Unlike working at the stand, there was no set routine for the dance troupe, as the performance schedule changed from day to day. Still the days fell into a sort of rhythm as Domick found his footing with the troupe.
Usually the days started out with Domick waking early to practice the songs Jal had given him on the guitar. While it had not taken him long to memorize the core music, he had been warned that the leader of the troupe occasionally liked to switch things up. Some tunes were not that different from songs he had heard on Pern. Others were very strange indeed.
Then he would dig through the clothing that had been given to him upon his arrival and try to find something suitable to wear that would match the rest of the troupe. Mudd, or both, might try to cajole him into helping set up the stand over coffee - it appeared the old man was learning that his good friend Bob had not changed for the better like he had claimed (he preferred smoking some noxious weed or drinking to actually working) - and then after he had turned down Mudd for the fifth time, Norah would finally emerge from her rooms with Marcus and they would head down to the morning meeting.
After the morning meeting, they helped set up camp. Then it was time for more practice, usually with Marcus, who took to music just as quickly as Domick thought he would. It wasn't long before Casey surprised the boy with a small drum, and he started joining the rest of the troupe on stage during performances. Interspersed with the shows were the occasional gig, which he often sat out, meals, which were often spicy but delicious, and the occasional quick liaison with Norah, which never progressed beyond kisses. While Domick might long for more, and it was clear that she felt the same way, by the time they returned to the Stewes at night, they were often too tired to do much more than watch TV... and that usually didn't last long. More frequently than he cared to admit, he would start watching one show with Mudd, only to blink and find that it was hours later, the old man was gone, and someone had thrown a blanket over him.
How others twice his age could stay up to all hours of the night, drinking and carousing was beyond him. While he was no longer sore from opening and closing the Gentleman's stand all by himself, all the walking around Pembroke was draining in a whole new way that reminded him of his journeymen days... only with less stubborn holder brats to drum the ballads into.
"It's the weather," Norah explained when he brought it up. "You'll get used to it eventually."
He had to concede that she had a point. While Fort was no stranger to hot spells, the heat that seemed to be invading Pembroke was dry and seemed to be baking everything in its path. What once had been green and marked with flowers was now brown and dusty. The only colors were the buildings, the wares, and the decorations strung from windows and trees like gather flags. He was grateful to be wearing loose clothing while the Faire inched towards full summer. The playtrons who dressed in 'English' garb were often red faced and drenched in sweat despite sticking to the shade as much as possible and drinking copious amounts of water and other beverages. One or two had to be removed by emergency services and taken to the local hospital that he had been trapped in for overheating. Despite that they were often back the next weekend, still wearing the same clothing.
"Does it ever end?" Domick asked, dunking the head wrap that Jal had let him borrow into a bucket of water hidden in the tent for that very purpose. His normally neatly groomed hair would be a mess of tight curls later... which he was sure Norah would have a field day with later. His tanned skin - which he heard one of the dancers called olive... though why they were comparing him to a small green pitted fruit was beyond him - felt tight and dry like the ground outside and the bits of him that were exposed to the elements had taken on a red hue from the intensity of the sun beating down on everything.
"November if we're lucky."
He grimaced at the thought of that. Why would anyone want to live in such a forsaken land? Southern, for all it's faults, didn't quite get hot like this. Igen might, but at least the holders there had adapted ways to work around it. Both groups were quite fond of taking breaks in the middle of the day and early afternoon when the heat was at its worst. These people, however, seemed determined to march on no matter what the cost.
Norah passed him a jug with a brightly colored liquid in it. "Drink." At his dubious expression, she explained. "It's called gatorade. It'll help you stay hydrated."
"I've been drinking water." He protested.
"And if you keep drinking just water, especially at the amounts you've been chugging it, in this heat, you will flush your system and you'll go down and you'll end up in the hospital like one of those idiots." She jerked her thumb out at the crowd of playtrons milling around.
"In his defence," Hassim called out. "At least the hospital has air conditioning."
She rolled her eyes at that, but then lowered her voice so that only Domick could hear. "I'd like to enjoy midsummer with you, not be sitting by your bed nursing you through heat exhaustion."
Hoping that she was hinting at what he thought she was, he took the drink and chugged it even though the over sweetness and artificial flavors made him gag. Orange juice did not taste anywhere close to what these Gatorade people thought it did. "What about Marcus?"
