“Yes, I was there.” Privileged? Yes, she supposed it would be considered a privilege.
“I don’t suppose you can remember who made Impression?” Pona was vitally interested.
“Some of them, yes. Talina of Ruatha Hold is the new queen’s weyrwoman…”
“You’re certain?”
Menolly glanced beyond her to Audiva and saw merriment in her eyes.
“Yes, I’m certain.”
“Too bad those three candidates from your grandfather’s Hold didn’t Impress, Pona. There’ll be other times,” said Audiva.
“Who else do you remember?”
“A lad from Master Nicat’s Craft Hall Impressed a brown…” For some reason that seemed to please Pona. “Master Nicat also received two of the fire lizards’ eggs.”
Pona turned her head to stare haughtily at Menolly. “How ever did it come about that you…” and Menolly was made intensely aware of her unworthiness “…have nine fire lizards?”
“She was in the right place at the right time, Pona,” said Audiva. “Luck doesn’t recognize rank and privilege. And it’s thanks to Menolly that there were fire lizard eggs for Master Robinton and Master Nicat.”
“How do you know that?” Pona sounded surprised but her tone lost its affectedness.
“Oh, I had a word or two with Talmor while you were busy trying to make up to Jessuan and Benis.”
“I never…” Pona was evidently as quick to take offense as give it, but she lowered her tone at Audiva’s warning hiss.
“Don’t worry, Pona. Just so long as Dunca doesn’t catch you flipping your skirts at a son of the Hold, I’ll hold my peace.”
Whether Audiva was subtly deflecting Pona from pestering Menolly with snide questions or not, Menolly didn’t know, but the girl from Boll ignored her for the rest of the meal. As Menolly had been taught that it was impolite to talk through or around someone, she couldn’t converse with the apparently friendly Audiva, and the boy beside her was talking to his mates, his back to her.
“My uncle of Tillek says that fire lizards are going to be nothing more than pets, and I thought pets weren’t allowed in the cottages…” said the dark girl, her mouth setting primly, as she cast a sideways look toward Menolly.
“The Masterharper doesn’t rate fire lizards as pets, Briala,” said Audiva in her droll way, and she winked at Menolly over Pona’s head. “Of course, you’ve only got one at Tillek Hold.”
“Well, my uncle says the Weyrmen are spending too much time on these creatures when they ought to get down to basic problems and go after Thread on the Red Star. That’s the only way to stop this dreadful menace.”
“What are the dragonriders supposed to do?” asked Audiva scornfully. “Even you should know that dragons can’t go between blind.”
“They ought to just flame the Red Star clean of Thread, that’s what.”
“Could they really?” asked the girl beyond Briala, her eyes round with amazement and a sort of hopeful horror.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Amania,” said Audiva in disgust. “No one’s ever been to the Red Star.”
“They could try to get there,” replied Pona. ‘That’s what my grandfather says.”
“Who’s to say the first dragonmen didn’t try?” asked Audiva.
“Then why isn’t there a Record of the attempt?” demanded Pona with haughty condescension.
“They’d certainly have written a song about it if they had,” said Briala, pleased to see Audiva confounded.
“‘Well, the Red Star is not our problem,” said Audiva.
“Learning songs is.” Briala’s voice had a wailing edge to it. “And when are we going to have a chance to learn that music Talmor set us today? We’ve got rehearsal tonight, and it’ll go on and on because those boys are always—”
“The boys? Just like you to blame it on the boys, Briala,” said Audiva. “You had plenty of time this afternoon to practice your lessons, same as the rest of us.”
“I had to wash my hair, and Dunca had to let out the seams of my red gown….”
“If you’d stop… Oh, not redfruit again?” Pona sounded aggrieved, but Menolly eyed the basket of delicacies with surprised delight.
Pona might affect indifference, but she was quick to snatch the curiously shaped fruit from the basket when it was passed to her. Menolly took hers and ate it quickly, getting as much of the sweet, tangy juice as possible. She wished she had the courage to lick her fingers the way the boys mere doing. But the girls were so stuffy and mannered, she knew they’d stare if she did.
Suddenly the demands of the day, the excitements and tensions, sapped the last of Menolly’s energy. She found it almost unbearable to have to sit at the table amid so many unknown people, unable to guess what more might be asked of her before she could seek the quiet and solitude of her bed. She worried about her fire lizards, and then tried not to, for fear they would seek her out. She was conscious of her throbbing feet; her hand ached, and the scar begged to be scratched. She shifted on the bench, wondering why they were held here at table. Restlessly she craned her neck to peer around at the Harper’s table. She couldn’t see Master Robinton but the others were laughing, obviously enjoying an aftermeal conversation. Was that why everyone was being held so long? Until the masters had stopped talking?
She longed for the peace of her cave near the Dragon Stones. Even for the little cubicle in her father’s Sea Hold. She’d usually been able to slip away to it without accounting to anyone for her disappearance. At least once the day’s work was done. And somehow, she’d never thought of the Harper Craft Hall being so…so populated, with so much to be done and doing, and all the masters and Silvina and…
She was caught unawares and had to struggle to her feet as the others rose more gracefully to theirs. She was so relieved to be able to go that at first she didn’t realize no one was leaving the benches but masters and journeymen. Pona’s hiss caught her attention before she’d moved more than a few strides. Embarrassed, she stood with all the girls glaring at her as if she had committed a far more heinous crime than moving out of turn. She edged back toward her vacated place. Then, as soon as the apprentices and the girls began to saunter out of the dining hall, she sat down again. She did not want to be among people, especially all these strange people who had odd notions and manners, and seemingly, no sympathy for the newcomer. The Weyr had been as big and populated, but she had felt at home there, with friendly glances and uncritical, smiling faces.
“Your feet hurting again?” It was asking, his brows contorted in a worried scowl. Menolly bit her lip.
“I guess I’m just suddenly very tired,” she said.
He wrinkled his nose drolly and then twitched it to one side. “I’m not surprised, your first day here and all, and having the masters giving you a poke and prod. Look, you can lean on my shoulder across to Dunca’s. I can still get back in time for rehearsal…”
“Rehearsal? Do I have to be somewhere else now?” Menolly fought an almost overwhelming desire to weep.
“Shouldn’t think so, your first day here. Unless Master Shonagar said something? No? Well, they can hardly have sorted out what your standard is, even if you couldn’t play note one. And you know, you look ruddy awful. Awful tired, I mean. C’mon, I’ll help you.”
“But you have a rehearsal…”
“Don’t you worry your head about me, Menolly.” He grinned mischievously. “Sometimes it’s an astest…asset…to be small,” and he made a weaving motion with his hand, then squared his shoulders and stood, radiating innocent attention. He was so comic that Menolly giggled.
She rose, excessively grateful to him. He rattled on about the rehearsal for the usual spring affair at Fort Hold. The rehearsal was usually fun because Brudegan was in charge this season. He was good at explaining exactly what he wanted you to do, so if you listened sharp, you didn’t make mistakes.