From where Menolly sat with Old Uncle, she could see the backs of heads at the high table and occasionally a profile of one of the visitors. Very frustrating. So was Old Uncle and the other elderly relatives whose old bones rated them a spot near the fire. The aunts were, as usual, squabbling over who had received the choicer portions of fish, and then Old Uncle decided to call them to order, only his mouth was full at that moment and he choked. So the aunts turned on Menolly for trying to stuff him to an early death. Menolly could hear nothing over their babble. She tried to content herself with the prospect of hearing the Harper sing, as he surely would once the interminable meal was ended. But it was hot so close to the big fire and the heat made Old Uncle smell worse than ever, and she was very tired after the day’s exertions.
She was roused from a half doze by a sudden hair-wide thudding of heavy seaboots. She jerked fully awake to see the tall figure of the new Harper rising at the head table. He had his gitar ready and was taking an easy stance, one foot on the stone bench.
“You’re sure this Hall isn’t rocking?” he asked, strumming a few chords to test the instrument’s pitch. He was assured that the Hall had been steady for many, many Turns, never known to rock at all. The Harper affected not to be reassured as he tuned the G-string slightly higher (to MenoH/s relief). He made the gitar moan then, like a seasick soul.
As laughter rippled through the eager audience, Menolly strained to see how her father was taking this ap—
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proach. TTie Sea Holder had little humor. A Harper’s welcome was a serious occasion, and Elgion did not appear to realize this. Petiron had often told Menolly how carefully Harpers were chosen for the Hold they were assigned to. Hadn’t anyone warned Elgion about her fathe?s temperament?
Suddenly Old Uncle cut across the gentle strumming with a cackle of laughter. “Hal A man with humor! That’s what we need in this Holdsome laughter. Some musicl Been missing it Let*s have some rollicking tunes, some funny songs. Give us a good rib-popping ditty, Harper. You know the ones I like.”
Menolly was aghast She fumbled in her skirt pocket for some of the sweetballs as she shushed Old Uncle. This was exactly the sort of incident that she was supposed to prevent
Harper Elgion had turned at the imperious order, bowing with good respect to the old gentleman by the hearth.
“I would that I could, Old Uncle,” he said most courteously, “but these are serious times,” and his fingers plucked deep sombre notes, “very serious times and we must put lightness and laughter behind us. Square our backs to the problems that face us…” and with that he swung into a new exhortation to obey the Weyr and honor the dragoruider.
The sticky sweetballs had got warmed and stuck to the fabric of her pocket, but Menolly finally got some out and into Old Uncle’s mouth. He chewed angrily, fully aware that his mouth was being plugged and resenting it He chewed as fast as he could, swallowing to clear his mouth for more complaints. Menolly was only just aware that the new tune was forceful, the words stirring. Harper Elgion had a rich tenor voice, strong and sure. Then old Uncle began to hiccup. Noisily, of course. And to complain, or try to, throufjh the hiccups. Menolly hissed at him to hold his breath, but he was furious at not being allowed to talk; at getting hiccups, and he started to pound the arm of his
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chair. The thumps made an out-of-tempo counterpoint to the Harper’s song and brought her furious glances from the head table.
One of the aunts gave her some water for the old man, which he overturned on Menolly, The next thing, Sella was beside her, gesturing that they were to take the old man back to his quarters instantly.
He was still hiccuping as they put him back to bed, and still beating the air with punctuated gestures and half-uttered complaints.