Dragonsinger (20 page)

Menolly fought the desire to giggle. She mastered it by breathing deeply and then settled quickly to the discipline of the lesson.

When Master Shonagar had dismissed her with a further injunction to be on time not the next day, which was a rest day and he needed his rest, but the day following, the work parties were back from their chores. To her surprise, she was greeted by many of the boys as she raced past them to get back to the fire lizard eggs. She answered, smiling, unsure of names
and
faces but inwardly warmed by their recognition. As she took the steps to the higher level two at a time, she wondered if the boys all knew about the previous night’s disturbance. Probably. News spread faster in this Craft Hall than Thread could burrow.

The sounds of soft gitar strumming reached her ears as she got to the upper hall. She slowed down, out of breath anyhow, and arrived at the Harper’s quarters still breathing heavily, much as Sebell had done. He glanced up, grinned understandingly, and held up a hand to reassure her. Then his hand gestured to the sandtable. All her fire lizards were there, crouched, watching him.

‘I’ve had an audience. What I can’t tell is if my music has pleased them.’

‘It has,’ Menolly told him, smiling. She extended her arm for Beauty, who immediately glided to her. ‘See, their eyes tell you … the green is dominant, which is sleeping pleasure. Red means hunger, blue and green are sort of general shades, white means danger, and yellow is fright. The speed of the eye whirling tells you how intensely they feel about something.’

‘What about him then?’ And Sebell pointed to Lazy whose eyes were first-lidded.

‘He’s called Lazybones for good reason.’

‘I wasn’t playing a lullaby.’

‘Except when he’s hungry, he’s that way. Here,’ and Menolly scooped Lazy up from the sandtable and deposited him on Sebell’s arm. Startled, the man froze. ‘Stroke his eye ridges and the back joints of the wings. There! See? He’s crooning with delight.’

Sebell had obeyed her instructions, and now Lazy collapsed about the journeyman’s forearm, locked his claws loosely about the wrist and stretched his head across the back of Sebell’s hand. Sebell caressed him, a shy and delighted smile on his face.

‘I hadn’t thought they’d be so soft to the touch.’

‘You have to watch for patchy skin and oil it well. I did a thorough job on these the other evening, but you can see where I’ll have to do them again. Just stay there …’ And Menolly quickly went down the hall to her room for the salve, Beauty complaining at the jouncing on her shoulder.

As they spread salve on the fire lizards, Sebell grew more confident of his handling of the creatures. He wore a half-smile, as if surprised to find himself at such a task.

‘Do all fire lizards sing?’ he asked, oiling Brownie.

‘I don’t really know. I suppose mine learned simply because I used to sing to them in the cave.’ Menolly smiled to herself, remembering the fire lizards perched attentively on the ledges about the cave, their little heads turning from side to side to catch the sounds of music.

‘Any audience being better than none?’ asked Sebell. ‘Did anyone think to tell you that Lord Groghe’s little queen has recently started to sing along with the Hold Harper?’

‘Oh no!’

‘If Groghe could carry a tune,’ Sebell went on, enjoying her dismay, ‘it’d be understandable. Don’t worry about it, Menolly. I heard also that Groghe’s delighted.’ Then Sebell’s expression altered subtly.

‘I’ll bet Lord Groghe wasn’t so happy about last night, was he?’ she hesitated, then blurted out, ‘Do you think Canth and F’nor will live?’

‘They have much to live for, Menolly. Brekke needs them to stay alive. She’s lost her queen already. She’ll make them live. We’ll know more when the Harper returns.’

Camo entered the room, carrying a heavily laden tray. His thick-featured face changed from ludicrous
anxiety
to beams of joy as he saw first the fire lizards and then Menolly.

‘Pretty ones hungry? Camo has food?’ And Menolly saw two huge pans of meat in pieces among the other dishes on the tray.

‘Thank you for feeding the pretties this morning, Camo.’

‘Camo very quiet. Very quiet.’ The man bobbed at Menolly in such a fashion that the pitcher of klah splashed.

Sebell deftly relieved him of the tray and set it on the sandtable centre board.

‘You’re a good man, Camo,’ the journeyman said, ‘but go to the kitchen now. You must help Abuna. She needs you.’

‘Pretty ones hungry?’ The disappointment was writ large on Camo’s face.

‘No, not now, Camo,’ Menolly said gently, smiling up at him. ‘See, they’re asleep.’

