Anne McCaffrey - Pern 06 - Dragondrums

Chapter 1

The rumble-thud-boom of the big drums answering a mes-

sage from the east roused Piemur. In his five Turns at the

Harper Craft Hall, he had never become accustomed to

that bone-throbbing noise. Perhaps, he thought, sleepily

turning over, if the drums beat every dawn, or in the same

sequence, he'd get accustomed enough to sleep through it.

But he doubted that. He was naturally a light sleeper, a

talent picked up when he'd been a herder's boy and had to

keep an ear awake for night alarms among the runner

beasts. The facility had often been to his advantage since

the other apprentices in his dormitory couldn't sneak up on

him with vengeance in mind. And he was often awakened

by discreet, dragon-borne visitors coming to see the Mas-

terharper of Pern, or the arrivals and departures of Master

Robinton himself, for he was surely one of the most impor-

tant men on Pern; almost as influential as F'lar and Lessa,

the Weyrleaders of Benden. Occasionally, too, on warm

summer nights, when the shutters of the main hall were

thrown back, the masters and journeymen assuming all the

apprentices slept, he'd hear fascinating and uninhibited

talk drifting on the night air. A small fellow like himself

had to keep ahead of everyone else, and listening often

showed him how.

As he tried to get back to sleep for just a little longer in

the gray dawn, the drum sequence echoed in his mind. The

message had originated from Ista Hold's harper: he had

caught the identifying signature. He couldn't be sure of

the rest of the message: something about a ship. Maybe he

ought to learn message-drum beats. Not that they came in

with such frequency now that .more and more people

owned little fire lizards to take messages round and about

Pern.

He wondered when he'd get his hands on a fire lizard

egg. Menolly had promised him one when her queen,

Beauty, mated. A nice thought on her part, Piemur re-

flected, realistically aware that Menolly might not be able

to distribute Beauty's eggs as she wished. Master Robinton

would want them placed to the Harper Hall's advantage.

And Piemur couldn't fault Master Robinton. One day,

though, he'd have his fire lizard. A queen, or, at least,

a bronze.

Piemur folded his hands behind his head, musing on

such a delightful prospect. From having helped Menolly

feed her nine, he knew a fair bit about them now. More

than some people who had fire lizards, the same people

who'd been claiming for Turns that fire lizards were boy's

sun-dreams. That is, until F'nor, brown Canth's rider, had

Impressed a little queen on a beach in the southern conti-

nent. Then Menolly, halfway across Pern, had saved a fire

lizard queen's eggs from being drowned in the unusually

high tides of that Turn. Now everyone wanted a fire liz-

ard, and admitted that they must be tiny cousins to the

great dragons of Pern.

Piemur shivered with delighted terror. Thread had

fallen over Fort Hold yesterday. They'd been rehearsing

Master Domick's new saga about the search for Lessa and

how she'd become Weyrwoman at Benden just before the

new Pass of the Red Star, but Piemur had been much more

aware of the silvery Threads dropping through the skies

above the tightly shuttered and sealed Harper Hall. He'd

imagined, as he always did during Threadfall, the graceful

passages of the great dragons as their fiery breath charred

Thread before it could fall to the ground and devour any-

thing living, before it could burrow into the ground and

multiply. Even thinking of that phenomenon made Piemur

quiver fearfully again.

Before Master Robinton had discovered Menolly's talent

at songmaking, she'd actually lived outside her hold, car-

ing for the nine fire lizards she had Impressed from the

rescued clutch. If only, thought Piemur with a sigh, he

wasn't immured in the Crafthall; if only he had a chance

to search seashores and find his own clutch. . . . Of

course, as a mere apprentice, he'd have to give the eggs to

his Craft Master, but surely, if he found a whole clutch,

Master Robinton would let him keep one.

The sudden raucous call of a fire lizard startled him,

and he sat up in alarm. The sun was now streaming across

the outer side of the Harper Hall rectangle. He had fallen

asleep again. If Rocky was screaming, he was late to .help

feed. With deft movements, he dressed, except for his

boots, and thudded down the steps, emerging into the

courtyard just as he heard the second, more urgent sum-

mons from a hungry Rocky.

When he saw that Camo was only just trudging up the

steps outside the kitchen, clutching his bowl of scraps, Pie-

mur drew a sigh of relief. He wasn't all that late! He

thrust his feet into his boots, stuffed the laces inside to

save time, and clomped across the court just as Menolly

came down the steps from the Main Hall. Rocky, Mimic

and Lazy whirled above Piemur's head, cluttering hungrily

at him to move faster.

