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The old man was so frail that he was no burden to a strong girl like Menolly. She carried him down the steps, he complaining all the way about people who’d been dead before she was born. Old Uncle’s notion of time was distorted, that’s what Petiron had told her. Brightest in Uncle’s memory were his earlier days, when he’d been Sea Holder of Half-Circle, before a tangled trawler line had sliced off his legs below the knee. The great Hall was almost ready for guests when Menolly entered with him.
“They’re tacking into Dock,” someone was saying as Menolly arranged Old Uncle in his special seat by the fire. She wrapped him well in the softened wherhides and tied the strap that would keep him upright When he got excited, Old Uncle had a tendency to forget he had no feet.
“Who’s tacking into Dock? Who’s coming? Whafs all the hubblebubble about?”
Menolly told him, and he subsided, moments later wanting to know in a querulous tone of voice if anyone was going to feed him or was he supposed to sit here dinnerless?
Sella, in the gown she’d spent all winter making, swirled past Menolly, pressing a small packet into her hand.
“Feed him these if he gets difficult!” And she skimmed away before Menolly could say a word.
Opening the packet, Menolly saw balls of a sweet made from seaweed, flavored with purple grass seed. One could chew these for hours, keeping the mouth fresh and moist Small wonder Sella’d been able to keep Old Uncle happy. Menolly giggled and then wondered why Sella was being so helpful. It must have pleased Sella no end to learn Menolly had been displaced as Harper. Or would she know? Mavi wouldn’t have mentioned it Ah, but the Harper was here now, anyhow.
Now that she had Old Uncle settled, Menolly’s curiosity got the better of her and she slipped over to the
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windows. There was no sign of the safl in the harbor now, but she could see the cluster of men, glows held high, as they walked around the shore from the Dock to the Hold proper. Keen though her eyes were, Menolly could not pick out the new faces and that was that
Old Uncle began one of his monologues in a high-pitched voice, so Menolly scooted back to his side before her mother could notice she’d left her post There was so much bustle, putting food on the tables, pouring the welcoming cups of wine, all the Hold arranging itself to meet the guests, no one noticed what Menolly was or wasn’t doing.
Just then, Old Uncle came to himself again, eyes bright and focused on her face. “What*s the stir today, girl? Good haul? Someone getting spliced? Whafs the layT
“There’s a new Harper coming, everyone thinks, Old Uncle.”
“Not another one?” Old Uncle was disgusted. “Harpers ain’t what they used to be when I was Sea Holder, not by a long crack. I mind myself of one Harper we had…”
His voice fell clearly in the suddenly quiet Hall.
“Menollyl” Her mother’s voice was low, but the urgency was unmistakable.
Menolly fumbled in her skirt pocket, found two sweetballs and popped them into old Uncle’s mouth. Whatever he’d been about to say was stopped by the necessity of dealing with two large round objects. He mumbled contentedly to himself as he chewed and chewed and chewed.
An the food had been served and everyone seated before Menolly got so much as a glimpse of the new arrivals. There had been a new Harper. She heard his name before she ever saw his face. Elgion, Harper Elgion. She heard that he was young and good-looking and had brought two gitars, two wooden pipes and three drums, each carried separately in its own case of
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stiffened wherhide. She heard that he’d been very seasick across Keroon Bay and wasn’t doing justice to the lavish dinner spread in his honor. With him had come a craftmaster from the Smith-crafthall to do the metal work required on the new ship and other repairs beyond the metalman in the Sea Hold. She heard that there was urgent need at Igen Hold for any salted or smoked fish the Sea Hold might have to spare on the return voyage.