“Ah, Tanner Ligand,” Sebell stepped up, leaning on the counter and beckoning the tanner to bend close to him. “While I didn’t see much of the affair…” Sebell began to rub his forefinger on one side of his nose, “it’s not exactly the sort of incident…”
“I take your meaning, Harper Sebell,” the tanner replied, nodding his head in acceptance of the adroit suggestion. His grin was rueful. “Not that the truth doesn’t make fine telling. Still, those fire lizards of yours are young, aren’t they, girl, excitable-like, not used to a gather, I expect… Oh, I’ll say what’s proper. Don’t you worry, harpers.” He patted Menolly’s hand, still outstretched with the marker. “Now cheer up, you’ve a face like a wet Turn. You’ve done more good than harm this gather day. And when you’ve the need for slippers to match the belt, just you send me the work. I won’t do you in the mark,” and he flashed a look at the skeptical Piemur. “Not that I don’t like a good tight bargain now and then…”
Piemur made a gargling sound in his throat and would have disputed the statement.
“Let’s clean you up, Piemur, as Master Robinton suggested,” said Sebell, warning the boy by the tilt of his head to be silent.
“I’ve a water-carrier at the back of the stall you’re welcome to use,” said Ligand, “And here’s a cleaner cloth than the one Menolly has!” He held out a white square to her and dismissed her profuse thanks with a smile and a wave to be off.
No sooner had Sebell and Menolly pulled Piemur to the back of the tanner’s stall than people began to step up to his counter.
“Hah!” said Piemur, looking over his shoulder. “He’s sly, that Ligand, giving you the belt. He’ll get three times as much business because you—”
“Close your mouth,” suggested Sebell, as he rubbed firmly at the bloody streaks on Piemur’s face. “Hold him, Menolly.”
“Hey…I…” but Piemur’s complaints were effectively muffled the damp cloth Sebell used in earnest.
“The less mentioned about this matter, Piemur, the better. And what I said to Ligand holds for you as well. Here and in the Hall. There’ll be enough rumor and wrangle without you adding your bits.”
“Do you think…mumble…mumble…I’d do anything…leave me alone…to hurt Menolly?”
Sebell suspended the cleaning operation and regarded the boy’s flashing eyes and the indignant set of his jaw. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. If only not to lose your chance at feeding the fire lizards…”
“Now, that’s not fair…”
“Sebell, what am I going to do about them?” Menolly asked, finally getting out the fears she’d been suppressing. “They were only protecting…” Piemur began, but Sebell silenced him with a hand over his mouth and a stern look.
“Today they apparently had cause, as Piemur said. The other evening they reacted to what was going on at Benden Weyr with F’nor and Canth, through Brekke’s fire lizard. Again, cause.” Sebell glanced back toward the tanner’s stall and noticed that some of the throng were surreptitiously regarding the three harpers. He motioned to Menolly and Piemur to walk out of sight, down behind the stalls, away from the curious.
“All of this,” and Sebell’s hand took in the towering face of the Hold cliff behind them, the Harper Hall across the paved square now lined with stalls, “is as new to you as to them. Enough to cause alarm and apprehension. They’re young and so are you, for all you’ve managed to accomplish. It’s again a question of discipline,” he said, but his smile was reassuring.
“I had no discipline this afternoon,” she said, repenting of her attack on Pona. She might well have jeopardized everything, crying insult from Pona.
“What d’you mean? You had a fantastic right cried Piemur, demonstrating with a grunt. “And you’d every right to cry insult on Pona, after all she's done to you…” Piemur hastily covered his mouth, his eyes widening as he realized he was being indiscreet.
“You cried insult on Pona?” asked Sebell, frowning in surprise. “I thought that Silvina and I told you to leave the matter.”
“She called me a thief. She tried to get Benis to take my two-marker from me.”
“The two-marker that Master Robinton himself given Menolly to buy that belt,” said Piemur, staunchly confirming the affair.
“If Pona has added insult to the injury she’s already tried to do you,” said Sebell slowly, “then, of course, you had to take action, Menolly.” He smiled slightly, his eyes still considering her face.
“In fact, it’s good to know that you will take action on your own behalf. But, the fire lizards’ part…”
“I didn’t call them, Sebell. But, when Benis tripped Piemur and then kicked him, I was scared. He just lay there…”
“Sure, smartest thing to do in a kicking fight,” Piemur replied, unperturbed.
“I cannot, however, condone ‘apprentices fighting with each other or with holders…especially holders of any rank…
“Benis is the biggest bully in the Hold, Sebell, and you know we’ve all had trouble with him.”
“Enough, youngster,” said Sebell more sharply Menolly had yet heard him speak, As quiet and self-effacing as the journeyman usually was, when he spoke in that authoritative tone of voice, it would take a stalwart person to disobey him. “That was not, however, what I meant by discipline, Menolly. I meant the ability to stick with a project, like that song you wrote yesterday… Was it really only yesterday?” he added. He smiled tenderly down at Kimi who was now asleep in a ball, snuggled between his body and elbow.
“You wrote a new song?” Piemur brightened. “You didn’t tell me. When’ll we get to hear it?”
“When will you to hear it?” Menolly heard her voice cracking on the last few words.
“‘What’s the matter, Menolly?” Sebell took her arm and gave her a little shake but she could only stare at them.
“It’s just that…it’s so different…” she stammered, unable to express the upheaval in her mind, the reversal of all that she had been expected to do. “D’you know…d’you know what used to happen to me when I wrote a song?” She tried to stop the words that were threatening to burst from her, but she couldn’t, not with Piemur’s face contorted with distress for her. And Sebell quietly encouraging her to speak with the sympathy so plain on his face. “I used to get beaten by my father for tuning, for twiddles as he called them. When I cut my hand…she held it up, looking at the red scar and then turning it to them, “…gutting packtails, they let it heal all wrong so I wouldn’t be able to play. They wouldn’t even allow me to sing in the Hall, for fear Harper Elgion would figure out that it was me who’d taught the children after Petiron died. They were ashamed of me! They were afraid I’d disgrace them. That’s why I ran away. I’d rather have died of Threadscore than live in Half-Circle another night…”
Tears of bitter and keenly felt injustice streamed down Menolly’s cheeks. She was aware of Piemur urgently begging her not to cry, that it was all right, she was safe now, and he loved every one of her songs, even the ones he hadn’t heard. And he’d tell her father a thing or if he ever met him. She was conscious that Sebell had put his right arm about her shoulders and was stroking her with awkward consolation. But it was Beauty’s anxious chirping in her ear that reminded her that she’d better get her emotions under control. Master Robinton and Lord Groghe wouldn’t be pleased by a second alarm incited by her lack of self-discipline. Particularly if it dragged them away from good Benden wine.
She dashed the tears from her eyes, and gulping down one last sob, looked defiantly into the startled faces of Sebell and Piemur.
“And I wanted you to teach me how to gut fish!” Sebell let out a long sigh. “I wondered why you were so hesitant. I’ll find someone else, now I understand why you hate it.”