Piemur glanced up, looking for Beauty. Menolly had

told him that when the little queen was close to mating

time she'd seem to be more golden than ever. She was now

circling to land on Menolly's shoulder, but she seemed the

same color as ever.

"Camo feed pretties?" The kitchen drudge smiled

brightly as Menolly and Piemur reached him.

"Camo feed pretties!" Menolly and Piemur spoke the

customary reassurance in chorus, grinning at each other as

they reached for handfuls of meat scraps. Rocky and

Mimic took their accustomed perches on Piemur's shoul-

ders, while Lazy clung with far from indolent strength to

his left forearm.

Once the fire lizards settled to the business of eating,

Piemur glanced at Menolly, wondering if she'd heard the

drum message. She looked more awake than she usually did

at this hour, and slightly detached from her immediate

task. Of course, she might just be thinking up a new song,

but writing tunes was not Menolly's only duty in the Har-

per Hall.

As they fed the fire lizards, the rest of the Hall began to

stir: the drudges in the kitchen were roused to breakfast

efforts by Silvina and Abuna; in the junior and senior

dormitories, occasional shouts punctuated random noises;

and shutters on the journeyman's quarters were bemg

opened to let in the fresh morning air.

Once the fire lizards had wheeled up for their morning

stretch of wings, Piemur, Menolly and Camo separated:

Camo, with a push from Menolly, was sent back to the

kitchen; then she and Piemur went up the main steps of

the Harper Hall to the dining room.

Piemur's first class that morning was chorus, for they

were, as usual at this time of the Turn, rehearsing the

spring music for Lord Groghe's feast. Master Domick had

collaborated with Menolly this year and produced an un-

commonly singable score for his ballad about Lessa and her

golden queen dragon, Ramoth.

Piemur was to sing the part of Lessa. For once, he didn't

object to having to sing a female role. In fact, that morn-

ing he waited eagerly for the chorus to finish the passage

before his first entrance. The moment came, he opened his

mouth, and to his amazement no sound emerged.

"Wake up, Piemur," said Master Domick, irritably rap-

ping his stick on the music stand. He alerted the chorus.

"We'll repeat the measure before the entrance . . . if

you're now ready, Piemur?"

Usually Piemur could ignore Master Domick's sarcasm,

but since he had been ready to sing, he flushed uncer-

tainly. He took a breath and hummed against his closed

teeth as the chorus began again. He had tone, and his

throat wasn't sore, so he wasn't coming down with a

stuffed head.

The chorus gave him his entrance again, and he opened

his mouth. The sound that emerged ranged from one oc-

tave to another, neither of which were in the score he held.

A complete and awed silence fell. Master Domick

frowned at Piemur, who was now swallowing against a fear

that froze his feet to one spot and crept up his bones to his

heart.

"Piemur?"

"Sir?"

"Piemur, sing a scale in C."

Piemur attempted to, and on the fourth note, though he

had hardened his middle to iron for support, his voice

again broke. Master Domick put down his stick and re-

garded Piemur. If there was any expression in the Composi-

tion Master's face, it was compassion, tinged with resigned

irritation.

"Piemur, I think you had best see Master Shonagar. Til-

gin, you've been understudying the role?"

"Me, sir? I haven't so much as glanced at it. Not with

Piemur . . ." The startled apprentice's voice trailed off as

Piemur, slowly and with feet he could barely force to

move, left the chorus hall and walked across the court to-

ward Master Shonagar's room.

He tried to close his ears to the sound of Tilgin's tenta-

tive voice. Scorn gave him momentary relief from his cold.

fear. His had been a much better voice than Tilgin's would

ever be. Had been? Maybe he was just coming down with a

cold. Piemur coughed experimentally, but knew even as he

did so that no phlegm congested his lungs and throat. He

trudged on to Master Shonagar, knowing the verdict and

hoping against vain hope that somehow the flaw in his

voice was transitory, that he'd manage to keep his soprano

range long enough to sing Master Domick's music. Scuff-

ing up the steps, he paused briefly in the threshold to ac-

custom his eyes to the gloom within.

Master Shonagar would only just have arisen and break-

fasted. Piemur knew his master's habits intimately. But

Shonagar was already in his customary position, one elbow

on the wide table, propping up his massive head, the other

arm cocked against the columnar thigh.

"Veil, it's sooner than we might have expected, young

Piemur," the Master said in a quiet tone, which nonetheless

seemed to fill the room. "But the change was bound to

come sometime." A wealth of sympathy tinged the Mas-

ter's rich, mellow bass voice. The propping hand came

away from the head and brushed aside the tones now issu-

ing from the chorus hall. "Tilgin will never come up to your

measure."

