“And what are we going to do, Master,” asked the oldest journeyman, “when those Oldtimers come back again in a few sevendays’ and take what we’ve mined? That placer’s not played out yet.”
“We’re closing up here tomorrow,” said the Miner.
“Why? We’ve just found more—”
The Miner signaled silence abruptly.
“Each craft has its privacies,” said Piemur, grinning broadly. If the Miner felt an apprentice required no apology for such curtness, he would not be admonished for impertinence for repeating a well-known rule. “But I shall have to mention this to Master Robinton, if only to explain why I’m so late returning.”
“You must tell the Masterharper, lad. He’s got to know if no one else. I’ll tell Masterminer Nicat.” Then he swung about the room with a warning look at each of his own craftsmen. “You all understand that this matter goes no further? Well and good. T’ron got only a few flawed stones—you were all very clever with your hammers today, though I deplore cracking good sapphires.” The Miner sighed heavily for that necessity. “Master Nicat will know which other miners to warn. Let the Oldtimers seek if it amuses them.” When the older journeyman laughed derisively, the Miner went on, raising an admonishing finger at him.” Enough! They are dragonmen, and they did help Benden Weyr and Pern when aid was badly needed!” Then he turned to Piemur. “Did you save any of our stew, lad? I’ve the appetite of a queen dragon after clutching.”
Chapter 4
That day held one more event! At sunset, as Piemur was helping the apprentice bring in the miners’ runners from the pasture, he heard the shrill cry of a fire lizard. Glancing up, he saw a slender body, wings back, drop with unnerving speed in his direction. The apprentice dropped to the ground, covering his head with his arms. Piemur braced his legs, but the bronze fire lizard did not come to his shoulder. Instead, Rocky spun round his head, berating him, his jewel-faceted eyes spinning violently red and orange in anger.
It took Piemur a few minutes to talk Rocky into landing on his shoulder and even more time to soothe the little creature until his eyes calmed into tones of greeny blue. All the time the miner apprentice watched, eyes bugged out.
“There now, Rocky. I’m all right, but I have to stay the night here. I’m all right. You can tell Menolly that you’ve found me, can’t you? That I’m all right?”
Rocky gave a half-chirp that sounded so skeptical Piemur had to laugh. “Is that fire lizard yours?” asked the Miner curiously as he approached Piemur, eyeing Rocky all the time.
“No, sir,” said Piemur with such chagrin the Miner smiled. “This is one of Menolly’s, Master Robinton’s journeywoman. His name is Rocky. I help Menolly feed him mornings, because she’s got the nine and they’re a right handful, so he knows me pretty well.”
“I didn’t think the creatures had enough sense to find people!”
“Well, sir, I have to say it’s the first time it’s happened to me,” and Piemur couldn’t suppress the smug satisfaction he was feeling that Rocky had been able to find him.
“Now that he’s found you, what good will that do?” asked the Miner with a revival of his skepticism.
“Well, sir, he could go back to Menolly and make her understand that he’s seen me. But it would be much more useful if you’d let me have a bit of hide for a message. Tied on his leg, he’ll take it back, and they’ll know exactly…”
The Miner held up his hand admonishingly. “I’d rather nothing in script about the Oldtimers’ visit.”
“Of course not, sir,” replied Piemur, offended that he needed to be cautioned.
A terse message was all he could scribe on the scrap of hide the Miner grudgingly produced for him. The hide was so old, had been scraped so often for messages, that the ink blurred as he wrote. “Safe! Delayed!” Then it occurred to him to add in drum measures, “Errand completed. Emergency. Old Dragon.”
“You’ve a way with the little things, haven’t you?” said the Miner with reluctant respect as he watched Piemur tying the message on Rocky’s leg, an operation the fire lizard oversaw as carefully as the Miner.
“He knows he can trust me,” said Piemur.
“I’d say there were not many,” replied the Miner in such a dry tone that Piemur stared at him in surprise. “No offense meant!”
Piemur had to concentrate just then on imagining Menolly as strongly as he could in his mind. Then, lifting his hand high, he gave a practiced flick to send Rocky into flight.
“Go to Menolly, Rocky! Go to Menolly!”
He and the Miner watched until the little fire lizard seemed to disappear in the dimming light to the east. Then the apprentice called them to their meal.
As he ate, Piemur wondered what the Miner had meant by that remark. “Not many that fire lizards could trust?” “Not many people that trusted Piemur?” Why would the Miner say a thing like that? Hadn’t he saved the miners’ sapphires for them? It wasn’t as if he’d told any lies to do so. Further he’d never taken any real advantage of his friends in bargaining at a Gather or failing to keep a promise. All of his friends came to him for help. And, Shells, wasn’t the Masterharper entrusting him with this errand? And knowing about Harper Hall secrets? What had the Miner meant?
“Piemur!” Someone shook him by the shoulder.
Abruptly the young harper realized that he’d been addressed several times.
“You’re a harper! Can you not give us a song?”
The eagerness of the request from men isolated for long periods of time in a lonely hold gave Piemur a genuine pang of regret.
“Sirs, the reason I’m messenger is that my voice is changing and I’m not allowed to sing just now. But,” he added seeing the intense disappointment on every face, “that doesn’t mean I can’t talk them to you. If you’ve something I can drum to give the rhythm.”
After several attempts, he found a saucepan that did not sound too flat, and while the men stomped their heavy boots in time, he talked the newest songs from the Harper Hall, even giving them Domick’s new song about Lessa. The Shell knew when they’d hear it sung, though no one was supposed to hear it until Lord Groghe’s feast. If the performance of the spoken song lacked much in Piemur’s estimation, Master Shonagar couldn’t hear, Domick would never know, and the men were so grateful that he felt completely justified.
He left the minehold with the first rays of the sun and made the trip back to the Harper Hall at a downhill pace that all but forced his voice back up to the treble range. At times his runner slithered unnervingly down tracks that they had laboriously climbed the day before. Piemur closed his eyes, held tightly to the saddle pad, and fervently hoped not to go sailing off the track into the deep gorges. When he returned the stolid runner to Banak, it was barely sweated under the midstrap while Piemur knew that his armpits and back were damp with perspiration.
“Safe back, I see,” was Banak’s only remark. “He may be slow, but he’s sure-footed,” said Piemur with such exaggerated relief that Banak laughed.
As Piemur jogged into the Harper Hall court, he heard Tilgin bravely singing his first solo as Lessa. Piemur grinned to himself, for Tilgin’s voice sounded tired even if he was note-wise. None of Menolly’s fair was sunning on the ridge, but Zair was sprawled on the ledge of the Harper’s window so Piemur took the steps two at a time. While he sort of wished someone would encounter him on his triumphant return, he was also relieved that he’d have no temptation to blurt out his adventures.
Master Robinton’s greeting, however, was warm enough to make Piemur puff his chest out in pride.
“You make the most of your opportunities, young Piemur—but kindly explain your cryptic measures before I burst with curiosity! ‘Old dragon’ does mean Oldtimers, I take it?”