Dragonsong (3 page)

By putting to sea to fish so quickly after the old Harper’s burial, Yanus thought to have time enough to find an alternative solution. There was no doubt that the girl could sing well, play well, and she’d not disgraced Hold or Harper that morning. It was going to take time to send for and receive a new Harper, and the youngsters must not lose all progress in the learning of the basic Teaching Ballads.

But Yanus had many strong reservations about putting such a heavy responsibility on the shoulders of a girl not fifteen Turns old. Not the least of these was Menolly’s distressing tendency toward tune-making. Well enough and amusing now and again in the long winter evenings to hear her sing them, but old Petiron had been alive to keep her to rights. Yanus wasn’t sure that he could trust her not to include her trivial little whistles in the lessons. How were the young to know that hers weren’t proper songs for their learning? The trouble was, her melodies were the sort that stayed in
the
mind so a man found himself humming or whistling them without meaning to.

By the time the boats had profitably trawled the Deep and tacked for home, Yanus had found no compromise. It was no consolation to know that he wouldn’t have any argument from the other holders. Had Menolly sung poorly that morning … but she hadn’t. As Sea Holder for Half-Circle, he was obliged to bring up the young of the Hold in the traditions of Pern: knowing their duty and how to do it. He counted himself very lucky to be beholden to Benden Weyr, to have F’lar, bronze Mnementh’s rider, as Weyrleader and Lessa as Ramoth’s Weyrwoman. So Yanus felt deeply obliged to keep tradition at Half-Circle: and the young would learn what they needed to know, even if a girl had the teaching.

That evening, after the day’s catch had been salted down, he instructed Mavi to bring her daughter to the small room off the Great Hall where he conducted Hold business and where the Records were stored. Mavi had put the Harper’s instruments on the mantel for safekeeping.

Appropriately Yanus handed Menolly Petiron’s gitar. She took the instrument in a properly reverential manner, which reassured Yanus that she appreciated the responsibility.

‘Tomorrow you’ll be excused from your regular morning duties to take the youngsters for their teaching,’ he told her. ‘But I’ll have no more of those finger-twiddlings of yours.’

‘I sang my songs when Petiron was alive and you never minded them …’

Yanus frowned down at his tall daughter.

‘Petiron
was
alive. He’s dead now, and you’ll obey me in this …’

Over her father’s shoulders, Menolly saw her mother’s frowning face, saw her warning headshake and held back a quick reply.

‘You bear in mind what I’ve said!’ And Yanus fingered the wide belt he wore. ‘No tuning!’

‘Yes, Yanus.’

‘Start tomorrow then. Unless, of course, there’s Threadfall, and then everyone will bait longlines.’

Yanus dismissed the two women and began to compose a message to the Masterharper to go when he could next spare the sloop’s crew. They’d sail it to Igen Hold. About time Half-Circle had some news of the rest of Pern anyway. And he could ship some of the smoked fish. The journey needn’t be a wasted trip.

Once in the hallway, Mavi gripped her daughter’s arm hard. ‘Don’t disobey him, girl.’

‘There’s no harm in my tunes, mother. You know what Petiron said …’

‘I’ll remind you that the old man’s dead. And that changes everything that went on during his life. Behave yourself while you stand in a man’s place. No tuning! To bed now, and mind you turn the glowbaskets. No sense wasting light no eye needs.’

Chapter 2

Honor those the dragons heed

In thought and favor, word and deed
.

Worlds are lost or worlds are saved

From those dangers dragon-braved
.

Dragonman, avoid excess:

Greed will bring the Weyr distress:

To the ancient Law adhere
,

Prospers thus the Dragonweyr
.

IT WAS EASY
enough, at first, for Menolly to forget her tuning during the Teachings. She wanted to do Petiron proud so that when the new Harper came, he’d find no fault in the children’s recitations. The children were attentive: the Teaching was always better than gutting and preserving fish, or net mending, and longline baiting. Then, too, winter storms, the severest in many Turns, kept the fishing fleet docked and the Teaching eased the boredom.

When the fleet was in, Yanus would stop by the Little Hall where Menolly held her class. He’d scowl at her from the back of the Hall. Fortunately, he’d only stay a little while because he made the children nervous. Once she actually saw his foot tapping the beat; he scowled when he realized what he was doing and then he left.

