Dragonsong (21 page)

Dragons bugled warnings from their perches at the top of the Hatching Ground, and Ramoth spread her wings, rising to her haunches as
if
to strike at the invader. One of the girls interposed her body between the queen and her small attacker.

‘Berd! Don’t!’ Brekke, too, moved, her arm extended towards the irate bronze.

The dragonet queen creeled and hid her face in the girl’s skirt. The two women faced each other for a moment, tense, worried. Then the other stretched her hand out to Brekke, and Menolly could see her smile. The gesture lasted only a moment because the young queen butted imperiously, and the girl knelt, her arms reassuringly encircling the dragonet’s shoulders.

At the same instant, Brekke turned, no longer a somnolent figure, immersed in grief. She walked back to the entrance of the Cavern, the little bronze fire lizard whirring around her head, making noises that went from scolding to entreaty, just like Beauty when Menolly was doing something that had upset her.

Menolly didn’t realize that she was weeping until tears dropped on to her arms. She glanced hastily to see if the miners had noticed, but they were concentrating on the main clutch. From their comments it seemed that a boy had been found on Search in one of their craftholds, and they were impatiently waiting for him to Impress. For a fleeting moment, Menolly was angry with them; hadn’t they seen Brekke’s
deliverance?
Didn’t they realize how marvelous that was? Oh, think how happy Mirrim would be now!

Menolly sank wearily back against the stones, depleted by the emotionally-laden miracle. And the look on Brekke’s face as she passed under the arched entrance! Manora was there, her face radiant, her arms outstretched in a joyful gesture. The man, who was surely F’nor, swept Brekke up in his arms, his tired face mirroring his relief and gladness.

A cheer from the miners beside her indicated that their lad had Impressed although Menolly couldn’t be certain which of the boys he was. There were so many now paired off with wobbly-legged hatchlings, all creeling with hunger, lurching and falling towards the entrance. The miners were urging their favorite on; and when a curly-haired, skinny lad passed by, with a grin for their cheering, she saw that he had done rather well, Impressing a brown. When the exultant miners turned to her to share their triumph, she managed to respond properly, but she was relieved when they scrambled down the tiers to follow the pair out of the Hatching Ground.

She sat there, glowing over the resurgence of Brekke, the determination and fierceness of
bronze
Berd, his courage in braving Ramoth’s ire at such a moment. Now, why, Menolly wondered, didn’t Berd want Brekke to Impress the new queen? At all events, the experiment had successfully roused Brekke from her lethargy.

The dragons were returning, landing in the Hatching Ground so that their riders could help the weyrlings, or to escort guests outside. The tiers were emptying. Soon there was only a man in holder colors on the first tier with two boys. The man looked as tired as she felt. Then one of the boys rose, pointing to the little egg on the sand that wasn’t even rocking.

Idly Menolly thought that it might not hatch, remembering the uncracked egg left in the fire lizard’s sand nest the morning after her fire lizards had hatched. She’d shaken it and something hard had rattled within. Sometimes hold babies were born dead, so she’d supposed that it could happen to other creatures, too.

The boy was running along the tier now. To Menolly’s astonishment, he jumped to the Hatching Ground and began kicking at the little egg. His cries and his actions attracted the notice of the Weyrleader and the small knot of candidates who had not Impressed. The Holder half-rose, one hand extended in a
cautionary
gesture. The other boy was shouting at his friend.

‘Jaxom, what are you doing?’ shouted the Weyrleader.

The egg fractured then, and the boy began tearing at the shell, ripping out sections and kicking until Menolly could see the small body pushing at the thick membrane.

Jaxom cut at the membrane with his belt knife, and a small white body, not much larger than the boy’s torso, fell from the sac. The boy reached out to help the creature to his feet.

Menolly saw the little white dragon lift his head, his eyes, brilliant with greens and yellows, fastened on the boy’s face.

‘He says his name is Ruth!’ the boy cried in amazed delight.

With a strangled exclamation, the older man sank back to the stone seat, his face a mask of grief. The Weyrleader and the others who had rushed to prevent what had just occurred halted. To Menolly it was all too obvious that Jaxom’s Impression of the little white dragon was unprecedented and unwelcome. And she couldn’t imagine why: the boy and the dragon looked so radiant, who could deny them their joyous union?

