“You’re not just silly. You stood up for me against Pona…”
Audiva bit her lip guiltily, her expression contrite. “I didn’t tell you about Master Domick’s first message…” She paused, full of self-reproach. “I knew about it. I heard him tell Dunca. We all did. And I knew they were trying to make trouble for you because you had the fire lizards…”
“But you told Master Domick that I hadn’t been told.”
“Fair’s fair.”
‘Well, then, if fair’s fair, you did stand up with me against Pona and all those fosterlings when it really mattered. Let’s forget everything else…and just be friends.” I’ve never had a girl friend before,” Menolly added shyly.
“You haven’t?” Audiva was shocked, “Weren’t you fostered out?”
“No, being the youngest and Half-Circle being so isolated and with Thread falling, and that’s what the Harper usually does, and Petiron never…”
“Just as well old Petiron kept you by him, the way things turned out, isn’t it?” Audiva grinned. “But we’re friends now, aren’t we?”
And they sealed the bargain with a handshake.
“Are they really practicing my song?” asked Menolly, a little apprehensive.
“Yes, and hating every minute of it because you wrote it.” Audiva was delighted. “I’d be obliged if you’d teach me some simpler chords than the ones you’ve written. I cannot get my hands…”
“They are simple.”
“For you, maybe, but not for me!” Audiva groaned over her inadequacy.
“Here,” and Menolly thrust her gitar at Audiva. “You can start with a simple E chord…go on, strum it… Now, modulate to an A Minor…”
Menolly soon realized that she didn’t have as much patience as she ought to with Audiva, especially since Audiva was her best friend now, and she certainly did try to follow Menolly’s instructions; but both girls were relieved when Beauty’s creeling interrupted the practice. Audiva declared that she’d have to fly to change before supper. She wouldn’t have the time after, or she’d be late to rehearsal. She gave Menolly a quick and grateful embrace, and dashed down the steps ahead of her.
Camo and Piemur were waiting for Menolly at the kitchen level. It seemed incredible to Menolly as she fed her hungry friends that she’d only been at Harper Hall a sevenday. So much had happened. And yet the fire lizards had settled in as if they’d never lived anywhere else. She had established a routine in her sessions with Domick and the journeymen in the mornings, with Shonagar in the afternoon. Above all, she had the right, the exquisitely sweet right—no, an injunction from the Masterharper—to write the songs that had once been totally forbidden her. Seven days ago, standing in this very courtyard, she’d been scared to tears. What had T’gellan said? Yes, he’d given her the sevenday to get adjusted. And he’d been right in that, though she’d doubted him at the time. He’d also said that she didn’t have anything to fear from harpers. True enough, but she had experienced envy and to some extent overcome it: she’d made staunch friends and good impressions on those in Hall and Hold who mattered to her future. She’d made not one, but several places for herself in the Craft Halclass="underline" with her songs, her fire lizards and, unexpectedly, her knowledge of seacraft.
Only one small worry nagged at her: what if the vengeful Pona could prejudice her grandfather, Lord Sangel, against a lowly apprentice in the Craft Hall? Not all Lord Holders were tolerant men like Lord Groghe. Not all of them had fire lizards. Menolly had had too much stripped from her before in her home Hold to calm that anxiety.
Chapter 11
O Tongue, give sound to joy and sing
Of hope and promise on dragonwing!
Domick caught her before she left the dining hall the next morning.
“That sea song you sang at the gather? Would it take you long to note it down? I never heard it before.” Menolly wasn’t sure from his frown if he blamed her for that oversight or not. “Master Robinton wants sea songs inland and land songs on the seaside…” Domick looked annoyed, until he saw Menolly’s expression. “Oh, I agree with him in principle, but he wants things done now. With the journeymen to be posted today, he wants as many copies to go with them as possible. Save trips later…”
“I could make several copies as easily as one,” she said.
Domick blinked as if he’d forgotten. “Of course, you could. And a mighty neat hand you’ve got. Even old Arnor had to admit that!” For some obscure reason this amused Domick. He continued in a much better humor. “All right then, to save a lot of useless talk and wasted time, would you please copy that sea song? And do a couple of “The Fire Lizard Song!’ I’m not certain how many Arnor has completed, and you got a taste of his attitude yesterday…” Menolly grinned. “You remember who to go to if you need more materials? Dermently’s his name.”
With that he left Menolly, but he whistled absently as he strode toward the now closed door of the main hall.
Sea songs inland and land songs on the seaside, thought Menolly as she climbed the steps to her room. She wondered just how Yanus, her father, would approve of land songs at Half-Circle Sea Hold. Well and good, and wouldn’t it be the best of all jokes if the land songs introduced at Half-Circle by Harper Elgion were ones she herself had written or copied out? Disgrace the Hold, indeed!
Now she wondered if she should write her mother, Mavi, or her sister, and just casually mention that she was apprentice to the Masterharper of Pern. That all her twiddles and tunings had considerably more merit than anyone at Half-Circle had the wit to appreciate. Except, of course, Harper Elgion. And Alemi, her brother.
No, she wouldn’t write her mother or her father, and certainly not her sister. But she might write Alemi. He’d been the only one who cared. And he’d keep the knowledge to himself.
But right now she had things to do. She organized her materials, her ink and tools, and carefully set about copying down the sea song. She worked quickly, though she had to sand out several small errors. Nevertheless, she had six fair copies by the time the dinner bell rang.
Domick was in the hallway, in earnest conversation with Jerint who appeared annoyed about something. Domick caught sight of her, excusing himself from Jerint but with just that hint of reprieve that suggested Menolly’s appearance was a welcome excuse.
“Six…” he leafed through her sheets, “and every one, a fair copy. My thanks, Menolly. Can you do… No, you must work with Shonagar this afternoon…”
“I’d need more paper, Master Domick, but I’ll have time to do two or three more copies before supper, if you need them…”
Domick glanced at the slowly filling dining room. He took her hand. “If you could squeeze in maybe three copies of your fire lizard song, I’d be in your debt. Come with me. Arnor should have retreated from his domain, and we can get as much paper as we want from Dermently. At least, today.” They were out the door with no more delay, heading toward the Archive room.
“I don’t mean to make a habit of this with you, Menolly, because it’s more important that you create than that you copy. Any apprentice can copy. But, with so many journeymen going off…. That’s why Jerint is looking peeved. And wait ’till Arnor hears…”
“Journeymen going off?”
“You didn’t think they stayed here forever and moldered…”