Dragonsinger (25 page)

‘They can’t have sold all the pies,’ she said, laughing.

‘No, but they’ll get cold, and I like ’em hot, bubbling!’

And so the confections were, carried from an oven in the baker’s hold on a thick, long-handled tray: the berry juices spilling darkly over the sides of the delicately browned crusts that glistened with crystallized sweet.

‘Ho, you’re out early, are you, Piemur? Let me see your marks first.’

Piemur, with a show of great reluctance, dragged out a thirty-second bit and showed it to the skeptic.

‘That’ll buy you six pies.’

‘Six? Is that all?’ Piemur’s face reflected utter despair. ‘This is all me and my dorm mates could raise.’ His voice went up in a piteous note.

‘Don’t give me that old wheeze, Piemur,’ said the baker with a derisive snort. ‘You know you eat ’em all yourself. You wouldn’t treat your mates to as much as a sniff.’

‘Master Palim …’

‘Master me nothing, Piemur. You know my rank same as I know yours. It’s six pies for the thirty-second or stop wasting my time.’ The journeyman, for that was the badge on his tunic, was slipping six pies off the tray as he spoke. ‘Who’s your long friend here? That dorm mate you’re always talking about?’

‘She’s Menolly …’

‘Menolly?’ The baker looked up in surprise. ‘The girl who wrote the song about the fire lizards?’ A seventh pie was set beside the others.

Menolly fumbled in her pocket for her two-mark piece.

‘Have a pie for welcome, Menolly, and any time you have a spare egg that needs a warm home …’ He let the sentence peter out and gave her a broad wink, and a broader smile so she’d know he was joking.

‘Menolly!’ Piemur grabbed her wrist, staring at the two-marker, his eyes round with surprise. ‘Where’d you get that?’

‘Master Robinton gave it to me this morning. He said I’m to buy a belt and some bubbly pies. So please, Journeyman, I’d like to pay for them.’

‘No way!’ Piemur was flatly indignant, knocking her extended hand away. ‘I said it was my treat ’cause this is your first gather. And I
know
that’s the first mark piece you’ve ever had. Don’t you go wasting it on me.’ He had half turned from the baker and was giving Menolly a one-eyed wink.

‘Piemur, I don’t know what I’d’ve done without you these past few days,’ she said, trying to move him out of her way so she could give Palim the marker.‘ I insist.’

‘Not a chance, Menolly. I keep my word.’

‘Then put your money where your mouth is, Piemur,’ said Palim, ‘you’re blocking my counter,’ and he indicated the hulking figure of Camo bearing down on them.

‘Camo! Where’ve you been, Camo?’ cried Piemur. ‘We looked all over for you before we started for the pies. Here’re yours, Camo.’

‘Pies?’ And Camo came forward, huge hands outstretched, his thick lips moist. He wore a fresh tunic, his face was shining clean, and his straggling crop of hair had been brushed flat. He had evidently homed in on the sweet aroma of the pies as easily as Piemur.

‘Yes, bubbly pies, just like I promised you, Camo,’ Piemur passed him two pies.

‘Well, now, you wasn’t having me on, was you, about feeding your mates. Although how come Menolly and Camo …’

‘Here’s your money,’ said Piemur with some haughtiness, thrusting the thirty-second piece in Palim’s hand. ‘I trust your pies will live up to standard.’

Menolly gaped, because there were now nine small bubbly pies on the counter front.

‘Three for you, Camo.’ Piemur handed him a third. ‘Now don’t burn your mouth. Three for you, Menolly,’ and the pastry was warm enough to sting Menolly’s scarred palm, ‘and three for me. Thank you, Palim. It’s good of you to be generous. I’ll make sure everyone knows your pies …’ and despite the heat of the crust, Piemur bit deeply into the pastry, the dark purple juices dribbling down his chin, ‘… are just as good as ever,’ and he said the last on a sigh of contentment. Then more briskly, ‘C’mon, you two.’ He waved to the baker who stared after them before he uttered a bark of laughter. ‘See you later, Palim!’

‘We got nine pies for the price of six!’ she said when they’d got far enough away from the stall.

‘Sure, and I’ll get nine again when I go back, because he’ll think I’m sharing with you and Camo again. That’s the best deal I’ve pulled on him yet.’

‘You mean …’

‘Pretty smart of you to flash that two-marker about. He wouldn’t have been able to change it this early in the afternoon. I’ll have to try that angle again, next gather. The large marker, I mean.’

‘Piemur!’ Menolly was appalled at his duplicity.

