Dragonriders of Pern series 1. Chapter 1

_Uber Long Author's Note of Doom: Back in the mid '90s the first Dragonriders of Pern book I ever read was Dragonsong. I was instantly addicted and finished Dragonsinger later that week, and then eventually begged my Dad to buy me DragonFlight and DragonQuest._

_Out of all the characters I was introduced to that year in Jr High, Master Harper Domick in Dragonsinger has become my favorite over the years. Probably because the more time I spend working in Customer Service, the more bitter and sarcastic I become - just like him._

_I had promised myself, and others, that I wouldn't be one of those fanfic writers who transported a favorite character from their world to ours. Not that there is anything wrong with that idea, but it is a bit overdone._

_Then one day, while driving home from work at 2am, I thought to myself, yes it's way overdone, but wouldn't it be funny if Master Harper Domick ended up on Earth? And what if he actually ended up on Earth at a local Ren Faire? It's just close enough to what I envision life on Pern to be that I think Domick would be able to get along okay, but at the same time it's different enough so that he wouldn't be comfortable at first._

_With RW I find myself doing a lot of brainstorming to explain the technical details of the story, like how the dragons weren't aware of each other, among other things, that sometimes I get severe cases of writer's block. That, combined with the fact that I work major amounts of overtime at my day job, is why it takes me months to churn out one chapter of RW. RW will still be my priority, but this will be a fun relaxing fan fic for me. Something to fall back on when I need a break. That's why there probably won't be an explanation about how Domick ends up on Earth, and I may even let myself make one or two fan fic author cliche mistakes just for the hell of it (so if you see them, don't freak out too badly)_

_So enjoy!_

* * *

"Wonderful song, Master Domick. I thought that the part where the music..." One of Tillek's Lord Holder's fosterlings had cornered the master composer as soon as he exited the stage. The man froze for a second, his eyes glazing over as he tried to think of the correct word. He gave up quickly and gestured with his hands instead, vaguely indicating something getting larger.

"... the crescendo?"

"... Yes, thank you... It was especially impressive."

"Crescendo's usually are." Domick replied dryly. The fosterling had a rather large forehead, and the harper found himself wondering what was it was for. Obviously it wasn't because he had been blessed with an abnormally large brain. In fact, from his lack of understanding of basic music theory, something that was taught to all children along with the teaching ballads, Domick was beginning to wonder if he had a brain at all. Maybe there was an additional heart up there? Or maybe it was nothing but dust and cobwebs.

"I was wondering if you might be able to write something similar for my wedding. My betrothed would be extremely impressed if I had a tune commissioned specifically for us - especially if it was written by the great Master Composer. It's a month away, but surely that should be more than enough time for you, yes?"  
Domick snorted. Write a song for a mere fosterling's wedding? And have it written and practiced and ready to play in a month? Yes, there definitely must be cobwebs in the boy's head. "I will not have enough time; Fort's midsummer gather is also in a month, and the choir and orchestra are currently practicing for that."

"I am not asking for much, just a twiddle..."

"It's simply not possible."

Rather than admitting defeat gracefully, the fosterling opened his mouth to argue. Talmor, a journeyman harper who had been standing a short distance behind him, swooped in to save his master from further irritation. "Does your hold harper not have a selection of instrumentals available for you to review? We just sent out some newer ones that should be appropriate."

"But I was hoping to have one written specifically for my wife..."

"I know, but Master Domick is right; there simply isn't enough time to write something deserving of your soon to be wife. Let's go speak with Harper Raynor." The journeyman continued without missing a beat or acknowledging the other man's whine. "As I just mentioned, we did send out some new music to him recently, and if there isn't a song in there that you like, he should have some older compositions that would be appropriate. I'm sure she will appreciate the time you took to find just the right song for her." Talmor was now guiding the fosterling through the crowd that had gathered around the stage towards the tables set up on either side of the dance floor - away from the Master of Composition.

Domick took the opportunity to head in the opposite direction. He kept his head down, ignoring any attempts to get his attention for fear of getting dragged into another dull conversation, and put as much space between him and Talmor and the fosterling as quickly as possible. He was beginning to regret agreeing to this gather... but the Masterharper had chosen him, specifically, to be here and he couldn't tell the leader of his Hall no. Especially not with the hall being stretched so thin at the moment; many Journeymen and Masters had been sent out to visit the far flung smaller family holds now that the last of the winter snows had melted, and those that weren't out traveling where sick in bed with allergies and spring colds. So here he was entertaining when he should have been working on finishing pieces for Fort's gather.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't see the girl until he nearly ran into a girl. He let his eyes linger over her briefly, appreciating her curly dark hair set off her grey eyes and the way her Igen cut robes clung to her curves. Maybe Tillek wasn't so bad after all. Then he caught sight of the bluerider on her arm, and the boy she hugged close to her. It figured; the pretty ones always flocked to the dragonriders. He turned away quickly, not noticing the confused look that she gave him and not hearing the question from the boy asking why 'Dom' didn't recognize them.

* * *

"The man was just trying to impress his sweeting," Talmor scolded his master when he found him a candlemark later. "Would it have been so hard to just send him something small that you'd already written and claim that you had done it for him?"

"That would have been fraud, and I refuse to let the Harper Hall get a bad name just because you feel sorry for some deadglow fosterling..."

"...Whose only crime is that he is in love. Haven't you ever tried to go out of your way for a girl to impress her?" Talmor snorted. "Of course, I forget your only love is music. It might do you well to..."

"Talmor!" The older man snapped, cutting the journeyman off. Holders sitting nearby turned to stare at them in surprise. He took a breath to calm himself before he spoke again, "You go too far."

"My apologies, sir."

"I'd expect such smart remarks from Piemur, but not from you."

"Yes, sir. My apologies sir."

"Water rations - for a week." Domick rubbed at his forehead; this gather was turning out to be more of a headache than he had thought it would be. "Now, Raynor's apprentice has been up there for a couple of sets - go give him a break."

"Yes, sir."

Domick leaned back in his chair, continuing to frown as he watched the other man leave. The journeyman had mouthed off before - so why did this time bother him so much? Was it because of the subject? He was well aware that many of the apprentices thought he was sexless. It wasn't true - he enjoyed a little female company as much as the next man. However, he didn't have time to deal with a woman right now: they were usually insipid little creatures with barely any other thought in their head except for getting a husband and housework. For example, there was that one drudge who had regularly warmed his bed for a few months last turn, but she had stopped speaking to him and the last he had heard was that she had gone back to her family's hold. It was probably for the best that she had gone away - he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. The only exception to the idiotic female idea was Menolly. She was smart and capable and didn't seem to be interested in marriage or even of the effect she had on men. However, while she was attractive, she was far too young for his tastes and she was already spoken for... even if she didn't quite realize it yet.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pulled out a bit of hide that he had thought to bring with him to the gather just in case he got bored. If he kept busy then hopefully everyone would leave him alone... and he certainly had enough to keep him busy; unfortunately, Piemur, his star boy soprano, was one of the ones affected by the spring cold, and, while there was still time before the midsummer gather, he didn't know if the boy's voice would be strong enough to sing by then. If he dropped this and that note down an octave though, then one of the girls currently enrolled at the Harper Hall school might be able to take Piemur's place if he wasn't healthy in time. That Amania had a pretty soprano...