"Oh, sir, what do I do now my voice is gone? It's all I

had!"

Master Shonagar's surprised contempt startled Piemur.

"All you had? Perhaps, my dear Piemur, but by no means

all you have! Not after five Turns as my apprentice. You

probably know more about vocal production than any

journeyman in the Craft."

"But who would want to learn from me?" Piemur ges-

tured to his slight adolescent frame, his voice cracking dra-

matically. "And how could I teach when I've no voice to

demonstrate?"

"Ah, but the distressing condition of your singing voice

heralds other alterations that will remedy those minor

considerations." Master Shonagar waved aside that argu-

ment, and then regarded Piemur through narrowed eyelids.

"This occasion has not caught me . . ." the thick fingers

tapped against the bulging chest ". . . unprepared." Now

a gusty sigh escaped Master Shonagar's full lips. "You have

been without doubt or contradiction the most troublesome

and ingenious, the laziest, the most audacious and menda-

cious of the hundreds of apprentices and voice students it

has been my tiresome task to train to some standard. De-

spite yourself, you have achieved some measure of success.

You ought to have achieved even more." Master Shonagar

affected a point. "I find it altogether too perverse, if com-

pletely in character, for you to decide on puberty before

singing Domick's latest choral work. Undoubtedly one of

his best, and written with your abilities in mind. Do not

hang your head in my presence, young man!" The Master's

bellow startled Piemur out of his self-pitiful reflections.

"Young man! Yes, that's the crux. You are becoming a

young man. Young men must have young-manly tasks."

"What?" In the single word, Piemur expressed his disbe-

lief and distress.

"That, my young man, is for the Harper to tell you!"

Master Shonagar's thick forefinger pointed first at Piemur

and then swung toward the front of the building, indicat-

ing Master Robinton's window.

Piemur did not dare permit the hope that began to re-

vive in him to blossom. Yet, Master Shonagar wouldn't lie

for any reason, certainly not to give him false hope.

Then they both winced as Tilgin erred in his sight read-

ing. Instinctively glancing at his Master, Piemur saw the

pained expression on Master Shonagar's face.

"Were I you, young Piemur, I'd stay out of Domick's

sight as much as possible."

Despite his depression, Piemur grinned, wryly aware that

the brilliant Composition Master might well decide that

Piemur had elected to thwart his musical ambition in this

untimely voice change,

Master Shonagar sighed heavily. "I do wish you'd have

waited a trifle longer, Piemur." His groan was wistful as

well as resigned. "Tilgin is going to require much coaching

to perform creditably. Now, don't you repeat that, young

Piemur!" The thick forefinger pointed unwaveringly at

Piemur, who affected innocent shock that such an admo-

nition might be needed. "Away with you!"

Obediently, Piemur turned, but he'd gone no more than

a few paces to the door when a second shock stopped him.

He whirled toward the Voice Master.

"You mean, just now, sir, don't you?"

" 'Just now, sir?' Of course, I mean now, not this after-

noon or tomorrow, but now."

"Now . . . and always?" asked Piemur uncertainly. If

he could no longer sing, Master Shonagar would take on

another special apprentice to perform those personal and

private duties for him that Piemur had been undertaking

in the past Turns. Not only was Piemur reluctant to lose

the privilege of being Master Shonagar's special lad, he

honestly didn't wish to end the very rewarding association

with the Master. He liked Shonagar, and those services he

had performed for his Master had stemmed from that lik-

ing rather than a sense of duty. He had enjoyed above all

the droll humor and florid speech of his Master, of being

teased for his bold behavior and called to task by a man he

had never managed to deceive for an instant with any of

his strategems or ploys.

"Now, yes," and there was a rumble of regret in Shona-

gar's expressive voice that eased Piemur's sense of loss, "but

assuredly not always," and the Master's tone was brisker

with only a hint of resigned irritation that he was not

going to be forever rid of this small nuisance. "How can

we escape each other, immured as we are in the Harper

Hall?"

Though Piemur knew perfectly well that Master Shona-

gar rarely left his hall, he was obscurely reassured. He

made a half turn and then came slowly back.

"This afternoon, you'll need some errands done?"

"You may not be available," said Master Shonagar, his

face expressionless, his voice almost as neutral.

"But, sir, who will come to you?" and again, Piemur's

voice broke. "You know you're always busy after the mid-

day meal . . ."

