AN: Holy crap, two updates in one month!
I know the last update was short, and that it was frustrating to some readers as a result. On Renegade Weyr I will sometimes update with little tidbits to tease readers and let them know that an update is coming soon (if real life allows that is). That was not the case with the previous update for Between Two Worlds. That update is a full blown update - short though it may be. This chapter is a bit longer - so please accept it as an apology.
~AS
Norah woke Domick earlier than normal the next day. She knocked on his door, calling through it that it was time to get up and startling him awake.
He blinked at the ceiling in sleepy surprise. He was used to waking early at the Harper Hall, but he had grown accustomed to the later hours Pembroke favored; to suddenly have to wake up so early was quite a shock. While the sun was up, the light it was casting through his windows was still dim. He watched for a moment as the dust motes danced through the rays in lazy circles, and, for a moment, they almost lulled him back to sleep.
The pounding on his door came again. "If you're not up in five minutes, I will toss a bucket full of water on you." She threatened. "And I will make sure it's freezing cold."
That threat got him moving. He started dressing in a clean pair of the jeans he had been loaned, but then he remembered that today was Friday. After days of reviewing prices and money he would finally be working at the Wharf stand today. He would need to wear the other clothing - garb, Norah called it. It was looser than the other clothing he had, made from more natural materials, and handmade judging from the stitching that held it together. While it was still different than what he wore on Pern, it was closer than anything else he had seen here, and he relaxed under it's familiar weight.
Norah was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee, waiting patiently for him to wake up. Her garb was far more somber in hue than his: her underskirt was black, the top skirt was a roughly woven beige and black striped fabric, and the odd laced vest she wore was a dark grey. Normally her chest was hidden by the t-shirts she favored, but today the collar of her shirt had been pulled open wide to display the decolletage her vest pushed up. To find her assets displayed so openly was quite a shock - a welcome one, but a shock nonetheless - and he found himself staring a little longer than what might be considered appropriate. He quickly glanced away and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot brewing on the counter before she could catch that he had been gawking at her like an addle brained apprentice.
A bucket full of water sat in the sink - just like she had promised. He eyed it warily, "Surely you weren't actually going to dump that on me."
"Maybe." He stared at her and she smiled then shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have, because then I would have had to help you move your mattress into the yard so it could dry, hang your sheets out on the line, and we don't have time for that."
"Ah." He sat down at the table next to her, pouring in sweetener and a spice labeled cinnamon until the coffee more closely resembled the klah he was used to. "Do you usually have to resort to such threats to get people up in the morning?"
"Sometimes - Mud can sleep through anything, and Marcus can be just as bad."
"Marcus is your son, correct?"
"Yes."
"Where is he?" Domick had not seen a child running about the Stewes - unless they were the source behind the strange music.
"He's staying with my mother for Spring Break. He'll be back next week."
"Spring Break?" He asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Um, kids here go to school until they are 18 or graduate the 12th grade. Some schools go from September to June with breaks in December and in the Spring to break up the monotony. Marcus goes to a year round school, so he goes for two months or so and then he gets a month off."
"Ah." On Pern harpers taught the children every day, except for rest days and gather days. He found himself wondering how the children did not forget their lessons.
"How are your hands this morning?"
"Better, thank you." He took a sip of his coffee. "The ointment you gave me was... interesting." First it had been hot one moment, and then cold the next. And it had smelled strange too - sharp, cool, and oddly refreshing. While he had gone to Oldive in the past for various liniments to help with this ache or that pain, usually they did not smell nearly as nice.
"Good - just be careful to wash your hands off after you use it. Sometimes the... effects can transfer to other... parts of your body if you're not careful."
"I noticed."
Norah snorted and choked on her coffee. Domick took a step towards her side but she waved him away. "I'm fine. I'm fine." She coughed to cover her embarrassment and clear her throat. "C'mon. Enough chattering - there's work to be done."
"Lead on."
She dumped her coffee mug in the other side of the sink, and pulled out the bucket of water. When he offered to carry it for her, she shook her head and told him he could carry it tomorrow - she did not want his hands cramping up on him again. She lugged the bucket down to the Wharf Stage, some of the water splashing up over the sides and dampening her skirt enough that the fabric clung to her legs. She ignored it, and set the bucket on the stage. "There are some pitchers in the alcoves - can you get them for me?"
"Yes." He found them, a mix of clay and glass jugs sitting on a shelf, and carried them out to her.
"Now one of the things we do every day is to make sure there is water available for the performers." She explained as she filled them with the water from the bucket. "Honestly, they could get the water for themselves... but they forget. It's easy to do when beer and other stuff is easily available. Speaking of, we don't care if you drink while you're working at the stand, just make sure you aren't drunk and make sure to drink water as well that way you don't get dehydrated. It is not fun."
They put the water pitchers back where he had found them, and she led him out to the stand. "Once the water is taken care of, we start to set up the stand." She unlocked the sides, swinging them up to provide shade around the outside of the booth. Then they entered it and she walked him through unpacking the boxes so all of the goods were displayed on the counter tops "Put them out in groups of five - there's not enough room for anymore and we can add more as we sell them off. If it's a t-shirt or some other article of clothing, make sure to set them out smallest size to largest."
