So Menolly told her. And told her again until she ran out of answers to all the detailed questions Mirrim found to ask her.

“Now you tell me why everyone’s so upset about this Jaxom Impressing the little white dragon. He saved his life, you know. The dragon would have died if Jaxom hadn’t broken the shell and cut the sac.”

“Jaxom Impressed a dragon? I didn’t know!” Mirrim’s eyes widened with consternation. “Oh! Now why would that kid do such a dreadful thing?”

“Why is it dreadful?”

“Because he’s got to be Lord Holder of Ruatha Hold, that’s why.”

Menolly was a bit annoyed with Mirrim’s impatience and said so.

“Well, he can’t be Lord Holder and dragonrider. Didn’t you learn anything in that Sea Hold of yours? And, by the way, I saw the Half-Circle Harper, I think his name is Elgion. Shall I tell him you’re here?”

“No!”

“Well, no need to bite my head off.” And with that Mirrim flounced off in a huff.

“Menolly, will you forgive me? I completely forgot to come back for you,” T’gellan said, striding up to the table before Menolly had a chance to catch her breath. “Look, the Masterminer is supposed to have two eggs. He can’t stay for the whole Feast, so we’ve got to fix something for him to carry the eggs home in. And the rest of the eggs as well. No, don’t get up. Here, you, come be feet for Menolly,” he ordered, beckoning to one of the weyrboys.

So Menolly spent most of that evening in the kitchen cavern sewing furry bags to carry eggs safely between. But she could hear all the jollity outside; and with no small effort, she made herself enjoy the singing. Five Harpers, two drummers and three pipers made music for the Impression Feast She thought she recognized Elgion’s strong tenor in one song, but it was unlikely he’d look for her at the back of the kitchen cavern.

His voice made her briefly homesick for seawinds and the taste of salty air; briefly, too, she longed for the solitude of her cave. Only briefly; this Weyr was the place for her. Her feet would heal soon; she’d no longer be Old-Auntie-Sit-by-the-Fire. So how would she make her place in the Weyr? Felena had enough cooks, and how often would the Weyr, used to meat when it wished, want to eat fish? Even if she knew more ways of preparing it than anyone else? When she came down to it, the only thing in which she excelled was gutting fish. No, she would not think about harpering anymore. Well, there had to be something she could do.

“Are you Menolly?” asked a man tentatively.

She looked up to see one of the minercraftsmen who’d shared her tier at the Impression.