* * *

The gather ended as soon as the light faded and a strong breeze chilled the air. It rushed from the hills behind the hold down to the ocean, mussing up Talmor's longer hair as Domick followed him and the three apprentices he had brought along down the road to the landing field. The Master Harper, Robinton, had arranged for them to conveyed back to Harper Hall on dragonback by Fort Weyr. Surprisingly, not only where the dragons already waiting for them, but there where three of them; two greens and a blue.

"It must be a slow day at the Weyr for us to rate so many." Talmor commented quietly to Domick as he ushered the apprentices ahead of them.

Domick was equally shocked that so many dragons had been sent when they had only rated a single brown this morning. Eager to get back to the Hall, he quickly divided the boys up between the greens, admonishing them to behave themselves and threatening them with water rations if they disobeyed. He walked over to the blue dragon and was greeted by a smiling young man that couldn't have been any older than Talmor. Domick froze, recognizing the blue rider as the one who had been escorting the grey eyed woman from before.

If the dragonrider remembered him, he gave no sign. Instead he nervously introduced himself; "My name is J'son, and this is my Blue, Blizarth."

"A pleasure to meet you both. Did you enjoy the gather today?"

"We weren't able to attend, sir."

"Are you sure? I thought I saw you escorting a girl around the square."

"No, sir, that must have been someone else."

"Yes, that must have been it." Domick murmured, remembering the rumors he had heard about certain dragonrider's preferences. Based on J'son's distasteful expression when he had mentioned the girl he was willing to bet that the man before him was one of those lads... but he could have sworn the bluerider he had seen at the gather and J'son were the same person. Maybe he had a twin? He accepted J'son's help up to the back of his dragon's neck as he mulled over it. The riding straps creaked underneath the additional weight. "Are these safe?"

"Perfectly. I checked them this morning."

"Mm." He made a mental note to keep a firm grip on Blizarth's ridge as the straps creaked again when the dragon took off. As they went between he thought he felt something snap, but that was impossible, because a person couldn't feel anything, hear anything, or breathe while in between.

He waited the obligatory three beat, expecting to suddenly burst from the freezing cold of between into the chilly air above Fort Hold, but it never came. Instead he felt as if he was falling.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: The Gentlemen of Misfortune are loosely based on the Poxy Boggards, a band that preforms at the Southern and Northern Renaissance Faires of California. They were also featured in the Docker's Superbowl Ad, y'know, the 'I wear no pants' song. The Ditzy Doxies are a combination of the Merry Wives of Windsor and the Belles of Bedlam, two bands who also perform at the Southern California Ren Faire._

_I do not own Domick or the Dragonriders of Pern - that all belongs to Anne McCaffrey and her family._

_Dictionary of popular Faire terms:_

_Playtron - A guest who likes to dress up in costume_

* * *

Pembroke Renaissance Village was a good two hour drive from any city large enough to be considered of any consequence. As a result, when it had opened in 1980, many had believed it would close within a year. Who would drive all the way out to their little town just to visit a fake town where people dressed up in silly clothes? No one would. Sure there might be a Faire thing out in Southern California - but that was started by hippies, and near movies studios and Disneyland. All they had up here was acres and acres of farmland and cows. Plenty of cows. Yup. That Pembroke wouldn't last a year.

However, it made it through the first year, and then another, and another, until the old men who hung out at the gas station on route six no longer raised their eyebrows when someone pulled up in a nice car wearing a weird outfit. And it continued to grow until the nearby town realized the error of their ways and began catering to the tourists that living history village brought in.

Pembroke was an especially popular tourist attraction during the summertime with hundreds purchasing tickets so they could wander the streets of the fake town and oggle at the re-enactors who worked there. Norah assumed that this was because walking around a living history museum seemed much more entertaining than a giant ball of twine off of a two lane highway to parents. She knew that she certainly would have preferred visiting a renaissance faire to a ball of twine if she had ever gone on road trips as a kid.

However, despite the many guests who came year after year, who loved to buy costumes so they could dress up like the re-enactors or sing songs along with the shows, there were always a few who seemed to regret walking through the front gates. Usually the parents might go running back to the ticket booth as soon as they saw a woman in a low cut bodice or a man in a kilt or heard someone say 'Feck'. Or maybe the parents might be thrilled at the learning opportunities that abounded at the Faire (for there were learning opportunities everywhere) but the kids just wanted to get back to their video games. The family unit strolling by Norah's booth right now was one of the later: the mother and father were trying to get their son to pay attention to the iron smith, who was busy pounding away at some... thing. Knowing the smith and his sense of humor as well as she did, Norah assumed it was probably something phallic in nature, but ornate enough that the average person wouldn't notice. However the teenager was too busy gawking at Norah's cleavage to care about what the smith was doing or anything else that was going on around him.

Having worked at the Village for nearly four years now, Norah had learned that boys would be boys and eye her assets no matter how high she had her chemise pulled or how much she had tucked the girls down. One just had to try to ignore it and save the yelling for the ones who decided that the 'hands on experience' that Pembroke advertised meant that you could not only touch the sheep but the women too. Something about this boy irked her though. Maybe it was because her own son would never dare to look at a girl like that. Or maybe it was because he reminded her of a schoolmate who had thrown mud at her in gym when she confessed she liked him. Maybe he just reminded her of the snotty kids she had babysat while going to college who liked to tell their mothers that she had given them the beer when really they had stolen it out of their dad's fridge in the garage. Or maybe it was because his leering smile reminded her of him, the one who had broken her heart with his lies. All she knew was that she did not like this boy, and she wanted to teach him a lesson that it was not okay to stare.

She eyed the distance from her booth to where the boy stood and nodded to herself; yes, she could definitely make that.

