Once out of the grip of the Great Current, Sebell wrestled with the gaudy striped mainsail, untying it from the runners on the boom and folding it away neatly in its bag. Then he and Menolly bent the bright red southern sail to the boom and mast. Practice had made it a smooth operation, though the first time Menolly and Jhe had changed the sail halfway to the Southern Continent, it had taken them hours, with him cursing at his ineptness and she patiently explaining the trick.
No sooner had they hauled the red sail up the mast than the wind, which had so favoured their journey, dropped to a mere whisper.
With a sigh, Menolly surveyed the bright blue and cloudless sky and then laughed as she sank to the deck by the all but motionless tiller handle.
“Wouldn't you just know?”
“All right, weather eye, breeze at sunset?”
“Possibly, usually does come up again, then,” she replied, squinting up to see what made Sebell so irritable.
“Sorry, Menolly,” he said, running his hand through wind-disheveled hair. He dropped to the deck beside her.
“You're not worried about Piemur, are you? Something you've kept from me?”
“No, girl, I've kept nothing from you.” Her anxious query seemed at this moment more of an accusation to him than a plea for reassurance, and he had answered with more asperity than was customary for him. She was quiet, though he could sense her confusion at his manner; he was unable to explain it to himself. “I didn't mean to snap, Menolly,” he said, realizing that she wouldn't speak until he had. “I just don't know what's gotten into me. I honestly believe we'll find Piemur in the south.”
“Maybe we ought to have taken someone else to help with the sailing, “
“No, no, it's not that!” Again his tone was churlish. He bit his lips together, took a deep breath and carefully added, “You know I like sailing. Better, I like sailing with you alone!” That came out sounding more like himself, and he gave her a smile.
Menolly started to respond to his oblique apology, but then stared at his face, her eyes widening. Suddenly, she glanced skyward, where the fire lizards were aerially following the skiff in swoops and glides. She watched them for a long moment, frowning slightly as she saw one dive into the waves. Sebell, puzzled by her abrupt curiosity, identified the fisher as his own Kimi and smiled indulgently as she brought the neatly captured yellowtail back to the prow of the ship. Oddly, the others stayed aloft while Kimi tore savagely into the flesh of her still-struggling prey.
Sebell wondered why the other three fire lizards didn't come to share the feast, but the thought didn't absorb him long. The ferocity with which Kimi ate fascinated him; he felt as if he were somehow involved in tearing the strips, as if he could savor the warm salty flesh in his mouth, as if,
“I'm sending Beauty to Toric at Southern Hold. She can't stay here now, Sebell.”
Sebell heard Menolly's voice but made no sense of the words, his entire attention was concentrated on the unusual actions of his fire lizard queen. He wanted, to go to her, but he couldn't move. He found that he was alternately clenching his hands and then rubbing his sweating palms against his legs. He was unbearably hot and tore at his shirt to open the throat.
“Oh!” he heard Menolly exclaim. “Oh, what else can I do? I can't send Rocky and Diver away. That's not fair to Kimi. “We're too far from land to raise more fire lizards, and there's not a breath of wind to attract them here!”
Sebell pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. The coolness of the day seemed to have no effect on the heat that consumed him. Then he noticed the two bronze fire lizards, crouching on the roof of the small cabin. They made no attempt to join Kimi in her feast. She was growling, too, her eyes glowing orangely at the two impertinent bronzes, and she seemed to be glowing in the sunlight.
Glowing? Unwilling to share food? What had Menolly mumbled about sending Beauty away? And to Toric? Why would she send Toric another message? What was the matter with Kimi?
He wanted to reprimand her but could frame no message in his mind. And why were those bronzes waiting? Why didn't they go away and leave Kimi? Why...?
The 'why' suddenly penetrated Sebell's fire-lizard linked confusion. Kimi eating alone, savagely; Menolly sending Beauty, another queen, away; Kimi, glowing golden and taunting the bronzes, her good friends, with her staring, whirling orange-red eyes! Kimi was about to fly. And it was Menolly's bronzes who would fly her. A surge of elation swept Sebell, who could scarcely believe his good fortune. And yet...
“Menolly?” He turned to her, hands outstretched, palms up, pleading with her and apologizing for what he knew was about to happen since there were only the two of them on this becalmed boat in the middle of the windstill sea. He hadn't wanted Menolly coerced, as she now must be; he'd wanted to be in full command of himself, not overriden by the mating instinct of Kimi.
“It's all right, Sebell. It's all right.”
Smiling, Menolly put her hands in his and let herself be drawn into his arms where he had so yearned to have her.