Chapter 13

Harper, your song has a sorrowful sound
,

Though the tune was written as gay
.

Your voice is sad and your hands are slow

And your eye meeting mine turns away
.

WHEN IT BECAME
obvious to Menolly that T’gellan had forgotten his promise to return, she slowly climbed down from the tiers and made her way out of the deserted Hatching Ground, over the hot sand.

Beauty met her at the entrance, demanding caresses and reassurance. She was swiftly followed by the others, all chittering nervously and with many anxious dartings to the entrance to see if Ramoth was about.

Although Menolly had not far to walk on the sands, the heat quickly penetrated the soles of her slippers. Her discomfort was acute by the time she stepped on to the cooler earth of the Bowl. She edged to one side of the entrance
and
sank down, her fire lizards grouping themselves about her while she waited for the pain to subside.

As everyone was on the kitchen cavern side of the Bowl, no-one noticed her, for which she was grateful since she felt useless and foolish. It would be a long walk across the Bowl to the kitchens. Well, she’d just take it in small sections.

She heard the faint cries of the herdbeasts at the farthest end of the Bowl valley and saw Ramoth hovering for a kill. The weyrwomen had said that Ramoth hadn’t eaten for the past ten days, which was partly the cause of her irascible temper.

By the lakeside, hatchlings were being fed and bathed, and their riders shown how to oil the fragile skin. Their white tunics stood out among the gleaming green, blue, brown and bronze hides. The little queen was slightly removed from the others, with two of the bronze dragons in attendance. She couldn’t see where the white dragon was.

On the weyr ledges dotting the Bowl’s face, some dragons were curled in what remained of the afternoon sun. Above and to the left of her, Menolly saw great bronze Mnementh on the ledge of the queen’s weyr. He was seated on his haunches, watching his mate choose her
meal
. Menolly saw him move slightly, glancing over his left shoulder. Then Menolly caught a glimpse of a man’s head as he descended the stairs from the queen’s weyr.

Felena’s voice, raised above the conversational babble, brought Menolly’s gaze back to the kitchen cavern where tables were being erected for the evening’s feasting. The dragonriders were doing it, for the bright colors of their best tunics, were conspicuous, moving about while the soberer colors of Holder and Craft seemed to stay in stationary clumps at a polite distance from the workers.

The man had reached the Bowl floor now from the queen’s weyr, and Menolly idly watched him start across. Auntie One and Two came sweeping down to her, chittering about something that had excited them and ducking their heads at her for reassurance. They needed to be oiled, and she felt guilty for not taking better care of them.

‘Do you have
two
greens?’ asked an amused voice, and the tall man was standing in front of her, his eyes friendly and interested.

‘Yes, they’re mine,’ she said and held up Two for him to inspect, responding to the kindness and good humor in his long face. ‘They like their eye ridges scratched, gently, like this,’ she added, showing him.

He dropped to one knee in the sand and obligingly caressed Two, who crooned and closed her eyelids in appreciation. Auntie One whistled at Menolly for attention, digging a jealous claw into her hand.

‘Stop that, you naughty creature.’

Beauty roused, and Rocky and Diver reacted as well, all three scolding Auntie One so fiercely that she took flight.

‘Don’t tell me the queen
and
the two browns are yours as well?’ the man asked, startled.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Then you must be Menolly,’ he said, rising to his feet and making such an elaborate bow that she blushed. ‘Lessa has, just told me that I may have two eggs of that clutch
you
discovered. I’m rather partial to browns, you know, though I wouldn’t actually object to a bronze. Of course the greens, like this lady here,’ and he smiled such a winning smile to the watching Two that she crooned responsively, ‘are such delicate darlings. That doesn’t mean that I would object to a blue, however.’

‘Don’t you want the queen?’

‘Ah, now that would be greedy of me, wouldn’t it?’ He rubbed his face thoughtfully and gave her a wry half-smile. ‘All things considered, though, I’d be heartily embarrassed if Sebell – my Journeyman is to have possession
of
the other egg – secured a queen instead. But …’ and he threw his long fingured hand upwards to signify his submission to chance. ‘Are you waiting here for some purpose? Or is the confusion on the other side of the Bowl too much for all your friends?’