The next time the boy turned around to ogle her chest again, he was met with a face full of wet rag. The boy squawked in surprise, and soon Norah could hear the mother yelling demanding to know who had thrown something at her baby. However Norah wasn't about to look up from the shirts she was suddenly very busy straightening. Kids were yelled at by their parents all the time - lord knew she had been yelled at as a kid and she scolded Marcus often enough - so it shouldn't be suspicious if she didn't turn around. Also, maybe the mother wouldn't suspect anything if she was busy doing something... though, now that she thought about it, wouldn't suddenly being busy when one wasn't busy before be considered suspicious? She always knew that was how Marcus was up to something. That behavior, and when he was suddenly quiet were dead giveaways. Perhaps she should stop.

Norah stretched and watched as the family unit passed by. Her subterfuge must have worked because neither the mother nor the father seemed to notice that she was there. However, the boy slowed down, dropping behind his parents a little to glare at her, his wet hair and shirt clinging to his skin. She stuck her tongue out at him but turned back to the shirts as soon as the mother turned around to see why her son was dawdling.

"You are a cruel woman, Norah Chenowith."

Norah smiled at the tall lanky man who had walked up to the counter. "Really, Mud? What makes you say that?"

"What you just did to that poor kid for admiring a thing of beauty."

She flushed; so the incident hadn't gone unnoticed. "All I did was help him cool down. It is a hot day, I'm sure he appreciated it."

"Uh-huh. Y'know, there are rules about accosting customers. You could have caused a lot of trouble for your Aunt if that woman had caught you."

"Well, she didn't, and he's not about to say anything," She leaned on the counter, knowing that the stance brought her cleavage at a level with Mudd's eyes. She hated herself a little for doing it - especially after what she had just done to that boy for gawking at her - but the girls were useful distractions sometimes. "And you wouldn't say anything because you need me."

The old man laughed. "Nice try, my dear, but those jedi mind tricks of yours won't work on me today.".

Norah smiled and straightened up. "Don't you have something else you need to be doing other than scolding me? Like getting ready to sing?" Her stand butted up next to the entrance of the Wharf Theatre where such great acts like the Ditzy Doxies and Gentlemen of Misfortune sang bawdy songs. The Doxies had just ended their set shortly before the wet rag incident with the boy had occurred, and the Gentleman were up next. Norah glanced up at the clock she had hidden in the rafters of the stand. According to it, Mud should actually be onstage with the rest of his band right now. "You better hurry, you're five minutes late."

"Eh they can survive without me for a few minutes while I spend time with my favorite sales person."

"Mmhm."

"How's the kiddo doing? I miss seeing him about."

"Sure you do." It was funny how much everyone said they missed Marcus when he wasn't around, but the second he was in their way they couldn't wait to be rid of him. "When I spoke with my Mom on Friday she said he was doing fine. That he was such a polite young man and..."

"Did she drug him?"

She laughed. "You know he can be a good kid... but, yeah, I was wondering that myself."

In the theater the crowd yelled out Mud's name as one, as they had been instructed to do so by another Gentleman of Misfortune, and the musician jumped. "Well try to cheer up; this won't be for much longer sweetheart, I promise I am looking for someone else." He gave her a peck on the cheek and went running into the theater where a chorus of applause greeted his belated arrival.

Norah sighed; sure he was looking for someone else. Had he forgotten that he had told her the exact same thing nearly a month ago? And the month before that? It would only be for a week or two, Mud had promised her when she had agreed to work at the stand after Bob left during the spring. Then he would find a replacement and she could move on to something better - though she wasn't sure what that better thing might be yet.

There were three types of people who worked at the faire: re-enactors, boothies who sold costumes, souvenirs, or food, and then there were the performers like Mud. The re-enacting guilds that visited during the summer were slowly beginning to trickle in one by one, and so far she didn't like the look of them. Most of them expected women to carry water, cook the meals, and take care of the kids - which was period appropriate - but she wanted more than that. There had been the whorehouse - they weren't actual whores... they only portrayed period ones - but they didn't allow children in their group, so what would she do with Marcus. She could work for one of the other booths at the Faire, maybe one of the ones that stayed year round, but, as Mud had reminded her, she wasn't great at hawking wares to the tourists. Which left performing. She mulled the idea over as she watched the crowds pass by; she couldn't sing and she didn't know how to play an instrument, so joining the Doxies was out. The acting troupes were very selective in accepting new members, and they tended to be full of more drama than high school. Norah had had enough drama over the past couple of years to last her for the rest of her life.

The Gentlemen of Misfortune started a jaunty little number that had her swishing her hips in time to the beat. Dancing. She was good at dancing. She had taken enough classes on hip hop, modern dancing, and ballet to minor in the subject at college. Out of all the forms of dancing though, belly dancing was probably her favorite. Pembroke had employed a belly dance troupe in the past to perform on weekends. However, they had had a falling out with the owners last fall and refused to come back unless they were paid more - so there went that idea. She sighed in frustration, tossing a t-shirt down on top of the others with a little more force than necessary. Unless something miraculous happened, it looked like she was stuck at the Wharf for the long haul.

She should be grateful, she told herself. As much as she might hate it, at least the Gentlemen and the Doxies paid her decently, and that money combined with the income she made from the other odd jobs she did around Pembroke was enough to feed and take care of her son. And as long as he was happy and healthy, that was all that mattered.

* * *

After another couple of hours of pacing behind the counter, with only the occasional break from Mud or one of the other Gentlemen so she could visit the restroom or get something to eat and drink, Norah finally found a way to escape the Wharf Theatre. Well, temporarily at least. A heavy set crier girl stopped by to beg for a glass of water. As soon as she had sat down she had started to complain about how much her feet hurt and how she was exhausted from leading the various parades about the village and making sure the guests got out of the way. Now they expected her to lead the Ringout for the day, the crier had continued to whine. There were other criers who didn't work nearly as hard as she did! Couldn't the guild leaders get one of them to take her spot? She had thought that they would be more understanding since they knew that she had an injured knee... but nooooo. They continued to work her like a dog.

Norah had never done Ringout, but she had seen the criers pass by countless times, and it didn't seem like it was that hard to do; all you did was walk around the Village, ring your bell and announce that Pembroke was closed for the day. So she had smiled and sympathized with the crier girl in all the right places, and then suggested that they switch spots for the evening. The girl had hemmed and hawed at first, but had eventually given in and traded her yellow sash and bell for a stool in the shade.

If the head of the crier's guild was surprised to see Norah show up at the End of the World, which was at the very back of Pembroke, instead of the whining girl, she didn't say anything. Instead she grouped Norah with two other criers, and they tromped through the Village, ringing their bells and herding the guests in front of them towards the exit gate. Once they had finished, they headed back to the End of the World again and repeated the process until Pembroke was empty of everyone except for a man who continued to doze away under the shade of a tree.

