He was pleased to finish the lesson on a high note, having the class drum out the message “It’s lunchtime” just in time with the sounding of the hour.
“And with that, class, I take my leave,” he told them. The youngsters were very polite. Most of them came up to him and thanked him for the class and told him that they hoped he’d be teaching them again.
Emorra was waiting outside the class. She fell in with him as he walked toward the kitchen. “I take it you survived, then?”
Tieran nodded. “Nice kids.”
“Would you be willing to teach them again?”
“Sure.”
With a frustrated groan, Emorra whirled around in front of him, forcing him to stop. “And?”
Startled, Tieran’s first thought was to realize suddenly that he was taller than Emorra-and that he liked that. “What?”
Emorra gritted her teeth, then sighed to regain her temper. “Every class is a lesson for the teacher.”
Tieran nodded. “I’ve heard you say that before. I guess it makes sense.”
“So,” she asked with a tone of strained patience in her voice, “what did you learn today?”
“I guess that I might be able to teach younger students,” Tieran said.
Emorra’s eyes flashed. Tieran had seen that look before, and always when she was frustrated, usually in debates when she was about to make a telling point.
He raised his hands in surrender. “What do you think I would have learned?”
Emorra shook her head, dismissing his question. Ever since Tieran had hidden up in the Drum Tower he had become something of a project for her. The young man’s rebellion against her mother had sparked Emorra’s interest in him. Her interest had increased when she had learned that Tieran had developed the improved drum codes. When she had discovered how much his teenaged feelings of not belonging had been reinforced by reactions to his scarred face, she had tried to find ways to help.
Tieran’s stomach grumbled. With an apologetic shrug, he stepped around Emorra and gestured for her to follow as he resumed his way to the kitchen.
“You’re worried about me,” he said after a moment’s silence.
Emorra nodded. “I worry about everyone.”
Tieran snorted. “Then you worry too much.”
“It’s my job! Like everything else on Pern, the College has to earn its keep. So the students pay tuition and the teachers are paid for their research. And any profits are put into new projects.”
“Like the Drum Tower-I know,” Tieran said.
They reached the kitchen. “I’ve got to get food for Jendel and the others and bring it to the tower.”
“I’ll help,” Emorra offered.
“Thanks,” Tieran said, surprised that the dean of the College would offer to do such a menial task.
Happily, Alandro and Moira were working in the kitchen that day. Alandro had been a fixture in the College’s kitchen since the Fever Year, when he had arrived as a sick orphan. As soon as he recovered, he gravitated toward the kitchen, willing to do any job cheerfully. Now in his fourth decade, he was no less cheerful and not much slower in the kitchen than he had been when he first arrived.
Moira was a more recent arrival. She had started with the College as a fosterling but had refused to leave when she reached her majority two years ago. She said that nowhere could she find as good a kitchen as at the College and she refused to work with second best, even though every major holder had tried to lure her away.
“I need four lunches for the Drum Tower,” Tieran told them as he stepped into the kitchen.
Moira’s scowl-she was a fierce guardian of her domain-cleared when she identified him. “And in return, you’ll…”
Tieran grinned and bowed low. “I shall sing your praises to each and every one of my fellow drummers.”
Moira quirked an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips humorously. “Best not sing, Tieran. I still don’t think your voice has settled.”
“It has,” Tieran corrected sadly. “It’s just that’s all there is to it.”
She gave him a judicious look. “In that case-an hour’s sculling after dinner.”
Tieran considered the counteroffer for a moment before nodding. “Done! But only if you’ll let me make meringues.”
Moira’s face brightened at the prospect. “Deal!” She turned to her kitchen partner. “Did you hear that, Alandro? Tieran’s doing the yucky dishes this evening!”
The large helper looked down thoughtfully at the small cook, then over at Tieran, who waved, and asked, “Meringues, too?”
“Yes,” Moira agreed, “he’ll make meringues.” She found a soup ladle and waved it at Tieran threateningly. “Only no rose extract this time-costs a fortune and you haven’t learned restraint.”
Emorra smiled as she took in the byplay. She liked the way Moira went to the trouble of actually finding something to wave threateningly at Tieran. She was also relieved to see that Tieran was so warmly welcomed in the kitchen.
Of course, he’d be a fool to get on the bad side of the College’s best cook-and it was becoming clear to Emorra that Tieran was no fool.
“Wait a minute,” she said aloud. “Those are your meringues?”
Tieran nodded.
“They’re good.” Emorra gave him a longer, more appraising look. “You can cook, clean, teach-”
“No more hot boxes,” Alandro interrupted her, pointing to two trays.
“Yes, the last of the thermal units cracked yesterday,” Moira agreed sadly. “That’s why I’ve put your soup in small bowls and made sandwiches. If you lot want hot food from now on, you’ll have to eat in the hall.”
“Are there any of the thermos flasks left?” Tieran asked. “It gets very cold on the top of the Drum Tower at night.”
“I imagine it does,” Moira agreed. “There are two, but they’re both reserved.” She smiled at Emorra. “One’s for you, Dean, and the other’s for your mother.”
Tieran nodded as he picked up a tray. Emorra picked up the second one.
“Maybe you could rig up a fire,” Emorra suggested as they made their way out of the College toward the Drum Tower.
“There’s no place for it,” Tieran replied. “Besides, I think it would be a fair bit of work to haul wood up every evening.”
“Lazy!” Emorra teased. “Well, it’s your bones that’ll freeze.”
The tower grew in Emorra’s eyes as they approached it; she was always used to seeing it from the distance of the College. They walked and climbed in companionable silence until they were halfway up the steps wrapped around the outside of the tower and Emorra paused, gasping for breath.
“And this is why I’ll keep my bones cold, thank you,” Tieran said, pointing at the stairway and grinning as he waited for her to recover her breath.
“Yes, I can see that it would be a chore,” Emorra agreed at last. Much more slowly they completed their ascent.
“Rodar, Jendel, we’re here!” Tieran called as he crested the stairs.
“You’re late!” Jendel retorted. “I just hope the food’s good.”
“It’s cold,” Emorra said as she set the tray down on the only table available.
“That’s nothing new,” Rodar said, jumping up to help her.
“Where’s Kassa?” Jendel asked.
Tieran groaned and slapped his forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something!”
“It’s my fault, I distracted him,” Emorra said.
“Never mind-at least you brought food!” Rodar exclaimed.
“Poor Rodar’s been up here since first watch,” Tieran told Emorra.
“What’s the soup?” Rodar asked, lifting a bowl and sniffing it.
“The last of the hot boxes failed, so it’s all cold,” Tieran warned.
Rodar had already dipped a finger into his bowl of the whitish soup and licked it. “Potato leek! Excellent.”