Above the fire lizards’ vibrant sounds, they all heard the Harper’s name bellowed.
“Someone go and escort Lord Groghe,” ordered the Harper, his eyes never leaving the hearth and the two eggs.
“Robinton!” It would seem that his order was unnecessary for the bellower was rapidly approaching. “Robin…. What? They are? D’you know what? That Merga of mine’s in another taking. Forced me to come here! Here now, what’s all this? Where is Robinton?”
Menolly tore her eyes from the two eggs, though she was certain she saw a widening crack in the one on the left, to see the entrance of the Fort Lord Holder. As his voice indicated, he was a big man, almost as tall as the Harper but much broader in the torso, with thick thighs and bulging calves. He walked lightly for all his mass although he was breathing heavily from having come to the Hall at a fair pace.
“There you are! What’s this all about?”
“The eggs are about to hatch, Lord Groghe.”
“Eggs?” The brows of the Holder’s florid face were contracted into a puzzled scowl. “Oh, your eggs. They’re hatching? And Merga’s reacting?”
“I trust not at any inconvenience to you, Lord Groghe.”
“Well, not so’s I wouldn’t come when she insisted. How’d the creature know?”
“Ask Menolly.”
“Menolly?” And suddenly Menolly found herself the object of his intense, frowning scrutiny. “You’re Menolly?” The brows went up in surprise. “Little bit of a thing, aren’t you? Not at all what I expected. Don’t blush. I don’t bite. My fire lizard might. Wouldn’t worry you, though, would it? These are all yours? Why, my queen’s beside yours, friendly as can be. They’re not dangerous at all.”
“Menolly!” The Harper’s exclamation brought her attention back to the hearth.
His egg had given a convulsive rock, all but spinning itself off the hearthstone. Gasping, he’d put out both hands to prevent its falling. The shell cracked wide open, and a little bronze fire lizard rolled into his hands, creeling with hunger, its body glistening.
“Feed it! Feed it!” Menolly cried.
Robinton, unable to take his eyes off the fire lizard, fumbled for the piled meat and shoved food into the fire lizard’s open mouth. The little bronze, shaking its wings out for balance, snatched ferociously at the meat, gobbling so fast that Menolly held her breath for fear the creature would choke in its greed.
“Not too much. Make it wait! Talk to it. Soothe it,” Menolly urged. Just then the other egg split.
“It's a queen!” shouted Sebell, rocking back on his heels in the excess of his surprise. Only Lord Groghe’s quick hand on his back kept him from falling over.
“Feed her!” the Lord Holder barked.
“But I’m not to have the queen!” For one split second, Sebell started to turn and offer the queen to the Harper.
“Too late!” Menolly shouted, diving forward. to intercept the gesture. She jammed meat on Sebell’s seeking hand and then pushed it back to the frantically creeling queen. “You’re supposed to have a fire lizard. It doesn’t matter which!”
The Harper was oblivious to the interchange. He was intent on his bronze, stroking it, feeding it, crooning to it. The little queen had gobbled Sebell’s initial offering, her tail wrapping so firmly about his wrist that he could not have disentangled himself had he managed to sustain his moment of sacrifice.
Menolly turned to assist the Harper, but Lord Groghe was kneeling beside him, encouraging him. When the two hatchlings were bulging with food, Menolly removed the meat bowls.
“They’ll burst with another mouthful,” she told the reproachful Harpers. “Now, hold them against you. Stroke them. They should fall asleep. There now.” As the men complied with her urgings, the new fire lizards, sated for the present, wearily closed their eyes, their little heads dropping to the protecting forearms. She’d forgotten what a scant handful a newly hatched fire lizard was. Her friends had grown so much since hatching. Lord Groghe’s Merga was as tall in the shoulder as Beauty, but not so deeply chested. The two were now exchanging compliments, stroking heads and touching curved wings.
“It’s incredible,” the Harper said, his words no more than an articulated whisper, his eyes brilliant with joy. “It is absolutely the most incredible experience I have ever had.”
“Know what you mean,” Lord Groghe replied in an embarrassed mumble, ducking his head, but Menolly could see that the burly Holder’s face was flushed. “Can’t forget it myself.”
Carefully Master Robinton rose from his knees, his eyes on the sleeping fire lizard, his free hand poised in case an incautious movement unsettled the little bronze.
“It explains so very much that I could never have understood about dragonriders. Yes, it opens a whole new area of understanding.” He sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now I can sense, dimly, what Lytol, what Brekke must have suffered. And I know why young Jaxom must have Ruth.” He smiled at Lord Groghe’s grunt at that statement. “Yes, I have stood so long peering through a small opening into another Hold of understanding. Now I can see without obstruction.” His chin had dropped to his chest as he spoke in soft reflective tones, more to himself than those close enough to catch the whispered words. He shook himself slightly and looked up, his smile again radiant. “What a gift you have made me, Menolly. What a magnificent gift!”
Beauty came to perch on Menolly’s shoulder, her humming now diminished to a soft murmur of sound. Lord Groghe’s queen, Merga, flew to his shoulder, wrapping her tail about his thick neck, just as Beauty did.
“I don’t know how it happened, Master Robinton,” Sebell said, rising from the hearth with exaggerated care. His manner was both defensive and apologetic. “The pots were in the wrong order. I don’t understand. You should have had the queen.”
“My dear Sebell, I couldn’t care in the slightest. This bronze fellow is everything I could ever want. And frankly, I believe that it might be more advantageous for you to have the queen, going out and above the land as you’ll have to do. Yes, I think chance has worked more for than against us. And I am quite content, oh, indeed I am, with my bronze man here. What a lovely, lovely creature!” He had eased himself back against the bolster, the fire lizard snuggled in the crook of his arm, his other hand protectively cradling the open side. “Such a lovely big fellow!” His head fell back, his eyes heavy, all but asleep himself.
“Now that’s a real miracle,” said Silvina in a very soft voice. “Asleep without wine or fellis juice? Out! Out!” She shook her hands at those crowding the door, but her gesture to Lord Groghe to precede her from the room was a touch more courteous. The Lord Holder nodded agreement and made a great show of tiptoeing quietly across the room. His exit cleared the doorway of onlookers.
Silvina picked up the half-filled bowls by the fire and put one near the Harper’s hand. Menolly beckoned the rest of her fair and they flitted out the window.
“Got them well-trained, haven’t you?” Lord Groghe said once Silvina had closed the door to the Harper’s chamber. “Want to have a long chat with you about ’em. Robinton says they’ll fetch and carry for you. D’you believe, as he does, that what one fire lizard knows, th’others do, too?”
Too disconcerted to reply, Menolly glanced frantically at Silvina and saw her nod encouragingly. “It would seem logical, Lord Groghe. Ah…it would certainly account for…for what happened the other night. In fact, there’s no other way to account for that, is there? Unless you can speak to dragons.”
“Unless you can speak to dragons?” Lord Groghe laughed ponderously, poking Menolly’s shoulder with his finger in good humor. “Speak to dragons? Hahaha.”
Menolly felt herself grinning because his laughter was a bit contagious, and she didn’t know what else to do. She hadn’t meant to be funny. Then Silvina shushed them imperiously, pointing urgently at the Harper’s closed door.