As if their contact had been a signal, Kimi uttered a shriek and flung herself skyward from the prow, the two bronze fire lizards a length behind her. Sebell wasn't standing on the deck with Menolly in his arms; he was with Kimi, exulting in her strength, in her flight, determined to outsmart those who pursued her. Just let them try to catch her!
Never had her wings responded so fully to her demands. Never had she flown so high, soaring, veering, gliding. The sun flowed across her body, its rays burning into her eyes as she flew on and ever upward. The heat was unendurable. She glided obliquely to the right, caught movement below her and, sweeping her wings back, dropped down, screaming with delight as she fell between the two startled bronzes.
One of them tried to entangle her with his lashing tail and fell, his flight rhythm disrupted. She beat upward again, calling defiance and deliberately cutting across the path of the second bronze. But, in her desire to flaunt her flight superiority, she brushed just too close to him, and he veered, jamming his wing tip against hers. Her forward speed was momentarily checked. Before she could get away from him, he had caught her, neck twining hers in that instant. Locked together, they fell toward the shimmering sea so far below.
On the tiny bright oblong that was but a mote on the glistening water, Sebell and Menolly, too, were together, lips, bodies, hearts and minds as they, linked by and in the love of their fire lizards, experienced and repeated the joy that enveloped Kimi and Diver.
The flapping of the untended sail roused Sebell first, the rising sea breeze cooling his cheek. He moved aside, shaking his head, trying to orient himself. Menolly stirred against him, awakened by the same sea sounds. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw him, propped on his elbow above her. Surprise, and then memory, changed the color of her sea green eyes. Holding his breath, Sebell watched, fearful of her reaction. Her smile was tender as she lifted her hand and brushed his hair back from his eyes.
“What chance did you have, dear Sebell, with Rocky and Diver so determined?”
“It wasn't just Kimi's need,” he said in a hurried voice, “you know that, don't you?”
“Of course, I know, dear Sebell.” Her fingers lingered on his cheek, his lips. “But you always stand back and defer to our Master.” She did not hide from Sebell then how much she loved Master Robinton, nor would that ever come between them since they each loved the man in their separate ways. “but I have so wished…”
The ominous creak of the boom swinging across the cockpit warned her just in time to pull him back against her, out of its way.
“I wish,” said Sebell in a growl, “that the bloody wind didn't choose to rise right now.”
“We need the wind, Sebell,” she replied, laughing with a spontaneous gaiety that drew a laugh from him because they had finally spoken of what had kept them apart too long.
He put up his hand to grab the boom before it could swing back. She half rose and reached the lines to secure the boom, then pulled herself onto the seat to unlash the tiller. As Sebell rose to join her, he caught sight of a curled ball of bronze and gold on the forward deck, but Kimi and Diver were too soundly asleep to be roused by considerations of sea and wind. He envied them.
“Where did Rocky go?” he asked Menolly, who frowned slightly in thought.
“He either joined Beauty... or found himself a wild green. I suspect the latter.”
“Wouldn't you know?” asked Sebell, surprised.
Menolly shook her head from side to side, with a halfsmile, and Sebell realized that she'd been unaware of anything except their rapport with their two fire lizards. He relaxed, thoroughly content with their new understanding.
“If this breeze continues to follow, we'll make Southern by tomorrow high sun,” she said and deftly played out the line, making the most of the wind that filled the red sail. Then she indicated that Sebell should bridge the distance between them in the cockpit.
Neither left each other for very long all through that brilliant, lovely night.
Menolly's sea-sense was acute, for the sun had just reached its zenith when they eased the little skiff into the pleasant cove that served the Southern Hold as harbour. Sebell counted the ships bobbing at anchor and wondered where the largest three vessels were. They'd seen none fishing as the Great Eastern Current had raced them toward their destination. Not that Sebell expected anyone in the Southern Hold to be moving about in the heavy heat of high sun.
Suddenly Beauty appeared, chittering a wild welcome. Rocky arrived more sedately, settling on the tied boom. Menolly scooped him from his perch and caressed him, murmuring loving reassurances until Sebell heard her laugh.
“What's so amusing?”
“He must have found a green. He looks far too smug, but he's trying to make me feel guilty.”
“Not your fault Diver lived up to his name!”
“Hello down there!” The loud hail attracted their attention up to the small precipice that bulged out above the harbour. The tall, tanned figure of the Southern Holder, Toric, waved an imperious arm at them. “No use sweltering! Come where it's cool!”