"Mudd's going to take him to spend time with his dad. The guard is supposed to be shooting off some fireworks."
"We could sneak off to the hotel again."
"I don't think we're going to be able to pull off that again for awhile."
"Even if we stay the night?"
"Yep. Pretty sure they have a picture of us posted in their office somewhere with a big no sign over it."
He grimaced. "Pity."
"It's really not that great of a hotel. I mean it's not filled with roaches or anything, but it's not the Hilton." Her smile took on a devious quality. "Looks like you'll have to lower your standards a bit and put up with the Stewes."
"While I'm certain it's passable in the right lighting, what of the others who stay there?"
She pursed her lips. "Well, Mudd and Marcus will be out with Harris, and everyone else will probably be drinking. So we won't have to worry about any interruptions if things should... happen." She filled his mug with more Gatorade. "Drink up."
Jal would choose that moment to interrupt. The man strolled into the back of the tent with his guitar strung across his back and his arms crossed over his chest. "What are you two plotting?"
Norah flushed a pretty shade of pink. "Nothing."
"Pretty sure it has something to do with sexy times!" Hassim called out from the front.
"Pretty sure it has nothing to do with you." She shouted back.
"Pretty sure that's a yes then." Jal grinned.
Domick noticed that the pretty shade of pink on the dancer's cheeks had turned a bright red that rivaled the sun burn on his skin. "I hate you all."
"Hate us if you must. We have a show coming up." He jerked his thumb towards the front of the tent. "Let's go."
"I'm going to stomp on your toe really hard during my dance." Norah threatened.
Jal acted affronted, giving a performance worthy of the Masterharper himself. He clutched a hand to his chest and pretended to swoon. "You wouldn't dare."
"Watch me."
Domick shook his head as he followed the two out into the bright sunshine. For a moment, he thought he spotted brown, blue, and green firelizards taking to wing above them, and judging from the gasps and pointing he wasn't the only one, but when he looked again, all he saw was brightly colored balloons drifting through the sky. He took a deep breath, expecting that old familiar pang of homesickness to strike yet again... but it never came. Instead, Norah grabbed his hand and Marcus fell into step next to them, babbling about some thing or another. Ahead, the troupe marched forward - Jal calling out to the crowd as they passed by, Atiya and Sakina playing their zills, while Casey beat on the drum next to his side.
In the past, Domick had wondered what he might do if a dragon were to show up right in front of him. Not that such a thing was possible, but he had dreamed of it happening. He had dreamed of climbing up on the back of the dragon and flying far far away from here, back to his old life in the hall. On Pern he had purpose. Here, he was just another face in the crowd.
Now though? Now, he wasn't so sure what he would do.
On Pern he didn't really have anyone to share the comforts of his position with. He was not close with his family. He had thought his fellow masters were friends, but over time it was becoming clear that they were just colleagues and nothing more. And as much as he might enjoy Menolly, Sebell, and Talmor's company - they were students. That wasn't to say that he didn't care for them, or miss them, or anything like that. He did. However...
Here Mudd, Bliss, and this motley crew of dancers and musicians had claimed him as their own... though only Faranth knew why they had adopted him. Then there was Norah to consider; while he hesitated to put a name to what his feelings for her were, he certainly cared for her opinion far more than he had with previous dalliances. She was reserved at times with her own feelings, which was understandable considering her history, but there was no doubt that she returned his regard. He might not have a purpose, or much in the way of comforts, but he had people who cared for him beyond what his position in the Hall was.
Returning to Pern would be the right thing, if the opportunity arose. But would he have the strength to do it?
After the show, Norah insisted that Domick rest in the shade and let the others gig. He gladly did so, eagerly taking the pitcher of water she foisted on him. Marcus plopped down unceremoniously in the grass next to him, and her concerned gaze flickered between her son and the harper. "Why don't you tag along with me back to the tent?"
"I'm fine." Domick insisted. "It's fine." How bad must he look if she thought he couldn't handle a child?
"Mmm." She hummed, clearly not convinced but she started to walk away nonetheless. "I'll be back in a moment with some lunch. Don't do anything too strenuous or stupid." That last bit of advice was for her son, who rolled his eyes at her warning.
He at least had the wherewithal to wait until she was out of hearing range before pestering him. "Teach me another song?"