‘Hmmmm?’ His expression over the rim of the pie was unperturbed. ‘Good, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, but you’re outrageous. The way you bargain …’

‘What’s wrong with it? Everyone has fun. ’Specially this early in the season. Later on they get bored, and even being small and looking sorrowful doesn’t help me. Ah, Camo,’ and Piemur looked disgusted. ‘Can’t you even eat clean?’

‘Pies good!’ Camo had stuffed all three pies into his mouth. His tunic was now stained with berry juices, his face was flecked with pastry and berry skins, and his fist had smeared a purple streak across one cheek.

‘Menolly, will you look at him! He’ll disgrace the Hall. You can’t take your eyes off him a moment. C’mere!’

Piemur dragged Camo to the back of the line of stalls until he found a water skin dangling from a thong on a stall frame. He made Camo cup his hands and wash his face. Menolly found a scrap of cloth, not too dirty, and they managed to remove the worst of the pie stains from Camo’s face and front.

‘Oh, blast the shell and sear the skin!’ said Piemur in a round oath as he took up his third pie. ‘It’s cold. Camo, you’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.’

‘Camo trouble?’ The man’s face fell into deep sorrowful lines. ‘Camo cold?’

‘No, the pie’s cold. Oh, never mind. I like you, Camo, you’re my friend.’ Piemur patted the man’s arm reassuringly, and the numbwit brightened.

‘Cold or not,’ Menolly said after she took a bite from her third, and cooled, pastry, ‘they’re every bit as good as you said, Piemur.’

‘Say,’ and Piemur eyed her through narrowed lids, ‘maybe you’d better bargain the next lot out of Palim.’

‘I couldn’t eat another …’

‘Oh, not now. Later.’

‘It’ll be my treat then.’

‘Sure thing!’ He agreed with such amiability that Menolly decided that she’d taken the bait, hook and all. ‘First,’ he went on, ‘let’s find the Tanner’s stall.’ He took her by the hand and Camo by the sleeve and hauled them down the row. ‘So you’re really Master Robinton’s apprentice? Wow! Wait’ll I tell the others! I told ’em you would be.’

‘I don’t understand you.’

Piemur shot her a startled look. ‘He did say that you were his apprentice when he gave you that two-marker, didn’t he?’

‘He’d told me I was before today, but I didn’t think that was unusual. Aren’t all the apprentices in the Hall his apprentices? He’s the Masterharper …’

‘You sure don’t understand.’ Piemur’s glance was one of undiluted pity for her denseness. ‘Every master has a few special apprentices … I’m Master Shonagar’s. That’s why I’m always running his errands. I don’t know how they did it in your Sea Hold, but here, you get taken in as a general apprentice. If you turn out to be specially good at something, like me at voice, and Brolly at making instruments, the Master of that craft takes you on as a special apprentice, and you report to him for extra training and duties. And if he’s pleased with you, he’ll give you the odd mark to spend at a gather. So … if Master Robinton gave you a two-marker, he’s pleased with you, and you’re his special apprentice. He doesn’t tap many.’ Piemur shook his head slowly from side to side, with a soft emphatic whistle. ‘There’s been lots of heavy betting in the dorm as to who he’d pick since Sebell took his walk as journeyman … not that Sebell doesn’t still look to the Masterharper even if he is a rank up … but Ranly was so sure he’d be tapped.’

‘Is that why Ranly doesn’t like me?’

Piemur dismissed that with a gesture. ‘Ranly never
had
a chance, and the only one who didn’t know that was Ranly! He thinks he’s so good. Everyone else knew that Master Robinton was hoping to find you … the one who’d written those songs! Look, there’s the Tanner’s stall. And just spy that beautiful blue belt. It’s even got a fire lizard for a buckle tongue!’ He’d pulled her up and lowered his voice for the last words. ‘And blue! You let me bargain, hear?’

Before she could agree, Piemur approached the stall, acting casually, glancing over the tabards, soft shoes and boots displayed, apparently oblivious to the belt he’d just indicated to Menolly.

‘They’ve got some blue boot hide, Menolly,’ he said, to her.

Knowing the shrewdness Piemur had already displayed, Menolly followed his cue, and, glancing at the tanner for permission, touched the thick wherry leather. She could see the belt over his shoulder, and the tongue had been fashioned like a slim fire lizard.

‘Now, don’t tell me you have money in your trous, short stuff,’ the tanner journeyman said to Piemur and then peered uncertainly at Menolly’s cropped hair, trousers and apprentice badge.

‘Me? No, but she’s buying. Her slippers are a disgrace.’

The tanner did look down, and Menolly wanted to hide her scuffed footwear.

‘This is Menolly,’ Piemur went on, blithely unaware of the embarrassment he was causing her. ‘She’s got nine fire lizards, and she’s Master Robinton’s new apprentice.’