‘I should be there. The clutch must be turned; the eggs are in warm sand by the hearth; but T’gellan brought me into the Hatching Cavern and told me to wait …’

‘And seems to have forgotten you. Not surprising, considering today’s surprises.’ The man hastily cleared his throat and extended his hand to her.

She accepted his aid because she couldn’t have risen without it. He had taken three strides when he realized that she wasn’t keeping up with him. Politely he turned. Menolly tried to walk normally, a feat she managed for about three strides when her heel came down so painfully on a patch of pebbles that she involuntarily cried out. Beauty whirled, scolding fiercely, and Rocky and Diver added their antics, which were of no help to anyone.

‘Here’s my arm, girl. Were you too long on the hot sands? Ah now, wait. You’re a long child, but there’s no meat on your bones.’

Before Menolly could protest, he’d swung
her
up into his arms and was carrying her across the Bowl.

‘Tell that queen of yours I’m helping you,’ he asked when Beauty disordered his silvering hair, diving at him. ‘After sober reflection, be sure you give me green eggs.’

Beauty was too excited to harken to Menolly, so she had to wave her arms about his head and face to protect him. It was not astonishing then that their approach to the kitchen caverns attracted attention; but people made way so politely, bowing to them with such deference, that Menolly began to wonder who the man was. His tunic was a gray cloth with just a band of blue, so he must be a harper of some sort; probably weyrbound to Fort Weyr to judge by the yellow arm device.

‘Menolly, did you hurt your feet?’ Felena appeared before them, curious at the flurry of excitement. ‘Didn’t T’gellan remember you? He’s got no memory, drat the man. How good of you to rescue her, sir!’

‘Think nothing of it, Felena. I discovered she was custodian of the fire lizard eggs. However, if you happened to have a cup of wine … This is thirsty work.’

‘I can stand, really I can, sir,’ Menolly protested, for something in Felena’s manner told her that this man was too important to be
toting
sore-footed girls, ‘Felena, I couldn’t stop him.’

‘I’m only being my usual ingratiating self,’ the man told her, ‘and do stop struggling. You’re too heavy!’

Felena was laughing at his exaggeration as she led the way to Menolly’s table above the egg basket.

‘You’re a terrible fellow, Master Robinton, indeed you are. But you’ll have your wine while Menolly picks out the best of the clutch. Have you spotted the queen egg, Menolly?’

‘After the way Menolly’s queen has been attacking me, I’d be safer with any other color, Felena. Now do get that wine for me, there’s a good woman. I’m utterly parched.’

As he gently settled her into her chair, Menolly heard Felena’s teasing remark, ‘… terrible fellow, Master Robinton … terrible fellow, Master Robinton …’ She stared at him, disbelieving.

‘Now, what’s the matter, Menolly? Did my exercise bring out spots on my face?’ He mopped at his cheeks and brow and examined his hand. ‘Ah, thank you, Felena. You’ve saved my life. My tongue was quite stuck to the roof of my mouth. And here’s to you, young queen, and thank you for your courtesy.’ He raised his cup to Beauty,
who
was perched on Menolly’s shoulder, her tail firmly entwined as she glared at him. ‘Well?’ he asked kindly of Menolly.

‘You’re the Masterharper?’

‘Yes, I’m Robinton.’ He sounded quite casual about it. ‘And I think you need some wine, too.’

‘No, I couldn’t.’ Menolly held up her hands in refusal. ‘I get hiccups. And go to sleep.’ She hadn’t meant to say that either, but she had to explain why she was discourteous enough to refuse his cup. She was also acutely aware now of her stained overshirt, her sandy clothes and slippers, her complete disarray. This wasn’t how she imagined her first meeting with the Masterharper of Pern, and she hung her head in embarrassment.

‘I always advise eating
before
drinking,’ remarked Master Robinton in the nicest possible way. ‘I shouldn’t wonder but that’s half the problem right now,’ he added and then raised his voice. ‘This child is faint with hunger, Felena.’

Menolly shook her head, denying his suggestion and trying to forestall Felena, but she was already ordering one of the lads to bring klah, a basket of breads, and a dish of sliced meats. When she was served, just as if she were one of the Weyrwomen, she kept her head bent over
her
cup, blowing to cool the contents.