He had sent the message sloop to Igen Hold three days after the burial. The crew brought back news of no interest to Menolly but the adults went around looking black: something about the Oldtimers and Menolly wasn’t to worry her head, so she didn’t. The crew also brought back a message slate addressed to Petiron and signed with the imprint of Masterharper Robinton.

‘Poor old Petiron,’ one of the aunties told Menolly, sighing and dabbing affectedly at her eyes. ‘He always looked forward to slates from Masterharper. Ah well, it’ll keep til the new Harper comes. He’ll know what to do with it.’

It took Menolly a while to find out where the slate was: propped up conspicuously on the mantel in her father’s Records room. Menolly was positive that the message had something to do with her, with the songs that Petiron had said he’d sent to the Masterharper. The notion
so
obsessed her that she got bold enough to ask her mother why Yanus didn’t open the message.

‘Open a sealed message from the Masterharper to a man dead?’ Mavi stared at her daughter in shocked incredulity. ‘Your father would do no such thing. Harpers’ letters are for Harpers.’

‘I only remembered that Petiron had sent a slate to the Masterharper. I thought it might be about a replacement coming. I mean …’

‘I’ll be glad when the new Harper does come, m’girl. You’ve been getting above yourself with this Teaching.’

The next few days were full of apprehension for Menolly: she conceived the idea that her mother would make Yanus replace her as Teacher. That was, of course, impossible for the same reasons that had forced Yanus to make her the teacher in the first place. But it was a fact that Mavi found all the smelliest, most boring or tedious jobs for Menolly once her teaching duty was done. And Yanus took it into his head to appear in the Little Hall more frequently.

Then the weather settled down into a clear spell and the entire Sea Hold was kept at a run with fish. The children were excused from the Teaching to gather seaweeds blown up by
the
high tides and all the Hold women set to boiling the weed for the thick juice in the stalks: juice that kept back many sicknesses and bone ailments. Or so the old aunties said. But they’d find good out of any bad and the worst of any blessing. And the worst of the seaweed was its smell, thought Menolly, who had to stir the huge kettles.

Threadfalls came and added some excitement: the fear in being Holdbound while the dragons swept the skies with their fiery breath, charring Thread to impotence. (Menolly wanted to see that grand sight one day, instead of just singing about it, or knowing it was taking place outside the thick stone walls and heavy metal shutters of the Hold’s windows.) Afterward she joined the flame-thrower crews that checked for any possible Thread that might have escaped dragon flame. Not that there was much for Thread to eat on the windswept bare marshes and bogs around Half-Circle Sea Hold. The barren rock palisades that made Half-Circle bore no greenery at all, winter or summer, but it was wise to check the marshes and beaches. Thread could burrow into the seagrass stalks, or slide down the marshberry and seabeachplum bushes, burrow into the roots, multiply and eat anything green and growing until the coast was as bare as rock.

Flame-crewing was cold work, but it was a distinct pleasure for Menolly to be out of the Hold, in the rough air. Her team got as far as the Dragon Stones to the south. Petiron had told her that those stones, standing offshore in the treacherous waters, had once been part of the palisade, probably hollowed with caves like all this stretch of cliff.

The crowning treat for Menolly was when the Weyrleader, F’lar himself, on bronze Mnementh, circled in for a chat with Yanus. Of course, Menolly wasn’t near enough to hear what the two men said, but she was close enough to smell the firestone reek of the giant bronze dragon. Close enough to see his beautiful eyes catching all colors in the pale wintry sunlight: to see his muscles knot and smooth under the soft hide. Menolly stood, as was properly respectful, with the other flame-thrower crews. But once, when the dragon turned his head in a lazy fashion to peer in her direction, his eyes whirled slowly with their changing colors and she was certain that Mnementh looked at
her
. She didn’t dare breathe, he was so beautiful!

Then, suddenly, the magic moment was over. F’lar gave a graceful leap to the dragon’s shoulder, caught the fighting straps and pulled himself into place on the neck ridges. Air
whooshed
around Menolly and the others as the great bronze opened his fragile-looking wings. The next moment, he seemed to be in the air, catching the updraft, beating steadily higher. Abruptly the dragon winked from view. Menolly was not the only one to sigh deeply. To see a dragonrider in the sky was always an occurrence: to be on the same ground with a dragon and his rider, to witness his graceful take-off and exit
between
was a marvel.

