And if? Master Robinton urged him to continue.
Well, Ive had to copy that map Fnor made of the Southern Hold and Weyr, and its small. No biggern Crom or Nabol, but Ive heard from weyrfolk at High Reaches who were in the south before Flar exiled the worst of the Oldtimers, and they said they were sure the Southern Continent must be pretty big. Piemur gestured broadly.
And? The Harpers encouragement was firm.
Well, sir, if it were me, Id want to know, cause sure as eggs hatch, theres going to be trouble with those Oldtimers south he jerked his thumb in that direction and trouble with the holdless men in the north, he turned his thumb back. So when Menolly talks about sailing, I know how Sebell got south without being taken by a dragon. Which Benden Weyr wouldnt permit cause they promised that northern dragons wouldnt go south, and I dont think Sebell could swim that far. If he can swim.
Master Robinton began to laugh, a soft chuckle, and he slowly swung his head from side to side.
I wonder how many more people have put the same pieces together, Menolly? he asked, frowning. When his journeywoman shrugged, he added to Piemur. Youve kept such notions to yourself, young man?
Piemur gave a snort, realized he must be more circumspect with the Master of his Craft and said quickly, Who pays any attention to what apprentices think or say?
Have you mentioned these notions to anyone? The Harper was insistent.
Of course not, sir. Piemur tried to keep indignation from his tone. Its Bendens business, or Hold business, or Harper business. Not mine.
A chance spoken word, even by an apprentice, can sift through a mans thoughts till he forgets the source and remembers the intent. And repeats it inadvisedly.
I know my loyalty to my Crafthall, Master Robinton, said Piemur.
Im sure of your loyalty, the Harper said, nodding his head slowly, his eyes still holding Piemurs. I want to be certain of your discretion.
Menollyll tell you; Im not a babblemouth. He looked at Menolly for her support.
Not normally, Im sure. But you might be tempted to speak when taunted by others.
Me, sir? Piemurs imagination was genuine. Not me, sir! I may be small, but Im not stupid.
No, one could not accuse you of that, my young friend, but as youve already pointed out, we are living in an uncertain Turn. I think
The Harper broke off, staring out the window, frowning absently. Abruptly he made a decision and regarded Piemur for a long moment. Menolly told me you were quick-witted. Lets see if you comprehend the reason behind this: you will not be known as my apprentice and Master Robinton smiled understandingly at Piemurs sharp intake of breath. Then he nodded with approval as Piemur promptly schooled his expression to polite acceptance. You will be told off as apprentice to the Drummaster, Olodkey, who will know that you are under my orders as well. Yes and the crispness of Master Robintons tone told Piemur that he was pleased by this solution, and Piemur had better be that will serve. The drummers must, of course, keep irregular hours. No one would note your absences or think anything of your taking messages.
Master Robinton put his hand on Piemurs shoulder and gave him a little shake, smiling kindly.
No one will miss your boyish treble more than I, lad, except possibly Domick, but here in the Harper Hall, some of us listen to other tunes and drum a different beat. He gave Piemur another shake, then cuffed him on the shoulder encouragingly. I dont want you to stop listening, Piemur, not if you can take isolated facts and put them together as well as you just did. But I also want you to notice the way things are said, the tone and inflection, the emphasis.
Piemur mustered a grin. What a harper hears is for the Harpers ears, sir?
Master Robinton laughed. Good lad! Now, take this tray back to Silvina and ask her to fit you out with wherhide. A drummer has to be at his post in all weathers!
You dont need wherhide on the drumheight! exclaimed Piemur. Then he grinned as he cocked his head at his master. You do need it if youre riding a dragonback, though.
I told you he was quick, said Menolly, grinning at the Harpers consternation.
Scamp! Rascal! Impertinent snip! cried the Harper, dismissing him with a vigorous wave of his hand that set Zair squawking. Do as youre told and keep your notions to yourself!
Then I will be riding dragons! said Piemur, and when he saw Master Robinton rise half out of his chair, he quickly slipped out of the room.
What did I tell you, Master, said Menolly, laughing. Hes quick enough to be very useful.