Norah eyed him curiously. He was dressed in garb, but it wasn't the get up a reenactor or a playtron would wear; instead he seemed to be wearing a shirt with a layered tunic on top, pants that clung to his legs and boots. It looked similar to something that costume shops sold as medieval prince outfit around Halloween, but it appeared to be of a far superior quality. She thought that he might be a part of a SCA group that had come to visit the Village in between Wars, but he wasn't wearing the silly belt things that SCAer's wore that indicated what house or kingdom they were from - unless they had ditched that in favor of the weird shoulder braids that decorated his tunic like an epaulet.

"Sir, Pembroke is closed for the evening!" She stomped towards him hoping that if the bell she was ringing didn't wake him, then maybe her heavy footfalls would. "Sir, you really need to leave now. Like that song says - you don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

The man still didn't move. Norah glanced back over her shoulder and shrugged at the other Cryer girls; maybe the man was deaf, but if he was, wouldn't he have felt her stomping? "Sir?"

It was as she came closer that she noticed the grass around his head; it was red - as if someone had spilled the wine they had purchased at one of the Ale stands. Only it was thicker, and a deeper darker shade of red. Blood.

She cursed and grabbed his wrist to feel his pulse. Thankfully it was still there, and his chest was moving, so he was alive. She pressed her skirt against the cut on his head and yelled back at the taller of the Cryer girls. "Call 911! He's injured!"


	3. Chapter 3

"So you didn't see anyone near the victim at all?" The police officer who responded to the emergency call was staring at Norah. His expression kept alternating between one of admiration for her cleavage and one that clearly broadcasted the fact that he thought everyone here at Pembroke was crazy for the weird get up they were wearing.

"No. We passed by this spot twice and I didn't notice him at all."

"Hm." The officer jotted something down on his notepad. "And did you see the victim arrive?"

"No."

"But I understand you work at the Wharf stand. That's fairly close to the opening of... this... place."

"Yes, but thousands of people come through the front gate on a day to day basis; it's kinda hard to see or remember everyone." Norah snapped. She was tired, and hungry, and wanted to take a shower and change into normal clothing, but this idiot kept questioning her and wouldn't let her go. She rubbed at her forehead and sighed, "I'm sorry - it's just been a really really long day."

"Hmf."

"Johnny, is there a reason why you are still interrogating my niece?" A shrill voice demanded as a shorter woman who looked to be in her 60s pushed past the yellow tape surrounding the area where Norah had discovered the strange man.

"Now, Miss Bliss, you need to stay over there, this is a crime scene..."

"Don't 'Miss Bliss' me boy. Have you forgotten that this is my property? I'll go wherever I damn well please." Bliss Labbock, the owner of Pembroke, came to a stop in front of the officer and crossed her arms over her chest. "Your buddies already let the two other girls go, now why don't you let Norah go too? She's probably starving. It is past dinnertime after all."

"The other girls didn't actually discover the victim; Ms. Chenowith did..."

"So therefore she's somehow going to know more about him then they do? As I'm sure she's explained, she doesn't recognize him or know him."

"And you would know who your niece is familiar with?"

"Yes."

"I find that hard to believe..."

"Have you neglected to notice that we are a fairly small community? Everyone here knows each others business whether we want them to or not."

"If you are such a small community then how did no one see this attack?"

"Maybe it wasn't an attack. Maybe he just had too much booze and fell and bumped his head." Norah shrugged, it wouldn't have been the first time that that had happened to a guest. Though why that hadn't occurred to the police was beyond her. Maybe it was a slow day at the office and for lack of anything better to do the locals were turning an ant hill into a mountain. "Why don't you just wait until he wakes up and ask him what happened to him before making any assumptions? I mean, if he was attacked, which I doubt, continuing to question me isn't going to do you any good since I didn't see anything."

The officer narrowed his eyes at her. "I should throw you in jail, missy."

"For what?!"

"Obstruction of justice."

Norah rolled her eyes, "How is it obstruction of justice? I'm not withholding any information from you because I don't have any information to tell you other than that I found him over there." She pointed at the tree, "And had my friends call 911 for help!"

"How about threatening a police officer?"

"Oh for the love of God..."

Bliss began to puff up, reminding Norah of an irritated bird who thought it was much bigger than it actually was. "I'll show you threatening, boy..."

A shout interrupted their discussion. Just about a yard away from where they stood, the paramedics were finally beginning to load the mystery man into the ambulance. Norah took that as a good sign - if he was in severe condition, they would have rushed him off as soon as possible, right? She could see that the man had regained consciousness and was visibly confused about the situation. He tried to fight the paramedics, straining against the straps that held him on the gurney even as they tried to reason with him. She could hear him yelling something about porn, masterharpers, and dragons.

Weird.

Norah glanced at Bliss, expecting to find her aunt watching the spectacle with a raised eyebrow and an expression on her face. Later, when they were alone, she would launch into an hour long rant about this younger generation of rennies and how idiotic they could be. Instead she noticed that Bliss had gone pale. The last thing they needed right now was for her to pass out on them."Aunt Bliss! Are you alright, do you need to sit down?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Do you know who he is?"

"No, I haven't seen him before today either."

"Aunt Bliss..." Norah started, sure that even if she didn't know who the man was she at least had an idea of what was going on. Thankfully Officer Johnny was too busy writing on his little notepad to notice how agitated her Aunt had suddenly become.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to call our lawyers and our insurance company, just in case he gets it in his head to sue."

The officer nodded at her, dismissing her. "Not a problem Miss Bliss, say hello to your daughter for me."

"Fat chance in hell of that happening." The short woman stormed off just as quickly as she came, the crowd that had gathered around the scene parting before her like the red sea.

* * *

Eventually Officer Johnny Dumb Ass did finish questioning Norah and let her go with an admonition to stay near town in case he had any more questions for her. Norah had just snorted in response; where else would she go? Her mother's? No - she would continue to stay here at Pembroke as long as Bliss let her.

The crowd of workers and reenactors surrounding the scene had grown in size as everyone from every part of faire had gathered in the clearing to see what was going on. While Norah was a well loved and recognized member of their family, she was not as respected as Bliss was (yet), and so they did not part for her like they had for the older woman. Instead she had to physically push through the clusters of people, fielding questions left and right. No, the man was not dead, she informed anyone who asked. No, she had no idea who he was - but if anyone thought they might know him then they should go to the police as he didn't have any ID on him... not even a cell phone to contact a loved one!

Along the way she found Mud and dragged the old man backstage. He smiled at her, "That was some nice work back there, maybe I should hire you as a PR..."

"Did you see where Bliss took off to?"

