“My father, Master Robinton, is very much of your mind, which is why I am fostered in a landbound Hold,” said Viderian with a respectful bow. He stiffened, his eyes widening at some disturbing sight. He swallowed hard, anxiety plainly written on his face.
“Ah,” said the Harper, having followed the direction of Viderian’s gaze. “I wondered how long it would take Lord Groghe to respond to promptings…” He grinned, highly amused at some inner reflection. “Viderian, do make off with Audiva. Now! And enjoy yourselves!”
Audiva needed no urging and grabbed the young seaholder’s arm, hastening down the aisle until they were lost in the crowd.
“It’s Lord Groghe,” said Piemur in a croak, pulling at Menolly’s sleeve.
The Harper caught the boy by the shoulder. “You’ll stay by me, young Piemur, so we may have an end of this affair now!” Then he turned to the tanner. “Which belt tempted Menolly?”
“The one with the fire lizard on the buckle,” said Piemur in an undertone to the Harper and then edged himself carefully so that the Harper was between him and the oncoming Lord Holder.
“Robinton, my queen’s doing it again… Ah, Menolly, just the person!” said Lord Groghe, his florid face lighting with a smile. “Merga’s been…humph! She’s stopped!” The Holder regarded his queen accusingly. “She’s been fussing! Right up until I reached the square…”
“That’s rather easily explained,” said Robinton in an off-handed manner.
“Is it? Both of ’em are at it now.”
Menolly had been aware of it first, because Beauty was chirping and squeaking at Merga through Lord Groghe’s conversation. She felt color rising in her cheeks. The discourse finished as quickly as it had begun. The two little queens flipped their wings closed on their backs and became totally disinterested in each other.
“What was that all about?” Lord Groghe demanded.
“I suspect they were catching up on the news,” said Robinton, with a chuckle, for that was what it had sounded like: a spate of urgent gossip. “Which reminds me, Lord Groghe; I heard that the wineman has a keg good, aged Benden wine.”
“He does?” Lord Groghe’s interest was diverted. “How did he get his hands on it?”
“I think we ought to check.”
“Humph! Yes! Now!”
“Wouldn’t do to waste good Benden wine on people unable to appreciate it, would it?” Robinton took Lord Groghe’s arm.
“Not at all.” But the Holder could not be completely diverted and turned to frown at Menolly. She steeled herself before she realized that his frown was not menacing. “Want a chance to talk to this girl. Didn’t seem the time or place to do so t’other day with the Hatching and all.”
“Of course, Lord Groghe, when Menolly's finished her bargaining…”
“Bargaining? Humph. Well, can't interrupt a bargain at a gather…humph!” Lord Groghe pushed out his lower lip as he looked from Menolly to the hovering tanner. “Don’t be all day about it, girl. Th’afternoon’s a good time to talk. Don’t have many chances to sit and talk.”
“Finish your dicker for that belt, Menolly,” the Harper told her, one arm gently propelling the Lord Holder away from the apprentices, “and then join us at the wineman’s stall. “And you,” the Masterharper’s forefinger pointed down at Piemur, “wash your face, keep your mouth closed, and stay out of trouble. At least until I’ve had some Benden wine to fortify me.” Lord Groghe humphed at the delay. “If it is Benden wine… This way, my Lord Holder.” The two men walked off together, in step, each steadying the fire lizards they carried.
A soft whistle at her elbow broke the trance holding Menolly as she stared after the two most influential men in the Hold. Piemur was dramatically dragging a hand across his brow to signalize a close escape.
“What do you bet, Menolly, that the subject of your cracking Benis in the face never comes up? And where’d you learn to punch like that?”
“When I saw that big bully kicking you, I was so flaming mad, I…I…”
“May I add my congratulations to Piemur’s,” asked a quiet voice. The two whirled to see Sebell, leaning against the side of the tanner’s stall. The eyes of his young queen were still whirling with the red of anger.
“Oh no,” said Menolly with a groan, “not you, too! What am I going to do with them?” She was utterly discouraged and dejected. It had been bad enough to have the fire lizards diving and swooping at plain noise; outrageous of them to have flown at Master Domick because he’d only spoken angrily to her. And now this very public fracas with the son of the Fort Lord Holder.
“It wasn’t your fault, Menolly,” said Piemur stoutly.
“It never is, but it is!”
“How long have you been here, Sebell?” Piemur asked, ignoring Menolly’s wail.
“On the heels of Lord Groghe,” said the journeyman, grinning. “But I caught a glimpse of young Benis making tracks out of the Hold proper, so it wasn’t hard to figure out where he got the scratches,” he went on, glancing at the perched fire lizards and absently stroking Kimi. “I have only one burning question: Who had the audacity to give Benis a colored eye?”
“A rare sight that was,” said the tanner who’d been keeping back but now stepped up. “The girl landed as sweet a punch in that young snot’s eye as ever I’ve seen, and I’ve been to many a gather that boasted a good brawl. Now, young harper girl, which belt had you in mind before the fracas started? I thought you was after boot leather.” He eyed Piemur sharply.
“Menolly wants the blue one with the fire lizard buckle.”
“It’d be much too expensive,” Menolly said hastily.
The tanner ducked back under his counter and picked the coveted belt from its hook. “This the one?” Menolly looked at it wistfully. Sebell took it from the tanner’s hands, examined it, gave it a tug to see if there were flaws or if the hide was too thin to wear well.
“Good workmanship in that belt, Journeyman,” the tanner said. “Proper for the girl to have it, with her owning the fire lizards.”
“How much were you asking for it?” asked Piemur, settling down to the business of bargaining. The tanner looked down at Piemur, stroked the belt, which Sebell had handed back to him, then glanced at Menolly.
Its yours, girl. And I’ll not take a mark from you. Worth it to me to see you plant one on that young rowdy’s face. Here, wear it in good health and long life.”
Piemur gaped, mouth wide, eyes popping.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” and Menolly extended the piece. The tanner promptly closed her fist over the marker and laid the belt on her wrist.
“Yes, you could and you will, apprentice harper! And that’s the end of the matter. I’ve struck the bargain.” He pumped her hand in the traditional courtesy.
“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…”