Camo turned himself in a circle towards the sandtable and then the window ledges where several of the fire lizards were sprawled on the sun-warmed stone, glistening with their recent oiling.

‘We’ll feed them again tonight, Camo.’

‘Tonight? Good. Don’t forget? Promise? Promise? Camo feed pretties?’

‘I promise, Camo,’ Menolly said with extra fervour. The wistful, piteous way in which the poor man asked her to promise suggested that too many promises made to Camo were conveniently forgotten.

‘Now,’ Sebell said as the man shuffled from the room, ‘Silvina said you’d no time for more than klah when you woke. If I remember Shonagar’s lessons, you’ll be starved.’

To Menolly’s delight, there was redfruit on the tray as well as meatrolls, klah, cheese, bread and a sweet
conserve
. Sebell ate lightly, more to keep her company than because he was hungry, though he said he’d been studying. To prove that, he rattled off the names and descriptions of the fish she had given him the other morning.

‘Did I remember them all correctly?’ he asked, peering at her as she stared at him in amazement.

‘Yes, you did!’

‘Think I can pose as a seaman now?’

‘If you only have to name fish!’

‘If only …’ he paused dramatically, making a grimace for that restriction. ‘I had a chat with a bronze dragonrider I know at Fort Weyr. He’s agreed to take us, on the quiet, to any body of water that you feel is adequate to teach me how to sail.’

‘Teach you how to sail?’ Menolly was appalled. ‘In one easy lesson, like those fish names?’

‘No, but I don’t think I’ll actually have to sail. I should know the fundamentals and leave …’ he grinned at her, ‘… the doing to the experts in the craft.’

She breathed a sigh of relief for she liked Sebell, and she’d been distressed to think that he might be fool-hardy enough to attempt sailing on the ocean by himself. Yanus had often said that no-one ever really learned all there was to know about the sea, the winds and the tides. Just when one got confident, a squall could make up and smash a ship to splinters.

‘I do feel, that to be convincing, I’d better know how to gut fish as well. That seems a more integral part of the craft than actual sailing. So that will take priority in your instruction. N’ton said he could acquire some fresh fish for me with no problems.’

Again Menolly suppressed her curiosity as to why a journeyman harper needed to be conversant with the seacraft.

‘Tomorrow’s a rest day,’ Sebell continued. ‘There may even be a gather if the weather holds, which to my landsman’s eye, seems likely. So, if the fire lizards break shell, and if we can disappear circumspectly, perhaps some day after that …’

‘I can’t miss my lessons with Master Shonagar …’

‘Has he got you dithering so soon?’

‘He is so emphatic …’

‘Yes, he usually is. But he really knows how to build a voice, if that’s any consolation to you. I could always play an instrument …’ and Sebell grinned in reminiscence, ‘… but I never thought I’d make a singer. I was terrified I’d be sent away from the Hall …’

‘
You
were?’

‘Oh, indeed I was. I’d wanted to be a harper since I learned my first Ballads. I’m landsman bred, so harpering is very respectable. My foster father gave me all the assistance I needed, and our Hold Harper was a good technician, not very creative,’ and Sebell waggled a hand, ‘but capable of teaching the fundamentals thoroughly. I thought myself a right proper musician … until I got here.’ Sebell uttered a self-deprecating noise at his boyish pretensions. ‘Then I learned just how much more there is to harpering than playing an instrument.’

Menolly grinned with complete understanding. ‘Just like there’s more to being a seaman than knowing how to gut a fish and trim sail?’

‘Yes. Exactly. Which reminds me, Domick did excuse you from this morning’s session, but he hasn’t excused you from the work … So, we might as well put waiting time to use. Incidentally, my compliments on your manner with Domick yesterday. You struck exactly the right note with him.’

‘I never play flat.’

Sebell gave her a wide-eyed stare. ‘I didn’t mean, playing.’

He stared at her a moment more. ‘You mean, you really like that sort of music? You weren’t dissembling?’

‘That music was brilliant. I’ve never heard anything like it.’ Menolly was a bit disconcerted by Sebell’s attitude.

‘Oh, I guess it would seem so to you. I only hope you have the same opinion several Turns from now after you’ve had to endure more of Domick’s eternal search for pure musical forms.’ He gave a mock shudder. ‘Here …’ and he spread out sheets of new music. ‘Let’s see how you like this. Domick wants you to play first gitar, but you’re to learn the second as well.’