Though the glint of amusement remained in his eyes, the Harper stared thoughtfully at the closed door, his fingers tapping idly on his chair arm.
Quick yes, but a shade young
Young? Piemur? He was never young, that one. Dont let that innocent, wide-eyed stare of his fool you. Besides, hed got fourteen Turns, almost as old as I was when I left Half-Circle Sea Hold to live in the Dragon Stones cave with my fire lizards. And what else can be done with all his energy and mischief? Hes simply not suited for any other section of this Craft. Master Shonagar was the only person who had half a chance of keeping him out of trouble. Old Arnor couldnt, nor Jerint. Its got to be Olodkey and the drums.
I could almost see the merit of the Oldtimers attitudes, said the Harper on the end of a heavy sigh.
Sir? Menolly stared at him, startled as much by the abrupt change of subject as the sense of what he said.
I wish we hadnt changed so in this last long Interval.
But, sir, youve been supporting all the changes Flar and Lessa have advocated. And Bendens been right to make those changes. Theyre united Hall and Hold behind the Weyrs. Furthermore, and Menolly took a deep breath, Sebell told me not so long ago that before this Pass of the Red Star began, harpers were nearly as discredited as dragon riders. Youve made this Hall into the most prestigious craft on Pern. Everyone respects Masterharper Robinton. Even Piemur, she added with a laugh trembling in her voice as she struggled to relieve her masters melancholy.
Ah, now, theres the real accomplishment!
Indeed it is, she said, ignoring his facetiousness. For hes very hard to impress, I assure you. Believe me, too, that he wont be in the least distressed to do for you what he does naturally for himself. Hes always heard the gossip at Gathers and told me, knowing Id tell you. What a harper hears is for the Harpers ears.She laughed to find Piemurs saucy quip so applicable.
It was easier during the Interval Robinton said, with another long sigh. Zair, whod been cleaning himself, chirped in a querying way, tilting his head and peering with earnestly whirling eyes at his friend. The Harper smiled as he stroked the little creature. Boring, too, to be completely candid. Still, it wont be that long an assignment for Piemur, will it? His voice ought to settle within the Turn, and he can resume his place as a soloist. If his adult voice is half as good as his treble, hell be a better singer than Tagetarl.
Seeing that that prospect cheered her Master, Menolly smiled.
The drum message was from Ista Hold. Sebells on his way back with those herbal medicines Master Oldive wanted. Hell be at Fort Sea Hold by late afternoon tomorrow if the wind holds.
Indeed? Ill be very interested to hear what our good Sebell has for his Harpers ears.
Chapter 2
The tray Piemur was carrying was all that restrained him from jumping into the air and kicking his heels together in his jubilation. Working for Master Robinton, no matter how indirectly, and being apprenticed to Master Olodkey, was no loss of prestige and much more than he had dared contemplate. Not, Piemur admitted to himself, that hed given much thought to his future.
Of course, one never saw much of Master Olodkey about the Hall. He kept to the drum height, a lean, slightly stooped figure of a man with a big head and coarse bristling brown hair that seemed to stand out from his skull to give him the appearance, the irreverent said, of one of his own bass drumsticks. Others insisted that he was deaf from years of pounding the great message-drums for the Harper Hall. Except for drumbeats, they hastily amended, which he didnt need to hear: he felt the vibrations in the air.
Piemur considered his new apprenticeship and found it good: there were only four other apprentices, seniors all, and five journeymen serving Master Olodkey. Granted that Piemur had been Master Shonagars special, but Master Shonagar was responsible for every singer in the Hall, whereas Master Olodkey rarely had more than ten harpers looking to him. Piemur again was in a select group. Even more select if hed been permitted to announce the full truth.
He skittered down the steps, balancing the tray deftly. Maybe, once hed proved to the Masterharper that he could keep his mouth sealedAnd Master Robinton was wrong to think that any could extract information from Piemur that Piemur didnt care to divulge. Nothing pleased Piemur more than knowing. He didnt necessarily have to show off to other people how much he knew. The fact that he, Piemur, an insignificant herdsmans son from Crom, knew, was sufficient.
