In the morning, writing under Dirzan’s full attention Piemur struggled through the lesson. He almost cried out with relief when Menolly appeared. She ignored him.
“I need a messenger. Can I steal Piemur?”
“Certainly,” Dirzan said without surprise, since that task was also a function of drum apprentices. “He can practice his lesson on his way, I expect. I expect he’d better.”
Piemur groaned to himself at this partial reprieve, but kept a carefully contrite expression on his face for Dirzan’s benefit.
“Did you get riding gear yesterday from Silvina?” Menolly asked him, her face unrevealing. “Get it on,” she said when he nodded, gesturing him to be quick about changing.
She was laughing with Dirzan when he reappeared, but broke off her conversation, motioning Piemur to follow her. She took the steps from the drumheights at a clip.
“You said you’d ridden runners?” she asked.
“Sure. I’m herder bred, you know.” He was a bit miffed.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve ridden runners.”
“Well, I have.”
“You’ll have a chance to prove it,” she said, awarding him a curious smile.
Piemur stared hard at her profile as they made their way out of the arch entrance and across the broad Gather meadow in front of the Harper Hall. To their left towered the cliff that housed Fort Hold, and the rows of cots that huddled in the bosom of the sturdy precipice. On the fire heights of the Hold, the brown dragon stood, looking more massive silhouetted against the bright sky, one wing extended, which his rider was grooming.
Piemur felt a surge of reverence for dragons and their riders, reinforced by the sight of Beauty, Menolly’s queen fire lizard, alighting on her friend’s padded shoulder, while the rest of Menolly’s fair cavorted in the air above them.
Her head raised, Menolly smiled at her playful friends and told them they were going for a ride. Did they care to come along? Chirruping and excited aerial displays greeted her question, and Piemur watched, as ever envious, while Beauty stroked Menolly’s cheek with her wedge-shaped head and crooned into her ear, the jewel-faceted eyes bright blue with pleasure. Grimly, Piemur forebode to ask the questions that seethed in his mind as they walked in silence toward the great caverns carved into the Fort cliff to house the herdbeasts, wherry flocks and runners. Inside the cavern, the head stockman approached with a smile for Menolly. Her fire lizards whirled into the cavern and sought perches on the curious beams that supported the ceiling, beams that had been fashioned by long-lost skill of the ancients. No one even knew from what substance they had been contrived.
“Off again, Menolly?”
“Again,” she said with a slight grimace. “Banak, have you gear for a beast for Piemur, too? As easy for me to have the second runner ridden as led.”
“A’ course,” and the man led the way to the enclosure where the backpads and headgear were hung on racks. After a close look at Piemur, he selected pad and gear, handed Menolly hers. They followed him down the aisle of open-ended stalls. “Your usual is third down, Menolly.”
“See if Piemur remembers how to go on,” she said to Banak.
The man smiled and handed Piemur the gear. With a degree of assurance he didn’t feel, Piemur made the clucking sound it was wise to use to announce human presence to a runner beast. They weren’t intelligent creatures, responding to a narrow set of noises and nudges, but, within that limited scope, quite useful. They weren’t even pretty, being thin necked, heavy headed, long backed, lean bodied, with spindly legs. Their hide was covered in a coarse fur and ranged in color from a dirty white to a dark brown. They were more graceful than herdbeasts but by no stretch of the imagination as beautiful as dragons or fire lizards.
The creature Piemur was to ride was a dirty brown. He threw the mouth rope over its neck, and by pinching its nose holes, forced it to open its mouth to receive the metal mouthpiece. Quickly grabbing its ear, Piemur managed to get the headstall in place. It snorted as if mildly surprised. Not half as surprised as Piemur that he’d remembered that little trick. He heard Banak grunt. He slapped the pad in place and tightened the midstrap, wondering if this thing would give him any trouble once he was astride it.
Untying its halter, he backed it out and found Menolly as the aisle, holding her larger beast. She examined the gear on his.
“Oh, he did it right,” said Banak, nodding approval and waving them to go on as he turned to the rear of the cavern on his own affairs.
It had been a long time since Piemur had been bestride a runner. Fortunately, this creature was docile, and its pacing stride smooth as Menolly set off briskly down the eastern roadway.
There was a knack of easing yourself on a runner’s pad. Piemur found himself almost unconsciously assuming the position; sitting on one buttock, extending his left leg as far as the toe-hold strap would go, while cocking the knee of his right leg firmly against the runner’s side. A rider would change sides often in trip. For a girl seahold bred, Menolly rode with the ease of much practice, Piemur noted.
All the way down to the sea hold, Piemur kept his mouth shut. He’d be scorched if he’d ask her why they were going there. He doubted that the sole purpose of this excursion was to see if he could ride runners or keep his mouth shut. And what had she meant by easier to have a second runner ridden than led? This reticent, assured Menolly on Harper business was quite different from the girl who let him feed her fire lizards, and a long stride from his recollections of the shy and self-effacing newcomer to the Harper Hall three Turns back.
Once they reached Fort Sea Hold, Menolly tossed him her beast’s mouth rope, told him to take them to the hold’s beastmaster, ease the backpads, water them and see if they could have some feed. As Piemur led the creatures away, he noticed that she went to the harbor wall, shading one hand as she peered at the eastern horizon. Why was she waiting for a ship? Or had that something to do with the drum message from Ista Hold the other morning? The beastmaster greeted him cheerfully enough and helped him attend the runners.
“You’ll be likely heading back to the Hall as soon as the ship docks,” said the man. “I’ll pad up Sebell’s beast, so he’s ready. Soon’s we got these comfortable, you just pop into my hold there, and my woman’ll fix you a bite to eat. Boy your age could always do with a bit, I’m sure. One thing about seaholding, you’ve always the extra to feed, even in Threadfall.”
His hospitality included Menolly when she came in; after Piemur too had seen the speck far out on the sea. He knew that he’d have a chance to rest his weary bones as well as exercise his jaw.
Sebell had a runner stabled here, huh? Sebell borne by a westbound ship. Which suggested that Sebell had also sailed from this seahold. Piemur tried to remember how long it had been since he’d seen Sebell about the Hall, and couldn’t.
Fort Sea Hold possessed a natural deep harbor so that the incoming ship sailed right up to the stone-lined side. Seamen on shore as well as on the ship neatly tied her thick lines to the bollards on the wall. Sebell was not immediately visible, though as Menolly’s fire lizards did a welcoming display above the ship’s rigging, the westering sun glinted off two golden bodies, Sebell’s queen, Kimi, as well as Menolly’s Beauty. Piemur didn’t spot Sebell in the bustle of people unloading the ship until suddenly he appeared right in front of them, heavy bags draped across his shoulders and arms. A seaman carefully laid two more filled sacks at his feet. Enough to load down a runner beast, all right.
“Good trip, Sebell?” asked Menolly, picking up one of the sacks and slinging it with a deft twist of her wrist to her back. “Give Piemur at least one yoke of those,” she added, and Piemur sprang quickly to relieve Sebell of some of his burden, fingering the bulges to see if he could identify the contents. “And don’t maul it, Piemur. The herbs will be crushed soon enough!”