With Beauty and Rocky as escort, they waded ashore, leaving Kimi and Diver still asleep. Sebell firmly captured Menolly's hand as they raced across the hot sand to the steps that would lead to the top of the white stone cliff, which rose above the sea to make a safehold for its inhabitants.
Toric was gone from the halfway lookout when they reached it, but they were both accustomed to the southerner's habits, and indeed, it was only sensible to get out of the burdening heat.
Toric had been able to keep the lush vegetation of the south only so far from the entrance to the cool white caves by strewing the area deeply with seashells. The crunch and break of shell also served to warn the hold of visitors. Toric awaited them just inside the hold's entrance, gripping each by the arm with fingers that threatened to leave bruise marks.
“You were mighty short on words with that message Beauty bore me,” he said as he escorted them to his private quarters.
The Southern Hold differed from northern ones in many respects, and, at this time of day, was uninhabited. The large low cavern was used for mealtimes, bad storms or Threadfall. The Southerners preferred to live apart, in shelters set in the shade of the thick forest of the bluff. When the wind was from the wrong quarter, this cavern could be breathlessly hot. Today, however, as Toric handed them each long tubes of cooled fruit juices, the temperature was a distinct drop from the heat without.
“To expand on Beauty's terse message,” said Sebell, without the usual harper preambles, for Toric was a blunt spoken man and appreciated the same in return. “Meron is dead and his successor, Lord Deckter, wishes it clearly understood that he is in no way to be bound by previous commitments.”
“Fair enough. I'd expected it. Mardra and T'kul won't like it, and they may try Deckter's resolve.”
“He'll remain firm.”
“So he has no problem.” Then Toric laughed to himself, shaking his head from side to side in his amusement. “No, Mardra won't like it, but it'll do the old one good to be thwarted. She was going to give Meron every dead fire lizard egg she could find for sending her a half-empty sack.”
“Half-empty?” Sebell caught Menolly's eye.
“Yes, the sack arrived with the top loosened and she's certain some of the shipment, some materials she's been plaguing the Masterweaver for, dropped out between. Why?” Toric caught the significant glances between the harpers. “Oh, that missing lad you queried me about several sevendays back? You think he came south in it?”
“It's a possibility.”
“Never occurred to me to connect the two before now.” Toric stroked his cheek thoughtfully. “A small lad? Yes, he'd doubtless have fit in that sack. Anything else about him I should know perhaps?”
Sebell thought how like Toric to want answers before he gave his own.
“A queen fire lizard egg was involved.”
“Oh ho,” and Toric's eyes crinkled with satisfaction. “Then it's not a possibility anymore, but a probability that your lad got here.” He stressed the word 'got', strangely, but went on before Sebell could question his emphasis. “Four, no three Threadfalls ago, weyrmen went after a wherry circle. Most of the time that means fire lizard hatchings so they do stir themselves to investigate.” Toric gave a sour laugh. “Not that that energy will profit them now if this Deckter fellow won't follow Meron's ways. The strange thing was that when they reached the area, the wherries flitted away through the forest, and they found only a queen's shell on the beach. They spent a good deal of time going up and down that strand, but there wasn't any trace of a full clutch.”
“Piemur does have his friend after all,” cried Menolly, grabbing Sebell and dancing about with him in her relief.
“Piemur? That's your missing boy? Hey, stop that, you'll set every fire lizard in the place a-wing.”
Kimi and Diver swooped into the cavern at that point, and with Beauty and Rocky bugling their delight, some of the southern fire lizards were also reacting. Sebell and Menolly called their four to order, and Toric sent his away.
“Yes, it's Piemur who's been missing, our apprentice,” said Menolly, so jubilant that for a moment Sebell thought she'd swing Toric into their joyful antics.
“He and I were at Meron's Gather,” said Sebell. “Somehow he got into the Hold itself and purloined the queen fire lizard egg. Meron was livid.”
“I can well imagine,” said Toric with a snort.
“Only none of his men could find Piemur or the egg. Kimi said she couldn't reach him,” Sebell went on.
“That was when he'd hidden in the sack,” Menolly said. “Oh, that wretched, that clever rascal.”
“More clever than he knew, or could guess,” Sebell continued, for Toric's expression told him that he didn't think so highly of Piemur's escapade. The harper explained to Toric all that had occurred after Piemur's daring theft. The fear of the main contenders for the Holding that Benden Weyr would discover Meron's dealings with the Southern Oldtimers. The heirs apparent now wanted no part of the succession, nor did they want the Hold in contention, so they pressured Meron to name a successor, who would then try to placate the Benden weyrleaders. But Meron had collapsed, and both the Master Healer and the Masterharper were summoned, for the Harper could act as mediator. He convoked other Lord Holders and the High Reaches Weyrleader to force Lord Meron to name his successor. About the methods, Sebell remained discreet. Nor did Toric inquire, since Sebell's recitation was limited to facts rather than story-telling embellishments.