Wondering what on earth was possessing Piemur, she glanced anywhere but at the curious journeyman. She caught a glimpse of bright filmy materials and richly decorated tunics. She steadied her gaze and saw Pona, her arm through a tall lad’s. He was wearing the
yellow
of Fort Hold and the shoulder knot of the Lord Holder’s family. Behind Pona came Briala, Amania and Audiva, each of the girls escorted by a well-dressed youth, fosterlings of Lord Groghe’s to judge by the different hold colours and rank knots.

‘Here, Menolly, what do you think of this hide?’ asked Piemur.

‘And be sure she has the marks for it,’ said Pona, pausing. Her voice was too smooth to be insulting, and yet her manner gave her words an offensive ring. ‘For I’m certain she’s only wasting your time and will finger your wares dirty. Whereas I want to commission you to make me some soft shoes for the summer …’ She held up a well-filled waist pouch.

‘She’s got two marks,’ Piemur said, turning to challenge Pona, his eyes flashing with anger.

‘If she does, she stole it,’ replied Pona, abandoning her indolent manner. ‘She’d nothing on her when she was still permitted to live in the cot.’

‘Stolen?’ Menolly felt herself tensing with fury at the totally unexpected accusation.

‘Stolen, nothing!’ Piemur replied hotly. ‘Master Robinton gave it to her this morning!’

‘I claim insult from you, Pona,’ cried Menolly, her hand on her belt knife.

‘Benis, she’s threatening me!’ Pona cried, clinging to her escort’s arm.

‘Now, see here, apprentice girl. You can’t insult a lady of the Holders. You just hand over that mark piece,’ said Benis, gesturing peremptorily to Menolly.

‘Menolly, don’t take insult,’ Audiva pushed her way past the others and grabbed her arm, restraining her. ‘It’s what she wants.’

‘Pona’s given me too many insults, Audiva.’

‘Menolly, you mustn’t—’

‘Get the mark, Benis,’ Pona said in a hiss. ‘Make her pay for threatening
me
!’

‘Out of the way, Benis, whoever you are,’ said Menolly. ‘Pona has to answer for the insults she gives, lady holder or not,’ Menolly moved sideways, countering Pona’s attempt to evade her.

‘Benis, she can be dangerous! I told you so!’ Pona’s voice went up in a frightened, breathless squeak.

‘You mustn’t, Menolly,’ Audiva said, catching Menolly’s sleeve. ‘She
wants
you to … Piemur, help me!’

‘Don’t you dare, Audiva!’ Pona’s voice was now edged with angry malice. ‘Or I’ll settle you good as well.’

‘Come, girl, the money. Hand it over and we’ll say no more about attempted insult …’ said Benis in a patronizing tone.

‘Pona’s insulted Menolly!’ cried Piemur indignantly. ‘Just because you’re a—’

‘Close your mouth!’ Benis wasted no courtesies on Piemur. He took a stride to close the distance between himself and Menolly, his jaw set in a disagreeable grin as he disdainfully measured the three slight and defiant adversaries.

Pona gave a little squeal as Benis left her standing on her own. Then, another as Menolly, stepping away from Benis, made a lunge at her, trying to catch her long plaited hair.

‘Hey, now just a minute, you,’ said the tanner in a loud voice, sensing an imminent fight. He ducked under the counter of his stall, emerging into the walkway. ‘This is a gather, not a …’

Benis was quick on his feet, too, and he grabbed Menolly by the shoulder, spinning her towards him and securing her left arm, which he immediately twisted up behind her. With a cry of triumph, Pona
darted
forward, her hands busy with Menolly’s belt pouch. Piemur sprang to Menolly’s assistance, kicking Benis in the shins and grabbing Pona by the hair. The kick made Benis loosen his hold on Menolly’s arm. With a strength developed by Turns of hauling and handling heavy nets, she wrenched free of his grasp, dancing out of his way.

‘I settle Pona!’ she shouted to Piemur, beckoning him away.

‘Benis, save me!’ Pona screamed, rushing to the young Holder, but Piemur was still hanging on to her plait.

Benis let fly a kick at Piemur, tripping him up and added another one to the ribs as the boy measured his length in the dust.

‘Leave him alone!’ Forgetting her quarrel with Pona, Menolly launched herself at Benis. Putting shoulder and body behind her fist, she drove it right into Benis’s face. He staggered back, roaring in outrage and pain. One of the other fosterlings came charging forward, fist cocked to slam Menolly, but Audiva hung on to his arm.

‘Viderian! Menolly’s a seaholder! Help us!’

Startled, her escort bounded in to help Audiva, just as Menolly ducked under Benis’s swing and tried to protect Piemur, who was struggling to get to his feet, blood streaming from his nose.