“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 runnerbeast,” 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 favor. 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 messager had filtered to every Southerner present and the suspense was universal.

But Beauty was so attuned to the message she carried that her carolling 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!”