“I didn’t know it was Menolly at the time we circulated the song.”
“Humph, Forgot about that. Go on, girl. Did it happen just as you wrote the song?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How come you were there in the cave when they hatched?”
“I was hunting spiderclaws and went further down coast than I should have. Threadfall was due. I was caught out, and the only shelter I could think of was the cave where I’d put the fire lizard eggs. I arrived…with my sack of spiderclaws…just as the eggs began break. That’s how I Impressed so many. I couldn’t very well let them fly out into Thread. And they were so hungry, just out of the shell…”
Lord Groghe grunted, sniffed and mumbled to the effect that he’d had enough trouble keeping one fed, his compliments for handling nine! As if mention of food had penetrated their sleep, Kimi and Zair roused, creeling.
“I mean no discourtesy, Lord Groghe,” said Master Robinton, rising as hastily as Sebell.
“Nonsense. Don’t go. They eat anything, anywhere.” Lord Groghe swung his heavy torso about. “You there, what’s your name…” and he waved impatiently at the wineman’s apprentice, who came running. “Bring a tray of those meatrolls from the stalls. A big tray. Heaped. Enough to feed two hungry fire lizards and a couple of harpers. Never known a harper who wasn’t hungry. Are you hungry, harper girl?”
“No, sir; thank you, sir.”
“Making a liar out of me, harper girl? Bring back some bubbly pies, too,” the Lord Holder roared after the departing apprentice. “Hope he heard me. So you’re the daughter to Yanus of Half-Circle Sea Hold.”
Menolly nodded acknowledgement of the relationship.
“Never been to Half-Circle. They brag about that cavern of theirs. Does it hold the fishing fleet?”
“Yes, sir, it does. The biggest can sail in without stepping the masts, except, of course, when the tides run exceptionally high. There’s a rock shelf for repairs and careening, a section for building, as well as a very dry inside cave for storing wood.”
“Hold above the docking cavern?” Lord Groghe seemed dubious about the wisdom of that.
“Oh, no, sir. Half-Circle Sea Hold really is a half circle.” She cocked her thumb and curved her forefinger. “This,” and she angled her right hand to show the direction of the curve, after squinting to see where the sun was, “my thumb is the docking cavern, and this,” and she pointed to the length of her forefinger, “is the Hold…the longer part of the half circle, and then this much,” and she touched the webbing, “is sandy beach. They can draw dinghies up on it or gut fish, sew nets and mend sail there in fair weather.”
“They?” asked Lord Groghe, his thick eyebrows rising in surprise.
“Yes, sir, they. I’m a harper now.”
“Well said, Menolly,” replied Lord Groghe, slapping his thigh with a crack that made Merga squeal in alarm. “Girl or not, Robinton, you’ve a good one here. I approve. I approve.”
“Thank you, Lord Groghe, I was confident you would,” said the Masterharper with a slight smile, which he shared with Sebell before he nodded reassuringly at Menolly.
Beauty chirped a question, which Lord Groghe’s Merga answered in a sort of “that’s that” tone.
“Cross-crafting works, Robinton. Think I’ll have to spot a few more of my sons about. Seaholds, too.”
The notion of Benis in Half-Circle Sea Hold appealed to Menolly, though she didn’t know if that was whom Lord Groghe had in mind.
The slap of running feet and hoarse breathing interrupted the conversation as the apprentice lad, juggling two trays, all but slid the contents into the laps of those he served.
As the new fire lizards were fed, Menolly saw that more and more people were filing into the central square, taking seats at tables and benches. At one end was a wooden platform. Now a group of harpers took their places and began to tune up. Immediately sets were formed for a call-dance. A tall journeyman harper gave his tambourine a warning shake and then called out the dance figures in a loud voice that carried above the music while his tambourine emphasized the step rhythm.
Those watching on the sidelines clapped in time to the music, shouting good-natured encouragements to the dancers. To Menolly’s surprise, Lord Groghe added a hearty smacking beat of his hands, stamping his feet and cheerfully grinning about at everyone.
Once the music started, the square filled up, and still more benches were angled into any free space. Menolly saw colors of all the major crafts on journeymen and apprentices from the halls of the Fort Hold complex. Groups of men stood about, drinking wine and watching the dancing, their heavy boots and clean, though earth-stained, trousers marking them as small holders in from neighboring farms for the restday and a bit of trading at the gather. Their womenfolk had congregated along one side of the square, chattering, tending smaller children, watching the dancing. When the sets changed, some of the holders dragged their giggling but willing women out to make up new groups as the musicians began another foot-tapping, hand-clapping tune.
The third was a couple’s dance, a wild gyration of swinging arms and skipping legs, an exercise that rendered every participant breathless and thirsty to judge by the calls on the wineman’s lads when the dance ended.
A change of harpers occurred now, the dance-players giving up the platform to Brudegan and three of the older apprentices who ranged themselves slightly behind Brudegan. At his signal they sang the song that Elgion had sung the night of his arrival at Half-Circle Sea Hold: it was one Menolly had never had a chance to learn. She leaned forward, eager to catch every word and chord. On her shoulder, Beauty sat up, one forepaw lightly clasping Menolly’s ear for balance. The little queen gave a trill, glanced inquiringly at Menolly.
“Let her sing,” said Master Robinton. Then he leaned forward, “But, if you can keep the others where they are on the roofs, I think that might be wise.”
Menolly sent a firm command to her friends just as Merga rose to her haunches on Lord Groghe’s shoulder and added her voice to Beauty’s.
As the fire lizards’ descant rose above the harpers’ voices, Menolly was conscious of being the focus of startled attention. Lord Groghe was beaming with pride, a smug smile on his face, the fingers of one hand drumming the beat on the table while he waved the other as if he were directing the extemporaneous chorus.
Wild applause followed the song, and cries of “The Fire Lizard Song!” “Sing the Queen’s song!” “Does she know it?’ “Fire lizard!”
From the platform, Brudegan beckoned imperiously to Menolly.
“Go on, girl, what’s holding you back?” Lord flicked his fingers at her to obey the summons. “Want to hear you sing it. You wrote it. Ought to sing it. Shake yourself up, girl. Never heard of a harper not wanting to sing!”
Menolly appealed to Master Robinton, but the Harper had a wicked twinkle in his eyes, despite the bland expression on his face.
“You heard Lord Groghe, Menolly. And it’s time you did a turn as a harper!” She heard the emphasis on the last word. He rose, holding out his hand to her as if he knew very well how nervous she was. She’d no choice now, for to refuse would be to shame him, slight the Hall, and annoy Lord Groghe.
“I’ll accompany you, Menolly, if I may. You do remember the new wording?” Robinton asked as he handed her up to the platform.
She mumbled a hasty affirmative and then wondered if she did. She hadn’t actually sung the new words, or the tune, for that matter, since she’d composed it so very long ago in the little hall in Half-Circle Hold. But there was Brudegan, grinning a welcome, and gesturing to two gitar players to hand over their instruments to her and the Masterharper.
Menolly turned and saw all the faces, all the people massed on each side of the square. A hush fell, and into that attentive silence, the Harper struck the first chords of her fire lizard song. Master Shonagar’s oft-repeated advice flashed through her mind: “Stand straight, take your breath into your guts, shoulders back, open your mouth…and sing!”