"Her office, I would assume."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming, but that's a good place to start." The few salaried employees that ran the administrative side of Pembroke - the accountants, security, and gardeners, among other things - had offices behind the End of the World. However, despite the fact that there had been an emergency at the site today, Norah discovered that everyone had already left and the doors were locked. Lovely. So, that meant that Bliss was probably at her house - a tiny two bedroom place that was nestled behind the Windsor Castle facade at the front of Pembroke.

"Why are you so desperate to see her? Did that cop back there say something?"

"No. She was laying into the officer in her usual fashion when that guy we found started babbling about dragons and harpers and... something about porn, I think. Bliss froze when she heard him talking, and then she bolted away. Something's up, because... y'know how she is - she never backs down from an argument."

"Wait, dragons and harpers?" Mud laughed. "I think you mean Pern, darling, not porn."

"What's Pern?"

"You're Bliss's niece and you don't know what Pern is? It's only your Aunt's favorite book series of all time."

"Oh! Those old dusty books she keeps above her computer? The ones with the horrible covers?"

"I'll have you know that that art was considered top notch back in the day."

"Uh-huh, and I'm the queen of Sheba."

"I'm surprised that Bliss never let you read them when you were younger."

"You forget who my mother is and how she can be." Norah snorted. Her mother would have had a conniption if she had come home from Pembroke as a child carrying a book about dragons.

"Good point." Mud held aside one of the curtains that blocked off the Faire proper from the backstage area. Norah muttered a thanks, and then sighed in relief when she saw that Bliss's living room lights were on. She could see her aunt sitting in her favorite chair through the window. She could also see that her aunt had buried her face in her hands, and, as they came closer, she saw that the older woman's shoulders were shaking... was she crying? Yes... Norah decided after a moment, Bliss was crying. She gave Mud a worried look; she couldn't remember the last time her Aunt had shed a tear that wasn't the result of allergies. The old man shrugged in response, and patted her on the shoulder before leaving her on her own. Some friend he was.

Even though she knew that her Aunt's front door was always open, Norah knocked anyways. "Aunt Bliss?"

"In here, dear." There was the sound of a nose being blown, and then papers being shuffled. When Norah walked into the living room she found her Aunt sitting in her chair, still dressed in her faire garb, and reading the newspaper. However, her uncle's picture had been moved from the mantle over the fireplace to the table next to the chair, and Norah could see used tissues peaking out of the waste basket. "Have the police left yet?"

"Yeah."

"That Johnny didn't give you any more trouble did he? He used to be such a nice boy, but then he got that badge, and I think it all went to his head." Bliss folded the paper and sighed. "I really don't know why they let him be a police officer when he was the one that got my baby into all that trouble. Thankfully she's moved on to better things."

Norah wisely kept her lips shut regarding her cousin and decided to change the subject. "Did you call the lawyers?"

"Hm?"

"The lawyers - you said you were going to call them."

"Why would I call them now? It's night time. Their office is closed."

"Well what about the insurance?"

"You know how much I hate waiting on hold for them. I'll deal with them in the morning too."

Norah nodded and sat down on the couch. She watched as Bliss glanced around the room - at everything except her niece. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Everything is perfectly fine."

"Uh-huh." She stared at her Aunt, who was still refusing to look her in the eye. "Did you lie about that guy? Do you know him?"

"No, I told Johnny the truth; I've never seen him before in my life." She said with a huff.

"Sorry, you just seemed to get a little emotional after he started screaming about Pern and all that stuff."

Her aunt went all stiff again. "It was nothing, just some old memories. Your uncle used to love those books, y'know."

"Mud says you did too."

"Well, they were very popular back in the day - unfortunately I think her son ruined it all. But maybe that movie will finally get made and they'll have a bit of a comeback... " Bliss's voice drifted off into silence again. "Why don't you sleep here tonight instead of going back to the Wharf? I want to go visit that poor man at the hospital tomorrow."

"Okay..." Norah blinked in confusion. Other people had gotten injured at her Faire before - usually children who tripped and fell when their parents weren't watching them, or drunks who had had one too many. For a while, Bliss had offered them discounts and free tickets or souvenirs in an attempt to appease the injured party. Then one day a parent had tried to sue her, and now she let her lawyers handle things. Why was this guy so different? "But you're not supposed to meddle, remember?"

"Who said that?"

"The Lawyers, the insurance company, that judge..." She ticked the people off on her fingers one by one.

"I am not meddling. I am merely getting information for the lawyers and the insurance for when I talk to them tomorrow. I'm supposed to do that."

"Right - that sounds like meddling to me."

Bliss sniffed. She stood up and turned off the light, throwing the room in darkness. "Goodnight, Norah."

"Goodnight, Aunt Bliss."


	4. Chapter 4

Sleeping in the extra room like Bliss suggested turned out to be a bad idea. The twin sized bed that Bliss kept for when her guests came to visit was cramped compared the queen that Norah had in her own room. It was also harder than a rock and the pillows were flat. She could not get comfortable enough to fall asleep and if she tried to change positions, her neck and back would protest with sharp stabs of pain. Also, whenever she was lucky enough to start to drift off, she was shortly awoken by the sound of Bliss moving around the room next door.

Stupid man. Why did he have to get injured at their faire? What if he sued Pembroke and they lost it all because of him? What if he wasn't going to sue, but Bliss did something to piss him off and he changed his mind? Though the old woman clearly knew more about the stranger than she was letting on. The look on her face when she had heard him mention Pern... Norah sighed. How could she bring it up without being shut down again? Or, worse yet, be banished from Pembroke for being too nosy?

She rolled over and stared at the ceiling. What would she do if there was no Pembroke? She would have to return to her Mother's house for awhile - at least until she could find a job and an apartment. She could put up with her Mother for short periods of time for Marcus's sake, but to be stuck in the same house as the woman who had threatened to disown her week after week? She would be forced to listen to the woman's complaints about her hair, her clothing, and her lack of a proper job. Then there would also be the questions regarding Marcus's father, and how he needed to have a father, and how she couldn't believe that one of her daughters would have a child out of wedlock. The thought of it made her shudder.

Here at Pembroke she had her own room away from Bliss's house, so she could do what she want and if she had a guest over, she wouldn't have to hear about it the next day - not that that had happened in a while because of Marcus, but still. Her credit card debt was nearly paid off, the student loan was getting there, and the fresh air, fresh food, and exercise was wonderful for her and for Marcus.

But what could she do to prevent Bliss from seeing this man tomorrow? There was only one hospital nearby, so it wasn't as if she could take her to another hospital and say she got confused. What if she convinced Mud to take the battery out of the truck? No, that wouldn't work either, as there were others who would only be too happy to lend Bliss their cars.