"If you mean," and Shonagar spoke with real amusement

crinkling his eye folds, "do I plan to appoint Tilgin to the

vacancy? Sssssh! I shall, of course, have to devote a great

deal of time to improving his voice and musicality, but to

have him lurking about on tap . . ." The thick fingers

#wiggled with distaste. "Away with you. The choice of

your successor requires considerable thought. Not, mind

you, that there are not hundreds of likely lads who would

undoubtedly suit my small requirements to perfection . . ."

Piemur caught his breath in hurt and then saw the

twitch of Master Shonagar's expressive brows and realized

that this moment was no easier on the older man.

"Undoubtedly . . ." Piemur tried to turn away on that

light note but found he could not, wishing that Master

Shonagar might just this once . . .

"Go, my son. You will ever know where to find me,

should the need arise."

This time the dismissal was final because the Master

slanted his head against his fist and closed his eyes, sham-

ming weariness.

Quickly Piemur walked to the entrance, blinking at the

bright sunlight after the darker hall. He paused on the bot-

tom step, reluctant to take the final one that severed his

association with Master Shonagar. There was a sudden hard

lump in his throat that had nothing to do with his voice

change. He swallowed, but the sensation of constriction re-

mained. He rubbed at his eyes with knuckles that came

away moist and stood, fists clenched at his thighs, trying

not to blubber.

Master Robinton had something to tell him about new

duties? So his voice change had been discussed by the Mas-

ters. To be sure, he wouldn't have been callously thrown

out of the Harper Hall and sent in some obscure disgrace

back to his herdsman father and the dreary life of a beast

farmer simply because he no longer had his soprano voice.

No, that wouldn't be his fate, despite the fact that singing

was his one undeniable harper skill. As Talmor said of his

gitar and harp playing, he could accompany so long as his

playing was drowned out by loud singing or other instru-

ments. The drums and pipes he made under Master's Jer-

int's guidance were only passable and never got stamped

for sale at Gathers. He copied scores accurately enough

when he put his mind to it, but he always found so many

more interesting things to do than spending hours cramp-

ing his fingers, to renew Records someone else could do

more neatly and in half the time. Yet, when pushed to it,

Piemur didn't actually mind scribing, if he were allowed

to add his own embellishments. Which he wasn't. Not with

Master Arnor looking over his shoulder and muttering

about wasted ink and hide.

Piemur sighed deeply. The only thing he was really

adept at was singing, and that was no longer possible. For-

ever? No, not forever! He spread his fingers in rejection of

that prospect and then closed them into tighter fists. He'd

be able to sing all right: he'd learned too much from Mas-

ter Shonagar about voice production and phrasing and in-

terpretation, but he might not have a voice as an adult.

And he wasn't going to sing unless he did! He had his

reputation. Better if he never opened his mouth to sing an-

other note. . . .

Tilgin flubbed another phrase. Piemur grinned, listening

to Tilgin repeating the phrase correctly. They'd miss Pie-

mur all right! He could sight-read any score, even one of

Domick's, without missing a beat or an awkward interval,

or those florid embellishments Domick insisted on writing

for the treble parts. Yes, they'd miss Piemur in the chorus!

That knowledge fortified him, and he took the final

step onto the flagstones of the court. Clipping his thumbs

over his belt, he began to saunter toward the main entrance

of the Harper Hall. Not, he reminded himself, that a lowly

apprentice who has just lost his privileged position, should

saunter when sent to the Masterharper of Pern. Piemur

squinted into the sunlight at the fire lizards on the roof

opposite. He didn't spot Master Robinton's bronze fire liz-

ard, Zair, among those sunning themselves with Menolly's

nine. So the Masterharper wasn't with the day as yet. Come

to think of it, Piemur reflected, he'd heard the clear bari-

tone voice of the Harper in the Court late last night and

the noise of a dragon landing and departing. These days

the Harper spent more time away from the Hall than in it.

"Piemur?"

Startled, he glanced up and saw Menolly standing on the

top step of the Main Hall. She'd spoken quietly, and when

he peered at her, he knew that she knew what had hap-

pened to him.

"It was rather audible," she said, again in that gentle

tone, which both irritated and appeased Piemur. Menolly,

of all within the Harper Hall, would sympathize with him

most acutely. She knew what it was to be without the abil-

ity to make music. "Is that Tilgin singing?"

"Yes, and it's all my fault," Piemur said.

"All your fault?" Menolly stared at him in surprised

amusement.

"Why did I have to pick now to break my voice?"

"Why indeed? I'm sure you did it only to annoy Dom-

ick!" Menolly grinned broadly at him, for they both had

experience with Domick's whimsical temper.

