Brevis was one of Toric's younger get, but he had also been one of the old Lord Holder's favorites. He'd been born right between Droska and the two sets of twins, namely Deema and Ormala and Cora and Munt, the latter of who had died not long after being born leaving Cora to grow up not quite right in the head. Cora had a passion for setting things on fire, and she insisted from the age of six Turns that she could see ghosts. But Brevis had a good head on his shoulders, Toric's passion for organization, and more importantly he was one of the more intelligent of the large brood the man had. So when he was only a teen Brevis was given one of the choicer spots for his minor Holding, out on Ierne Island. Toric even gave Brevis one of the Healer apprentices he'd lured down from the north, as a Hold-warming present.
Yarrow goggled at the sight of the neat, well-organized Hold she now came to, dragged by a young man with a cautious look in his eye, who was still being battered at by the angry Rush. If I send him away – Rush would listen to me, but – do I want him to know where I am? That was of course the bigger question. This place was the farthest she'd gone on her own in a long while, and the deaf girl wasn't so sure she didn't like at least that fact. She hadn't been harmed here – yet. Can they tan the hide of a wife of the Hold heir? She wondered. Petia certainly would think of it, and Yarrow'd had enough beatings from that woman for a lifetime.
Her captor turned her to face him again, as she stood staring at the lovely trees that bulged with fruit, the tidy waterway along the coast just a few feet away where a chattering group of women and young ones sat working at a late catch, cutting fish and repairing nets. They were laughing and seemed happy by their actions, not pressed or snooty with one another like the people at Southern were. A few children ran past, playing, not dirty but in clean tunics. "This – is – the – home – of – a – Lord – Harper," he said in that slow way she'd always found annoying when people did it. "A – Lord,- do – you – un-der-stand?"
She nodded emphatically, wondering who this could be. Hannin too called himself Lord Holder, but there was nothing at Southern that reminded her of a Hold. That place was more like a collection of Holdless who'd just set up housekeeping in an abandoned home. Hannin and Petia had no more idea how to Hold than – well, than she really did. She just knew they weren't doing it correctly. She followed the man inside the wide door that had some gorgeous carvings of dragons on it. He was saluted by two guards.
Inside, a small boy ran up and the man gave him his baggage and some sort of message, at which the child cheerfully skipped off. She was gestured to a wide table in the main hall, and her captor was just starting in on "Stay – here. . . " when he was interrupted. A younger woman was shaking her head at him – and to Yarrow's surprise, she was using the speech of fingers as well as aloud!
". . . She isn't an idiot, Greagan, she just can't hear – anyone can see that much," she was saying. "I thought you fishmen were all trained to know hand signals these days."
Greagan shrugged and said something like, "not much – attention." The woman rolled her eyes and told him in no uncertain terms to leave Yarrow to her. Rush had, to Yarrow's consternation, disappeared.
"Now, then," said the woman when the fishman had disappeared, pulling a chair out and facing Yarrow directly. "You do understand me, don't you?" Yarrrow nodded. "And you're Harper, it seems; who else would have a drum. . ? Well anyway, I'm Miala, and this is Lord Brevis's Hold. You're on Ierne Island."
Brevis. Yarrow thought a minute, trying to figure back, and realized he was one of Lord Toric's get. She nodded that she understood, though she only half did. So some at least of the old lord's children had survived; that would be something worth knowing for those interested. She pulled a face, reminded again of how she'd been used by both Weyr and even Harper Hall.
Miala, mistaking the face for something else, scowled a little. "Now listen, girl, Lord Brevis is an honorable man, in his own way," she said a little sharply, her face tight.
Someone came up and touched the woman on the shoulder at that point, and both she and Yarrow looked up. "Thanks for your loyalty, though I don't know if our visitor is concerned about that," the young man remarked, a dry grin on his tanned face. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with a scar along his nose and the hands of a worker. But his bearing said he clearly owned the place in a much clearer manner than any of Hannin's bawling or Petia's peevishness could convey. "Have you considered hospitality for her?"
"No, m'lord, I was just – "
He raised a hand, interrupting her. "Go get some now. Klah, I believe, and at least something small. I won't have it spread about that my Hold is not hospitable." Miala raced off, and he took her place at the table by Yarrow. "Now, then. Miala's a good sort, once you know her, but she's a little impetuous. You must forgive her. I worry sometimes that she – came down here too soon, maybe." He sighed at this mysterius comment and didn't elaborate.
She wasn't sure what to make of Brevis. Something about him made her heart race, and she didn't understand that at all. It wasn't fear, since she was barely thinking of what would happen at Sourthern just then. He was fairly good at hand-speech, like Miala had been, and when she came back herself with a steaming cup and some rolls, he signed to Yarrow to eat up. She did so hungrily.
"Where are you from?" he asked as she finished. "You're well-bred enough not to lick fingers, but you don't wear fancy garb. Yet, you've a drum that's of fairly good make if I'm any judge. Miala, this is Harpercraft, isn't it, not just some Hold knockoff?" he said to the woman who'd remained hovering.
Miala nodded. Both of them were speaking both aloud and in sign, as Yarrow's parents used to do, and as she'd been brought up to think was polite when there was a non-hearing person in the room. "I don't know how you got it," she said to Yarrow, "but well, there's enough secrets of that sort around to fill a Hold. . . The important thing is, can you play it?" Yarrow nodded emphatically.
