There is a Weyr/ A hundred miles from here/ Where the dragons sing and moan…
The harper sang his merry tune, delighting in the giggles of the younger children. The older ones sat stonily, their brows creased in their typically irritable faces. Harper Silorn grimaced and finished the last chord. He put his gitar down then, making a note on his worn piece of hide.
Curse all Bitrans for their inhospitality, he thought. What kind of Hold expects a harper to use recycled hides?
Silorn glanced up to see the class shifting in their seats.
"Well, go along then," he said, waving towards the door.
They jumped from the benches with vulgar delight, their roughly accented voices chattering away as they left. He sighed.
"Worthless," he muttered.
A harsh knock sounded on the door. Silorn looked up to see the lady of the Hold, Misra.
"Silorn!" she snapped, her blue eyes furious.
"Yes, m'lady?" he said.
She stomped inside and stuck a thin finger underneath his nose.
"What is this I hear you are playing your own songs to the children?! I do not pay you to teach nonsense!"
Silorn gave Lady Misra a bald stare. He really did not care for the woman.
"And what nonsense would I be teaching your dear little ones?" he answered, mildly sarcastic.
Her pretty eyes narrowed and her lip curled.
"What nonsense, harper? My youngest asked me, how come he's never heard a dragon sing? What do you mean in telling him about Benden Weyr?"
Silorn suppressed a sigh.
"Lady Misra, it is common practice throughout the world to teach children about their duties to the dragonriders and the Weyrs. I merely introduced the concept in a way all could understand."
"I would appreciate it if you kept your limericks to yourself. We owe nothing to the Weyrs."
Silorn's mouth opened at the absurdity of the statement before he thought better of it. Lady Misra folded her arms and glared at the man. He realized he looked quite foolish arguing with her while sitting on the low bench.
"All Pernese owe their very lives to the Weyrs. Does your Hold not tithe Benden?"
Lady Misra shrugged. She really was not a very elegant creature.
"We tithe as we should, harper. Nothing more, nothing less. Benden has not been allowed to Search Bitra Hold or its land in twenty Turns. As I said, we owe them nothing."
"My lady, do you speak truly? You have refused a Weyr it's right to Search? That's preposterous!"
"Do not tell me what is and is not, lowly harper. Remember who pays you!" she hissed and made for the door.
Silorn slapped his fist into his hand, barely in control of his anger.
"Lady, my pay?" he called just as the hem of her skirt disappeared.
A single dainty hand rested against the stone doorframe.
"You may consider it docked."
ØØØ
Lady Misra stood before the looking glass in her private bathing chamber. She unpinned her strawberry blonde hair, letting it fall past her shoulders as she shook it out.
The chamber was lavish, dark imported marble lining the sink and bathing pool. High mountain sea salt jars lay throughout the room, some filled with cleansing sand, others with glows.
It suited her traditional Bitran tastes. Though not the Lady of Bitra Hold itself, Lady Misra was the owner of its largest private hold and, therefore, the second most powerful woman in the area.
"Whatever will I do with that waste of a harper?" she asked her maid as the woman combed her hair.
"Is there a problem, m'lady?" the maid asked.
Lady Misra grinned.
"Ah, I do love your cautious mind, Varra. No, not a problem: merely a nuisance. Did you not hear what he is teaching the children now?"
Varra cocked an eyebrow but did not answer.
"Well, of course you do know. Any worthwhile person in this place knows. Really, though, what can they possibly learn from the dragonriders?"
"I know little of dragonmen."
"As do I. Hmm, perhaps Silorn is trying to sway the children to his Harper Hall tastes?"
Varra sniggered.
"Any harper sent to us here is of little importance to the Hall. The Masterharper knows we are too clever for his spies."
"Agreed. I must remember to tell Fildas to complain about this one, this Silorn, if only to keep the Hall informed."
"Fildas?" Varra asked.
"Yes, the man we sent to the Masterharper several Turns ago. He's from an outlying region and the harpers trust him enough for our purposes," said Lady Misra, already bored with the conversation.
Varra was one of the many go-betweens for the Lord Holder and Lady Misra. She had been for many Turns, smart enough to do her job and keep silent when she needed to be. A rather wonderful woman and an excellent spy if not terribly good-looking.
"Varra!" Lady Misra said suddenly.
Varra looked up.
"You have a cousin who is a dragonrider, do you not?"
Varra pursed her lips, thinking.
"A foster cousin, yes. Originally from Lemos. I believe he is the rider of a blue dragon. We haven't seen each other since his Impression."
Lady Misra stared at her reflection in the looking glass, turning her head to see herself in profile.
"I'm thinking then, that it is high time you saw him again. We have no one at the Weyr at the moment. It could be to our advantage to know what is occurring there."
"What do you mean, m'lady?"
"My dear Varra, we have been tithing Benden Weyr for a very, very long time. Fall is coming: we will soon have need to become closer to our good Weyrleaders… I have always fancied riding a-dragonback, haven't you?"