Title: Sisters
Author's Notes: Takes place shortly after Domick's song (Chapter 1), which takes place shortly after Dragonsinger. Written because I'd like to think petty, vain people can also be quite decent sometimes. :) I find a lot of Pern's characters are written to be largely Valiant or Unpleasant, so I'm trying to give Unpleasant a moment to shine. Also, heavy-handed use of a certain trope at the very end, but how can I resist? It's so romantic. Or something.
A cautious tap at the door ruined Elgion's self-imposed exile.
He was kidding himself. Exile? Elgion was flat out hiding from Half Circle Sea Hold. After Domick's little revenge, the whole population of Half Circle was creeping around the halls and docks. From what he could hear, no one had even dared sing any song, let alone "What a Fool."
For all he knew, Elgion's dismissal notice was already en route to the Harper Hall. The distance being what it was, it might take some time to reach its destination, and then return.
The tapping started again, and he relented with a sigh. "Come in?"
"Harper Elgion?" Sella, the oldest unmarried daughter of Yanus who still lived in the hold proper, tip-toed around the edge of the door and, easing the hinges slowly, shut it silently. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was feeling cautious about noise these days.
"Please, take a seat." Elgion gestured to one of the empty chairs across from his work table, but Sella shook her head and remained poised by the door.
"I won't take much of your time," she said, but then fell silent, watching with big, apprehensive eyes.
Journeyman Harpers were required to take at least a Turn of courses on mediation and counseling; because Domick had thrown him out of composition sessions, Elgion had had the free time- Master Robinton had kindly called it "the opportunity"- to study this easing practice at greater length. "What can I help you with, Sella?" he asked, modulating his voice to a more soothing register, though even the mere thought of Domick had set his nerves on edge again.
The girl wrung her hands in her skirt.
"Please, sit down," he repeated, rising from where he was seated. Sella relented, perching at the edge of a chair, and he chose a seat directly across from her. "Is something the matter?"
Sella picked at the embroidery on her work skirt, a rather pleasing pattern of white petaled sea flowers; Alemi had pointed these out to Elgion on their outing, as the unusual plant grew quite happily in sandy dirt. "It's ... Menolly. She's a journeyman?"
Add another tally mark to Domick's sins: gossip. "Yes, I had heard that to be so."
"She's Master Robinton's journeyman?"
"Yes, she is."
A furtive glance from underneath dark eyelashes. "There aren't any other girls who are at Harper Hall, are there?"
Elgion knew whatever he said now would probably circulate the whole Hold. He said, carefully, "Well, no, there haven't been official female apprentices and journeymen for some time now. But many of our Masters remember a time when a number of women participated in the Craft in the capacity of Singers, but the movement of people- especially women- between Holds slowed when Fax began his conquest. I believe even fostering was limited during that period. Master Robinton has lamented the recent lack of MasterSingers and females in general, and was pleased to find a gifted musician in Menolly."
Sella's hands were beginning to calm in her lap. "She'll have ... rank in the Hall?" she asked, and Elgion began to understand the girl's real concern.
"Yes," he replied, gently. "Menolly has already attained the status of Journeyman, with all the benefits and respect such a rank affords. And Master Robinton will make sure she does not suffer any bullying or abuse because of her gender. She has his full protection," he added, knowing what dangers a girl in the foreign hold could fear. Fax alone had caused horrifying tales to spread, but Hold life had always been difficult for females without the protection of their family.
"Oh!" Sella's smile now lit up a face that had been pale and creased with worry. "I am glad." Another dratted hesitation, and Elgion groaned silently, though remaining expressionless. "Could I ask a favor of you?"
Eggs, hatchlings, dragons. "What would you ask?" he replied, remaining non-committal but pleasant.
"Menolly, um, left- " Elgion almost snickered at the euphemism, "-without any of her things. I was hoping I could pack them up for her, and perhaps if you see her the next time there is a Hatching, or if you see her Master-" Sella cut herself off with horror, realizing she was asking the harper- and Master Robinton- to cart around and deliver possessions like a drudge. "I didn't mean- forgive me! It's just I've asked around, and since no runners come through, there's only boats and dragons, and anything that goes out by boat is reported to Father, and I can't send it by dragon without raising the banner, and I don't want him to know!" Sella looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment.
Shard Yanus. Elgion would behave as decorously as a Harper should- the Hold and its Holder had Elgion's allegiance, at least for his tenure as Harper- but Elgion was still his own man. Also, he suspected if he refused, Sella would melt into a weepy, noisy puddle on his office floor. "I will take a parcel to Menolly or her Master."
"Thank you," she breathed, and fled.
Elgion once again had peace and quiet to contemplate his awful fate. If only it would be that easy to win over Yanus, he thought despairingly.
Not to his credit, Elgion completely forgot about his promise.
A few months after the Domick Affair, one of Benden's junior queens produced a hearty clutch of eggs, and Elgion was sent word that a dragon would pick him up for the Hatching celebration.
"T'gellan, you wretch," was Elgion's greeting as the bronze dragon landed on the heights.
The rider had the temerity to grin. "Hello to you, too."
