Disclaimer: I invented the characters and a few other things here and there, but the world and the positions of various people in said world belong to Anne McCaffery.

Special Note: this is my first fic. Don't eat me.

Another note: sorry to all about the whole deleting and reposting thing. I am computer illiterate, and didn't know how else to fix the format of my story. I figured I'd start over. Sorry for all that I inconvenienced or annoyed, but I saved ALL reviews, so all you out there that took the trouble to read my mediocre work and actually review, I say thank you! And it wasn't a waste of time, because they are all saved, nice and neat, in a folder.

Dedication: This is dedicated to my very dear friend Sydney. Her steadfast friendship and undying enthusiasm towards this project is one of the main things that keeps it going. Although, certain reviews have caused me to get my act together as well. :-)

CHAPTER THREE

Skipper stood, rather nervously, atop an improvised platform in the courtyard. He held in his hands a completely foreign piece of music, one that he was supposed to sing at the end of a drum roll. The young Apprentice once again glanced at the alien words, trying frantically to learn something he'd been given only ten minutes ago. After skimming the words for what seemed like the millionth time, he glanced up to the windows that his new 'friends' were crowded in. He gulped when he saw that a few more windows had silhouettes looking down at him. Apparently someone had spread the word that the new Apprentice was making a fool of himself.

He glanced up at the sky and noticed that the moon was nearly gone. They must be waiting for sunrise, he thought absently. It would make sense, he thought with a snort, I'll be the perfect wake-up call. He sighed and began shifting his weight from foot to foot. They were beginning to hurt. He reflected that it wasn't so bad that they were making him wait so long, it made him less nervous and more willing to simply get it over with.

The sun was just beginning to come up when the first of the cat calls began hailing him from the windows. "Hey, pretty lady, you wanna come up here and entertain for me?" Skipper felt his face heat up, and knew that it must be a startling shade of scarlet. He looked back down at the piece of music in an attempt to block out the rest of the jeering. When he glanced up at the sun again, he realized with a sickening wrench that it was above the horizon. Right on cue, a drum roll sounded. He didn't know where it came from, but another glance at the windows showed that Tally was missing. The boy scowled. He would get her later. He would get them all later. The drum roll exploded through the courtyard, causing Skipper to cringe. If there was anyone still asleep, they were surely awake now. When the last of the echoes died, he took a deep breath, and with a shaky voice began singing the words on the paper.

The drum roll forced silence, while Skipper's voice demanded it. He stumbled across the first few lines, missing high notes, but after the first verse his voice became steadily stronger. Thrilled that he had gotten his voice to stop shaking, he threw himself even deeper into the song, forgetting his surroundings. Halfway through the third verse, he was roughly yanked off his stage. He fell into the person that had ended his performance, and was stopped from falling by the man's crushing grip on his arm. It took him a minute to recognize Mastersinger Jameth with his hair down. Skipper swallowed and tried to break from his furious teachers hold.

"Stop squirming," Jameth hissed, voice dangerously low. Still holding Skipper's arm, he began to drag him back into the Hall. Skipper heard more jeering, some shouts of annoyance, and, above it all, the sound of laughter. He felt his face once again go a deep red. It was more than difficult to keep up with the older man, the heels proved to be a great handicap. It didn't help that the Mastersinger was worked up into a good fury and didn't care that he was practically dragging Skipper to their destination.

He didn't stop, or speak, until they entered his classroom and he was able to lock the door. The man was nearly shaking with pent up anger. Skipper gulped, trying to think of what the song was that he had been singing. He couldn't remember if it was anything important. He'd never even heard it before...

"Do you have any idea what you were just singing?" The Mastersinger was visibly clenching his jaw in an attempt to control his temper.

"No," Skipper said nervously, "I've never even heard it before. I didn't think it was that important." Jameth closed his eyes and turned his face up to the ceiling, as if pleading with the gods to give him strength.

"You haven't heard it before because it has been written specifically for the coming Gather. It was to make its debut then. Now it will be forever be embedded in Hall dwellers minds as just another average piece of music. Because of you! Because it was sung by a child! You've ruined the whole Gather!" He threw his hands into the air and sank into a chair.

Skipper shifted nervously. He felt terrible, but really didn't know what he was supposed to say. "I'm sorry, sir. It can still be sung at the Gather. Can't it?"

"Yes," Jameth said, voice muffled because his head was now resting on his arms. "It can still be sung. There will be Lords that have not heard it yet. But the surprise will be ruined. The...the magic of it will be taken away because there will be those that have already heard it."

Skipper took a step forward, thinking perhaps a pat on the back would be worth something. He decided against it at the last minute. It might set Jameth off again. "Surely, though, there is another Mastersinger that can sing it better than I?"

"Yes, yes, of course there is," he said with a wave of his hand, "but what's the point? I should just try to work with Master composer Murry on writing a new one." The tone of Jameth's voice made it clear that he thought that route was fruitless.

Skipper remained unsure of what to say. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to leave or start begging forgiveness. Thinking that keeping his mouth shut would serve best, he opted for that. After a few minutes of a very uncomfortable silence, Jameth looked up from where he was resting his head in his arms. "Are you still here?" he demanded, "get out." He pointed furiously at the door. Skipper ran for it without another word.