Read Online Dragonriders of Pern 6 - Dragondrums by Anne McCaffrey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anne McCaffrey
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imprudent comment, that the appearance of the Oldtimers at the mine, not to mention their errand, was unwelcome news to the Harper.
Besides, what could have been done about the Oldtimers’ illegal return to the North?
Piemur gave his own ear a clout that made his eyes swim and then started down the corridor. Now, how was he to find out the drum code for Oldtimers? Under the circumstances he couldn’t just ask Dirzan outright without having to explain why he needed to know. Nor could he ask one of the other apprentices. They were annoyed enough with him and his quick studying. There’d be a way, he was sure.
Then he wondered why Master Robinton had asked him to find out. Was it a code he’d need? Did that mean the Harper expected this wouldn’t be the first such visit by the Oldtimers? Or what?
The speculations on this subject occupied Piemur’s mind off and on for the next few days until he did have the chance to check the code.
Somewhat to Piemur’s disgust, Dirzan treated him as if he had deliberately protracted his errand to avoid the drums. This was his first task, and because Piemur couldn’t polish when the drums were in use, it dragged on until the midday meal.
That afternoon Piemur began to participate in another activity of the drumheights, since he had unfortunately learned the drum measures so well. All apprentices were supposed to stop and listen when messages came in and write down what they heard, if they could. Then Dirzan checked their interpretations of the message. It seemed harmless enough, but Piemur soon learned that it was one more road to trouble for him. All drum messages were considered private information. A bit silly to Piemur’s way of thinking, since most journeymen and all masters had to be adept in drum messages. A full third of the Harper Hall would understand most of a drum message booming across the valley. Nonetheless, if word of something especially sensitive became common knowledge about the Hall, it was deemed the fault of a gossipy drum apprentice. Piemur was twigged for that role now!
When Dirzan first accused him of loose talk, a day or two after he started writing messages, he stared in utter astonishment at the journeyman. And got a hard clout across the head for it.
“Don’t try your ways on me, Piemur. I’m well aware of your tricks.”
“But, sir, I’m only in the Hall at mealtimes, and sometimes not even then.”
“Don’t answer back!”
“But, sir…”
Dirzan fetched him another clout, and Piemur nursed his grievance in silence, rapidly trying to figure out which of the other apprentices was making mischief for him. Probably Clell! And how was he going to stop it? He certainly didn’t want Master Robinton to hear such a wretched lie.
Two days later a rather urgent message for Master Oldive was drummed through from Nabol. As Piemur was on duty, he was dispatched with it to the Healer. Mindful of a possible repeat accusation, Piemur noted that no one was about in court or hall as he delivered his message. Master Oldive bade him wait for a reply which he wrote on a then carefully folded sheet. Piemur raced across the empty court, up the stairs to the drumheights and arrived out of breath, shoving the note into Dirzan’s hand.
“There! Still in its original folds. I met no one coming or going.” Dirzan stared at Piemur, his scowl deepening. “You’re being insolent again.” He raised his hand.
Piemur stepped back deliberately, catching sight of the other apprentices watching the scene with great interest. The especially eager glint in Clell’s eyes confirmed Piemur’s suspicion.
“No, I’m trying to prove to you that I’m no babble-mouth, even if I did understand that message. Lord Meron of Nabol is ill and requires Master Oldive urgently. But who’d care if he died after what he’s done to Pern?”
Piemur knew he’d merited Dirzan’s blow then and didn’t duck.
“You’ll learn to keep a civil tongue in your
Besides, what could have been done about the Oldtimers’ illegal return to the North?
Piemur gave his own ear a clout that made his eyes swim and then started down the corridor. Now, how was he to find out the drum code for Oldtimers? Under the circumstances he couldn’t just ask Dirzan outright without having to explain why he needed to know. Nor could he ask one of the other apprentices. They were annoyed enough with him and his quick studying. There’d be a way, he was sure.
Then he wondered why Master Robinton had asked him to find out. Was it a code he’d need? Did that mean the Harper expected this wouldn’t be the first such visit by the Oldtimers? Or what?
The speculations on this subject occupied Piemur’s mind off and on for the next few days until he did have the chance to check the code.
Somewhat to Piemur’s disgust, Dirzan treated him as if he had deliberately protracted his errand to avoid the drums. This was his first task, and because Piemur couldn’t polish when the drums were in use, it dragged on until the midday meal.
That afternoon Piemur began to participate in another activity of the drumheights, since he had unfortunately learned the drum measures so well. All apprentices were supposed to stop and listen when messages came in and write down what they heard, if they could. Then Dirzan checked their interpretations of the message. It seemed harmless enough, but Piemur soon learned that it was one more road to trouble for him. All drum messages were considered private information. A bit silly to Piemur’s way of thinking, since most journeymen and all masters had to be adept in drum messages. A full third of the Harper Hall would understand most of a drum message booming across the valley. Nonetheless, if word of something especially sensitive became common knowledge about the Hall, it was deemed the fault of a gossipy drum apprentice. Piemur was twigged for that role now!
When Dirzan first accused him of loose talk, a day or two after he started writing messages, he stared in utter astonishment at the journeyman. And got a hard clout across the head for it.
“Don’t try your ways on me, Piemur. I’m well aware of your tricks.”
“But, sir, I’m only in the Hall at mealtimes, and sometimes not even then.”
“Don’t answer back!”
“But, sir…”
Dirzan fetched him another clout, and Piemur nursed his grievance in silence, rapidly trying to figure out which of the other apprentices was making mischief for him. Probably Clell! And how was he going to stop it? He certainly didn’t want Master Robinton to hear such a wretched lie.
Two days later a rather urgent message for Master Oldive was drummed through from Nabol. As Piemur was on duty, he was dispatched with it to the Healer. Mindful of a possible repeat accusation, Piemur noted that no one was about in court or hall as he delivered his message. Master Oldive bade him wait for a reply which he wrote on a then carefully folded sheet. Piemur raced across the empty court, up the stairs to the drumheights and arrived out of breath, shoving the note into Dirzan’s hand.
“There! Still in its original folds. I met no one coming or going.” Dirzan stared at Piemur, his scowl deepening. “You’re being insolent again.” He raised his hand.
Piemur stepped back deliberately, catching sight of the other apprentices watching the scene with great interest. The especially eager glint in Clell’s eyes confirmed Piemur’s suspicion.
“No, I’m trying to prove to you that I’m no babble-mouth, even if I did understand that message. Lord Meron of Nabol is ill and requires Master Oldive urgently. But who’d care if he died after what he’s done to Pern?”
Piemur knew he’d merited Dirzan’s blow then and didn’t duck.
“You’ll learn to keep a civil tongue in your
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