Chap. 27 Meeting an Artist

Chap. 27  Meeting an Artist

K'ndar, on transport duty, (Hariko had asked for him again), was surprised by the number of people at the Singing Waters Marketplace. It was crowded, with smells of roasting meat and freshly baked bread filling the air, baskets of fresh fruit and vegetables, and conversations everywhere.

  Children ran about, matronly women discussed the values of the wares, men stood and argued the merits of the animals before them. It was wonderful, and yet unnerving. He wasn't used to so many people. 

The various booths held all sorts of interests for him. He wandered through the marketplace, jostled by people who, for the most part, ignored him. He rather liked that. His Weyrling braid told the world he was fairly insignificant, and being a nobody suited him, giving him time to begin to absorb the different world he was seeing. 

Under a gaily painted pavilion, a woman sat, one foot pumping a pedal that spun a horizontal wheel around. K'ndar stopped, fascinated. He watched as the woman took a handful of clay and put it on the steadily spinning wheel. Somehow, almost magically, the lump turned into the beginnings of a pot. She continued adding the wet clay, the pot growing underneath her strong, capable hands.

 A green fire lizard perched on her shoulder, apparently monitoring the quality of the woman's work. Sometimes, bits of dried clay would fly off from the wheel, and the green would dart after them, catching the bits in midair, then dropping them back onto the wheel, to catch it again. 

There was a small group of people, watching the green's antics. 

"Your fire lizard…she's very clever," K'ndar said, "Did you train her to do that?"

"Nay," the woman said, without looking up from her work, "Putza invented the game all on her own. She used to drop the bits into my hair, which made it difficult for me to comb it, then one day discovered that dropping it on the wheel made it fly again. Now she does it all the time. In a way, it's a good habit, I don't have to keep sweeping the bits up." She looked up, instantly grasping his rank. "By the way, good morning, Weyrling." 

"It's K'ndar, ma'am," he said, politely.

"I'm Terylin, from Lay River Crafthall. Have you ever heard of it?" Her hands smoothed the obliging clay from ribbons to a smooth surface. Her fingers pinched the opening and it was done. She set it aside, intending to glaze it.

"Yes, ma'am, my barracks roommate, B'rost, grew up there. His dad's a cheesemaker."

"I know that young man.  Borost, aye? I knew he'd been Searched, I'm glad to hear he Impressed a dragon. He's a very nice young man.  It's a fairly small hall, where everyone knows everyone else, and we like it that way."

She took another lump of clay and placed it on the wheel. 

"I've never seen pots being made before," he said. 

"Never seen it done before?" she echoed.

"No, ma,am, you make it look easy."

She laughed. "Would you like to give it a try?"

Sure, why not, K'ndar thought. His uncle Fland had always encouraged him to learn as much as possible about anything. "I'd like to give it a try, yes, please."

She stood up, bits of clay falling from her apron. The fire lizard chased them, picking them up and dropping them on the now stilled wheel. When it was clear that it wasn't moving, she perched on Terylin's shoulder, her wings spread in readiness for it to begin again. 

"You'll need this, my lad," she said, putting it over his head. She showed him how the pedal pump worked. He grasped the hunk of clay on it. It felt wet, soft and malleable, full of promise. His fingers could not help but begin kneading, like bread dough. 

A crowd gathered.

"Now pump with a steady speed, and twist the clay into ropes about the size of your fingers. Coil it like rope. Don't stop pumping."

The clay was slimy and wet. He began to pump, the clay under his hands squishing as he pumped too fast, sending it everywhere. The fire lizard snatched a bit of clay out of mid-air and dropped it neatly atop his head. The crowd roared. 

"I suppose that's her opinion?" he asked, laughing.

Chuckling, Terylin collected the spatters of clay, reformed them into a lump.

 "You were pumping too fast. Gently but firmly mold the clay, like this," she said, taking his hands and folding them around the clay.

He tried again, this time much too slowly, the clay obstinately refusing to form into anything, never mind a rope. Putza, perched again, sighed in exasperation, as if realizing that K'ndar was hopelessly inept. The crowd giggled and snickered.

 "I'm entertaining them more than I'm making a pot," he said, ruefully. He gave it four more tries before submitting to the obvious. 

