Thank you so much to the people who have left reviews! They have all been very complimentary, and are very encouraging! So thank you to ginalee, Amere Mortal and paisley is a kind of pattern!
Oops, disclaimer thing. I don't own Pern or related establishments. Just Mor, Dioron, Drianne, Brek and some of the minor characters.
"Scares you? Why?" she asked in surprise. "He seems nice to me."
"He keeps looking at me funny," Mor said with a shiver.
"Don't worry about it," she advised. A loud bell started ringing, and she grabbed his arm. "Hurry up, we're late for lunch!"
They got through the door and to their seats as Sebell entered, so all they got was a sharp look. They heaved a sigh of relief, then began their meal. Throughout the meal, Mor would look up to find Seth watching him. He would turn back to his conversation with Drianne, Brek and Allie, but he could still feel Seth's eyes on his back.
"What's the matter, Seth?" asked Trigarty, sitting next to him at the table. "You've been staring at that boy since we sat down. Is there something wrong?"
"Hmm?" Seth said absently. "Oh no, there's nothing wrong. I just feel that I've seen him somewhere before."
Trigarty looked hard at Mor, and frowned. Now that Seth mentioned it… "You know, I think he looks a bit familiar to me, too. Now that's odd."
"You can have a closer look at him after lunch. He'll be coming to you for assessment," said Seth, returning his attention to his meal.
"Oh, I will," promised Trigarty.
After lunch, while most of the class returned to Seth for gitar lessons, Mor, Drianne, Brek, Allie and the twins went to another room, where old and broken instruments lined the walls. Mor touched a gitar leaning against the wall that had a large crack running across the body, and shivered. This was a place of musical death, and a mournful air clung to everything in it.
"You OK, Mor?" asked Brek, his eyes filled with concern.
Mor nodded. "Just a little nervous, I suppose."
"There isn't anything to be nervous about, boy," said a voice at the other end of the room. Mor stiffened, then turned. The middle-aged man he'd seen sitting next to Seth was picking his way through the dead instruments towards him.
"Welcome to the workshop of my former master, Jerint," he said solemnly. "I keep meaning to clean up in here, but I've been saying that for Turns, and I don't think I'll get around to it any time soon!"
He laughed, then regarded the apprentices before him. "Do you have instruments to play for me?" he enquired.
The twins lifted the cases at their sides, and Mor produced his pipe, but Allie, Drianne and Brek looked at each other, and Brek said, "Well, sir, my stuff hasn't arrived yet, so my drum is still at home, and Allie's harp is too big for her to move, and Drianne has so many instruments that she didn't know which one to bring. May we borrow instruments from you?"
Trigarty grumbled a little, then he said, "Very well. You can choose in the room over there," and he pointed to another door, "and while you're choosing, I'll assess these three," and he indicated Mor and the twins. Mor gulped, but walked through the door Trigarty had come through, the twins close behind him.
He jumped a little as the door swung shut behind them, and Trigarty eyed him. "You're as jumpy as a cat, boy!" he said, motioning to all three boys to take a seat and sitting down himself in a comfortable armchair behind a desk.
Mor frowned. "What's a cat, sir?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter. Now, boys. What will you play for me?" Trigarty asked, turning to the twins.
They glanced at each other, and one of them said, "The Ballad of Moreta's Ride, sir."
Trigarty's eyebrows lifted, but he gave no other indication of his surprise. "Then play."
As one, they removed their gitars from their cases, checked the tuning, and launched into the ballad. It was a difficult piece, and the boys played a two-part arrangement where the melody and harmony constantly switched back and forth between parts, which made it even more difficult. If one of them was even half a beat slow, it would throw them both out.
As they finished (flawlessly), Trigarty murmured, "A little more work on the dynamics, boys, but overall that was extremely well-played. What are your names?"
"Callame, though most call me Cal," said the one on the left.
"And Lamadisi, though I'm more often called Mad," added the other.
"Mad by name, mad by nature," Cal said affectionately.