Domick nodded as he followed her instructions. Soon they had everything set out and prices hung from the rafters and side poles where customers could see them.
"And now?" He asked.
"We wait." Norah eyed the clock that hung in the rafters. "It's 9:00am, Faire doesn't open till 10:00am. We made pretty good time. Normally, I'm still putting things out by the time the gates open."
"Or you could go to the all cast meeting like you're supposed to." Mudd said as he passed by.
"Or we could do that." Norah agreed.
"All cast meeting?" Domick asked as eyed the dubious fuzzy purple robe the old man wore.
"It's where the management - Bliss and them- give updates on the weather, what gigs are going on, who's visiting from other faires - that sort of thing. It's usually very boring, but it's good information to know, and it'll give you a chance to meet everyone." She grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the booth.
Domick soon learned that Norah was correct - for the most part the all cast meeting was very boring. Bliss stood on a stage in the middle of the Festival of Feast - which was also called the food court, Norah told him - and discussed how it should be a little warmer today but not too hot. She reminded them all to drink water, and that if a guest started to bother you, you could go up to another performer and use the safe word to ask for help without ruining the show.
"Domick," Bliss called out to him after she dismissed the meeting. "How are you this morning?"
"Well, and yourself?"
"Good, good. About the other night..."
He couldn't quite keep the grimace off his face.
"It's been straightened out." Norah stepped forward before he could speak.
"Yes, we've both discussed it and reached a resolution." He added.
"Good, Good. I came over to speak to you about something else though," Bliss handed him an envelope. "Since you don't have a social security card we can't pay you normally - but I'm not going to let you go without either. That should be enough for you to get some of your own things and have enough left over to last you until next week."
"We get paid every Friday." Norah elaborated.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome dear." She patted him on the arm. "I'll be by later to see how you're doing."
Domick closed his eyes. He was not a child who needed checking up on. Before he could say anything though, Norah grabbed his arm and started pulling him away. "See you then!" She let go of him as soon as they were far enough away. "Don't be peeved - she's just like that with people who are new to faire. Even if you weren't .. well... you... she'd still be stopping by to see how your day was going and if you were enjoying yourself."
"Ah." He felt a little less offended now.
"So how much did she pay you?"
He opened the envelope Bliss had handed him and flipped through the bills inside. "Four hundred." That seemed a bit excessive for the menial labor he had been doing the past week. "Surely that can't be correct."
"No, that's about right for minimum wage in California."
Since he did not have a purse, and the pants he wore did not have pockets, he slid the envelope through the neck of his shirt. He looked up to find her watching him with a bemused look on her face. "Yes?"
"Nothing. It's just that, we do have extra pouches if you'd like to use one."
"Good morning, Miss Norah." A cheerful voice called out, interrupting Domick before he could speak. Norah's pleasant expression instantly became troubled as they spotted a figure in a red and black uniform walking towards them.
"Good morning, Captain Harris." She called out to him, but did not return the smile he gave her.
"Master... um..."
"Domick." The harper reminded him of his name.
"Yes, yes." Harris turned back to Norah. "When will Marcus be returning?"
"Next week."
"I was wondering if I might be able to..."
"Nope." Norah cut him off. "Excuse me." She stepped around him and started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"Could you give us a moment alone please?" Harris asked Domick.
Domick shook his head; while Norah did not seem to be in any pain, the Captain of the Queen's guard was grabbing her arm rather tightly. Also it bothered him that while she had made it very clear that she did not want anything to do with the man, he persisted in trying to talk to him. To Domick's surprise, she nodded at him. "Go on - I'll be at the stand in just a moment."
"Alright." Even though he did not want to, he left them standing there.
Eventually he reached the stand in front of the Wharf stage. He stood outside of it, looking over the various products that they offered and making sure that everything was arranged how Norah wanted it. He hated to admit it, but without her to tell him what to do next, he was a bit lost. He glanced back down the way he had come, expecting to see her walking towards him - surely whatever the Captain had to discuss with her wouldn't take that long - but he spied Mudd instead.
"Where's your partner in crime?" The old man asked.
"Talking with Harris."
Mudd's eyebrows rose at that. "Really? What about?"
Domick shrugged - he had never been one to indulge in gossip and he was not about to start now.
"Well, the Faire's about to open. Hopefully she'll be back soon. I wouldn't want you to be stuck out here by yourself."
"Mmm."
"Gates open in ten. I'll see you then."
"Where are you off to if they open so soon?"
"I can't let my adoring fans see me in this now, can I?" Mudd opened his arms wide, showing off more of the questionable purple bathrobe. "Or does it look good on me? I could be on to the newest and latest fashion trend."
Domick's silence must have spoken volumes, for the old man laughed and turned around. "Change it is then!"
Norah returned to the stand shortly before the gates opened. Even though it was still early in the day, she looked exhausted and her eyes and nose were red as if she had been crying. Upon seeing Domick's shocked look, she shook her head. "I'm fine." He doubted that, but when he started to open his mouth to say so she glared at him. "I'm fine."
