I have had a few reviews now asking me about Dioron, and Brek/B'kennor, and to them I say: I'm really sorry! I haven't written anything for them for a little while, because the story became Mor-centric without me noticing. As an apology, I intend to write side-stories covering their experiences, which will be posted as soon as I've written them (probably next week at the earliest).
Now, to do the disclaimer, I choose... Bankotsu from Inuyasha!
Bankotsu: Sheri-chan doesn't own any of this stuff she's writing about.
Sheri-chan: Except her OCs!
Bankotsu: Yeah, except whatever those are. If you attempt to sue her, my vengeance will know no bounds. Or something to that effect.
Over the next few days, Mor found a million ways to bump into Diara or find some excuse to talk to her. It would often only be a few moments, but any time at all with Diara was precious to Mor.
"Have you told her how you feel?" Drianne asked over the midday meal four days after Mor broke his hand.
Mor put down his knife and dropped his face into his good hand. "I'm too scared to!" he said, his voice slightly muffled by the hand. "What if she doesn't feel the same way about me? I couldn't bear it!"
Later that day, Diara approached Mor in the corridor. "Hi, Mor," she said shyly.
"Hi, Diara," he replied, hoping his voice didn't tremble too much.
"Drianne told me that you had something you wanted to tell me," she explained.
Mentally, Mor cursed Drianne. He knew that she knew that he would never tell Diara of his own free will, so she had forced him into a situation where he had to tell her.
"Well…" he began awkwardly. "Well, you see, I…"
"Yes?" she asked.
"I… I think I love you," he said in a rush.
She smiled. "That's very fortunate, because I would hate to be in love with a man who didn't love me back."
x
"So, how did it go with Diara?" Drianne asked as she packed away her harp. It had become her prime instrument, and she always played it in ensembles.
"It went well, I suppose," Mor mumbled, bending over her case so she couldn't see his face.
"Did you tell her?" Drianne asked, a smile spreading across her face.
"Yes."
"And how did she react?"
"She told me that she loved me too, and then she kissed me," Mor said, blushing.
Drianne crowed. "I knew it!" she exclaimed. "She hasn't been able to keep her eyes off you since she arrived here! She even approached Master Domick and asked if you were taken!"
Mor's blush deepened. "What did he say?"
"Apparently he said that he didn't know, but he had noticed you acting lovestruck ever since she arrived."
Mor groaned. "Grandfather! You didn't have to say something like that!"
x
"Well, it looks like your hand has fully healed," said Pierjan with a smile.
Mor smiled too. "Does that mean I can have the bandages off?"
"Yes, I should say so. Just be very careful with it for the next few days. No heavy playing!" Pierjan said, wagging his finger under Mor's nose.
"All right, I promise, I promise!" said Mor, laughing.
Then Pierjan said something that puzzled him. "I must say, you have perfect timing. If you had to go and break your hand, you picked the best time to do it." He left the room wearing a grin, leaving a very confused boy behind him.
x
"What do you think he meant?" Mor asked Drianne over dinner. Diara had to eat in the Healer Hall with the other journeymen and women, so the two of them were alone.
Drianne puzzled over it for a moment, then shrugged and said, "No idea." Then she brightened. "I got a message from B'kennor this afternoon. He said he'll be coming here tomorrow!"
Mor brightened too. "That's great news!" he exclaimed. "Did he say what time?"
"No, but I imagine he'll be here at about the tenth hour. He never gets out of bed early if he can avoid it."
Mor laughed. "That's B'kennor, all right. I can't wait to see him again!"
x
Gradually, all noise in the Hall ceased as Master Sebell stood to get everyone's attention. He smiled slightly as everyone in the hall turned to look his way.
"My friends!" he called. "I am pleased to inform you all that tonight is the night that new journeymen and women will be announced. So, if Journeymen Callame and Lamadisi would be so kind, I believe that more chairs must be added to the oval table."
The twin journeymen stood and left the hall, soon returning with two chairs apiece. They left again, and brought back another three.
"Seven new journeymen, eh?" Drianne murmured to Mor. "They'll all be going to the Southern Continent, I wager. There are never enough harpers down there."
Sebell cleared his throat, and Drianne immediately fell silent. "The first new journeyman of the evening is… Journeyman Stadmore!"
There was a storm of applause and the traditional chant of "Walk, Stadmore, walk!" as the new journeyman, blushing faintly, was walked to his place at the oval table and given his new shoulder knots by a grinning Callame.
The other six were announced, and when the applause for the last grinning youth had died away, Sebell cleared his throat.
"I know you are all eager to get to rehearsals," he began. A groan went up, and he smiled. "But to your disappointment, I must delay them a moment or two longer. As all in this Hall know, it takes many skills to be a harper. There is, of course, the musical side of our craft, but there is the human side of it too. A harper must teach, true, but he, or she," with a quick smile for his spouse, "must not only understand what he teaches, but must also understand who he teaches. There is someone in this Hall tonight who has learned this, but has not yet been recognised for his achievement. So, I would ask you to come forward and be rewarded, Master…" He paused as the room drew a collective breath, waiting for him to announce the new Master. "Mordekai!" he finished.
There was dead silence for a moment, then a cheer began to swell until it shook the rafters, led by the younger apprentices whom Mor had taught.
Mor just sat there, his mouth gaping open. "What?" he finally gasped.
Drianne, a smile forming on her lips, said teasingly, "You've been made a Master, silly! Father has decided you're ready! Look, here comes Master Domick to escort you to the Masters table!"
Domick stopped by Mor, and beamed at him. "Get up, my boy," he said proudly, lifting the stunned boy to his feet. "You've made me and the rest of your family proud." He grabbed Mor in a bearhug, then nudged him towards the round table until Mor found his feet and began walking of his own accord.
"Walk, Mordekai, walk!" came the cheer, louder than before. Tears pouring down his face, Mordekai of Fer Hold in Tillek marched up to the Masters table of the Harper Hall to take his rightful place among the most powerful harpers in the world.
I know it's another point against him in the perfect column, but I couldn't resist.