DEDICATED TO GINALEE AND SHE WHO SNICKERS AT GRAPES. You two got me writing again! I hope you enjoy this bit as much as the rest.
NOTE: i don't know if dragonrider's is one word or two seperate words. If anyone else does, I'd love to know!
CHAPTER SIX
The anticipation for Fort's coming Gather was like a palpable pressure in the air. Everywhere Skipper went he heard the whispered plans for the coming celebration. Girls and boys alike were buying new clothes, or cleaning their best.
Never having attended a Gather, Skipper remained unaffected by his peers enthusiasm. The most he could get out of it was that a Gather's purpose was for foreign holders to purchase wares from the Gather site, and an excuse for the rich to stuff their faces. Huzzah, he thought, as he reflected on these unsavory details of tomorrow night. Harpers were expected, which, in fact, meant ordered, to perform at these celebrations. The whole thing seemed utterly pointless, and with the Gather suddenly looming above him, he realized that his rejection of it had kept him from preparing for it in any way. Except musically, of course.
Mastersinger Jameth would single-handedly slaughter all of his students if they messed up his presentation. It had been almost three months since the Incident of Skipper's Initiation (as the students now called it), but it had not faded from the Mastersinger's mind. He expected complete cooperation from his pupils. Though Skipper was not a soloist, something he desperately wished he was ready for, he was still expected to sing with the choir. That included not only showing up, but looking presentable. Which meant that he needed clothing, something he was seriously lacking in, having never had the need for more than two outfits before this.
This all put the young Apprentice into an extremely foul mood. He did not want to go, and he certainly didn't want to waste what little marks he had managed to gain on clothing! He wasn't Looey or Ellie, obsessed with the latest fashions, he was a teenage boy, by the Egg! And totally unconcerned with the way he looked. Except for his hair, but that was another matter entirely. The point was, that the insufferable Mastersinger Jameth was out to break the will of every free spirited student under this roof!
He knew he was being unfair. Hanging around Rosa meant coming into constant contact with her kinsman, and when not teaching a class he was actually rather agreeable. But at that moment Skipper was not feeling at all charitable towards him, and in fact wished something would happen to ruin the whole damn performance!
He hastily took that thought back. "What was I thinking?" he mumbled to himself, "some unknown and thus totally unpredictable and probably malicious force will likely make it come true! And with my luck, I'll be the object that does its bidding! Ugh! I do not need another taste of Jameth's fury."
Skipper kept walking through the Hall, making his way to the unofficial meeting ground of the 'gang', in one of the Hall's many courtyards. His last class having been on the other side of the Hall entirely, he was the last to get there. He came upon a happy scene; Looey absently braiding Tally's hair, who was sitting at the foot of a bench reading a book, Ellie and Rosa chatting comfortably while making flower wreathes, and Koby and Grant in stitches as Issie imitated one of the Masters. As Skipper drew closer, it became apparent that Issie was imitating no other than the Mastersinger, something that suited Skipper's mood quite nicely at the moment.
He plopped down on the bench next to Looey to watch the end of the impromptu performance. "SING!" Issie bellowed, making his voice deeper and puffing out his chest as he tilted back his head and raised his arms. "PROJECT!" He then proceeded to go through the warming up exercises in the voice of a terrified and stammering little girl, "Do, R-re, Me, F-fa, So, La, Ti, Do!". He then finished with a scream and a "NOOOO! Don't kill me Mastersinger! I only missed the beat by a mili-second! Just a mili-second!" Issie allowed his voice to come choked out on the last bit, as if being strangled. He fell to the ground and jumped back up almost immediately, bowing when he gained his feet.
Everyone's attention in the group was drawn to Issie's production when Skipper entered the scene, and they all erupted into ruckus laughter at its close. Rosa, too, was laughing heartily. Apparently even she was fed up with her uncle's demanding curriculum. Skipper joined in the laughing as well, although his was perhaps more cruel than the others.