He wished he hadnt been so brash, mentioning the Southern Continent, but the reactions had proved that his guess was accurate. They had been down to the south: at least Sebell had, and probably Menolly. If theyd gone, then the Harper neednt risk the trip with such eyes and ears to do the hard work.
Piemur hadnt had much to do with the Oldtimers before Flar had ordered them exiled to the Southern Continent. For this he was fervently grateful as hed heard enough about their arrogance and greed. But if he, Piemur, had been exiled, he wouldnt have just stayed put. He couldnt understand why the Oldtimers had quietly accepted their humiliating dismissal. Piemur calculated that some two hundred and forty-eight Oldtimers and their women had gone to the Southern Continent, including the two dissatisfied Weyrleaders, Tron of Fort and Tkul of the High Reaches. Seventeen Oldtimers had returned north, accepting Benden as their leader or so Piemur had heard. Most of the exiled men and dragons had been well on in Turns, so they were no real loss to the dragon strength of Pern. Old age and sickness had claimed almost forty dragons in the first Turn, and almost as many had gone between this Turn. Somehow that struck Piemur as being rather careless of dragons, even Oldtimer ones.
He stopped abruptly, aware of a tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchens. Bubbly berry pies? And just when he needed a real treat! His mouth began to water in anticipation. The pies must be just out of the bake oven or surely he would have discerned that fragrance before.
He heard Silvinas voice rising above the working noises and grimaced. He couldve gotten a few pies out of Abuna with no trouble. But Silvina wasnt often taken in by his starts and schemes. Still
He let his shoulders sag, dropped his head and began to shuffle down the last few steps into the kitchen level.
Piemur? What are you doing here at this hour? Why do you have the Harpers tray? You should be rehearsing Silvina took the tray from his hands and stared at him accusingly.
You didnt hear? Piemur asked in a low, dejected voice.
Hear? Hear what? How could anyone hear anything in this babble? Ill She slipped the tray onto the nearest work surface and, putting her finger under his chin, forced his head up.
Piemur was rather pleased to be able to squeeze moisture from the corners of his eyes. He narrowed them quickly for Silvina wasnt easily fooled. Though, he told himself hastily, he was very sorry he wouldnt be singing Domicks music. And he was sorrier that Tilgin was!
Your voice? Your voice is changing?
Piemur heard the regret and dismay in Silvinas hushed tone. It occurred to him that womens voices never did change, and that she couldnt possibly imagine his feelings of total loss and crushing disappointment. More tears followed the first.
There, lad. The worlds not lost. In a half-Turn or less your rangell settle again.
Master Domicks music was just right for me Piemur did not need to fake the ragged tones.
To be sure, since he wrote it with you in mind, scamp. Well, wouldnt you know? Though I cant for the life of me believe you could contrive to change your voice to spite Domick
Spite Master Domick? Piemur widened his eyes with indignation. I wouldnt do such a thing, Silvina.
Only because you couldnt, rascal. I know how you hate singing female parts. Her voice was acerbic, but her hand under his chin was gentle. She took a clean corner of her apron and blotted the tears on his cheeks. As luck would have it, I seem to be prepared with an easement for your tragedy. She propelled him before her, motioning toward the trays of cooling pies. Piemur rapidly wondered if he ought to dissemble. You can have two, one for each hand, and then away with you! Have you seen Master Shonagar yet? Watch those pies! Theyre just out of the oven.
Hmmmm, he replied, biting into the first pie despite her admonition. Its the only way to eat em, he mumbled through a mouthful so hot that he had to suck in cool air to ease the burning of his gums. ButIm to get wherhide clothes.
You? In wherhide? Why would you need wherhide? She frowned suspiciously at him now.
Im to study drum with Master Olodkey, and Menolly asked me could I ride runners, and Master Robinton said I was to ask you for wherhide.
All three of them in it? Hmmm. And youd be apprenticed to Master Olodkey? Silvina considered the matter and then eyed him shrewdly. He wondered should he tell Menolly that Silvina hadnt been taken in by their stratagem of making him a drummer. Well, I suppose youll be kept out of mischief. Though I, for one, doubt its possible. Come on then. I do have a wherhide jacket that might fit. She cast him a calculating look as they moved toward the storage section of the kitchen level. Lets hope itll fit for a while because sure as eggs hatch, I shant be able to pass it on to anyone else the way you mangle your clothes.