“So we think,” Sebell finished, “that since Kimi specifically said it was too dark, as in a sack, and she couldn't 'find' Piemur, or room enough to get to him, he did secrete himself in a sack, which the Oldtimers collected that night, I saw the dragons, and brought here. That would also explain why none of our fire lizards could find a trace of him anywhere in Nabol.”
Toric had listened with keen attention to Sebell's summary, but now he cocked his head to one side and made a rueful noise with his tongue against his teeth.
“It's true a boy could have fit in that sack, and it's true that a queen fire lizard egg was found. But...” and he held up his hand warningly, “Thread fell that day...”
“Piemur knew you could live holdless through Threadfall!” said Menolly with the firmness of one trying to convince self.
“Wherries were circling that shell. They could have got the little queen at hatching, “
“Not if Piemur was alive! And I know he was,” said Menolly more stoutly now and utterly convinced. “Is that place far from here? Could your queen take our fire lizards? If Piemur's anywhere about, they'll find him.”
Toric was dubious, but he called up his queen. To the surprise of both harpers, the queen didn't, as Kimi or Beauty would have done, land on Toric's shoulder, but hovered awaiting his pleasure. Toric issued the sort of order one would give a stupid drudge. She chirped at Kimi and Beauty, disdaining the two bronzes, and flitted out of the cavern, the other four fire lizards right behind her.
“Lord Meron's death won't bother them,” and Toric jerked his head in the direction of the Southern Weyr, “for a while. They just brought in all they'll need for some time. I would prefer that we somehow keep them supplied. I...” and he jerked his thumb at his chest in emphasis, “do not wish to jeopardize my arrangements with Lessa and F'lar. They,” and again he meant the Oldtimers, “don't care how they get what they think they need. Meron was just convenient.” He took the harpers' solemn assurance of assistance as his due, but then grinned, not pleasantly. “Has any one of Meron's people figured out just how many green fire lizard eggs got foisted off on 'em?” Toric plainly thought little of people who would be taken in by such a deception.
“You forget that the small holders don't know much about fire lizards,” said Sebell. “In fact, the enormous fire lizard population at Nabol is one of the reasons why Piemur and I were there, to make certain Meron was the source of so many green fire lizards.”
Toric half-rose, his usually controlled expression showing anger. “No one suspected me of cheating traders?”
“No,” Sebell said, though that had been one of his problems. “Don't forget that I collected the clutches you've sent north in barter, but it was necessary for the Harper to find the real culprit. Green clutches could have been brought in by sailors who have been so conveniently losing themselves in southern waters.”
“Oh, all right then.” Toric subsided, his honor unchallenged.
“The Oldtimers have not questioned those lost sailors?”
“No,” said Toric, shrugging negligently. “So long as the sails are red. They never have bothered to count the number of ships we really own.”
Toric then noticed that they had drained their juices so he replenished the cool drinks.
“Have you some ships out now?” asked Sebell, because he had thought it odd to see so few at anchor when the sun was high.
Toric smiled again, his good humour completely restored by Sebell's observation. “You are well come. Harper, since the ships have sailed on your account. Or, I should say, Master Oldive's. It's harvest time for the numbweed, and for certain other herbs, grasses and such like that Sharra says the good man requires. If you stay until they return, then you can sail home full laden.”
“Good news, Toric, but we'd best sail home laden with Piemur as well.”
The southerner clicked his tongue pessimistically. “As I said, there've been three, maybe four Threadfalls since that queen egg shell was found.”
“You don't know our Piemur,” said Menolly, so insistent that Toric raised his eyebrows in surprise at her fervor.
“Maybe, but I know how other Northerners act in Threadfall!” Toric was plainly contemptuous.
“You're having trouble with their adaptation here?” asked Sebell, worrying that the Harper's masterful solution of sending holdless men south to Toric in unobtrusive numbers was in jeopardy.
