“Now, young Piemur, come forward.”

Menolly looked around in surprise, wondering how long Piemur had been sitting quietly by the door.

“The other morning, Menolly, our ears were assailed by pure sound, in descant to a chorus. Piemur here seems of the opinion that the fire lizards will sing for or with anyone. Do you concur?”

“They certainly sang the other morning, but I was singing, too. I do not know, sir.”

“Let us conduct a little experiment then. Let us see if they will sing when invited to do so.”

Menolly winced a little at his phrasing, but Piemur’s wry smile told her that this was Master Shonagar’s odd version of humor.

“Supposing I just sing the melody of the chorus we were doing the other morning,” said Piemur, “because if you sing with me, they’re still singing with you and not along with me?”

“Less chatter, young Piemur, more music,” said Master Shonagar, sounding extremely bass and impatient. Piemur took a breath, properly, Menolly noticed, and opened his mouth. To her surprise and delight, a true and delicately sweet sound emerged. Her astonishment registered in the twinkle in Piemur’s eyes, but his voice reflected none of his inner amusement to her reaction.

Belatedly she encouraged her fire lizards to sing. Beauty flitted to her shoulder, wrapping her tail lightly around Menolly’s neck as she peered toward Piemur, cocking her head this way and that as if analyzing the sound and Menolly’s command. Rocky and Diver were less restrained. They flew from their perch on the sandtable and, rearing to their haunches, began to sing along with Piemur. Beauty gave a funny scolding sound before she sat up, one forepaw resting lightly on Menolly’s ear. Then she took up the descant, her fragile voice rising sure and true above Piemur’s. His eyes rolled in appreciation and, when Mimic and Brownie joined in, Piemur backed up so that he could see all of the singing fire lizards.

Anxiously, Menolly glanced at Master Shonagar, but he sat, his fingers shading his eyes, engrossed in the sounds, giving absolutely no indication of his reception. Menolly made herself listen critically, as the Master was undoubtedly doing, but she found little to criticize. She hadn’t taught the fire lizards how to sing: she had only given them melody to enjoy. They had enjoyed it, and were expressing that enjoyment by participation. Their voices were not limited to the few octaves of the human voice. Their piercingly sweet tones resonated through their listeners. She could feel the sound in her ear bones, and, from the way Piemur was pressing behind his ears, he felt it as well.

“There, young fellow,” said Master Shonagar as the echo of the song died away, “that’ll put you in your place, won’t it?”

The boy grinned impudently.

“So they will warble with someone besides yourself,” the Master said to Menolly.

Out of the comer of her eye, Menolly saw Piemur reach out to stroke Rocky who was nearest him. The bronze immediately rubbed his head along Piemur’s hand, whether in approval of the singing or in friendship was irrelevant, judging by the charmed expression on the boy’s face.

“They’re used to singing because they like it, sir. It’s difficult to keep them quiet when there’s music about.”

“Is that so? I shall consider the potentialities of this phenomenon,” and with a brusque wave, Master Shonagar dismissed them all. He settled his head against his propped arm and almost immediately began to snore.

“Is he really asleep? Or shamming?” Menolly asked Piemur when they were out in the courtyard.

“Far’s anyone’s been able to tell, he’s asleep. The only thing that’ll wake him is a flat tone or meals. He never goes out of the chorus hall. He sleeps in a little room at the back. Don’t think he could climb steps anyway. He’s too fat. Hey, you know, Menolly, even in scales, you got a pretty voice. Sort of furry.”

“Thanks!”

‘Don’t mention it. I like furry voices,” Piemur went on, undismayed by her sarcasm. “I don’t like high, thin, screechy ones like Briala or Pona…” and he jerked his thumb toward the cot. “Say, hadn’t we better feed the fire lizards? It’s nearly suppertime, and they look kinda faded to me!”

Menolly agreed, as Beauty, riding on her shoulder, began to creel piteously.

“I sure hope that Shonagar wants to use the fire lizards with the chorus,” Piemur said, kicking at a pebble. Then he laughed pointing to the kitchen. “Look, Camo’s ready and waiting.”

He was there, one thick arm wrapped about an enormous bowl, heaped high with scraps. He had a handful raised to attract the fire lizards who spiraled in on him.

Uncle and the two green Aunties had decidedly adopted Camo as their feeding perch. They took so much of his attention that he didn’t notice that Rocky, Lazy and Mimic draped themselves about Piemur to be fed. It certainly made it easier to apportion the scraps fairly, with three people feeding. So, when she caught Piemur glancing about the courtyard to see if anyone was noticing his new task, Menolly suggested that he’d be needed on a permanent basis if that didn’t get him into any trouble with the masters.

“I’m apprenticed to Master Shonagar. He won’t mind! And I sure as shells don’t.” Whereupon Piemur began to stroke the bronze and the two browns with an almost proprietary affection.

As soon as the fire lizards had finished gobbling, Menolly sent Camo back into the kitchen. There had been no loud complaints from Abuna, but Menolly had been conscious of being watched from the kitchen windows. Camo went willingly enough, once she assured him that he’d be feeding the fire lizards again in the morning. Sated, the nine lazily spiraled upward to the outer roof of the Hall, to bask in the late afternoon sun. And not a moment too soon. They were only just settling themselves when the courtyard became full of boys and men filing into the Hall for their supper.

“Too bad you gotta sit with them,” Piemur said, jerking his head at the girls seated at their table.

“Can’t you sit opposite me?” asked Menolly, hopefully. It would be nice to have someone to talk to during the meal.

“I’m not allowed anymore.” “Not allowed?”

Alternating between sour disgust and pleased recollection, Piemur gave a shrug. “Pona complained to Dunca, and she got on to Silvina…”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Piemur’s shrug was eloquent enough for Menolly to guess that he’d probably been downright wicked. “Pona’s a sorry wherry hen, you know, rank-happy and pleased to pull it. So I can’t sit near the girls anymore.”

She might regret the prohibition, but it enhanced her estimation of Piemur. As she reluctantly made her way toward the girls, it occurred to her that all she had to do to avoid sitting with them was to be late to meals. Then she’d have to sit where she could. That remedy pleased her so much that she walked more resolutely to her place and endured the hostility of the girls with fortitude. She matched their coldness with stony indifference and ate heartily of the soup, cheese and bread and the sweet pasty that finished the simple supper. She listened politely to the evening announcements of rehearsal times and the fact that Threadfall was expected midday tomorrow. All were to hold themselves close to the Hall, to perform their allotted tasks before, during and after Fall. Menolly heard, with private amusement, the nervous whispering of the girls at the advent of Threadfall and permitted herself to smile in disdain at their terror. They couldn’t really be that afraid of a menace they’d known all their lives?

She made no move to leave the table when they did, but she was sure that she caught Audiva’s wink as the girl followed the others out. When she judged them well away, she rose. Maybe she’d be able to get back into the cot again without confronting Dunca.

“Ah, Menolly, a moment if you please.” The cheery voice of the Masterharper sang out as she reached the entrance. Robinton was standing by the stairs, talking to Sebell, and he gestured for Menolly to join them. “Come and check our eggs for us. I know Lessa said it would be a few more days but…and the Harper shrugged his anxiety. “This way…” As she accompanied the two men to the upper level, he went on. “Sebell says that you’re a mine of information.” He grinned down at her. “Didn’t ever think you’d have to talk fish in a Harper Hall, did you?”