I really don't like that Masterharper! Unfortunately, of course, like many who winkle their way into a job, it's probably going to prove impossible to get him out.

"oooooooooo - I'm going to be sick - "

"Nonsense. You'll soon get used to travelling this way."

Grance stared around at the environs of Harper Hall, and H'ric unbuckled the harness that held the journeyman to him.

"Come on, get down - ah - Yorus - "

Yorus had come running up, looking flushed and angry.

"Weyrleader! I'm to go to Tillek - I can't disobey him - I'm sorry - "

"No, it's I who should apologise," H'ric said angrily. "I never thought he would be so petty and vindictive, or I would never have allowed you to come here. I'm saddled with this journeyman now. Is he any good?"

Yorus gave Grance a fleeting look.

"Yes," he said honestly. "He's very good indeed, Weyrleader, at composing music. Whether he can sing anymore - you have to wait, you see, after your voice breaks."

"Sharama can oversee that. What about instrument use?"

Grance was glaring at both of them.

"I can answer for myself, Weyrleader," he snapped. "I have made instruments that gained a Master's mark."

"Good. Go and collect all your things now - don't leave anything behind, because I won't be able to spare a dragon to come and collect a spare pair of socks - which you'll need very shortly."

He made a shooing gesture, and Grance practically ran to the living quarters. Yorus watched him go.

"The Masterharper said I couldn't go and collect my things, Weyrleader."

"That's all right. Galanath bespoke Nineneth, and D'vern is bringing your goods. He'll also fly you to Tillek, part of his overview so he knows the co-ordinates. I should think that's a right maggoty place to walk to!"

"Seven days hard riding on a runner beast," Yorus said ruefully. "I don't have access to one of those, so I was faced with a month of walking."

"Taking you right to Turn's End, probably," H'ric agreed. "You have your commission? Who do you displace?"

"I don't rightly know. I had hoped - the Masterharper might have considered - making me a Master."

H'ric shrugged. "That won't happen in his lifetime, Yorus, and I'm sorry I've spoiled your career and life plan."

Yorus grimaced. "I've only been back here for a few sevendays, but I can tell you, it's already too much for me! I'm content, Weyrleader, to go to Tillek and make my little songs."

"Be sure to send us copies."

Yorus laughed. "I'll do that, never fear!"

H'ric nodded, looking around the concourse where Galanath was crouched. Music was being sung all around, and he could hear the drums sending a message.

"How good is Grance really?" H'ric asked bluntly.

"Oh, he is good at music! Your problem will be to get him to stop cringing and whining! No, that's unfair of me. He fell foul of one of the gangs here, as an apprentice, and they haven't stopped bullying him ever since. Subtle stuff, mostly, but occasionally - that's one of them now - Radic - he's a bully of the first water."

H'ric watched two drudges hurrying towards him with Grance's belongings. He could recognise instrument cases, and he hoped two sturdy wooden boxes carried music. Grance himself carried a large unwieldy grip of clothing, banging it awkwardly, and as H'ric watched, the journeyman Radic tripped him slyly on the last step out of the Hall, and Grance stumbled, tripped, and came down heavily. He dropped the grip, and with a well aimed kick, Radic sent its contents cascading down the step.

H'ric was across the yard before anyone else could move. He grabbed Radic by the ear and twisted, forcing the young man to face him. Not so young, H'ric thought with a shock. Too old to be a journeyman, so an incompetent as well as a bully.

"You'll repack that grip, young man," H'ric said.

"I will not! You've no authority here - ow! That hurts - get off me!"

"Are you going to strike a Master? Because I'm the Weyrleader of Pern, and I rank at least as high as a Lord Holder or a Craftmaster. Are you going to add that stupidity to your usual antics?"

Radic staggered free of H'ric's grasp and glared, but he bent and hurriedly stuffed the spilt clothing into the grip. H'ric took it from him and turned to Grance.

"Can you walk to Galanath? Ah - here's D'vern."

To the delight and awe of the apprentices who had appeared in the doorways leading into the Hall, the bronze dragon Nineneth back-winged and landed neatly, and D'vern climbed down.

"You wanted me, Weyrleader? I've harper Yorus' belongings, and the Weyr is mighty unhappy about this."

H'ric nodded as Grance hung onto the harness straps and flexed and tensed his ankle, taking the grip from H'ric and tying it on with his other cases.

"I can't say I'm too happy about it either, but we get the Masterharper's special journeyman, so we'll hope for some notable music from him, eh? Can you take Yorus to Tillek?"

"Nothing easier. I'll stop there for an hour or two as well, have a look around, and report back. You don't want me to take our new harper to the Weyr?"

"Thanks but no. I'll do that, and then I need to get back to the gather at Ruatha before the Weyrwoman rends the Masterharper limb from limb when she discovers what he's done."

D'vern grinned at him and gestured Yorus to climb on board Nineneth. H'ric watched him go, and wink into between.

"I suggest you find a few sick-bags, journeyman, because you have at least three trips between before you seek your bed tonight. Actually, you're going to miss out on a night's sleep, because Benden is 6 hours ahead of Ruatha, so by the time the gather ends, and we go home, it'll be dawn."

Grance nodded, and pulled on the flying suit H'ric had lent him. H'ric could not decide if the journeyman was sulking or paralysed with fright, as they settled onto Galanath and took off for Benden, arriving as the sun was beginning to set.

"Of course, if we time it, we can arrive here at the same time again," H'ric observed as he helped Grance climb down, drudges coming at a run to take his belongings.

"You can't time it so close to yourself," Grance muttered as he followed H'ric into the caverns. Lavand was waiting with flying gear that fitted much better, and H'ric folded M'ris' gear up to take back to Ruatha.

"What about your instrument for tonight?" H'ric asked Grance.

"It's still at Ruatha."

"Good enough. Off we go, then."

Grance glared at him and then shrugged and followed, not limping, but favouring his twisted ankle.

"So how did you fall foul of Radic when you were apprentices?" H'ric asked.

"He accused me of being a - of liking - I had the finest treble voice of my generation."

"Ah. If you are that way inclined, of course, the Masterharper has done you a favour by putting you in a place where it's common nature amongst green and blue dragonriders."

"Well I'm not!"

"Plenty of pretty girls as well, in the Weyr."

"With my looks?"

"Oh ho! And who said that to you? Radic again, eh? Forget him, because in all likelihood you'll never see him again, and certain sure if you do, he'll still be a journeyman in the Harper Hall and you should be a Master. Isn't that what being the Masterharper's special journeyman means?"

"Yes."

"Then he's cut off his nose to spite his face, hasn't he?" H'ric said with a laugh. "Because you're now the harper of Benden Weyr! Hold on - up we go - "