“No trouble,” said Toric, dismissing that consideration with a wave of his hand. “They learn to cope holdless, or stay holdbound without the additional privileges of being ranked as holders here. Some have adapted rather well,” he admitted grudgingly. Then he noticed Menolly's anxious glances toward the entrance. “Oh, I told her to give the forests a good raking, too. The fire lizards'll take a while if my queen has followed her orders. Now that drink is not enough to soothe a sea thirst; there's sure to be ripe fruit cooling in the tanks.” He rose and went to the kitchen area of the cavern where he scooped a huge green-rinded fruit from a tank set in the wall. “Generally we save heavier eating for the evening, when the heat has eased.” He sectioned the fruit and carried a platter of the pink-fleshed slices to the table, “Best fruit in the world for quenching thirst. It's mainly water.”
Sebell and Menolly were licking their fingers for the last of the succulent juices when a twittering fair of fire lizards swooped in. Beauty and Kimi made immediately for their friends' shoulders. Rocky and Diver settled near Menolly on the table, but Toric's queen hovered, chirping out a message, her eyes whirling with the orange-red of distress.
“I told you he might not survive,” said Toric. “My queen really looked for any trace of a human, too.”
Menolly hid her face on the pretext of reassuring her fire lizards, who were imaging to her endless distances of forest and deserted stretches of beach and sandy wastes.
“You sent them west,” said Sebell, grasping at any theory that would give them hope, “to the place where the egg shells were discovered. If I know Piemur, he wouldn't have stayed anywhere that he had left clues. Could he have worked his way east? And be further down this side of the Southern Weyr?”
Toric gave a snort of laughter. “He could be any bloody where in the whole great southlands, but I doubt it. You Northerners don't like to be holdless in Threadfall.”
“I managed quite well, thank you,” said Menolly, her face bleak despite the sharpness of her reminder.
“There are undeniably exceptions,” said Toric smoothly, Inclining his head to indicate he meant her no insult.
“Piemur avoided discovery by fire lizards at Nabol, he told me, by thinking of between,” said Sebell. “He could have tried that trick again today. He'd have no way of knowing they were our friends. But there's one call he won't ignore or hide from.”
“And what would that be?” asked the skeptical holder.
Sebell caught Menolly's suddenly hopeful expression. “Drums! Piemur will answer a call on drums!”
“Drums?” Toric threw back his head in an honest guffaw of surprise.
“Yes, drums,” said Sebell, beginning to find Toric's attitude offensive. “Where's your drumheights?”
“Why would we need drumheights in Southern?”
It took the astounded harpers a little while to understand that drumheights, traditional in every hold in the north, had never been installed in the Southern's single hold. Granted, there were now small holdings established as far to the east as the Island River, but messages came back and forth either by fire lizard or by ship.
To Sebell's impatient query for any sort of drums in the hold, Toric said that they had a few to aid rhythm in dances. These were found in the quarters of Saneter, the hold's harper, who roused from his midday rest to show them to Sebell and Menolly. They were, as Sebell sadly found, no better than dance drums, with no resonance to speak of.
“Still and all, message drums would be handy to have nowadays, Toric,” Saneter said. “Easier than sailing down the coast to discuss something. Just drum 'em up here. Safer, too. Those Oldtimers never learned drum measures. Come to think of it, I'm not sure how much I remember myself.” Saneter regarded the journeymen harpers with an abashed surprise. “Haven't had to use drum talk since I came here with F'nor.”
“It wouldn't be hard to refresh your memory, Saneter, but we must have proper drums. And that would take time with all the Master Smith has on his plate right now,” said Sebell, shaking his head with the disappointment he felt. He'd been so sure.
“Must drums be made of metal?” asked Toric. “These have wooden frames.” He tapped the stretched hide across the larger drum, and it rattled in response.
“The metal message drums are large, to resound, “ Sebell began.
“But not necessarily metal; just something big enough, hollow enough over which to stretch your hide, and resonate?” asked Toric, ignoring the interruption. “What about a tree trunk... say...” and he began to hold out his arms, widening the circle while Sebell started in disbelief at the area he encompassed. “about this big? That ought to make a bloody loud drum. Tree I'm thinking of came down in the last big storm.”
“I know things grow bigger here in the south, Toric,” said Sebell, skeptical in his own turn, “but a tree trunk as big as you suggest? Well, now, they don't grow that big.”
Toric threw back his head, laughing at Sebell's incredulity. He clapped Saneter on the shoulder. “We'll show this disbelieving northerner, won't we, Harper?”
Saneter grinned apologetically at his crafters, spreading his hands out to indicate that Toric was indeed telling the truth.
“Further, it's not all that far from the hold. We could make it there and back before dinner,” said Toric, well pleased with himself, and strode out of the harper's quarters ahead of the other three to rouse assistants.
