Title: Master Domick's New Song (Or, Why You Should Never Anger A Harper)

Author's notes: Because Domick can hold a grudge!

Despite Half-Circle's apparent ability to instill extreme obedience into its youth, there were few things that could break up a lesson faster than that of a bronze dragon. Even Elgion's most passive pupils couldn't keep their eyes from straying. Even he couldn't keep his eyes away. Was that T'gellan and Monarth and- no, it couldn't be.

It was a losing battle. Elgion dismissed his class just as a drudge arrived to summon him. Luckily, Monarth had moved from the hold's mostly unused pennant heights to the warm rocks overlooking the harbor, and the late afternoon sun only made him gleam brighter. Any children who would have followed Elgion like lost hatchlings instead diverted themselves to the window.

"Elgion, lad!" Domick said, tossing a friendly arm around the journeyman's shoulders. "How are you, dear fellow? It's been years!"

Elgion barely resisted the urge to push himself away- or wet himself in fear. "I've been - fine?" he stammered. It had indeed been years. Seven years, in fact, since Domick had bodily thrown him out of his composition class for, as the man had put it, utter imbicility. "Why are y- I mean, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Domick grinned. It was a most terrifying sight. "I've brought you the latest music from the Hall. T'gellan's been very obliging. I find myself especially eager to see the Sea Hold that spawned our newest journeyman- or journeywoman, I should say. Menolly is a great favorite of mine." His lips drew further apart as his smile grew even more feral.

Oh, shards.

The unexpected arrival of a Wingleader and a Master was cause for celebration in most holds, and even dour Half Circle conjured up some excitement and delicacies. A disturbingly docile Domick agreed to Yanus' invitation of dinner and evening entertainment. Through narrowed, suspicious eyes, Elgion had watched him engage in cordial small talk with both Yanus and Mavi, as well as the other occupants of his table.

After the sweet course had been finished, Domick pushed back his chair. "Music?" he asked, and was rewarded with shouts of encouragement. Drawing out a gitar from behind the high table, Domick gave the traditional harper signal to Elgion, who in turn nodded to several of the fisherfolk and even a couple of his more promising students. Drums and sticks were duly produced and brought to the raised head table, which was cleared away to make an impromptu stage.

Gidon and Farley, small amongst the brawny fisherman, were flushed with both pleasure and nerves from being singled out. "Why don't we start with a group song?" said Domick in a low voice, beckoning the lads over with a twist of his hand. "You see, when harpers wave like this," and he demonstrated, "we're going to sing with the audience. And when we shift our fingers into a slight V, it means only the musicians will sing."

Gidon started waving his left hand around. Elgion was surprised when Domick held his tongue, because according to proper harper codes, Gidon would be calling for their MasterHarper to supervise a solo in a weyr due to dangerous circumstances.

"And when it's a dance?" Farley asked, eyes wide.

Domick bent his arm at an angle, then raised it in a sharp motion upward. "This! And if you're a harper, and not on the stage with an instrument, then you grab the prettiest lass you can find, because it's going to be a fast one!"

The boys were enchanted. Worshipfully, they took their place next to Domick and Elgion, slinging their drum straps from their shoulders and readying their hands for rhythm.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Master Domick?" Elgion whispered, barely moving his lips.

"The Duty Song, if you please," he replied, all innocence.

The evening turned into a pleasant revelry of singing, dancing, and stomping to infectious rhythms, and even Yanus and Mavi protested when T'gellan wished to take the harper back to his hall.

"One more, then," the bronze wingleader agreed, raising his mug of ale, and settled down on his bench. "To tide me over for Fall over Nerat tomorrow. Do the one you wrote yesterday, Dom. They can be the first to hear it."

Domick struck a nice long chord on his gitar, and the crowd cheered. Half Circle often didn't get new music until well after its initial circulation. He broke into a good foot-stomping strum, all majors and hearty full tones.

"I once knew a man

And a fool was he,

Who drank all his beer

And became thirsty.

He took an empty bucket

And he threw it in the sea.

He drank what he found

Until he couldn't see

And oh, what a fool was he!"

Domick was in fine form, stomping and smiling and singing. The following verses were silly and sea-oriented. The same man tried to mend his nets with string from his clothing and had to go without pants, lost his anchor while trying to outsmart a shipfish who had taken a liking to his catch, and fallen into the water after staring too hard at the setting sun. His audience loved it, and had taken to singing the last line of every verse at the top of their inebriated lungs.

Elgion, on the other hand, was confused. This simple drinking song was unlike Domick's intricate compositions in every conceivable way. Had he written such a tune-or such purile lyrics- as a student, he'd have expected a much deserved wallop over the head.

Other than his greeting to Elgion, Domick had gone far out of his usual way to be a pleasing guest all night ... but all of Elgion's finely-tuned harper instincts were telling him that trouble was coming.

And so it was.

The final verse began with a sour minor chord, and with it, Domick's jovial manner changed as quickly as the sea before a storm. Facing toward Yanus, he struck his gitar with angry, resonating blows. His mouth twisted, and his black eyes hardened as they remained fixed on the Sea Holder's face.

"I once knew a man,

And a fool was he,

He had a lovely daughter

With eyes like the sea.

She sang with her heart

And he beat her with glee,

Until her spirt broke

And she ran 'til she was free.

And oh, what a fool was he!"

Domick finished with a grand flourish, but the hall was silent, its occupants sitting with their mouths gaping open and their hands still poised to clap with the beat.

T'gellan stood, stretching his arms and legs. "Well, shall we call it a night?" he said, smiling. He and Domick walked out of the hall and into the stairwell that reached the dragonheights. In the quiet, their footsteps could be heard all the way to the top. Monarth's clear bugle faded into the night before Yanus, red-faced and furious, left the hall without another word.

Shards, indeed.

It would have pleased Elgion to know that, for all the years until the MasterHarper and Aivas's deaths, Robinton required Domick to formally request permission for dragon transport. Even though Sebell lifted this ban at the beginning of his tenure, no one dared incite Domick's wrath by spreading the gossip.

What Elgion did learn, to his horror, was that T'gellan and Domick had made a number of stops that day. Together, they performed that song at taverns in every major and minor hold Sea Hold in the Nerat area; in the weeks to follow, whenever his duties would permit him the leisure, T'gellan would visit friends inland as well to teach them the clever little ditty his new friend Domick had written.

While Yanus's folk had too much respect for their Holder to sing that song ever again, every incoming ship, traveler and trader would be humming the infectious tune.

Never, ever anger a harper.