Mad stuck his tongue out at him, and Trigarty laughed. "OK, boys, that's enough. See if the others have instruments yet, and if they have, send them in please." The twins headed for the door, and softly closed it behind them.
"Now, what's your name?"
"I'm Mordekai, sir. People tend to call me Mor."
"And what do you play, Mor?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Pipes, sir, and brass," Mor replied. "This is a new pipe, so if you could please excuse any roughness in the tone… This is a common request at home."
Mor brought the pipe to his lips, closed his eyes, and played. Trigarty jerked in his seat as the first few notes hit him, then sank deeper into his chair, regarding the strange boy before him. Mor's small, slender fingers danced over the holes, producing a lilting tune that made Trigarty feel like he was dancing on the waves of the sea, almost hearing the birds cry and smelling the salty air.
He blinked as the song drew to a close. "What is that piece called?" he asked, nearly breathless with wonder. To play with that much skill at only twelve Turns old was incredible!
Mor shrugged. "I tend to think of it as 'Sea-Fairies,' sir."
"What does its composer call it?" Trigarty persisted.
Mor looked puzzled. "I just told you, sir. I'll ask the others to come in now."
Mor walked over to the door and let himself out, leaving a shocked Master Trigarty staring after him. The child composed that himself? he thought incredulously.
At dinner that night, Brek pounced on him as soon as he sat down. "What did you do to stun Trigarty?" he asked. "The expression on his face when I went in there was absolutely priceless!"
Mor looked up from his tubers, a surprised look on his face. "I… I didn't do anything! Apart from play!" he stammered.
Drianne, sitting on Mor's other side, put her hand on his arm. "You played 'Sea-Fairies', didn't you?" she said quietly. Mor nodded, and Brek looked bewildered.
"What's 'Sea-Fairies'?" he asked.
"It's one of Mor's favourite pieces, and only the best pipers can play it. Mor plays it a lot, because it's a frequent request in his Hold. His family and the other Holders love it," Drianne answered, not adding, though she longed to, that Mor himself had written it, and when he was only six Turns old. "People don't expect a piece that advanced to be played by a child only ten…" She shut her mouth, but it was too late.
"Ten?" said Brek, puzzled, as Mor glared at Drianne. "You mean, Mor's only ten Turns old?"
Drianne nodded miserably. "You mustn't tell anyone. Mor and I will get into so much trouble if you do. Especially me. Father would kill me!"
"Your father?" asked Brek, frowning.
Mor, deciding to get her back, told Drianne's secret. "Drianne is the youngest child of Sebell and Menolly, the MasterHarpers," he announced. Now it was Drianne's turn to glare at him.
"Well, our secrets are out now. Have you got any you'd like to share with us?" said Drianne sarcastically.
Brek took a deep breath, and said quietly, "I suppose. I'm only going to be at the Hall for maybe three Turns."
"Why?" asked Mor and Drianne together, shocked.
"Because my parents are going to let me stand on the Hatching Ground for Impression, once I'm fifteen Turns and there's a clutch," he said proudly.
Their mouths dropped open. "Who are your parents, that they can decide something like that?" said Drianne slowly.
"Hang on," said Mor. "They'd have to be dragonriders. And dragonriders name their children using part of both the father and the mother's names, right? Brekkennor. Brekke and F'nor?"
Brek nodded. "Yes, my father is F'nor, brown Canth's rider, and my mother is Brekke, once golden Wirenth's rider. I'm their youngest son."
"Right. Now that we've all blabbed our secrets, I think we need to agree to never tell them," said Mor briskly.
"I solemnly swear that I will never reveal the secrets told at this table this night," he swore, putting his hand forward. First Drianne, then Brek laid their hands on too, repeated the vow, then all three spat on Brek's hand so the spit mixed.
"We are now bound by spit, and may I be consumed by Thread should I tell the secrets of my spit-brother and sister," Mor announced.
"May I be consumed by Thread should I tell," the others repeated. Their bond now went much deeper than mere friendship, and all three knew it could only be broken by death.
OK, perhaps a little melodramatic, but it worked for me.