While Sebell didn't doubt that the fallen tree was 'not far' from the Southern Hold, it was also not an easy trek through steamy hot forests where the trail had to be hacked out afresh. But, when they finally reached the tree, it was every bit as large in girth as Toric had promised. Sebell felt much like Menolly, awed, as they reached out to caress the smooth wood of the fallen giant. The insects that had burrowed out the monster's core had also made meals of its bark until only a thin shell remained, the last skin of the once-living tree. Even that shell had begun to rot away in the steam and rain of its environment.
“Will this make you enough drums, harperman?” asked Toric, delighted to confound them.
“Enough for every holding you've got, with more left over,” said Sebell, running his eyes down the fallen trunk. Surely it must be several dragon lengths; queen dragons. It must be the biggest, oldest tree ever grown on Pern. How many Threadfalls had it survived?
“Well, how many shall we cut you today?” asked Toric, gesturing for the doubled-handed saw that had been carried by his holders.
“I'll settle for one just now,” said Sebell, “from here...” and he marked the distance with an arm and his body, pointing to the limit with his right forefinger by his ribs, “to here. That would make a good, deep, long carrying sound when the hide is stretched.”
Saneter, who had come with them, stooped to pick up a thick, knobby-ended branch and pounded the tree trunk experimentally. Everyone was surprised at the hollow boom that resulted. The fire lizards, who'd been perched on the surface, lifted with shrieks of protest.
Grinning, Sebell held out his hand to Saneter for the stick. He beat out the phrase 'apprentice, report'. He grinned more broadly as the majestic tones echoed through the forest and started a veritable shower of tree-dwelling insects and snakes, shaken from their perches by the unexpected loud reverberations.
“Why move it?” asked Toric. “You could hear this at the back of the mountains.”
“Ah, but site this on that landing over your harbour, and a message would carry to that Island River of yours,” said Sebell.
“Then we'll cut your drum. Harper,” said Toric, gesturing for another man to take the opposite handle of the big saw. He held the blade for the initial cut. “Then we shall... take the rest... out in sections... as big as we... can carry them,” he said, thrusting mightily at his end of the saw.
With a man of Toric's brawn and the willing help of the other holders, the first drum section was quickly detached from the trunk. A long pole was cut, vines quickly laced to secure the section to the carrier, and the party was soon making its way back to the Southern Hold.
By the time they had arrived, Sebell and Menolly were dripping with sweat, tortured by scratches and insect bites, which did not seem to bother the tougher, tanned hides of the Southerners. Sebell wondered if he could find the energy to cover the drum that day. Toric had firmly assured him that there were hides large enough, since herdbeasts also grew larger here in the south, to fit this mammoth drum. But the journeyman was determined to work as long and hard as the Southern Holder if he had to. And he had to, to find Piemur.
They had positioned the drum in front of the cavern 'for the sun to dry up the insects', so Toric announced, when the big holder frowned at his guests.
“Man, you will die an early death if you work this hard all the time.” Toric waved toward the westering sun. “The day is nearly over. This drummaking can wait till morning. Now we all need a wash,” and his gesture went seaward. “That is, if you harpers swim...”
Menolly gave a sigh, partly composed of relief that Sebell was not going to insist on finishing the drum tonight and partly of disgust since Toric would never remember that she had not only lived holdless but had been a seaholder's daughter and could outswim him. Sebell hesitated briefly before he surrendered to Toric's suggestion.
The seawater, not as warm as Sebell had anticipated, was indeed refreshing as well as relaxing. The four fire lizards zipped in and out of the gentle evening waves, cluttering with delight to frolic with their friends, though if Menolly disappeared for long beneath the waves, her three fire lizards dove after her, pulling her surfacewards by her hair.
Suddenly Toric's queen, who had held herself aloof from the antics of the visitors, hovered above Toric's head, twittering urgently. Toric glanced around. Following his gaze, Menolly and Sebell saw three red-sailed sloops, their sides lined with people, rounding the arm of land that protected the southern harbour.
“The harvesters have returned,” said Toric to the harpers. “I'll just see if all is well. Stay on and enjoy yourselves.”
With strong strokes of his powerful arms, he made a diagonal line to the shore that would intercept the landing of the lead ship.
“Sometimes that man is too much,” she said, shaking her head at this latest exhibition of the southerner's strength.
“Which is as well for me,” said Sebell, laughing, and pulled her under just to let the fire lizards rescue her.
They played that game a bit, reveling in the freedom of the water and its coolness until Menolly suddenly wondered if she had enough energy left to swim back to shore. But they got there safely, fire lizards escorting, and paused to lean against the seawall to catch their breaths before continuing back up to the hold.