Eventually giving up on getting any quality shut eye, Norah got out of bed and wandered downstairs to Bliss's office. There, above the computer, she found the books with the horrible covers that she had complained about to Mud earlier in the evening. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she surveyed the blond haired girl flying on what looked like a brontosaurus with wings against a pink sky, but she took it with her into the living room to read anyways. If she was going to stay up, she might as well keep herself entertained rather than letting her mind wander and worry.

* * *

Back when Domick had been a child, there had been a storage room at his family's hold that he had refused to go into. No matter how high they stoked the fire in the brazier, there was a chill that seemed to linger there, and the brightest glows could never quite chase the gloom from the corners of the room. His brothers had known that he was frightened of that room, and had shut him in there one day after he had out done them at learning a harper's lesson. Eventually his father had rescued him, but, much to his mother's dismay, he had developed a cough. He had been taken to see the hold healer, who was a cantankerous old man with the bedside manner of a tunnel snake, and was forced to drinking all sorts of horrible teas and breathing in sharp smelling incenses until he was better. As a result of that torture, he had avoided storage rooms ever since, and, even though the Healer Hall adjoined the Harper Hall and he saw Healers on a daily basis as he went about his business, he still couldn't quite stand their presence.

These healers who were speaking with him now reminded him of that horrible man from his childhood. They asked him questions about his name and did he know what day it was, and then raised eyebrows at his answers. Then, sometimes, when they thought he wasn't looking, he would catch them looking at him in that way that said that they pitied him or thought he had gone mad.

Of course, Domick told himself, it probably didn't help that he was unable to focus properly right now. He felt groggy and sluggish and his head was pounding like he had had too much wine. He had avoided the wine at the gather though, so this had to be the result of whatever the men in that boxy metal wagon had given him when he had woken up and demanded to know what was going on. In fact, now that he thought about it, no one had answered his questions about where he was or how he had gotten here yet.

One of the healers, a younger man this time, leaned close to him, and somehow managed to produce a light from a skinny metal tube that he held in his hands. Domick stared at it in amazement until the healer shined the light in his eyes. He flinched away, and the man asked if he had any sort of a headache.

"Yes." He replied, hating how the word slurred over his tongue. He was normally better at enunciating than this.

"Well, you have a concussion. I don't think there's any risk of a sub-dermal hematoma from that cut you got on the back of your head, but I'd like to keep you here overnight for observation and run some tests in the morning. Is there anyone we can notify for you?" The healer was jotting down stuff on a paper using some sort of a writing instrument.

"Masterharper Robinton."

"Is he from Pembroke too?"

"Pembroke?"

"The place the EMTs picked you up at."

"No, he resides at the Harper Hall..."

"And where is that at?"

"Fort Hold." Domick was beginning to get frustrated. How could these people not know where Fort Hold was? But then he had never heard of a healer hall like this. Maybe he had fallen through times like when Lessa had gone back 400 turns to bring forward the old timers. Yes, he thought to himself, that had to be it. Master Robinton suspected that man hadn't just appeared on Pern, that they had come from somewhere else. Maybe he had gone all the way back to when man first arrived on Pern - but none of the plants he had seen earlier at that place with all the people resembled anything he had seen at home. They were all too green, and the sun had looked wrong in the sky..

The healer looked up at him sharply from his clipboard and gave him that pitying look again. "Fort Hold? I'm not familiar with that city, but we'll see what we can do." He glanced back at the other man in the room, who simply shrugged in response. "Ruez here will give you some Ibuprofen for the headache, and we'll start the process of getting you admitted."

Domick nodded and watched as the healer left the room. He was stopped just outside the door by Ruez and the two had a short conversation before Ruez returned with a paper cup full of water and two small pieces of what reminded the harper of chalk. He swallowed them as Ruez directed, and frowned to himself as the other man left the room again and stopped outside to speak with the healer. Even though the men tried to keep their discussion quiet, Domick had been able to catch whispered comments about fugue states and dissociative amnesia. He had no idea what a fugue state was, but he knew that amnesia meant a loss of memories, either temporary or permanent. He could remember everything about his life though... so how did that apply to him?

He laid back on the table and pressed his hands against his eyes, wishing that his head would stop pounding and he could think clearly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ruez had returned and had forced him to change into a short tunic that didn't quite close in the back while all his other clothing was taken away from him and put in a bag for safe keeping. After that the healer had pushed him about in a chair with wheels even though he was perfectly capable of walking around. When he insisted that he did not need to use the chair, Ruez had told him that he didn't have a choice because it was 'Hospital' policy.

Hospital - Domick had mulled the word over his mind. He didn't recognize it, but then he didn't recognize anything else here, so he shouldn't be that surprised. Maybe, he thought to himself, he had finally snapped after dealing with one too many idiotic apprentices and this was his mind's way of dealing with it. However, despite his gift at writing music, he wasn't sure he was imaginative enough to create this... whatever this was... and he had dreamt some fantastic things as a child.

When he pulled himself out of his reverie he realized that he was in a small room without any windows. The doors that Ruez had pushed him through closed silently. The healer pushed a button on a wall and the room started to swiftly rise, making Domick's head spin. The sensation was akin to a dragon launching himself from the ground, only much more disorienting since they were enclosed on all sides. Just when he thought he couldn't handle it anymore, the doors slid open to reveal a long hallway lined by rooms and an occasional window. The harper was surprised to notice that it was already light outside. Had he really been stuck here for that long?

They passed by a woman sitting behind a counter, who didn't even glance up at them... she just kept fiddling with some rectangular contraption that lit up at her touch and displayed moving images. Ruez turned down another hallway and pushed Domick into a room that was already occupied by an older man who was hooked up to several... things... that beeped and glowed by wires that ran out of their hard metal bodies into his thin skeletal one.

The Harper went cold. He had never seen anyone in such a state; even the holdless had more meat on their bones than this old uncle did! He began to suspect that maybe these people weren't healers after all.

He tried to stay calm, to reason with himself that they had done nothing to hurt him like the ones in the metal carriage had. The pain in his head was finally starting to recede, probably because of those white things they had given him earlier, so clearly they knew something about fixing the human body.

And yet, they believed he had amnesia, even though he was perfectly fine. They looked at him like he was crazy and wanted to do tests and something called an MRI. What if those tests were like what they were doing to this old man?

He had a sudden urge to get out of there, to get away from these cold rooms and corridors that reminded him so much of that storage room back in the family hold. To escape from these healers that were just as cold as their hall.

Ruez pushed him farther into the room, and then stepped away from the wheelchair to close the curtain around the emaciated man. Domick waited until his back was turned before standing up and trying to leave the room, however the healer spotted him, "Where are you going?"