He quickly reverted back to his sulking, thundercloud attitude, causing Rosa to tactfully back away. Ellie, on the other hand, was ever optimistic, and totally oblivious and uncompromising to others bad moods. She bounced up to Skipper, grabbed his shoulders, and tilted him back off the bench. She laughed hysterically when he fell on the grass, causing the others to grin and shake their heads. Skipper had to admit that the girl had a charming naivete about her, and was great at breaking the ice.
He sat up with a sigh, no longer fuming, but simply depressed. Tally raised an eyebrow over her book as Skipper plopped down into the grass. "What's the matter with you then?" She asked in a cautiously curious manner.
That innocent question opened the floodgates. "The same thing that's the matter with everyone else! The Mastersinger! Working us to the bone, keeping us extra hours and having us skip other classes, as if his is the most important!" he clenched fists and teeth as he continued, "and the Gather! Ugh! A totally pointless and unnecessary affair! A total waste of marks, which I don't even get to waste, because all mine have to go to buying a new damn outfit! Which leads us back to the Mastersinger, and how he thinks he can control every aspect of our lives! Well he's got another thing coming! I'm not wasting all my marks on some worthless outfit that I'll probably never wear again just so he can look good!" he punctuated the last four words by slamming his fist into his hand.
There was total silence for a moment, before Ellie asked incredulity, "You don't want to go to a Gather?", once again effectively breaking the ice and giving the others the courage to put their two sense in.
"Gather's really are quite enjoyable, Skip," Rosa attempted.
"Quite enjoyable! That doesn't even come close! It's a blast!" Koby put in helpfully.
"Great," Skipper muttered, "so the Gather is fun? So what? That doesn't solve the mark problem."
"Skip, you great bumbling oaf!" Looey drawled, "my father is the Lord Holder of Fort! I'll give you the scorched marks!"She finished her declaration by all but throwing a pouch of marks at the completely dumfounded boy.
Armed with his newly acquired pouch of marks and his own good head for haggling, Skipper made his way down to the stalls in the hopes of finding a new outfit. He quickly discovered that when it came to clothing, he was very picky. It had to fit him just right, have just the right look, and just the right color.
This proved to be a major setback time-wise. He was supposed to just get something that looked decent and get out. Not waste hours going through the racks. Looey had been kind enough to give him the marks for his new outfit, he figured he should put them to good use. At least, that's what he kept trying to convince himself. In reality, vain as he was wont to be, if he had a chance to look good, he was going to take it. Normally, he honestly didn't care. Who was he trying to impress on a daily basis? But on special occasions, you never know who you're going to run into.
After an hour or two of unsuccessfully looking through stalls, Skipper decided it was time for a break. With a cup of hot klah in his hand and a roll in the other, he went to an alley between stalls to rest in their shade. He drained the klah in a few gulps and tossed the cup into a nearby waste bin. Having been in a hurry to get something in his stomach, he had simply rushed to a spot to rest. He was putting the change from his purchase in his pouch when someone slammed into him from the main walkway.
"Hey!" Skipper exclaimed, furious at this intrusion, "what is your..." a hand was put over his mouth, effectively cutting off what was rapidly turning into a very disgruntled rant.
"Shh!" a male voice said into his ear. Whoever it was, they were trying very hard not to laugh. "Just a minute." Skipper squirmed around enough so that he could see the other boys smiling face. The blue eyed, blonde haired boy was snickering almost uncontrollably, though it didn't seem his mirth was directed at Skipper. After a moment of being stuck in this seemingly hysterical boys grasp, a whole group of young men ran past the alley, laughing, yelling, and causing all kinds of drama for the stall holders.
When they were past the other boy released Skipper, finally allowing his choked laughter to be released. Skipper, unsure of what to do, stood there uncomfortably before bending down to retrieve his scattered marks, the impact with the other young man having sent them flying. "Here," the other boy gasped out between his laughter, "sorry about that, Harper." Skipper took the marks from the unusually dressed boy. The young man was clad in some sort of leather suit, high boots, and gloves, though those were attached to his wide belt.