Piemur loved the storerooms, redolent with the smell of well-cured hides and the eye-smarting acridity of newly dyed fabrics. He liked the glowing colors of the cloth bales, the jumble of boots, belts, packs hanging from hooks about the walls, the boxes with their odd treasures. Silvina rapped his knuckles with her keys several times for opening lids to investigate.
The jacket fit, the stiff new leather bucking against his thighs as he pranced about, swinging his arms to make the shoulders settle. It was long in the body, but Silvina was pleased: hed need the length. Fitting him with new boots showed her how ragged his trousers were, so she found him two new pairs, one in harper blue and the other in a deep gray leather. Two shirts with sleeves too long, but which no doubt would fit him perfectly by midwinter, a hat to keep his ears warm and his eyes shaded, and heavy riding gloves with down-lined fingers.
He left the stores, his arms piled high with new clothes, boots dangling from their laces over his shoulder and bumping him front and back, his ears ringing with Silvinas promise of dire things happening to him if he snagged, tore, or scuffed his new finery before hed had it on his back a sevenday.
He happily employed the rest of the morning by dressing in his new gear, examining himself from all angles in the one mirrored surface of the apprentice dormitory.
He heard the burst of shouts as the chorus was released and peered cautiously over the sill. Most of the boys and young men swarmed across the Court to the Hall. But Master Domick, music rolled in one fist, strode purposefully toward Master Shonagars hall. The last to exit was Tilgin, head bowed, shoulders slumped, weary from what must have been an exhausting rehearsal. Piemur grinned; he had warned Tilgin to study the part. One never knew when Master Domick might call on the understudy. There was always the chance of a bad throat or a hacking cough for a soloist. Not that Piemur had ever been sick for performanceuntil this one. Piemur gave a sour note. He really had wanted to sing Lessa in Domicks ballad. Hed sort of counted on coming to the Benden Weyrwomans notice that way. It was always wise to be known to the two Benden Weyrleaders, and this would have been the perfect opportunity.
Ah well, there were more ways of skinning a herdbeast than shaving him with a table-knife.
He folded his new clothing carefully in his bedpress, giving the fur a smoothing twitch. Then quickly glanced out the window again. Now, while Master Domick was busy with Master Shonagar, would be the time for him to slip into the dining hall, Keep out of sight, and soon enough hed be out of Domicks mind. Not that Piemur was at fault. This time.
A shame, really. Lessas melody was the loveliest Domick had ever written. It had so suited his range. Once again a lump pushed up in his throat at the sadness of the lost opportunity. And probably a Turn before he could try to sing again. Nor was there a guarantee that hed have anywhere near as good a singing voice as an adult as hed had as a boy. None at all. Hed miss being able to astonish people with the pure tone he could produce, the marvelous flexibility, the perfect sense of pitch and timing, not to mention his particularly acute skill at note-reading.
His reflections caused him sufficient pangs of regrets so that, when he drifted past the first group of apprentices in the court, they paused in their play and watched his slow progress with awed silence.
He trudged up the steps, past apprentices and journeymen, eyes down, hands flopping at his sides, the picture of dejection. Scorch it, would he have to pretend to have lost his appetite? He could smell roast wherry, succulent, and dripping with juices. And then, berry pies.
However, if he managed his tablemates adroitly Hunger warred with greed, and there was nothing feigned about his expression of sad reflection when the dining room began to fill.
Piemur, deep in his plans, was aware of being flanked by silent boys. But the chubby fist visible on the left was Brollys. The stained, dirty, calloused, nail-bitten hand on the right was Timinys. His good friends were standing by him in this moment of loss. He let out a long, draggling sigh, heard Brolly shift his feet uncomfortably, saw Timiny extend his hand tentatively to draw it back slowly, uncertain how a gesture of sympathy would be received. Well, Timiny might just give him both pies, Piemur thought.
Suddenly everyone moved, and a quick glance at the round table told Piemur that Master Robinton had taken his place. A flash of blue and gray past his lowered eyes was probably Menolly moving to take her place at a journeymans table.
