By the lakeside, hatchlings were being fed and bathed, and their riders shown how to oil the fragile skin. Their white tunics stood out among the gleaming green, blue, brown and bronze hides. The little queen was slightly removed from the others, with two of the bronze dragons in attendance. She couldn’t see where the white dragon was.
On the weyr ledges dotting the Bowl’s face, some dragons were curled in what remained of the afternoon sun. Above and to the left of her, Menolly saw great bronze Mnementh on the ledge of the queen’s weyr. He was seated on his haunches, watching his mate choose her meal. Menolly saw him move slightly, glancing over his left shoulder. Then Menolly caught a glimpse of a man’s head as he descended the stairs from the queen’s weyr.
Felena’s voice, raised above the conversational babble, brought Menolly’s gaze back to the kitchen cavern where tables were being erected for the evening’s feasting. The dragonriders were doing it, for the bright colors of their best tunics were conspicuous, moving about while the soberer colors of Holder and Craft seemed to stay in stationary clumps at a polite distance from the workers.
The man had reached the Bowl floor now from the queen’s weyr, and Menolly idly watched him start across. Auntie One and Two came sweeping down to her, chittering about something that had excited them and ducking their heads at her for reassurance. They needed to be oiled, and she felt guilty for not taking better care of them.
“Do you have two greens?” asked an amused voice, and the tall man was standing in front of her, his eyes friendly and interested.
“Yes, they’re mine,” she said and held up Two for him to inspect, responding to the kindness and good humor in his long face. “They like their eye ridges scratched, gently, like this,” she added, showing him.
He dropped to one knee in the sand and obligingly caressed Two, who crooned and closed her eyelids in appreciation. Auntie One whistled at Menolly for attention, digging a jealous claw into her hand.
“Stop that, you naughty creature.”
Beauty roused, and Rocky and Diver reacted as well, all three scolding Auntie One so fiercely that she took flight.
“Don’t tell me the queen and the two browns are yours as well?” the man asked, startled.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then you must be Menolly,” he said, rising to his feet and making such an elaborate bow that she blushed. “Lessa has just told me that I may have two eggs of that clutch you discovered. I’m rather partial to browns, you know, though I wouldn’t actually object to a bronze. Of course the greens, like this lady here,” and he smiled such a winning smile to the watching Two that she crooned responsively, “are such delicate darlings. That doesn’t mean that I would object to a blue, however!”
“Don’t you want the queen?”
“Ah, now that would be greedy of me, wouldn’t it?” He rubbed his face thoughtfully and gave her a wry half-smile. “All things considered, though, I’d be heartily embarrassed if Sebell—my Journeyman is to have possession of the other egg—secured a queen instead. But…” and he threw his long figured [sic] hand upwards to signify his submission to chance. “Are you waiting here for some purpose? Or is the confusion on the other side of the Bowl too much for all your friends?”
“I should be there. The clutch must be turned; the eggs are in warm sand by the hearth; but T’gellan brought me into the Hatching Cavern and told me to wait…”
“And seems to have forgot you. Not surprising, considering today’s surprises.” The man hastily cleared his throat and extended his hand to her.
She accepted his aid because she couldn’t have risen without it. He had taken three strides when he realized that she wasn’t keeping up with him. Politely he turned. Menolly tried to walk normally, a feat she managed for about three strides when her heel came down so painfully on a patch of pebbles that she involuntarily cried out. Beauty whirled, scolding fiercely, and Rocky and Diver added their antics, which were of no help to anyone.
“Here’s my arm, girl. Were you too long on the hot sands? Ah now, wait. You’re a long child, but there’s no meat on your bones.”
Before Menolly could protest, he’d swung her up into his arms and was carrying her across the Bowl.
“Tell that queen of yours I’m helping you,” he asked when Beauty disordered his silvering hair, diving at him. “After sober reflection, be sure you give me green eggs.”
Beauty was too excited to harken to Menolly, so she had to wave her arms about his head and face to protect him. It was not astonishing then that their approach to the kitchen caverns attracted attention; but people made way so politely, bowing to them with such deference, that Menolly began to wonder who the man was. His tunic was a gray cloth with just a band of blue, so he must be a harper of some sort; probably weyrbound to Fort Weyr to judge by the yellow arm device.
“Menolly, did you hurt your feet?” Felena appeared before them, curious at the flurry of excitement. “Didn’t T’gellan remember you? He’s got no memory, drat the man. How good of you to rescue her, sir!”
“Think nothing of it, Felena. I discovered she was custodian of the fire lizard eggs. However, if you happened to have a cup of wine…This is thirsty work.”
“I can stand, really I can, sir,” Menolly protested, for something in Felena’s manner told her that this man was too-important to be toting sore-footed girls. “Felena, I couldn’t stop him.”
“I’m only being my usual ingratiating self,” the man told her, “and do stop struggling. You’re too heavy!”
Felena was laughing at his exaggeration as she led the way to Menolly’s table above the egg basket.
“You’re a terrible fellow, Master Robinton, indeed you are. But you’ll have your wine while Menolly picks out the best of the clutch. Have you spotted the queen egg, Menolly?”
“After the way Menolly’s queen has been attacking me, I’d be safer with any other color, Felena. Now do get that wine for me, there’s a good woman. I’m utterly parched.”
As he gently settled her into her chair, Menolly heard Felena’s teasing remark, “…terrible fellow, Master Robinton…terrible fellow, Master Robinton…” She stared at him, disbelieving.
“Now, what’s the matter, Menolly? Did my exercise bring out spots on my face?” He mopped at his cheeks and brow and examined his hand. “Ah, thank you, Felena. You’ve saved my life. My tongue was quite stuck to the roof of my mouth. And here’s to you, young queen, and thank you for your courtesy.” He raised his cup to Beauty, who was perched on Menolly’s shoulder, her tail firmly entwined as she glared at him. “Well?” he asked kindly of Menolly.
“You’re the Masterharper?”
“Yes, I’m Robinton.”He sounded quite casual about it. “And I think you need some wine, too.”
“No, I couldn’t.” Menolly held up her hands in refusal. “I get hiccups. And go to sleep.” She hadn’t meant to say that either, but she had to explain why she was discourteous enough to refuse his cup. She was also acutely aware now of her stained overshirt, her sandy clothes and slippers, her complete disarray. This wasn’t how she imagined her first meeting with the Masterharper of Pern, and she hung her head in emharassment.
“I always advise eating before drinking,” remarked Master Robinton in the nicest possible way. “I shouldn’t wonder but that’s half the problem right now,” he added and then raised his voice. “This child is faint with hunger, Felena.”
Menolly shook her head, denying his suggestion and trying to forestall Felena, but she was already ordering one of the lads to bring klah, a basket of breads, and a dish of sliced meats. When she was served, just as if she were one of the Weyrwomen, she kept her head bent over her cup, blowing to cool the contents.
“Do you think there’s enough here for a starving man?” asked Masterharper Robinton, his voice so plaintive and faint with his pretended hunger that Menolly was startled into glancing up at him. His expression was at once so wistful, appealing and kind that, despite her deep chagrin, she smiled in response to his foolishness. “I’ll need strength for this evening’s work, and a base for my drinking,” he added in a very quiet, worried voice.