Piemur had reached the top step and experienced another

shock on this morning of surprises: he could almost look

Menolly squarely in the eye, and she was tall for a girl! She

reached out and ruffled his hair, laughing as he indig-

nantly swatted her hand away.

"C'mon, Master Robinton wants to see you."

"Why? .What'm I going to be doing now? D'you

know?"

"Not for me to tell you, scamp," she said, striding on

her long legs across the hall and forcing him to a jog pace

to keep beside her.

"Menolly, that's not fair!"

"Ha!" She was pleased by his discomfiture. "You've not

long to wait.-I will tell you this: Domick may not be

pleased that your voice changed, but the Master was."

"Aw, Menolly, one little hint? Please? You know you

owe me a favor or two!"

"I do?" Menolly savored her advantage.

"You do. And you know it. You could pay me back

right now!" Piemur was irritated. Why did she have to

pick now to be difficult?

"Why waste a favor when a little patience on your part

will bring the answer?" They had reached the second level

and were striding down the corridor toward the Harper's

quarters. "You'd better learn patience, too, my friend!"

Piemur halted in disgust.

"Oh, c'mon Piemur," she said, with a broad swing of her

arm. "You're not a little 'un anymore to wheedle news out

of me. And wasn't it you who warned me that you don't

keep a Master waiting?"

"I've had enough surprises today," he said sourly, but he

closed the distance between them just as she tapped politely

on the door.

The Masterharper of Pem, his silvering hair glinting in the

sun streaming in his windows, was seated at the worktable,

a tray before him, the steam of hot klah rising unnoticed as

he offered pieces of meat to the fire lizard clinging to his

left forearm.

"Glutton! Greedy mawl Don't claw me, that's bare skin,

not padding! I'm feeding you as fast as I can! Zair! Behave

yourself! I'm perishing for a taste of my klah, but I'm

feeding you first. Good morning, Piemur. You're adept at

feeding fire lizards. Pop sustenance into Zair's mouth so I

can get some in mine!" The Harper shot a look of desper-

ate entreaty to Piemur.

He whipped around the long worktable and, grabbing

up several chunks of meat, attracted Zair's gaze.

"Ah, that's more the thing!" exclaimed Master Robinton

after he'd had a long gulp of his klah.

Absorbed in his task, Piemur wasn't at first aware of the

Harper's scrutiny, for the man was applying himself to his

own food with his free right hand. Then Piemur saw the

keen eyes on him, lids narrowed as if weighty from sleep.

He could tell nothing from the Harper's expression, for the

long face was quiescent, slightly puffy about the eyes from

sleep, the grooves from the comers of the mobile mouth

pulled down with age and accumulated fatigue rather than

displeasure.

"I shall miss your young voice," said the Harper with a

gentle emphasis on "young." "But, while we're waiting for

you to settle into an adult placement, I've asked Shonagar

to release you to me. I've a suspicion that you won't mind

too much"--and a smile twitched the Harper's lips--

"doing the odd job for me and Menolly and my good Se-

bell."

"Menolly and Sebell?" Piemur gawked.

"I'm not sure I care for that emphasis," said Menolly in

a mock growl, subsiding as the Harper threw her a quieting

glance.

"I'd be your apprentice?" Piemur asked the Harper,

holding his breath for the answer.

"Indeed, you'd have to be my apprentice at that," said

Master Robinton, his voice and face turning droll.

"Oh, sir!" Piemur was stunned at such good fortune.

Zair squawked petulantly in the little silence, for Piemur

had paused in his feeding.

"Sorry, Zair," and Piemur hastily resumed the task.

"However," and the Harper cleared his throat while Pie-

mur wondered what disadvantage to this envious status

was about to be disclosed (there had to be one, he knew),

"you will have to improve your skill in scribing--"

"We must be able to read what you write," said Men-

oily, sternly.

"--learn to send and receive message drum accurately

and rapidly . . ." He looked at Menolly. "I know that

Master Fandarel is very keen to have his new message-

sender installed in every hall and craft, but it's going to

take far too long to be useful to me. Then, too, there are

some messages that should remain privy to the Craft!" He

paused, staring long at Piemur. "You were bred on a run-

ner beast hold, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir. And I can ride any runner anywhere!"

Menolly's expression indicated disbelief.

"I can, too."

"You'll have ample chance to prove it, I fear," said the

Harper, smiling at his new apprentice's stout claim. "What

you will also have to prove, young Piemur, is your discre-

tion." Now the Harper was in solemn earnest, and with

equal solemnity, Piemur nodded assurance. "Menolly tells

Anne McCaffrey - Pern 06 - Dragondrums

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: