“Two apprentice cots? If you have them to spare—?”
“Done! We’ll tie the legs together and heap the rushes high.”
Which is what they did. Without the rich hangings and heavy furniture the chamber was echoingly empty. Menolly insisted that she didn’t mind; but Silvina said it wasn’t up to her because who was headwoman in this Hall? Hangings that Silvina had removed for shabbiness were recovered from storage, and Menolly was told that she could mend them when she had free time. Several small rugs were spread on the floor. A long table from the apprentices’ study (with a leg mended after being damaged in a brawl), a bench and a small press for storage gave the room some homeyness. Silvina said that the place looked heartlessly plain but certainly no one could fault it for not displaying an apprentice’s lowly state.
“Now then, that’s settled. Yes, Piemur, you were looking for me?”
“No, Silvina. It’s Menolly I’m after. For Master Shonagar. She’s dead late for her lesson.”
“Nonsense, there’re no regular lessons on a Threadfall day. He should know that as well as anyone,” Silvina said, taking Menolly by the arm as she started to leave the room.
“That’s what I told him, Silvina,” said Piemur, grinning from ear to ear, “but he asked me when had Menolly been assigned to a section. And, of course, I know she hasn’t, so he said that she’d have nothing better to do with her time so she’d better learn something constructive. So…” And Piemur shrugged his helplessness in the face of such logic.
“Well, girl, you’d better go then. We’re all settled here anyway. And you, Piemur, you pop over to Dunca’s. Ask Audiva, politely, too, you imp, to bundle up Menolly’s things…including the skirt and tunic Menolly washed today. What else did you have there, Menolly?”
Silvina smiled as if she knew perfectly well that Menolly was grateful not to have to return to the cot.
“Master Jerint has my pipes so there’s only the medicines.”
“Off with you, Piemur, and mind you make sure it’s Audiva.”
“I’d’ve asked for her anyhow, Silvina!”
“Bold as brass you are,” Silvina called after him as he scampered down the steps. “A good lad at heart. You’ve heard him sing? He’s younger than I like to have them in the Hall, but he does hold his own, rascal that he is, and where else should he be with a glorious treble voice like that? Planting tubers or herding the beasties? No, for such originals as Piemur and yourself, you’re better here. Off with you now, before Master Shonagar starts bellowing. We don’t really need a claxon with him in the Hall, so we don’t!’
Silvina had walked Menolly down the steps and now gave her a gentle shove toward the open Hall doors as she turned toward the kitchen. Menolly watched her for a moment, suffused by an inarticulate gratitude and affection for Silvina’s understanding. The woman wasn’t at all like Petiron, and yet Menolly knew that she could go to Silvina, as she had to Petiron, when she was perplexed or in difficulties. Silvina was like…like a storm anchor. Menolly, trotting obediently across the yard to Master Shonagar, smiled at such a seamanly metaphor for a landbound woman.
Master Shonagar did roar and bellow and carry on, but, buoyed by Silvina’s courtesies, Menolly took the berating in silence until he made her promise faithfully that whatever else happened to her during the morning hours, the afternoon was his, otherwise he’d never make a singer of her. So she was to report to him, please and thank you, through Fall, fog or fire, for how else was she to be a credit to his skill or the Craft Hall that had been pleased to exhibit its secrets for her edification and education?
Chapter 7
Don’t leave me alone!
A cry in the night,
Of anguish heart-striking,
Of soul-killing fright.
The restlessness of the fire lizards about her woke Menolly from a deep sleep. She wished irritably that they didn’t insist on sleeping with her; it had been an exciting and trying day, and she’d had a hard enough time getting to sleep. Her hand ached so from the day’s playing that she’d had to slather the scar with numbweed to dull the pain. Beauty’s tail twitched violently against Menolly’s ear. She nudged the little queen, hoping to stir her out of whatever dream disturbed her. But Beauty was awake, not dreaming: her eyes, yellow and whirling with anxiety. All the fire lizards were awake and unusually alert in the dark of the night.
Seeing that Menolly’s eyes were open, Beauty crooned, a half-fearful, half-worried sound. Rocky and Diver minced up Menolly’s legs and crouched on her stomach, extending their heads toward her. Their eyes, too, were whirling with the speed and shade of fear. The rest, cuddling close against her, crooned for comfort.
Propping herself up on one elbow, Menolly peered toward the open windows. She could just distinguish the Fort Hold fire heights, black against the dark sky. It took her some time to locate the dark bulk of the watch dragon. He was motionless, so whatever distressed the fire lizards did not apparently concern him.
“Whatever is your problem, Beauty?”
The little queen’s croon increased its intensity. First Rocky, then Diver, added their notes. Aunties One and Two crept up and nuzzled to get under Menolly’s left arm. Lazy, Mimic and Uncle burrowed into the fur at her right side, their twined tails latching fiercely onto her wrist while Brownie piteously paced across her feet. They were afraid.
“What’s gotten into you?” Menolly couldn’t for the life of her imagine anything within the Harper Craft Hall that would menace them. Covet them, yes; injure them, no.
“Shush a minute and let me listen.” Beauty and Rocky gave little spurting sounds of fear, but they obeyed her. She listened as hard as she could, but the only sounds on the night air were the comfortable murmur of men’s voices and an occasional laugh from the Hall beneath her. It wasn’t as late as it had first seemed to her then, if the masters and older journeymen were still chatting.
Gently disengaging tails, Menolly slipped from her sleeping furs to the window. Several rectangles of light shone on the stones of the courtyard, two from the Great Hall and one above it, from Robinton’s quarters, beyond hers.
Beauty gave a worried cheep and flew to Menolly’s shoulder, wrapping her tail tightly around the girl’s neck and burrowing into her hair, the slender little body trembling. The others set up an anxious clamor from the furs, so Menolly hurriedly returned to them. They were panic-stricken. The Masterharper might not approve of Silvina’s moving her into this room if her fire lizards disturbed his studies at night. She tried to quiet them with a soft song, but now Beauty’s voice rose querulously above her lullaby. Menolly gathered all of the fire lizards against her. Their tails twined about her arms so firmly that she couldn’t use her hands to stroke them.
Now she felt a confused sense of imminent danger; clearly all the fire lizards were responding to a mutually experienced threat. Menolly fought against the panic their fear stirred in her.
“You’re being ridiculous. What can harm us in the Harper Hall?”
Beauty on one side, Rocky on the other, stroked her face urgently with their heads, cheeping in mounting distress. Through their touch and minds, she got the distinct impression that they were reacting to a fear beyond them, beyond the walls, at a distance.
“Then how could it hurt you?” Suddenly their terror erupted in her with such intensity that she cried out.
“Don’t!” Her injunction was spontaneous. She tried to throw up her arms to protect herself from this unknown danger, but her hands were lizard-bound. Their fear was completely and utterly hers. And, incoherently, she repeated the cry, “Don’t! DON’T!”