Domick opened up an eye to peer at him. "Like what?"
"I dunno. Moreta's Song?"
He snorted at that, "That's a bit complex for you at this point." Granted, the child was a fast learner and had mastered most of the beginner rhythms and codes with relative ease. "And your mother is right... nothing too strenuous right now." The thought of hearing drums, much less playing them made his head pound.
The boy pouted. Actually stuck out his lower lip and pouted. "Fine."
Such looks held no power over Domick. That didn't stop apprentices from trying from time to time, but it never fared well for them. However he had no energy for that conversation today. Instead he offered, "How about a teaching ballad?"
"A teaching ballad?" Marcus rolled his eyes at that, clearly expecting some song going over numbers or something in a similar vein. Those same eyes grew wide when the harper pulled his guitar across his lap and strummed an opening chord.
"Honor those the dragons heed,
In thought and favor, word and deed.
Worlds are lost and worlds are saved,
From those dangers dragon-braved.
Dragonman, avoid excess;
Greed will bring the Weyr distress;
To the ancient Laws adhere,
Prospers thus the Dragonweyr."
As he sang, a crowd had gathered, watching him with interest so he repeated the opening before repeating the second and third stanzas. Once the last notes died away, a few of his audience offered coins and bills. Marcus being the smart child he was, quickly ran back and forth between them, holding out his hat and collecting the money. After they left, he dropped down next to Domick once more. "What a haul! Mom will be impressed!"
The harper snorted at that as he eyed the amount. It was a decent number, but not as much as the dance troupe hauled in after a show. He had gotten tips when others had heard him practicing before, and more than a few had taken videos of him to share up on some app called Tik Tok. He wasn't sure what the purpose of such a thing was - lip syncing to songs someone else sang - and it was more than a little strange to see himself singing and playing, like the recording of himself that Norah had played for him when had first arrived here. The others found it entertaining though and had giggled over and teased him for a few days... until they realized that he would never respond how they expected him too and promptly gave up.
Domick stood, ignoring how his head throbbed as he did so. "Let's go find your mother."
"She said she'd be back."
"Well, clearly she's been detained or distracted by something." At least, he felt it was safe to assume that. Perhaps she had been detained by Harris, though he was hesitant to bring up the man's name in front of Marcus. While the boy had attended dinners at the guard camp with Mudd since his mother and Harris had come to an agreement, from what he had gathered, Marcus spent more time ignoring the man than actually engaging with him. Which had led Harris to complain that Norah had alienated her son from him... which had led Norah to point out that Harris had done a good job of doing that himself by never showing up. Just like Fort Hold was not built in a day, a relationship between Marcus and his father would also take time - something the man didn't want to recognize.
Domick wondered how much longer it would be until Harris started attacking him next. Judging from the way he glowered in his direction whenever he spied Marcus and the harper practicing, he was sure it would only be a matter of time.
"Maybe we should just wait here."
"Do I look that ill?"
Marcus worried at his lower lip. "Yeah?"
"It's a short walk." He reassured the boy. "I'll be fine."
"Mom will kill me if you go down. She'll think I had something to do with it."
"No, I'm pretty sure it'll be my hide that's dragged over the fire. Not yours." He ruffled his hair. "Here, carry the guitar." That way if he did collapse, he wouldn't injure it with his weight. Not that he was a large man, but he was a good deal stouter than the Masterharper.
Marcus nodded, slinging it over his shoulder, and set off, leading him through the crowd and back to camp. "There's going to be a water balloon fight tomorrow."
"Master Domick!" A voice, husky and familiar interrupted their conversation.
The harper frowned, but assumed it must be a hallucination. Great. Now not only was his head throbbing, but he was hearing things as well. He'd be lucky if Norah didn't make him sit things out tomorrow. The brief grimace must have been enough to worry Marcus, for the boy's smile had faltered. He forced his face into a more pleasant expression. "So I've heard. Are you and Fancy's son going to team up?"
"Yeah! We have it all worked out. We're going to - "
"Master Domick!" The shouts came again. They were more masculine this time - a tenor and a baritone that matched the earlier alto in their familiarity. Others were turning to look around now, letting him know that he was not the only one who heard the cries. He stopped, his eyes scanning the crowd as he looked for their source, and then he spotted them - two journeyman and one recently promoted master.
Menolly, Sebell, and Talmor.