest came out in a terrified squeak, and she reached for her skirts to throw over her head. “Nine of those beastly things flitting and diving about my home-“

“They don’t like to stay inside, except at night,” said Menolly, hoping to reassure Dunca. “They’re rarely all with me at one time.”

From the horrified and malicious look Dunca gave her, Menolly realized that she herself would be rarely with Dunca if the cotholder had anything to say in the matter.

“We can stop here no longer now, Menolly. You’ve to pick a gitar from the workshop,” said Silvina. “If you need more rushes, Dunca, you’ve only to send your woman to the Hall,” she added as she motioned Menolly to precede her from the room. “Menolly will be more closely involved with the Hall than the other girls . . .”

“She’s to be back here at shutter time, same as the others, or stay at the Hall,” said Dunca as Silvina and Menolly went down the steps.

“She’s strict with the girls,” Silvina remarked as they emerged into the bright midday sun and started across the broad paved square, “but that’s to the good with all those lads vying for their attention. And take no heed to her grumbles over Petiron. She’d hoped to wed him after Merelan died. I’d say Petiron resigned as Fort Hold Harper as much to get free of Dunca as to clear the way for Robinton. He was so very proud that his son was elected Masterharper.”

“Half-Circle Sea Hold is a long way from Fort Hold.”

Silvina, chuckled. “And one of the few places isolated enough to prevent Dunca from following him, child. As if Petiron would ever have taken another woman after Merelan. She was the loveliest person, a voice of unusual beauty and range. Ah, I miss her still.”

More people were about: field workers coming in for their midday meal; a party of men on leggy runners, slowing to an amble through the crowd. An apprentice, intent on his errand, ran right into Menolly. He was mouthing an apology when Beauty, peering through Menolly’s hair, hissed at him. He yelped, ducked with an apprentice’s well-developed instinct, and went pelting back the way he’d come.

Silvina laughed. “I’d like to hear his tale when he gets back to his hall.”

“Silvina, I’m-“

“Not a word, Menolly! I will not have you apologizing for your fire lizards. Nor will Master Robinton. There will always be fools in the world like Dunca, fearful of anything new or strange.” They had entered the archway of the Harper Hall. “Through that door, across the stairhall, and you’ll find the workshop. Master Jerint is in charge. He’ll find you an instrument so you can play for Master Domick. He’ll meet you there.” With an encouraging pat and a smile, Silvina left her.