Domick didn't reply. He didn't have it in him to physically hurt the other man, even though he had taken part in some of the self defense classes Robinton had insisted that his Harpers attend before the pass had started. Instead, he shut the door and tried to block it by pushing a cart piled high with sleeping rugs in front of it. He walked down the hallway as quickly as possible. This time the woman at the desk did look up, but instead of trying to stop him, she picked up an object from the desk and started pushing buttons that were set into it's base. Domick didn't stop to see what it would do; the ascending room was only a few yards away. While he wasn't familiar with it, he was sure he would be able to figure out how to operate it. It couldn't be that hard if an oaf like Ruez had been using it. But how did one get inside the thing though? There weren't any handles that he could see, and the doors couldn't be budged by pushing them in.

He heard shouts from behind him and turned to find Ruez and two other men running towards him. Shards and shells! Why wouldn't the door open!

A chime echoed through the corridor, and, as if it sensed his desperation, the doors slide open revealing an old auntie and a young woman with grey eyes. Domick froze, his need to escape from the hospital momentarily forgotten in his surprise. How had she ended up here too?

That moment was all Ruez needed to catch him. Domick found himself being grabbed from behind and being restrained while the woman with grey eyes watched.


	5. Chapter 5

"What in the world is a fugue state?" Bliss asked, blowing on the styrofoam cup of coffee she held in an attempt to cool it down. She, Norah, and the family Doctor, Matthew Quintan, were sitting at a table in the hospital cafeteria because she had decided to, yet again, ignore everyone's advice and stick her nose into someone else's business. Bliss had been shocked at what they had witnessed earlier and had become incensed on the mystery man's behalf. Norah had had to listen to her rant about how dare they tackle that poor man like that when surely he could be reasoned with until she could find a nurse or administrator at the hospital to complain to. When that person had refused to give her any more information regarding his condition since they were not related to him, Bliss had called up Dr. Quintan, who was nearly as old as she was, if not older, and demanded answers from him.

Surprisingly, even though he hadn't visited the hospital in many years, the short grey haired doctor still managed to have enough pull to be allowed to visit with the mystery man and had been granted access to his files. "It's related to amnesia in that the patient loses memory of who they are and the event that triggered the episode. However, unlike retrograde amnesia the patient doesn't just forget who they are - they create a new identity for themselves."

"Sort of like that movie... Renee Zelleweger was in it..." Norah snapped her fingers as she remembered the name of the film, "Nurse Betty."

"Exactly. Only your mystery man seems to believe that he's from some fantasy world with dragons in it."

"Pern." Bliss said.

"Yes... didn't your husband suffer from the same delusions at some point?"

"Yes, but you can't blame him. Daddy did hit him with his truck after all." Bliss ignored Norah's gasp of surprise at the revelation. The younger woman had always knew that something about her uncle had been a bit off... but he had thought he had come from Pern as well? How strange that two people would show up at Pembroke claiming they were from the same fantasy world. Now she understood why her Aunt wanted to be here and speak to this man a bit better. "You remember that old beast he used to drive, don't you Michael? You probably would have thought you were from a different planet if you got hit with it too."

The old man chuckled. "True."

"Is there anything they can do to treat these delusions?" Norah interrupted.

"Usually fugue states will fade over time. It is possible to do therapy, such as hypnosis treatments, but it's hard to know what questions to ask regarding what trauma might have brought about this state if we do not have an idea of who the patient really is. So far, it seems Domick here, as he's calling himself, really is a mystery; there have been no reports of someone matching his description going missing, he had no identification on him when he was brought in to the ER, and his fingerprints and teeth do not match any records on file."

"What will happen to him?" Bliss asked, taking control of the conversation again.

"The nearest psychoanalyst is over two hours away, but since Domick doesn't have any insurance that we know of, and it'll take awhile for your insurance company to pay out, the hospital would have to pay for his treatment and they can't afford that. Since fugue states are rare he may be willing to take the case on pro bono. I've met the man though, and he's an idiot, so I doubt he'll be any help." Dr. Quintan took a sip of his coffee. "Dr. Slack, Domick's attending physician, has him restrained to his bed for now since he tried to escape this morning. They will be taking him for an MRI shortly, but if there is no other injury besides the minor concussion he seems to be suffering on top of the fugue state, Domick will probably be released in another day or two, maybe even sooner."

"But he's ill! Will someone at least be appointed as his caretaker?"

"Probably not. No matter who he thinks he is, or what planet he thinks he is from, he doesn't have appear to have any physical or mental limitations that would prevent him from taking care of himself. There are halfway houses in the city, and the halfway house may have classes that he could take to prepare him for the world at large."

"A half-way house? Like where they send drug addicts and convicts?"

"Yes."

"Lovely." Bliss drummed her fingers on the table. "What if someone locally were to take him in?"

"I don't like where this is going." Norah found herself interrupting again. "We're barely staying afloat as it is and you're thinking about taking in another mouth to feed?"

"He'll learn to earn his keep."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"No, she may have a point. If Pembroke is where he was injured, and if the injury sparked this fugue state, then maybe being there will help him remember something that will help him recover faster." The doctor said. "And even if he doesn't recover, Pembroke is a smaller town with a social structure that is close to what he is familiar with on his fantasy world, so it may be easier for him to adjust here than in the city."

"Or make the situation worse." She couldn't believe he was agreeing to Bliss's idea.

"He'll still be coming here for check ups to monitor his progress." Quintan tried to reassure her.

"He was injured at Pembroke. It's our responsibility to keep an eye on him and help him out, Norah..."

"Why is it our responsibility? Because he got drunk and fell and knocked his head on our property? That could've happened to anyone. In fact, it has happened to others and you didn't seem to care one bit about them!"

"This is different."

"How? Because he lost his memory? Or because he thinks he's from the same planet as Uncle Darren?"

"Norah." The old lady gave Norah a glare that would have most people shaking in their boots - in fact, it made Dr. Quintan scoot back from the table just an inch or two - but her niece didn't waver. She had suffered far worse looks when she had rebelled against her mother in her youth. As a result her 'Mom' looks, as Mud called them, had simply lost their affect on Norah. Bliss had yet to realize this though, and continued to try to stare her niece down. "Really, Norah, it's attitudes like yours that are the reason that this world is in the shape it's in. No one is willing to help out their fellow man anymore."

"I understand that you want to help him, but we have to think about the others at the faire. There are families with young kids there, like Marcus! What if he's some sort of predator?"

"Norah, Domick is harmless."

"You don't know that..."

"Go back to the faire. I'm sure you're needed at the souvenir booth." She commanded. "I'll stay here and straighten this out with Matthew here, and then I'll call you when I need a ride home."

