the mast, the red and black barred streamer that apparently signaled a gather. She heard Piemur’s cries echoing in the apprentice dormitory and the sounds of sleepers stirring in complaint.
As if Piemur’s sighting of the pennant had been a signal, the drudges, herded by Abuna and Silvina, entered the kitchen. The flag and pennant on the Hold mast were duly noted and the meal preparations were conducted in a cheerful humor.
Menolly dispersed her fair to their sunning and bathing and, finding Silvina in the kitchen with Abuna, offered to take breakfast to the Harper and his bronze, whom he’d named Zair.
“I told you, Abuna, that with Menolly to help, two more fire lizards would be no problem,” Silvina said, pushing the kitchen woman onto some other task as she smiled warmly at Menolly. “Not that the Harper will be here much with his, nor Sebell either,” she called to Abuna who went off grumbling to herself. “Long as she’s lived in the Harper Hall, you’d think she’d be used to change-about.”
Menolly wanted to ask Silvina about the girls and their gossiping, but Silvina was avoiding her eye. Just then they both heard Menolly’s name being called in a frantic voice. Sebell came crashing down the kitchen steps, holding up his trousers with one bare arm, wincing at the clutch of his fire lizard queen on the other. Kimi was creeling wildly with hunger.
“Menolly! There you are! I’ve been searching everywhere. What’s the matter with her? Ouch!” Sebell was wide-eyed with anxiety.
“She’s only hungry.”
“Only hungry?”
“‘Here, come with me,” and Menolly took Sebell by the arm, picked up the tray she had prepared for the Masterharper and pulled the journeyman out of the kitchen, to spare him Abuna’s black scowl, and into the relative peace of the dining hall. “Now, feed her!”
“I can’t. My pants!” Sebell nodded to his trousers, which, beltless, threatened to slip off his hips.
Stifling a giggle, Menolly unbuckled her own worn belt and secured Sebell’s pants for him. He grabbed a handful of meat and held it out for Kimi. The ungrateful wretch hissed and lunged at the meat, digging her claws into his forearm.
Well, Menolly couldn’t give him her tunic, too. She spotted a scrap of toweling by the service hatch. Deftly she disengaged the queen’s legs from Sebell’s forearm and wrapped the cloth about his scratched and bleeding arm, then managed to redeposit Kimi before the queen was aware of being shifted.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” sighed Sebell, sinking to the nearest bench. “And you had nine of these creatures to feed every day?” He gave her a look of renewed respect. “I don’t know how you did it! I really don’t!”
Menolly pointed to his klah as she took up a handful of meat. Kimi didn’t care whose hand held the meat, so Sebell gratefully gulped some klah.
“Menolly!” Another voice roared from the top of the stairs.
“Sir?” Menolly dashed to the foot of the steps.
“He’s making the most outlandish noises,” the Harper yelled. “Is he hurt or just hungry? His eyes are flaming red.”
“Here you are,” said Silvina, appearing from the kitchen with a second tray of food for human and fire lizard. “I thought we’d be hearing from him once Sebell appeared.”
Menolly could not keep from laughing with Silvina. She took the steps two at a time without spilling so much as a drop of the klah or tumbling a glob of meat from the piled bowl.
The Harper had taken time to dress, and he’d thought to wrap his arm against the needle-sharp claws of his little bronze, but he looked not a whit less harried or distressed than Sebell.
“You’re sure it’s only hunger?” asked Master Robinton. But his fire lizard’s creeling abated with the first mouthful of meat.
Robinton gestured Menolly toward his quarters, but the fire lizard, believing the food was being withdrawn, let out an indignant shriek and swatted at Menolly’s hand.
“Here, here, eat, you greedy thing,” said the Harper with great affection in his voice. “Just don’t wake everyone. It’s restday.”
“Too late,” remarked Domick, in an acid tone of voice, his sleeping rug pulled around him as he stood in the doorway of his room. “Between you howling like an injured dragon, Sebell sounding like a flight of ’em, and these pesky beasts with tones that could bend metal, no one’s going to enjoy a restday.”
“The gather flag is flying,” the Harper said in a conciliatory way. He continued to feed Zair as he and Menolly proceeded to his room.
“A gather? That’s all I need.” Domick slammed his door.
“I trust there won’t be a repetition of this,” said Master Morshal as the Harper and Menolly came abreast of his room. He wore a loose robe, but he obviously had been drawn from his bed by the creeling and shouts. His sour gaze was directed fully on Menolly, as if she were the sole cause of the commotion.
“Probably,” the Harper replied cheerfully, “until I figure out this precious creature’s habits. He only hatched yesterday, Morshal. Do give him a few days’ grace.”
Morshal spluttered something, glared balefully and accusingly at Menolly, and then shut his door, pointedly without slamming it. Menolly all too clearly heard other doors closing along the corridor, and she was very grateful to be in the Harper’s company.
“Don’t let old Morshal upset you, Menolly,” said Master Robinton in a quiet voice.
Menolly looked up quickly, grateful for his reassurance. He smiled again as he nodded for her to enter his room and gestured for her to set the tray down on the center of the sandtable.
“Fortunately,” he went on, slouching in a chair, all the while supplying meat bits for Zair, “you don’t have sit classes with Morshal.”
“I don’t?”
Robinton chuckled at the note of relief in her voice and then laughed again as Zair missed a morsel, creeled anxiously until the Harper had retrieved it from the floor and deposited it neatly in the open mouth.
“No, you don’t. Morshal teaches only at the apprentice level.” The Master Harper sighed. “He really is adept at drilling basic theory into rebellious apprentice minds. But Petiron already taught you more than Morshal knows. Relieved, Menolly?”
“Oh, yes. Master Morshal doesn’t seem to like me.”
“Master Morshal has always considered it a waste of time and effort to teach any girls. What good would it do them?”
Menolly blinked, surprised to hear her father’s opinion echoed in the Harper Hall. Then she realized that Master Robinton had been speaking in deft mimicry of Master Morshal’s testy manner. Warm fingers caught her chin, and she was made to look up at the Harper. The lines of fatigue and worry were plainly visible, despite his good night’s rest.
“Morshal’s dislike of the feminine sex is a standing joke in this Hall, Menolly. Give him the courtesy due his rank and age, and ignore his biased thinking. As I said, you don’t have to sit classes with him. Not that Domick will be any easier to study with. He’s a hard taskmaster, but Domick will take over your tuition where Petiron left off in musical form and composition until I can. Unfortunately,” and the Harper’s smile of regret was sincere, I am badly pressed for time with all that’s happening, much though I would prefer to undertake the task myself. Still, Domick’s understanding of the truly classical form is superior, and he’s keen to monopolize any instrumentalist capable of playing his intricate music. Don’t miss your lessons with Master Shonagar, for you must be able to sing your songs effectively, but,” and he lifted a warning finger, “don’t fall for Brudegan’s importunings about fire lizard choruses. That can be scheduled for a later time when we’ve settled you properly in your craft.