Ranly and Bon sat directly opposite Piemur, regarding him with wide and worried eyes. He gave them a sad half-smile. When the platter of roast wherry slices came to him, he heaved another sigh and fumbled for a slice. He stared at it on his plate instead of attacking it immediately. But then, generally, hed have taken as many slices as he could knife onto his plate without raising uproars from his mates. He did like roast tubers, but restrainedly took only a small one. He ate slowly so that his stomach would think it was getting more. A rumbling belly would ruin his ploy for bubbly pies.
None of his friends spoke, either to him or to each other. At their end of the table, gloomy silence prevailed. Until the bubbly pies were served. Piemur maintained his air of tragic indifference as the first ripple of delighted surprise sighed down from the kitchen end of the table. He could hear the rise of happy voices, the quick interest of his friends as they saw the burden of the sweet tray.
Piemur, its bubbly pies, said Timiny, pulling at his sleeve.
Bubbly pies? Piemur kept a querulous note in his voice, as if even bubbly pies had no magic to revive him.
Yes, bubbly pies, said Brolly, determined to rouse him.
Your very first favorite, Piemur, said Bonz. Here, have one of mine, he added and, with only an infinitesimal show of reluctance, pushed the coveted pie across to Piemur.
Oh, bubbly pies, repeated Piemur on the end of a quavering semi-interested sigh and picked up one of the offerings as though he was forcing himself to exhibit interest.
Its an awfully good bake, Piemur. Ranly bit into his with exaggerated relish. Just take a bite, Piemur. Youll see. Get a bubbly or two inside you, and youll feel more like yourself. Imagine! Piemur not wanting all the bubblies he can eat! Ranly glanced at the others, urging them to second him.
Bravely Piemur ate slowly of the first bubbly pie, wishing they were still hot. That did taste good, he said with a trifle brighter tone and was promptly encouraged to eat another.
By the time he had consumed eight because three more were donated from the other end of the table, Piemur affected to lose the edge of his gloom. After all, ten bubbly pies when he might only have had two was a good days scrounge.
The journeyman rose to deliver announcements and assignments. Piemur toyed with the notion of several different reactions to the news of his change in status. Shock, yes! Delight? Well, some because it was an honor, but not too much, otherwise they might doubt the performance that had won so many pies.
Sherris, report to Master Shonagar
Sherris? Surprise, shock, and consternation, totally unrehearsed or anticipated brought Piemur straight up off the bench and prompted his neighbors to seize him by the shoulders and push him down. Sherris? That little snip, that wet-eared, wet-bottomed, wet-bedded
Timiny clamped his hand firmly over Piemurs mouth, and the next few announcements were lost to that section of the apprentice tables. Indignation revitalized Piemur, but he was no match for the concerted efforts of Timiny and Brolly, determined that their friend should not suffer the extra humiliation of a public reprimand for interrupting the journeyman.
Did you hear, Piemur? Bonz was saying, leaning across the table. Did you not hear?
I heard that Sherris is to be Master Piemur was sputtering with rage. There were a few truths Master Shonagar ought to know about Sherris.
No, no, about you!
Me? Piemur ceased his struggles, abruptly horrified by the sudden thought that maybe Master Robinton had changed his mind, that some further investigation had led him to believe Piemur was unsuitable, that all the mornings bright prospect would be wrenched from his grasp.
You! Youre to report to and Bonz paused to give additional weight to his final words, Master Olodkey!
To Master Olodkey? Relief gave Piemurs reaction genuine force. Then he looked wildly around for the Drummaster.
Bonzs elbow suddenly digging into his ribs alerted him, and there was Dirzan, Master Olodkeys senior journeyman, staring down at them, fists against his belt, a wary and disapproving expression on his weathered face.
So we get saddled with you, eh, Piemur? Ill tell you this, you watch your step with our Master. Quickest man in the world with a drumstick, and he doesnt always use it on the drums! He eyed Piemur significantly and then, with a sharp gesture, indicated that Piemur should follow him.
