“I know my loyalty to my Crafthall, Master Robinton,” said Piemur.
“I’m sure of your loyalty,” the Harper said, nodding his head slowly, his eyes still holding Piemur’s. “I want to be certain of your discretion.”
“Menolly’ll tell you; I’m not a babblemouth.” He looked at Menolly for her support.
“Not normally, I’m sure. But you might be tempted to speak when taunted by others.”
“Me, sir?” Piemur’s imagination was genuine. “Not me, sir! I may be small, but I’m not stupid.”
“No, one could not accuse you of that, my young friend, but as you’ve already pointed out, we are living in an uncertain Turn. I think…”
The Harper broke off, staring out the window, frowning absently. Abruptly he made a decision and regarded Piemur for a long moment. “Menolly told me you were quick-witted. Let’s see if you comprehend the reason behind this: you will not be known as my apprentice…” and Master Robinton smiled understandingly at Piemur’s sharp intake of breath. Then he nodded with approval as Piemur promptly schooled his expression to polite acceptance. “You will be told off as apprentice to the Drummaster, Olodkey, who will know that you are under my orders as well. Yes” —and the crispness of Master Robinton’s tone told Piemur that he was pleased by this solution, and Piemur had better be– “that will serve. The drummers must, of course, keep irregular hours. No one would note your absences or think anything of your taking messages.”
Master Robinton put his hand on Piemur’s shoulder and gave him a little shake, smiling kindly.
“No one will miss your boyish treble more than I, lad, except possibly Domick, but here in the Harper Hall, some of us listen to other tunes and drum a different beat.” He gave Piemur another shake, then cuffed him on the shoulder encouragingly. “I don’t want you to stop listening, Piemur, not if you can take isolated facts and put them together as well as you just did. But I also want you to notice the way things are said, the tone and inflection, the emphasis.”
Piemur mustered a grin. “What a harper hears is for the Harper’s ears, sir?”
Master Robinton laughed. “Good lad! Now, take this tray back to Silvina and ask her to fit you out with wherhide. A drummer has to be at his post in all weathers!”
“You don’t need wherhide on the drumheight!” exclaimed Piemur. Then he grinned as he cocked his head at his master. “You do need it if you’re riding a dragonback, though.”
“I told you he was quick,” said Menolly, grinning at the Harper’s consternation.
“Scamp! Rascal! Impertinent snip!” cried the Harper, dismissing him with a vigorous wave of his hand that set Zair squawking. “Do as you’re told and keep your notions to yourself!”
“Then I will be riding dragons!” said Piemur, and when he saw Master Robinton rise half out of his chair, he quickly slipped out of the room.
“What did I tell you, Master,” said Menolly, laughing. “He’s quick enough to be very useful.”
Though the glint of amusement remained in his eyes, the Harper stared thoughtfully at the closed door, his fingers tapping idly on his chair arm.
“Quick yes, but a shade young…”
“Young? Piemur? He was never young, that one. Don’t let that innocent, wide-eyed stare of his fool you. Besides, he’d got fourteen Turns, almost as old as I was when I left Half-Circle Sea Hold to live in the Dragon Stones’ cave with my fire lizards. And what else can be done with all his energy and mischief? He’s simply not suited for any other section of this Craft. Master Shonagar was the only person who had half a chance of keeping him out of trouble. Old Arnor couldn’t, nor Jerint. It’s got to be Olodkey and the drums.”
“I could almost see the merit of the Oldtimers’ attitudes,” said the Harper on the end of a heavy sigh.
“Sir?” Menolly stared at him, startled as much by the abrupt change of subject as the sense of what he said.
“I wish we hadn’t changed so in this last long Interval.”
“But, sir, you’ve been supporting all the changes F’lar and Lessa have advocated. And Benden’s been right to make those changes. They’re united Hall and Hold behind the Weyrs. Furthermore,” and Menolly took a deep breath, “Sebell told me not so long ago that before this Pass of the Red Star began, harpers were nearly as discredited as dragon riders. You’ve made this Hall into the most prestigious craft on Pern. Everyone respects Masterharper Robinton. Even Piemur,” she added with a laugh trembling in her voice as she struggled to relieve her master’s melancholy.
“Ah, now, there’s the real accomplishment!”
“Indeed it is,” she said, ignoring his facetiousness. “For he’s very hard to impress, I assure you. Believe me, too, that he won’t be in the least distressed to do for you what he does naturally for himself. He’s always heard the gossip at Gathers and told me, knowing I’d tell you. ‘What a harper hears is for the Harper’s ears.’ ” She laughed to find Piemur’s saucy quip so applicable.
“It was easier during the Interval…” Robinton said, with another long sigh. Zair, who’d been cleaning himself, chirped in a querying way, tilting his head and peering with earnestly whirling eyes at his friend. The Harper smiled as he stroked the little creature. “Boring, too, to be completely candid. Still, it won’t be that long an assignment for Piemur, will it? His voice ought to settle within the Turn, and he can resume his place as a soloist. If his adult voice is half as good as his treble, he’ll be a better singer than Tagetarl.”
Seeing that that prospect cheered her Master, Menolly smiled.
“The drum message was from Ista Hold. Sebell’s on his way back with those herbal medicines Master Oldive wanted. He’ll be at Fort Sea Hold by late afternoon tomorrow if the wind holds.”
“Indeed? I’ll be very interested to hear what our good Sebell has for his Harper’s ears.”
Chapter 2
The tray Piemur was carrying was all that restrained him from jumping into the air and kicking his heels together in his jubilation. Working for Master Robinton, no matter how indirectly, and being apprenticed to Master Olodkey, was no loss of prestige and much more than he had dared contemplate. Not, Piemur admitted to himself, that he’d given much thought to his future.
Of course, one never saw much of Master Olodkey about the Hall. He kept to the drum height, a lean, slightly stooped figure of a man with a big head and coarse bristling brown hair that seemed to stand out from his skull to give him the appearance, the irreverent said, of one of his own bass drumsticks. Others insisted that he was deaf from years of pounding the great message-drums for the Harper Hall. Except for drumbeats, they hastily amended, which he didn’t need to hear: he felt the vibrations in the air.
Piemur considered his new apprenticeship and found it good: there were only four other apprentices, seniors all, and five journeymen serving Master Olodkey. Granted that Piemur had been Master Shonagar’s special, but Master Shonagar was responsible for every singer in the Hall, whereas Master Olodkey rarely had more than ten harpers looking to him. Piemur again was in a select group. Even more select if he’d been permitted to announce the full truth.
He skittered down the steps, balancing the tray deftly. Maybe, once he’d proved to the Masterharper that he could keep his mouth sealed…And Master Robinton was wrong to think that any could extract information from Piemur that Piemur didn’t care to divulge. Nothing pleased Piemur more than “knowing.” He didn’t necessarily have to show off to other people how much he “knew.” The fact that he, Piemur, an insignificant herdsman’s son from Crom, knew, was sufficient.
He wished he hadn’t been so brash, mentioning the Southern Continent, but the reactions had proved that his guess was accurate. They had been down to the south: at least Sebell had, and probably Menolly. If they’d gone, then the Harper needn’t risk the trip with such eyes and ears to do the hard work.