Toric was now directing the unloading, his tall figure moving here and there. Abruptly, they saw a tall, dark haired girl, only a head shorter than the big Holder, approach him and hold him in a long conversation.
“That must be Sharra,” Menolly said, noticing several fire lizards converge over the girl's head. One of them landed on her shoulder, and Menolly gave a snort. “Toric certainly has his queen well-trained, hasn't he?”
Suddenly a sound paralyzed them: the sharp thudding of a practiced hand against what could only be the newly acquired drum round. A practiced hand that beat a measure, “Harper here, anyone else?” and the staccato that was a question.
“It has to be Piemur!” Menolly's cry was half-gasp half-scream, but the words weren't quite out of her mouth before both harpers were on their feet and running toward the ramp up from the harbour.
“What's the matter?” they heard Toric yelling after them.
“That was Piemur!” Sebell managed to gasp out as he charged a bare stride ahead of Menolly. But when they skidded to a halt on the shell-strewn area before the cavern, there was no one about.
Sebell cupped his hands about his mouth. “PIEMUR! REPORT!”
“Beauty! Rocky! Where is he?” gasped Menolly, half angry with Piemur for that heart-stopping shock.
“SEBELL?”
The harper's name echoed and re-echoed coming from the cavern. Sebell and Menolly were halfway there when a tanned, bare-legged, shock-haired figure ran straight into them.
Menolly, Sebell and Piemur were entangled in mutual cries and thumpings of rediscovery when a tiny fire lizard queen began attacking Sebell, and a small runner beast tried to butt Menolly's knees from under her. Beauty, Rocky and Diver immediately drove off the little queen, but it wasn't until Piemur, dashing tears of relief and joy from his eyes, called Farli to order and reassured Stupid, that any sort of coherent conversation was possible. By that time, Sharra, Toric, and half the Southern Hold were aware that the lost had been found.
A celebration for the successful return of the harvesters would have been held in any case, but the evening was certainly crowned by Piemur's appearance, especially after he was reassured that his absence would be forgiven by the Masterharper in view of the extraordinary outcome of the initial folly of stealing the queen egg from Meron's hearth.
Sebell and Menolly listened intently when Piemur accounted for his continued absence once Farli had been Impressed.
“He was wiser not to come back right then, anyhow,” said Sharra before Toric could speak. “If you remember, Mardra was in a taking over that unclosed sack and ready to flay the hide off the back of the culprit. Though what she wants with more to wear here, I don't know!”
“The wilderness has its own thrall,” said Toric, eyeing Piemur so closely that the boy wondered what he'd done wrong now. “Tell me, young apprentice harper, how did you survive Threadfall the day your queen hatched?”
“In the water, under a ledge in the lagoon,” said Piemur as if that ought to have been obvious. “Farli didn't hatch until after Threadfall.”
Toric nodded approval. “And the other Threadfalls?”
“Under water. Only by that time I'd sort of found a camp by the river, above the numbweed meadows.” He glanced at Sharra, whose eyes twinkled at the truth he now chose to speak, “where I found a submerged log to hold onto and a long reed to breath through.”
“Why didn't you come back after the second Fall?”
“I found Stupid, and I couldn't travel far or fast until he was grown up.”
Sharra bubbled with laughter then, for the ingenuous expression of Piemur's face was just short of impudence.
“You were certainly making tracks eastward to the sea when our paths crossed,” she said.
“You expected me to stay anywhere near people making numbweed?” asked Piemur with such disgust that everyone laughed.
“I'll bet there were times in the marsh when you wished you were back just harvesting numbweed,” said Sharra, grinning at Piemur, who rolled his eyes upward.
“You went alone to the marshes?” Toric was not pleased.
“I know the marshes, Toric,” said Sharra firmly, as if this were a continuation of previous arguments. “I had my fire lizards and, in fact, I had Piemur, Farli and little Stupid. And I'll add one thing,” now she turned to the harpers, your young friend is a born Southerner!”
“He's apprentice to Master Robinton,” said Sebell, with a warning to Piemur that brought a sudden silence to the main table.
“He's wasted as just a harper,” said Sharra after a moment. “Why, I… “
“And I'm not really a harper right now, either, am I, Sebell?” asked Piemur, suddenly collecting his wits. “I was only good as a singer, and I have no voice. Is there really a place for me at the Harper Hall? I mean,” and he rattled on, his eyes going from Sebell to Menolly, “I know you and Menolly thought you could get me to help you two, but a fine help I turned out to be, getting sacked up and sent south without even knowing it. It's not as if I was good at anything except getting into trouble.”