With the arrival of T'gellan and Monarth, the dragonheights had suspiciously cleared of any holders. Elgion suspected no one wanted to be caught in "that rider's" presence. "Please tell me this is the first moment of freedom you've had from hard, filthy, punishing labor at the Weyr," Elgion said, with little hope.
T'gellan gave a bright, merry laugh. "You'd think I would have been grounded for firestone duty, right? Turns out, Lessa thought it was funny. She wanted keep Menolly for a queen dragon, you know, according to Mirrim. She did have F'lar shift around the wings, though. I won't be flying Half Circle for a long time."
"You wretch," Elgion repeated, and sighed. "And of course Lessa likes Domick. They're both ... what should I call it ..."
"Perverse? Vicious? Evil?"
"Yes to all."
"Don't tell anyone I said that, or I will be grounded. And then I couldn't take you to Hatchings!" Elgion couldn't argue with that logic. "I'm to take you and maybe the nice brother, I don't know his name. Mirrim said that Menolly told her she liked one of her brothers."
"Alemi's out with the fleet right now."
"Oh, well." The bronze rider looked out to sea, where a few bright dots of sail floated near the horizon. "Well, Menolly will still be glad to see you. Mirrim said she would be at the hatching, with a brand new song."
Elgion wondered if T'gellan could even hear himself. "Really? Is that what Mirrim said?"
T'gellan flushed. "Yeah. And shut it." Elgion laughed, and then Monarth dropped his jaw and gave a deep chuckling rumble as well. "Both of you!" he continued, petulant, before he too gave in to laughter.
Several minutes later, Elgion was still laughing too hard to even fasten his flying jacket and still hounding the rider about his obvious crush on a bossy fifteen-year-old child, when a crash and a wail interrupted their banter.
T'gellan slid down Monarth's helpfully outstretched leg to help a sprawled dark-haired girl from where she had tripped on the top step. Sella's armful of packages had burst, spreading brightly colored bits of cloth and trinkets all over the stone heights.
"Harper," she panted, disheveled from her run and fall, "I hurried as fast as I could!"
And Elgion belatedly remembered his task. "Let me help you," he said, a little guiltily, as Sella knelt to pick up the mess.
"Sella," he said, as he rescued a handkerchief from being sucked straight into Monarth's curious nostril, "aren't these your pretty things?" The bit of cloth in his hand was stitched with a silvery, arching fish and artfully churned waves, a motif that matched the edging on the tunic Sella was currently wearing.
The girl's bottom lip wobbled a bit, and Elgion cursed himself silently for opening his big mouth. "Maybe," she said, and then gave way to torrents of weeping.
Monarth laughed at him silently. Like rider, like dragon. Wretches, the both of them.
Sella sniffled, wetly, and took the hanky from him, folding it and putting it in the reformed bundle. "After I spoke with you, I went to Menolly's room to collect her things. Mother had already given away all her clothing!" she exclaimed, with all the outrage of a pretty girl who embroidered even her everyday work clothes. Sella unwrapped a little knot of cloth, revealing a little whittled wooden shipfish, some shimmering shells, and a smooth sea stone carved in the shape of an M. "And what couldn't be reused, I found buried in the ash pit. I searched and searched, but these were all I could find. It's like she never even existed."
Elgion fingered the leaping shipfish, recognizing Alemi's work. T'gellan finished gathering the rest of the scattered possessions and folded them silently before walking back to his dragon, climbing up on his wide bronze back and leaning against his neck. Elgion suspected Monarth was comforting T'gellan, or at least talking him out of doing something rash.
"She doesn't have anything from Half Circle, and maybe she doesn't want to remember us. But it's still not fair." Sella nodded her thanks at T'gellan, and tied the neat bundle securely at the top. "I'll hand it up to you," she offered as she stood, extending the package toward T'gellan.
"Why don't you bring it to her yourself?" T'gellan asked. "Monarth can carry two as easily as one. And I've a spare cloak for visitors." He patted the fleece-lined wherhide cape tied and rolled at the front of Monarth's harness.
Sella hesitated, hugging the bundle to her chest. "I wasn't very nice to her," Sella said, abruptly, new tears making tracks down her wet cheeks. "She won't want to see me."
"She'll know you care about her," the bronze rider said, and Monarth nodded his great head as well. "I think Menolly needs that more than anything right now. And it'll be fun," he added, either not knowing or not caring about what was amounting to near-abduction.
Sella looked at her clothing, rumpled from her run to the heights, and then at T'gellan and Elgion, dressed in their Gather best. "I shouldn't," she said, a little sadly, and drew back. "I look a mess."
Elgion looked at her red eyes and bitten lips, her face aglow with a new sensitivity she hadn't possessed before. "Why, Sella," he said, and he meant it, "you're never looked more beautiful." Her answering smile was radiant.
Quickly, before good sense intervened to ruin the adventure, they enveloped her in the extra fur and strapped her to Monarth for her first dragon ride. As he wrapped his arms around the delighted, trembling girl, Elgion wondered how in the world he would ever get free of Half Circle if he ended up married to a daughter of the hold.
P.S. I'm working on a Dolphins story next.