All the songs about dragonriders and dragons seemed inadequate to Menolly. She stole up to the little cubicle in the women’s dormitory that she shared with Sella. She wanted to be alone. She’d a little pipe among her things, a soft, whispery reedpipe, and she began to play it: a little whistle composed of her excitement and her response to the day’s lovely event.

‘So there you are!’ Sella flounced into the room, her face reddened, her breath rough. She’d obviously run up the steep stairs. ‘Told Mavi you’d be here.’ Sella grabbed the little pipe from Menolly’s fingers. ‘And tuning, too.’

‘Oh, Sella. It’s an old tune!’ Menolly said mendaciously and grabbed her pipe back.

Sella’s jaw worked with anger. ‘Old, my foot! I know your ways, girl. And you’re dodging work. You get back to the kitchen. You’re needed now.’

‘I am not dodging work, I taught this morning during Threadfall and then I had to go with the crews.’

‘Your crew’s been in this past half-day or more and you still in smelly, sandy clothes, mucking up the room I have to sleep in. You get below or I’ll tell Yanus you’ve been tuning.’

‘Ha! You wouldn’t know a tune if you had your nose rubbed in it.’

But Menolly was shedding her work clothes as fast as she could. Sella was just likely to slip the word to Mavi (her sister was as wary of Yanus as Menolly) about Menolly piping in her room – a suspicious action on its own. Though Menolly hadn’t sworn not to tune at all; only not to do it in front of people.

However, everyone was in a good mood that night: Yanus, because he’d spoken to F’lar the Weyrleader and because there’d be good fishing on the morrow if the weather held. Fish always rose to feed from drowned Thread, and half the Fall had been over Nerat Bay. The Deep would be thick with schools. With Yanus in a good mood, the rest of the Sea Holders could also rejoice because there’d been no Thread on the ground at all.

So it wasn’t any wonder that they called on Menolly to play for them. She sang two of the longer Sagas about dragons; and then did
the
Name-Song for the current wingleaders of Benden Weyr so her Sea Hold would know their dragonmen. She wondered if there’d been a recent Hatching that Half-Circle mightn’t have heard about, being so isolated. But she was certain that F’lar would have told Yanus if that were so. But would Yanus have told Menolly? She wasn’t the Harper to be told such things as courtesy.

The Sea Holders wanted more singing, but her throat was tired. So she played them a song they could sing, bellowing out the words in voices roughened by wind and salt. She saw her father scowling at her, though he was singing along with the rest of them, and she wondered if he didn’t want her – a mere girl – to play men’s songs. It galled her because she’d played them often enough when Petiron was alive. She sighed at this injustice. And then wondered what F’lar would have said if he’d known that Half-Circle Sea Hold was dependent on a mere girl for their harpering. She’d heard everyone say that F’lar was a fair man, a farseeing man, and a fine dragonrider. There were even songs about him and his Weyrwoman, Lessa.

So she sang them, in honor of the Weyr-leader’s visit, and her father’s expression lightened. She sang on until her throat was so tight that not a squeak would come
out
. She wished that someone else could play to give her a rest but, as she scanned the faces of the holders, there wasn’t any of them who could beat a drum properly, much less finger a gitar or pipe.

That was why the next day it seemed only logical for her to start one of the children learning the drum rolls. Plenty of songs could be sung just to drum beat. And one of Soreel’s two children still in Teaching was sensitive enough to learn to pipe.

Someone, Sella perhaps, Menolly thought bitterly, informed Mavi of Menolly’s activity.

‘You were told no tuning …’

‘Teaching someone drum beats is not tuning …’

‘Teaching anyone to play is Harper business, not yours, m’girl. Just your good fortune Sea Holder is out in the Deep or you’d have the belt across your shoulders, so you would. No more nonsense.’

‘But it’s not nonsense, Mavi. Last night another drummer or piper would have …’

Her mother raised her hand in warning, and Menolly bit shut her lips.

‘No tuning, Menolly!’

And that was that.

‘Now girl, see to the glows before the fleet gets back.’

That job took Menolly inexorably to the Harper’s room: swept clean of everything that had been personal to Petiron. She was also reminded of the sealed message on the Record room mantel. What if the Masterharper were expecting a message from Petiron about the songmaker? Menolly was so very sure that part of that unopened message was about her. Not that thinking about it did Menolly any good. Even knowing it for a fact would be no help, Menolly decided gloomily. But that didn’t stop her from going past Yanus’s Record room and peering in at the tempting package on the mantel.