As he bent down to pick up a few more marks, he explained to Skipper why he had ran into him, literally. "You saw those boys?" he didn't wait for Skipper to respond, "well, they are my wing mates. They've been trying to pressure me into asking a pretty girl to the Gather tomorrow. I got tired of their pestering, so I threw a bag of flour in their faces." He burst out laughing, clapping Skipper on the back. "I didn't want you to give me away."
Skipper couldn't help but grin. "Didn't the stall holder get upset?"
The stranger rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit ashamed. "I reckon he will be, but it was worth the marks it'll cost me! The looks on their faces!" He shook his head, the grin still plastered to his face. Skipper was glad to hear that the boy would pay the stall holder back. The young Apprentice was not particularly fond of arrogance. Extending a hand, the boy introduced himself. "I'm N'tal, from Ista Weyr."
It should have registered before, but it took the boy introducing himself for Skipper to realize that he was standing with a dragonrider. "So, you're a dragonrider?" he asked, not quite believing it. Grant might be a weyrling, but that was nothing compared to a real dragonrider.
N'tal grinned proudly. "Sure am, rider of brown Caleth. And you're a Harper?" He asked questioningly. "I saw your marks." He added as an afterthought.
"Oh! Well. Not a Master yet, still just a lowly Apprentice," Skipper said good-naturedly.
The brown rider laughed, patting him on the back. "Well, I suppose I'm not quite a full-fledged dragonrider myself. I was just Impressed little over a year ago. We're not going to be ready to fight Thread for at least one more."
"Doesn't the idea of fighting Thread frighten you?" Skipper asked. He supposed he should feel shy, or at least awkward, but the other boy easily banished those thoughts. So, seeing as how he'd probably never get much of a chance to talk to a dragonrider again, he fell back into his usual confident manner and entered conversation with N'tal.
"Come, Harper," he seemed to disregard the fact that that was not Skipper's proper title, "let me buy you something to eat, considering I ruined your first meal." They walked for a minute before N'tal answered his question, "No, fighting Thread doesn't frighten me. It was what I was born and bread for. It's what I live for, I guess. I suppose you could say I have respect for it, not fear."
Skipper agreed amiably, and spent the rest of the day conversing with his new friend. They had to dodge the group of dragonrider's once, while they were drinking a cup of klah, but otherwise the day went by smoothly. It was getting late before Skipper realized that he had completely forgotten about buying an outfit.
"I forgot to look for an outfit for my presentation tomorrow! Ugh!" He cried out in frustration. "I have a crazy Mastersinger, too. He'll probably lock me up somewhere so that I can't ruin the show by looking out of place."
"That's no problem! We'll just go grab something before the stalls close." N'tal grabbed Skipper by the hand and drug him back into the marketplace. He stopped at the first stall he saw and grabbed an outfit off the racks. "Here, this will do."
Skipper, thinking it hopeless, had his head in his hands, fearing to look up. N'tal held up a violet, long sleeved shirt, with a black vest and a pair of matching black pants. "Of course you find an outfit on your first try," Skipper growled as he took it from N'tal. "Skipper eyed it critically. The colors meshed not only with each other but with Skipper himself, and the fabric pleasantly soft. "It'll do," he grunted.
The price, of course, was outrageous, something he made a point of declaring to N'tal. The dragonrider, on the other hand, simply said that the price was a statement of his good taste.
They walked back through the market in a companionable silence, clasping hands when it was time to part. "When we have more time I'll take you to meet Caleth," N'tal said with a smile.
Skipper tried to hide his eagerness as he readily agreed to the offer.
With an easy laugh, the brown rider said his farewell "See you around, Skip."
"Nice meeting you, N'tal." Skipper said, grinning as well.
As he watched the dragonrider walk away, he decided that it hadn't been a bad day, and that maybe he didn't hate Mastersinger Jameth that much after all.