Read Online Dragonsinger by Anne McCaffrey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne McCaffrey
Ads: Link
a front tooth and by far the smallest of the apprentice lot. How kind of him to reassure her.
When Menolly realized that Master Morshal must be taking her to the archroom, she sent a mental command to the fire lizards to stay quiet or go find a sunny roof until she called them again. There wasn’t so much as a rustle or a chirp when she and Morshal entered. With a resigned attitude, he seated himself on the only backed chair at the sandtable. As he didn’t indicate that she could seat herself, she remained standing.
‘Now, recite for me the notes in a C major chord,’ he said.
She did so. He regarded her steadily for a moment, and blinked.
‘What notes would comprise a major fifth in C?’
When she had answered that, he began to fire questions at her, irritable if she paused, however briefly, to reply, but Petiron had drilled her too often the same way. Morshal’s bored expression was disconcerting but, as his queries became more and more complex, she suddenly realized that he was taking examples from various traditional Sagas and Ballads. Once he mentioned the signature and which chord, it was simple enough for her to visualize the record hide and recite from memory.
Suddenly he grunted and then murmured in his throat. Abruptly he asked her if she’d been taught the drum. When she admitted some knowledge, he asked tedious questions about basic beats in each time factor. How would she vary the beat? Now, as to finger positions on a tenor pipe, what closures did one make for a chord in F? He took her through scales again. She could have demonstrated more quickly, but he gave her no chance to suggest it.
‘Stand still, girl,’ he said testily as she shifted her throbbing feet. ‘Shoulders back, feet together, girl, head up.’ He heard a soft twitter, but as he’d been glaring at Menolly, it was obvious she hadn’t opened her lips. He glanced about, to seek the source, as Menolly silently reassured Beauty and urged silence. ‘Don’t slouch. What was my question?’
She told him, and he continued the barrage. The more she answered, the more he asked. Her feet were aching so that she had to ask permission to sit, if only briefly. But, to her amazement, before she could, Morshal abruptly stabbed a finger at the stool next to him. She hesitated, not quite believing the gesture.
‘Sit! sit! sit!’ he said in an excess of irritation at her delay. ‘Now, let’s see if you know anything about writing down what you’ve been repeating so glibly.’
So she’d been answering correctly, and he was annoyed because she knew so much. Her flagging spirits lifted, and as Master Morshal dictated musical notations, her fingers drove the pointer quickly over the sands. In her mind, a different, kinder voice dictated; and the exercise became a game, rather than an examination by a prejudiced judge.
‘Well, move back so I can see what you’ve written.’ Morshal’s testy voice recalled her to the present.
He peered at her inscriptions, pursed his lips, humphed and sat back. He gestured peremptorily for her to smooth the sand surface and rapidly gave her another set of chords. They included some difficult modulations and time values, but after the first two, she recognized the ‘Riddle Song’ and was very glad Petiron had made her learn the haunting tune.
‘That’s enough of that,’ Master Morshal said, drawing his overtunic about him with quick, angry motions. ‘Now, have you an instrument?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then get it and that third score from the top shelf. Over there. Be quick about it.’
Menolly hissed to herself as she stepped on her throbbing feet. Sitting had not relieved the swelling, and her feet felt thick at the ankles and stiff.
‘Hurry up, girl. Don’t waste my time.’
Beauty gave a soft hiss, too, from her perch on the top shelf, unlidding her eyes, and from the rustling sounds in the same general area, Menolly knew the other fire lizards had roused. With her back to Master Morshal,
When Menolly realized that Master Morshal must be taking her to the archroom, she sent a mental command to the fire lizards to stay quiet or go find a sunny roof until she called them again. There wasn’t so much as a rustle or a chirp when she and Morshal entered. With a resigned attitude, he seated himself on the only backed chair at the sandtable. As he didn’t indicate that she could seat herself, she remained standing.
‘Now, recite for me the notes in a C major chord,’ he said.
She did so. He regarded her steadily for a moment, and blinked.
‘What notes would comprise a major fifth in C?’
When she had answered that, he began to fire questions at her, irritable if she paused, however briefly, to reply, but Petiron had drilled her too often the same way. Morshal’s bored expression was disconcerting but, as his queries became more and more complex, she suddenly realized that he was taking examples from various traditional Sagas and Ballads. Once he mentioned the signature and which chord, it was simple enough for her to visualize the record hide and recite from memory.
Suddenly he grunted and then murmured in his throat. Abruptly he asked her if she’d been taught the drum. When she admitted some knowledge, he asked tedious questions about basic beats in each time factor. How would she vary the beat? Now, as to finger positions on a tenor pipe, what closures did one make for a chord in F? He took her through scales again. She could have demonstrated more quickly, but he gave her no chance to suggest it.
‘Stand still, girl,’ he said testily as she shifted her throbbing feet. ‘Shoulders back, feet together, girl, head up.’ He heard a soft twitter, but as he’d been glaring at Menolly, it was obvious she hadn’t opened her lips. He glanced about, to seek the source, as Menolly silently reassured Beauty and urged silence. ‘Don’t slouch. What was my question?’
She told him, and he continued the barrage. The more she answered, the more he asked. Her feet were aching so that she had to ask permission to sit, if only briefly. But, to her amazement, before she could, Morshal abruptly stabbed a finger at the stool next to him. She hesitated, not quite believing the gesture.
‘Sit! sit! sit!’ he said in an excess of irritation at her delay. ‘Now, let’s see if you know anything about writing down what you’ve been repeating so glibly.’
So she’d been answering correctly, and he was annoyed because she knew so much. Her flagging spirits lifted, and as Master Morshal dictated musical notations, her fingers drove the pointer quickly over the sands. In her mind, a different, kinder voice dictated; and the exercise became a game, rather than an examination by a prejudiced judge.
‘Well, move back so I can see what you’ve written.’ Morshal’s testy voice recalled her to the present.
He peered at her inscriptions, pursed his lips, humphed and sat back. He gestured peremptorily for her to smooth the sand surface and rapidly gave her another set of chords. They included some difficult modulations and time values, but after the first two, she recognized the ‘Riddle Song’ and was very glad Petiron had made her learn the haunting tune.
‘That’s enough of that,’ Master Morshal said, drawing his overtunic about him with quick, angry motions. ‘Now, have you an instrument?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then get it and that third score from the top shelf. Over there. Be quick about it.’
Menolly hissed to herself as she stepped on her throbbing feet. Sitting had not relieved the swelling, and her feet felt thick at the ankles and stiff.
‘Hurry up, girl. Don’t waste my time.’
Beauty gave a soft hiss, too, from her perch on the top shelf, unlidding her eyes, and from the rustling sounds in the same general area, Menolly knew the other fire lizards had roused. With her back to Master Morshal,
Similar Books