“Useful trouble, as it turned out,” said Sebell, “but I just had an idea... to keep you out of trouble for a while.” The journeyman turned to the Southerner. “You rather like the idea of message drums, Toric? And, Saneter, you say you've forgotten most of the measures you learned. Well now, Piemur hasn't.”
“I could be drum messenger here?” Piemur was suddenly Open-mouthed with shock.
Sebell held his hand up to get a word in, and the radiance in Piemur's face faded. “I can't be certain until I've asked Master Robinton, but frankly, Toric, I think Piemur could serve his Hall very well right now as drum... no, drum apprentice-master... if Saneter wouldn't mind being taught by one of lower rank.” Sebell then turned to the startled hold harper to explain. “Rokayas who is Master Olodkey's senior journeyman said that Piemur was one of the quickest, cleverest apprentices he's ever had to beat measures into. If you wouldn't mind him refreshing your memory?”
Saneter laughed and beamed encouragingly at Piemur, whose face once again shone. “If he can put up with a fumble-fingered old harper.”
“Toric, as Southern Holder?” Sebell paused delicately, for he had caught the narrowing of the big man's eyes and wondered if he had presumed too much.
“Troublemaker in the Hall?” Toric frowned, giving each one a long, expressionless look, pausing to stare hard at Piemur. The boy held his breath so long his face began to turn bright red under his tan.
“Actually, not a troublemaker, Toric,” said Menolly. “He just has a lot of energy.”
“We could certainly use drums for messages to the coastal holds,” said Toric in a slow drawl, his face closed on his thoughts. “Can Piemur make the drums?” he asked Sebell.
“I'd prefer to stay and supervise,” Sebell murmured.
“Well, in the ordinary way I wouldn't accept another Northerner, but as Piemur has already proved he can survive on southern lands, I will make an exception in his case.”
At the shouts of joy, he held up his hand once more, commanding instant silence. “Contingent, of course, on the approval of the Masterharper.”
“He'll be so glad to hear that Piemur's alive and well,” cried Menolly, fumbling in her pouch for the message tube.
“Aw, Menolly, it's not as if I hadn't listened to everything you told me about fire lizards and your life in the Dragonstone cave and all, “
“You'll find this lad has ears in every pore of him,” said Sebell, giving Piemur's right one an affectionate twist.
“And tell Master Robinton I've got a queen and a tame runner beast,” Piemur told Menolly who was busily writing. “I wouldn't have to leave Stupid behind if I have to go back to the Harper Hall, would I, Sebell?”
Sebell said something soothing and watched as Menolly made the message tube fast to Beauty's leg, told her to go back to Master Robinton and return as soon as possible.
“D'you think he'll let me stay?” Piemur asked Menolly then, his eyes round with hope and anxiety.
“You did put your time in the drumheights to good advantage,” Menolly said, hoping that this solution to the problem of Piemur's immediate future did indeed meet with Master Robinton's favour. The boy so clearly had thrived in his few sevendays' here. She could swear he was taller and had broadened through chest and neck. And there was no question but what his unexpected trip to Southern had altered him in many subtle ways. She caught Sebell's glance and knew that he had observed those changes, too. That the journeyman must see that this broad and unexplored southern land could absorb the energies and intelligence of their young friend far better than the more traditional Harper Hall. “Bet you didn't think it would result in an opportunity like this?”
Solemnly Piemur shook his head from side to side. Then the laughter that always lurked in his eyes shown through. “Bet you didn't, either.”
Most of the Southerners then prevailed on the two visiting harpers for the latest northern songs, always a happy importation. So the time passed quickly for most while Beauty delivered her message.
The moment the little golden queen swooped into the cavern, every sound died, for by now the prospect of Piemur as drum messenger had filtered to every Southerner present and the suspense was universal.
But Beauty was so attuned to the message she carried that her caroling answered Piemur's question before the confirming words were read aloud. “Well done Piemur. Safely stay. Drum-journeyman!”
Congratulations were loud and cheerful, with Piemur's back being thumped and hand shaken until he was nearly dizzy with such sudden acclaim after so much solitude. When Sebell saw him take an opportunity to leave the cavern and the continuing festivity, he started to follow, but Menolly shook her head, already halfway to the door.
So it was only Menolly who heard Piemur say to the tired little golden queen that clung to his neck, “I wish I had a drum big enough to tell the whole world how happy I am!”