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afternoon chores, carefully hiding her notations among the Harper records in the rack of the Hall. Safe enough, for no-one but herself, til the new Harper came, would discover them there.
    This mild deviation from the absolute obedience to her father’s restriction about tuning did much to ease Menolly’s growing frustration and loneliness. What Menolly didn’t realize was that her mother had been watching her closely, having recognized the signs of rebellion in her. Mavi didn’t want the Hold to be disgraced in any way, and she feared that Menolly, her head turned by Petiron’s marked favor, was not mature enough to discipline herself. Sella had warned her mother that Menolly was getting out of hand. Mavi put some of that tale down to sisterly envy. But, when Sella had told Mavi that Menolly had actually started to teach another how to play an instrument, Mavi had been obliged to intervene. Let Yanus get one whisper of Menolly’s disobedience and there’d be real trouble in the Hold for the girl.
    Spring was coming and with spring, the quieter seas. Perhaps the new Harper would arrive soon.
    And then spring did come, a first glorious day. The sweet scents of seabeachplum and marshberry filled the seaward breezes and came in through the opened shutters of the Little Hall. The children were singing loudly, as if shouting got them through the learning faster. True, they were singing one of the longer Sagas, word perfect, but with far more exuberance than was strictly needed. Perhaps it was that exuberance that infected Menolly and reminded her of a tune she’d tried to set down the day before.
    She did not consciously disobey. She certainly was unaware that the fleet had returned from an early catch. She was equally unaware that the chords she was strumming were not – officially – of the Harper’s craft. And it was doubly unfortunate that this lapse occurred just as the Sea Holder passed the open windows of the Hall.
    He was in the Little Hall almost at once, summarily dismissing the youngsters to help unload the heavy catch. Then he silently, which made the anticipation of the punishment worse, removed his wide belt, signaled to Menolly to raise her tunic over her head and to bend over the high harper’s stool.
    When he had finished, she had fallen to her knees on the hard stone flags, biting her lips to keep back the sobs. He’d never beaten her so hard before. The blood was roaring in her ears so fiercely that she didn’t hear Yanus leave the Little Hall. It was a long while before she could ease the tunic over the painful weals on her back. Only when she’d got slowly to her feet did she realize that he’d taken the gitar, too. She knew then that his judgement was irrevocable and harsh.
    And unjust! She’d only played the first few bars … hummed along … and that only because the last chords of the Teaching Ballad had modified into the new tune in her head. Surely that little snitch wouldn’t have done any lasting harm! And the children knew all the Teaching Ballads they were supposed to know. She hadn’t
meant
to disobey Yanus.
    ‘Menolly?’ Her mother came to the classhall door, the carrying thong of an empty skin in her hand. ‘You dismissed them early? Is that wise …’ Her mother stopped abruptly and stared at her daughter. An expression of anger and disgust crossed her face. ‘So you’ve been the fool after all? With so much at stake, and you had to tune …’
    ‘I didn’t do it on purpose, Mavi. The song … just came into my mind. I’d played no more than a measure …’
    There wasn’t any point in trying to justify the incident to her mother. Not now. The desolation Menolly had felt when she realized her father had taken the gitar intensified in the face of her mother’s cold displeasure.
    ‘Take the sack. We need fresh greens,’ Mavi said in an expressionless voice. ‘And any of the yellow-veined grass that might be up. There should be some.’
    Resignedly, Menolly took the