Chapter 3
The rest of that day was not quite as joyful for Piemur. At Dirzans order, he moved his gear from the senior apprentice dormitory to the Drummers quarters, four rooms adjacent to the height, separate from the rest of the Hall. The apprentices room was cramped and would be more so when the spare cot for Piemur was added. The journeymens quarters were hardly more spacious, nor Master Olodkeys, though he had his small room to himself. The largest room was both for the instruction and living. Beyond, separated by a small hallway, was the drum room, with the great metal message-drums shining in the afternoon sun. There were several stools for the watchdrummer, a small workable to write down the messages, and a press, which became the bane of Piemurs mornings. It contained the polish and cloths required to keep that eye-blinding shine on the drums. Dirzan took evident relish in telling Piemur that, by custom, the newest apprentice was required to maintain their brilliance.
The drumheights were always manned save for the dead time, four hours in the depth of night, when the eastern half of the continent was still sleeping and the western half just retiring. Piemur wanted to know what happened if an emergency occurred in the dead time and was crisply informed that most drummers were so attuned to an incoming message that even in the shielded quarters the vibrations had been known to alert them.
As part of his apprentice training, Piemur had dutifully learned the identifying beats of each of the major holds and crafthalls, and the emergency signals, like threadfall, fire, death, answer, question, help, affirmative, negative, and a few useful phrases. When Dirzan first showed him the mass of drum messages that he would be expected to memorize and perform, he began to wish fervently that his voice would settle before winter came. Dirzan ruthlessly loaded him down with a column of frequently used beat measures to learn by the next day, telling him to practice quietly, using sticks on the practice block, and left him.
In the morning, writing under Dirzans full attention Piemur struggled through the lesson. He almost cried out with relief when Menolly appeared. She ignored him.
I need a messenger. Can I steal Piemur?
Certainly, Dirzan said without surprise, since that task was also a function of drum apprentices. He can practice his lesson on his way, I expect. I expect hed better.
Piemur groaned to himself at this partial reprieve, but kept a carefully contrite expression on his face for Dirzans benefit.
Did you get riding gear yesterday from Silvina? Menolly asked him, her face unrevealing. Get it on, she said when he nodded, gesturing him to be quick about changing.
She was laughing with Dirzan when he reappeared, but broke off her conversation, motioning Piemur to follow her. She took the steps from the drumheights at a clip.
You said youd ridden runners? she asked.
Sure. Im herder bred, you know. He was a bit miffed.
That doesnt necessarily mean that youve ridden runners.
Well, I have.
Youll have a chance to prove it, she said, awarding him a curious smile.
Piemur stared hard at her profile as they made their way out of the arch entrance and across the broad Gather meadow in front of the Harper Hall. To their left towered the cliff that housed Fort Hold, and the rows of cots that huddled in the bosom of the sturdy precipice. On the fire heights of the Hold, the brown dragon stood, looking more massive silhouetted against the bright sky, one wing extended, which his rider was grooming.
Piemur felt a surge of reverence for dragons and their riders, reinforced by the sight of Beauty, Menollys queen fire lizard, alighting on her friends padded shoulder, while the rest of Menollys fair cavorted in the air above them.
Her head raised, Menolly smiled at her playful friends and told them they were going for a ride. Did they care to come along? Chirruping and excited aerial displays greeted her question, and Piemur watched, as ever envious, while Beauty stroked Menollys cheek with her wedge-shaped head and crooned into her ear, the jewel-faceted eyes bright blue with pleasure. Grimly, Piemur forebode to ask the questions that seethed in his mind as they walked in silence toward the great caverns carved into the Fort cliff to house the herdbeasts, wherry flocks and runners. Inside the cavern, the head stockman approached with a smile for Menolly. Her fire lizards whirled into the cavern and sought perches on the curious beams that supported the ceiling, beams that had been fashioned by long-lost skill of the ancients. No one even knew from what substance they had been contrived.
Off again, Menolly?
Again, she said with a slight grimace. Banak, have you gear for a beast for Piemur, too? As easy for me to have the second runner ridden as led.
A course, and the man led the way to the enclosure where the backpads and headgear were hung on racks. After a close look at Piemur, he selected pad and gear, handed Menolly hers. They followed him down the aisle of open-ended stalls. Your usual is third down, Menolly.