Yarrow and Mink faced each other an hour later, when they'd been practically shoved into his rooms. Bigger than Yarrow's room had been – though just about anything would be – Yarrow found that all of her things had already been moved into them. Including the drum. So, they're still too afraid of the Riders to take that, even now that I'm "mated," she thought, pursing her lips.

Mink shifted uncomfortably. "I kind of was told what we're supposed to do," he signed clumsily to her, indicating the bed, and reminding Yarrow of Petia's constant patting of her hips. She winced. "Yeah, I agree – gross," he signaled. "I could, um, fake it, but you know Hannin said they'll check the sheets."

Yarrow's eyes widened. That's disgusting! Barbaric! What is this – Lessa's Turn? She signed slowly for his sake that she hadn't gotten the same amount of information he had at all. Something about children, and her hips – she emphatically thrust one out at him. But... that was all.

Mink turned redder. "I guess we could – maybe – pretend to be too exhausted tonight," he motioned.

Some weddings she'd heard of had great feasts, Gather-like atmospheres. Yarrow had read about Oldtimer weddings where half a continent and all the Weyrs represented. Jugglers, singers, Traders... everyone! They lasted for days sometimes. But this one – Yarrow and Mink had basically been thrown at one another and then shoved into a room to – do whatever mates were supposed to do.

You are supposed to – mate, Visigoth sent amusedly, a twinkle in the vibration. Yarrow also caught some laughing from B'nick.

That only made her more irritable. At least you know what to do! They didn't tell me at all. And he barely seems to know.

Well, then cuddle, sent B'nick. Go along with his pretense – for now.

Yarrow found that she had at least a small amount more freedom because she'd married the heir. She wasn't outwardly criticized or condemned for practicing her drum. Instead she could do it almost whenever she wanted... in a way. Petia kept "finding" other things for her to do.

Like sitting amidst the other "ladies" of the Hold while they did hours of needlework and chattering about the silliest things.

"...did you know, Ber'dra's rumored to be pregnant? Again? I think they're trying to populate the Weyr all by themselves! Not that F'lessan and his mate are ever liable to do more than the one. You know about Greens..." That was Edia, the long-nosed girl who was daughter of the cook.

"Hush, we've a friend of Dragonriders among us, you know," remarked Delia, one of the upper servants.

Yarrow looked around the group: high-up servants, daughters of high-up servants. Really? She was pretty sure that this was not the way it was supposed to be; servants weren't supposed to be drudge-worthy but they didn't get this much time off at Harper Hall, she knew. Petia wanted people to sit with her, to make her feel important, clearly. But she didn't pay any attention to them, clearly thinking them beneath her. She was concentrating on her needlework intently.

Yarrow looked at hers and frowned at the messy stitches. I'd rather be drumming,she thought and yawned involuntarily.

Instantly there was a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up into Petia's overly-concerned face. "You – clearly – had a long night," she said loud enough to be heard on the coast; Yarrow could tell by the wideness of her mouth. She was putting on a display. "I think we should let you go rest." Yarrow could see amused and knowing looks on the faces of those around her, as she nodded, playing along, and got up to head to her new rooms.

Drumming. Drumming. Hours later, she was interrupted by Petia again, who looked much more stern now that they were alone. "I know your game," she said. "Get nervous? And I suppose Mink wouldn't do anything. Well, his sire will take care of that! Tomorrow you'll be so sore you'll beg for a month left alone." With that cryptic remark, she left the room.

Yarrow picked up her drum and went outside after that. She was glad that now at least she could. As soon as she left the Hold, she headed a little westward – not too far from the Hold and not too close either, there was a little cove that nobody had used in Turns. It was a pretty place, too, she'd always thought; a gigantic bell sat there, that she could sense sometimes when the wind was up, but nobody ever said just why it was there. Yarrow just liked the location because it was good for practicing her drum. She could occasionally see the sails of the fishermen's broken-down craft, or the dolphins jumping about in the water a ways off.

She went through the regulation warmup beats Undabran had taught her before he went away. Yarrow missed the grouchy Harper, who'd at least known how to communicate with her properly, in a way few others she'd ever known could. If it was so hard to learn signs, she'd figured, then nobody would do it. But clearly, there was something else to it. Maybe they just didn't want to know. She turned her thoughts back to her practice.

By evening, her fingers were sore but she was getting beats down much better than before. Sometime, I'll even be able to drum my way out of here, she thought wistfully. She'd actually felt a little important the one time she'd been in a drum tower. Maybe, she thought, looking over at the huge bell, that was used for something important once too.

Suddenly she was alerted to a little flash not far away, and hurried out of her cove. So far, Yarrow's hiding place hadn't been discovered – sure enough though, there was little Rush who'd doubtless been sent to find her, because he headed right in the girl's direction as soon as he caught sight of her. She sighed inwardly, though at least he was a nicer messenger than a lot of those Mink or his detestable parents could summon.

They were heading back to the Hold, when Rush dug claws into Yarrow's shoulder, making her shriek n pain. She whirled, seeing someone coming toward her: it was a young man with a small satchel over his shoulder, one she didn't know. Yarrow started to run, but he was faster. He grabbed her by the arm and started yelling something at her; she could feel his breath coming erratically and sense the vibrations of it. She could also sense Rush's fright, and knew he was battering the man with his small wings and claws. Good Rush!

The man whirled her around and made her face him. Like Hannin would do, he started that overly-urgent enunciation. "You – are – far – out – from – home – girl."

I know that, she thought with irritation. She made a face at him and he squeezed her arm harder.

"You – will – come – with – me – till – you – can – say – where – you – belong," he continued, and then he spotted the drum. "Harper?" He shook her by the shoulders. "Are – you – a – Harper?"

Yarrow's heart beat a little faster.