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Piemur Headed Toward Chorus
Piemur’s first class
that morning was chorus, for they were, as usual at this time
of the Turn, rehearsing the spring music for Lord Groghe’s
feast. Master Domick had collaborated with Menolly this year
and produced an uncommonly singable score for his ballad about
Lessa and her golden queen dragon, Ramoth.
Piemur was to sing the part
of Lessa. For once, he didn’t object to having to sing a
female role. In fact, that morning he waited eagerly for the
chorus to finish the passage before his first entrance. The moment
came, he opened his mouth, and to his amazement no sound emerged.
“Wake up, Piemur,”
said Master Domick, irritably rapping his stick on the music
stand. He alerted the chorus. “We’ll repeat the measure
before the entrance…if you are ready now, Piemur?”
Usually Piemur could ignore
Master Domick’s sarcasm, but since he had been ready to
sing, he flushed uncertainly. He took a breath and hummed against
his closed teeth as the chorus began again. He had tone, and
his throat wasn’t sore, so he wasn’t coming down with
a stuffed head.
The chorus gave him his entrance
again, and he opened his mouth. The sound that emerged ranged
from one octave to another, neither of which were in the score
he held.
A complete and awed silence
fell. Master Domick frowned at Piemur, who was now swallowing
against a fear that froze his feet to one spot and crept up his
bones to his heart.
“Piemur?”
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