She was going to demonstrate when Brevis stopped her. "No," he said laying a gentle hand on her arm, "you don't need to prove yourself. Where did you come from? It would have to be somewhere nearby, and there aren't many Holdings. Not left, at any rate." He made a slight face.
Yarrow hesitated. She liked it at Brevis's Hold, where people actually talked to her, not at her. But – There's duty to be done, not to – them – but Harper duty, she reminded herself. An uncomfortable fact it was. "Southern," she signed.
The two with her at the table exchanged surprised – and, if Yarrow was any judge – disgusted glances. "How did someone so proper come from there?" she caught Miala asking when the woman thought Yarrow couldn't see. "That place – ever since your father. . . ."
"Hush, she's watching," the young Lord Holder remarked in a casual manner, but his face was also tight. He cleared his throat and looked back at Yarrow. "And you'll be missed, won't you? Clearly. I can't think Petia and Hannin would have you as their Harper; they aren't smart enough to understand writing let alone finger-speech, those louses. Do you have family there, then?"
She thought a minute. She guessed she did, since she was technically wed. Reluctantly she nodded, though she didn't say who.
Brevis exhaled, shaking his head. "I could guess that you ran away from home, but Greagan told me – that's the man who brought you here, good man in his own way but not all that bright sometimes – he said he just 'found' you. Off on the shoreline. Well, I can't blame you from wanting a breather from those – people." He made another face. After a pause, he continued, "I really should return you, before I have them breathing down my neck. But – if you feel too caged-in there, you are welcome to come back any time you want. You have my word." He squeezed her shoulder. "Now, it's a bit late in the eve for even a short trip across the island, so you'll stay here the night. We can certainly find room for you. What's your name, anyway? My pardon, in the excitement I forgot to ask."
She spelled it out for him on her fingers: "Y-a-r-r-o-w."
He laughed at that. "Like the old plant from the Ancients' world? Beautiful. Your parents had a way with words, I see."
"They were Harpers," she signed.
"Ah," he said, nodding. "Makes sense now. I cannot believe the Masterharper would send someone so young down here, nor that you'd take a bribe from them to come." He exchanged glances with Miala again, another cryptic bit of information that was lost on Yarrow. But she knew she had to clear up one thing; her Harper loyalty demanded it.
"Masterharper Sebell didn't send me by myself," she signed to them both very emphatically. "I came with both my parents, who were stationed as Harpers at Southern Hold. My father died in shipwreck. My mother – well, she had a hard time living without him. . . " She started feeling tears at the thought of her parents being gone, tears she'd often shed in her rooms late at night when the drudgerly chores were done and Petia had stopped nagging. She wiped them away with the back of one hand, but quickly signed, "I was supposed to remain, but they're – they're gone. . . ."
"And you feel stuck, is that it?" Brevis said, his face soft and caring. He shook his head. "I imagine that can't be easy, living there. There is something you aren't telling me, but it doesn't matter." He sighed again. "I can't very well just steal you from the place – much as I might like to," he remarked with a wry grin. "But I say again, you can come here as often as you need – or want."
She didn't understand the sadness that came along with that statement. At least he'd gotten the message that her living condition wasn't – entirely – the Masterharper's fault.
Brevis insisted on escorting Yarrow back to the hold himself, along with the proper gifts due a Hold visit. "After all," he'd told her with a disgusted look on his face, "Hannin and Petia are my Lord Holders – if only in name." It was very clear to her that he didn't think they were suited to the place at all. He took the bare minimum of gifts for his visit, and that said more than his body language.
"THERE you are!" Petia scowled, when she came out to see them, after a dirty child ran inside through the weeds. "You're in for a clouting, girl – I don't care who you are, you deserve one."
Brevis was dismounting while she spoke. The tall man loomed over the stubby, skinny woman. "Greetings, Lady Petia," he said – and signed, rather pointedly, Yarrow thought with some satisfaction.
"And who are you – oh yes, cousin Brevis," said the self-styled Lady of the Hold in an offhand way. "It's been so long." Brevis missed the inferrence on that statement; he'd clearly not come to the wedding summons, but it wasn't lost on Yarrow. "Thank you so much for bringing her back," she continued, when he didn't take the hint. "Oh, and bringing gifts! So kind of you. . . " Later, when he was gone back to his Hold, Petia would spend hours complaining about how little there had been, and how she guessed well since it was just Yarrow, or "the invalid" as she was always calling her, she supposed it was the least he could bring himself to take out of his huge stock out of politeness. And then she'd go on about how all of Hannin's cousins were sooo snooty, just because they were Toric's 'real get,' and 'had a proper tie to the Hold,' despite the fact that none of them had stepped forward to claim it after the man died, because doubtless nobody wanted to be held under suspicion. . . .
For now, though, Petia was all fake politeness, the bare minimum of it, and Brevis was doing his best Yarrow saw to keep his own temper under control, as the woman didn't even invite him to dine with them or have a cup of klah. Instead, she made a big scene about how tired Yarrow must be, and how tired she herself was, took the young man's gifts and shooed Yarrow into the hold with another pinch to her arm.
When she came to Yarrow a little while later, she first gave the girl the first beating she'd had since she was wed, then made Yarrow pull up her skirts. "He's handsome enough," she signed to Yarrow with a sneer, "though believe me, if I catch anything amiss. . . ." Petia hit Yarrow again, to be sure her words came across, though the deaf girl barely understood her meaning.