The occasional music for two gitars was extremely complex, switching from one time value to another, with chording difficult enough for uninjured hands. She and Sebell had to work out alternative fingering for the passages that her left hand could not manage. The repetitive theme had to dominate, but it swung from one gitar part to the other. They had gone through two of the three sections before Sebell called a break, laughing at his surrender as he stretched and kneaded tired fingers and shoulders.

‘We won’t get this music note-perfect in one sitting, Menolly,’ he protested when she wanted to finish the third movement.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize …’

‘Will you stop apologizing for the wrong things?’

‘I’m sor— Well, I didn’t mean to …’ She had to rephrase what she wanted to say as Sebell laughed at her attempt to obey his injunction. ‘This sort of music is a challenge. It really is. For instance here …’ and she turned to a quick time passage that had been extremely difficult to finger.

‘Enough, Menolly. I’m bone tired, and why you aren’t …’

‘But you’re a journeyman harper …’

‘I know but this journeyman harper cannot spend all his time playing …’

‘What do you do? Besides cross-craft.’

‘Whatever the Harper needs me to do. Primarily I journey … looking among the youngsters in Hold and Craft to see if there’re any likely ones for the Craft Hall. I bring new music to distant harpers … your music most recently—’

‘My music?’

‘First to flush you out because we didn’t know you were a girl. Second, because they were exactly the songs we need.’

‘That’s what Master Robinton said.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised … and meek. Admittedly it’s nice to have one modest apprentice in this company of rampant extroverts … what’s the matter?’

‘Why isn’t music like Master Domick’s—’

‘
Your
music can be played easily and well by any half-stringed harper or fumble-fingered idiot. Not that I’m maligning your songs. It’s just that they’re an entirely different kettle of fish – to use a seamanly metaphor – to Domick’s. Don’t you judge your songs against his standard! More people have already
listened
to your melodies and liked them, than will ever hear Domick’s, much less like them.’

Menolly swallowed. The very notion that her music was more acceptable than Domick’s was incredible, and yet she could appreciate the distinction that Sebell was making. Domick was a musician’s composer.

‘Of course, we need music like Master Domick’s, too. It serves a different purpose, for the Hall, and the
Craft
. He knows more about the art of composing – which you have to learn—’

‘Oh, I know I do.’ Then, because the problem had been weighting heavily on her conscience, she spilled the words out in a rush. ‘What do I do, Sebell, about the fire lizard song? Master Robinton rewrote it, and it’s much, much better. But he’s told everyone that
I
wrote it.’

‘So? That’s the way the Harper wishes it to be, Menolly. He has his reasons.’ Sebell reached out to grip her knee and give her a little shake. ‘And he didn’t change the song much. Just sort of …’ Sebell gestured with both hands, compressing the space between them, ‘… tightened it up. He kept the melody as you’d written it, and that’s what everyone is humming. What you have to do now is learn how to polish your music without losing its freshness. That’s why it’s so important for you to study with Domick. He has the discipline: you have the originality.’

Menolly could not reply to that assessment. There was a lump in her throat as she remembered the beatings she’d taken for doing exactly what she was now encouraged to do.

‘Don’t hunch up like that,’ Sebell said, almost sharply. ‘What’s the matter? You’ve gone white as a sheet. Shells!’ This last word came out as an expletive and caused Menolly to look in surprise at the journeyman. ‘Just when I didn’t want to be interrupted …’

She followed the line of his gaze and saw the bronze dragon circling down to land beyond the courtyard.

‘That’s N’ton. I’ve got to speak to him, Menolly, about our teaching trip. I’ll be right back.’ He was out of the room at a trot, and she could hear him taking the steps in a clatter.

She looked at the music they’d been playing, and Sebell’s words echoed through her mind. ‘He has the
discipline
; you have the originality.’ ‘Everyone’s been humming it.’ People liking her twiddles? That still didn’t seem possible, although Sebell had no more reason to lie to her than the Masterharper when he’d said that her music was valuable to him. To the Harper Craft. Incredible! She struck a chord on the gitar, a triumphant, incredible chord, and then modulated it, thinking how undisciplined that musical reaction had been.

They were still twiddles, her songs, unlike the beautiful, intricate musical designs that Domick composed. But if she studied hard with him, maybe she could improve her twiddles into what she could honestly call music.