If his apprentices thought his temper was bad, he wondered what they would make of the woman standing next to him and her current mood. Likely they would run back to whatever hold or hall they came from and cling to their mother's skirts.
Far off in the distance he heard a blare of trumpets. Norah cursed, and ducked into the booth. Domick watched as she squatted between the counter tops and pulled a small mirror from the pouch hanging on her belt. What she saw must have displeased her, for she cursed again and pulled a small assortment of various tubes and tubs from the pouch. She smeared their contents on her face until her red nose and eyes were much less noticeable.
Norah had always struck him as a practical woman. Aside from today, she normally dressed in jeans and t-shirt, and he had yet to notice if she wore make up. So, it was a bit of a shock for her to suddenly be so vain about her appearance, and he found himself staring a bit longer than he meant to. She glanced up, caught him, and blushed - which was another first. "How far away are they?"
"Who?"
"The Queen and her entourage."
"Ah." So that was what the noise was. "I can hear them, but I cannot see them yet."
Norah tucked her cosmetics in her pouch and held her hands up to him, "A little help please? It's hard to get up from the floor in here when you're wearing a bodice." He grabbed them and tugged her to her feet. She almost fell into him, but quickly caught herself. "Thank you."
He nodded, watching her again as she brushed the dirt off of her skirt. She then proceeded to start refolding the shirts that they had set out earlier. Had she completely taken leave of her senses? "Those are fine."
"I know."
"Then why are you folding them again?"
"To look busy."
Domick continued to stare at her, unsure of what to say next. There were several questions and statements brewing in his mind, but none of them seemed like a wise thing to give voice to considering the manic mood she was in.
"I don't want him to think he upset me." She finally explained.
"Who?"
However the Queen's procession was drawing near and Harris lead the phalanx of guards surrounding her and her court. Norah gave a quick shake of her head and continued refolding the shirts.
Domick sighed, wishing, yet again, that he was at the harper hall. Yes the holder girls they sometimes taught were flighty, but he rarely had to deal with them. In fact he saw Menolly and Silvina far more often than he ever saw them. They at least were sensible and not mad like this daft woman standing next to him.
The Queen was passing directly in front of them now, and the harper found his eyes drawn to her figure in a sea of red. She was a pretty thing with red hair, dressed in a gown made of rich gold fabric that the weavers would probably die to get their hands on. Even though he knew it was pretend, it was a bit odd that she was so heavily protected; from what he understood a King or Queen was the equivalent of a Lord Holder, and he had never known of Groghe or any other Lord going about escorted by guards. "Why is there so much fuss over a silly little girl?"
"Queen Elizabeth was hardly silly - she was very powerful and smart. Bliss has tons of books on her and her family if you're interested. And the actress playing her is not little - she's our age."
"And what is our age?"
"Well, I'm twenty eight, and you look like you're thirty. Vicky there is twenty seven." She smoothed her hands over the stack of shirts she had just folded. "How old are you anyways, or is that one of the things you can't..."
"Thirty Four turns."
"Hm."
"How old is Marcus?"
"Nine."
"And Mudd and Bliss?"
"They're in their sixties." There were heavy footsteps behind them, and Norah smiled as Mudd came racing out of the Wharf.. "Speaking of the devil..."
The old man no longer wore his bathrobe - instead he had changed into a shirt and jerkin. However, instead of being made out of a simple fabric in an indeterminate shades of brown like Domick's, Mudd's garb appeared to be made of every fabric and color known to mankind. "Did I miss her?"
"She went that way." Norah pointed towards the retreating procession.
"Hopefully I'm not too late..." The old man took off at a clip, his guitar banging against his back as he ran.
"What is he up to?" Domick asked.
"He's probably off to propose to the Queen again."
"What?" Why in the world would a Queen want to marry an old harper like Mudd?
"It's a bit he does maybe once or twice a year for laughs." Seeing that he still looked confused, she continued to explain how the Faire worked. "From now until closing, everyone who is not working at a shop or stand has a character to play and they'll interact with each other and with the guests to entertain our visitors and give them an idea of what Elizabethan life might be like. Those little interactions are called bits or gigs. Sometimes there are faire wide ones like when the Queen decides to run away, or when someone gets 'married'."
"Don't you have better things to do with your time? More productive things?" The questions slipped out before he could stop them. Off in the distance he could hear Mudd begin to play some little tune and promptly butcher it.
She shrugged. "Maybe, but as Shakespeare said 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They each have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts'." Her eyes sparkled with a sudden passion that left him stunned. "This may seem completely pointless and a waste of time to you, but what we do is important; we give people a place to come and relax and enjoy themselves and visit a bygone era when things were supposedly better. And like it or not, you're stuck here until you can find something better. Now, we have guests to sell things t0o, so let's get to work."
AN part 2: No where in Dragonsinger does Anne McCaffrey mention Domick's age, so I had to come up with one. As the current actor who I picture as Domick in my head is about 34, I went with that.
~AS