He stood up. "I give up, ma'am, I admire your ability to make this stuff behave. I guess I'll never be a potter."

"Aye, that's for certain, dragonrider, better stick to flying Thread, as you don't 'pear to have much brain 'tween them big ears," snarked a man in the crowd. He smirked, hoping for the laugh which didn't come.

K'ndar looked for his heckler, but Terylin was quicker.

"You, there, the boar with pig dung still on your boots…you can do better, what? Yes, you, come on, come up, you're obviously an expert. Show the dragonrider up," she said, motioning him forward. 

The heckler flushed and backed off. The folks around him jeered. "Aye, give it a go, Mandron, show up the lad." 

"Nay, I don't have the time," and he left, a little faster than was necessary.

"Head back to your pigpen, fool, you've got piglets to suckle," someone taunted his retreating back, and the crowd sent laughter after him. 

K'ndar hadn't really been bothered by the heckler. After living with a tyrannical father, his skin was fairly thick. What thrilled him was being called "dragonrider"!

"Thank you, ma'am, for letting me at least try," he said. She pointed out a bucket of water where he could rinse the clay from his hands. Absentmindedly, he wiped his hands dry on his shirt.  The crowd, realizing the free show was over, dispersed.

He looked over her wares, seeing the deep colors in the pots she had for sale.

 "These are beautiful." He picked one up, appreciating the heft of it despite its small size. The lid fit perfectly, if it hadn't a knob atop it, one would never guess it was a lid. Colors swirled on its side and he could see where a dragon had been carved into the glaze. He thought of his mother, wondering if she'd want one.

"Would you like that pot?"

"Oh, ma'am, I would, I think my mother would like it for her sewing needles, but I haven't any money."

"K'ndar, accept it as a gift."

He flushed. He wasn't used to such generosity, especially from strangers.

"I couldn't, ma'am, I couldn't, this is too nice….."

Her facial expression changed from a gentle smile to one that said it would not accept no for an answer. 

"Your mother isn't deserving of a gift from her son?" she asked, wickedly. 

"Uh, uh,.." K'ndar was dumbstruck with the swift turn. "Of course she's…"

She picked it up, quickly wrapped it in a scrap of worn hide, and pressed it into his hands.

"It's a gift for her, then. Someday, if you have any money, you can pay me, or we can barter for something else. A lovely horsehair choker, like the one you're wearing, for instance…"

He brightened. "I would be glad to barter. I would be glad to make one to your order. But, ma'am, I don't know when I'll get a chance to come back."

"That's alright, K'ndar. We'll just contract. When you've made mine-chestnut, please? I'll have my Putza come to your weyr. She's been trained to carry things between. In fact, I'll have her meet your dragon right now. What's his name?" 

"Raventh"

She shut her eyes, and the green cheeped and vanished.

There is another fire lizard here  Raventh reported.

Another? You mean, there are more than just the green?

Yes, another, there have been two here for a while, a bronze and a gold. They are all over me and Careth. Now this green is here, wanting to meet Raventh. That's me. I want a fire lizard, too

I know. So do I. Her name is Putza. Give her the visualization for our weyr. And the Weyr dragonstones, just in case. She will be carrying things for me back to her owner, Terylin

She is very quick. She has the images now. Will I be calling her?

Yes. Here's an image of what she will be carrying, tell her I will ask her to carry this back to her home. He visualized a horse hair choker.

She saw one like it on your neck

Tell her, yes, one like it

K'ndar wanted a fire lizard more than ever, now. 

"Okay, Raventh is talking to your fire lizard right now." 

"Let's contract, then."

Not quite sure what contract meant, still, K'ndar agreed. Putting the covered pot down, he stuck out his left fist, pinky finger extended. She did the same, hooking her pinky with his. 

 K'ndar's put his right hand on his heart.

"I promise to send a chestnut choker necklace to Terylin at Lay River Hold," he said. They knocked the knuckles of their fists together.

The green returned, whirring in pleasure.

"She likes Raventh," Terylin said.

K'ndar laughed. "Ma'am, Raventh is always saying the same thing about green dragons: 

And Raventh said it at the same moment, All the greens like me

"I'll be waiting," she said, and sat down to her wheel.