"Fine." Norah stood, excusing herself from the table and heading towards the exit. Once outside the cafeteria, she bit her lip, struggling to control the urge to scream. She and Bliss got along so much better than she and her mother did - but the woman still could get under her skin and irritate her sometimes. How dare she dismiss her like that! Didn't she realize that Norah was only trying to protect them?

She passed a couple of orderlies pushing a man on a gurney. He reached out suddenly, fighting against the straps that bound his wrists, and grabbed at her hand. She jerked away so his calloused fingertips just barely brushed her skin. He continued to turn towards her though despite the restraints that held him still, his brown eyes pleading with her as the orderlies pushed him along the corridor.

"Help me, please help me. I saw you at the gather..." His slurred cry was cut off by the doors shutting behind them.

Norah stared after him in confusion. He had seen her? But that wasn't possible! He had been knocked out cold when she found him. And what the hell was a gather anyways?

Her curiosity got the better of her and she pushed through the double doors just in time to see the orderlies push the man into a room at the end of the hall. She waited, hiding behind a tall push cart full of sheets and other supplies, until they left and then approached the room. Through the window in the door she could see that the man had been transferred to a proper hospital bed, but his arms were still restrained. A sign taped to the door warned that the patient inside was violent and a flight risk.

She shouldn't do this. It was stupid, and dangerous, and she would never hear the end of it if Bliss found out about it - especially after she had gotten on the old woman's case about sticking her nose where it didn't belong earlier. But she wanted to know how he knew her, and she wanted to make sure he wasn't a threat. She snorted; as if he would be able to answer either question in his state. And even if he wasn't drugged, would a rapist really admit to being a rapist?

Norah glanced down the hallway to make sure that no one was watching. She opened the door and slid in, closing it behind her as quickly as possible.

She paused, unsure of if he knew she was there or if she should introduce herself, or what exactly was the protocol for one to do after sneaking into someone else's hospital room. It didn't matter - he seemed unaware that she was even there. He lay still, his eyes closed as if his earlier outburst and the exertion of being moved from gurney to the hospital bed had exhausted him. Weird - it had only been a few minutes, but Dr. Quintan had mentioned that he had been drugged so maybe he had been given a little bit more to keep him calm. Still, she didn't think someone could fall asleep so quickly - aside from Marcus after a long day at Pembroke that was. She cleared her throat but he didn't stir.

"Sir?" She asked, but there was still nothing.

Norah crept closer, studying his face for any sign of consciousness. He appeared to be around her age, maybe only a year or two older, with dark brown almost black hair that had a bit of a curl to it. He resembled a certain British actor she had a thing for - aside from the brown eyes - and if circumstances were different she might have tried to flirt with him. But no, he had to go and get injured at her faire and he was crazy to boot. Life really wasn't fair sometimes...

"Sir?" She asked again, touching his hand lightly with her fingertips.

His eyes snapped open and slowly glanced over and focused on her. They widened as he recognized her. "You..." His hand grabbed hers before she could pull away. "You have to help me. I saw you at the gather, do you know how to get back there?"

"To the where?"

"The gather, woman!"

Norah shushed him and glanced over her shoulder at the door. Thankfully his shout didn't seem to have caught anyone's attention. "I don't know you..."

"I'm Domick."

"So you keep telling everyone, but Domick isn't real."

"I am real!" There was no need to shush him this time; he looked over at the door himself, and for a moment his expression was fearful. He had no desire to be visited by a nurse either. "I'm the composition master at the Harper Hall, Master Domick. You were at the gather in Tillek with a blue rider, J'son, and a boy. You looked right at me..."

"I've never seen you before in my life." Norah shook her head.

"You were there," He groaned and closed his eyes. "You were there, you were there."

Domick's grip on her hand loosened a little, and Norah attempted to pull herself free but he wouldn't let go. "You have to help me. I must return to the Harper Hall."

"That's not possible."

"But you know the blue rider!" He sat up, weaving a little from side to side, and a shrill alarm started to fill the room. "What is that? Is thread coming? Shutter the windows before it gets in!"

"There's no such thing as thread!" She finally was able to tug her hand away from his grasp. There were voices in the hallway, coming towards the room and Norah closed her eyes and cursed. So much for sneaking in and out quietly.

The door slammed open and a trio of nurses rushed in. Two forced Domick to lie back down in the bed, while the third reset something on the control panel at the foot of the bed. She turned around and glared at Norah. "What is going on in here?"

"I'm sorry," Norah gave the nurse her sweetest smile. "I was looking for my grandmother. I thought she was supposed to be in 213 A..."

"This is room 231."

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry for the confusion! I'm a little number dyslexic, I guess."

"Mh-hm. Just be more careful next time."

"Yes, yes, of course. Sorry." Norah let the woman shoo her out of the room, but before the door shut behind them, she saw one of the other nurses plunge a syringe into Domick's IV. The man's eyelids grew heavy and drifted close almost immediately, but not before he sent one last pleading look her way.

Norah turned her back on him and hurried away.


	6. Chapter 6

Domick came to slowly. At first he was very aware of how cold it was; like one of the meat storage rooms off of the kitchens beneath the Harper hall. It was also very bright here, but the source did not have the comforting yellow tinge of the sun or candle light, and it wasn't a luminous blue or green like glows. This light was a harsh white that made the insides of his eyelids turn a sickly pink, and it buzzed. Light, he was fairly certain, was not supposed to make noise unless it was a candle guttering out. But no, there was an annoying soft constant buzzing intermingling with a sharp short sound that beeped every other beat by his ear. He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly against the glare of the light overhead and the pale green walls.

"I was wondering when you would wake up." An older lady spoke from somewhere else in the room. Domick turned towards the voice to find an old auntie sitting near a window manipulating yarn with a hook. "I was beginning to think that they had drugged you into a coma... Idiot doctors."

He couldn't agree with her more, but he eyed her warily. The old woman seemed nice, however so had the Healers, and look what they had done to him; they had drugged him to the point that he didn't know which way was up or what was real and what wasn't, and tied him to the bed.

She tsked, her hands continuing to work the yarn in a steady rhythm. "It's an outrage what they've done to you, but we had no idea who you were! When Norah found you, you were out cold, so she did the sensible thing and called 911."

"Norah?" Domick spoke. He was startled by how rough his voice was; had it only been a day since he had sung at the gather? One would think he had suffered some sort of illness if they heard him now.

"My niece. " She stood and poured him a glass of what Domick could only assume was water from a pitcher sitting on a table next to his bed. He grabbed it with his free hand and drank. It was water, but it was sweeter and clearer than any water he had had before. He gulped it down quickly - his throat was so dry - and the woman filled up the glass two more times before his thirst finally eased. "When I heard you say something about Pern..."

"Yes, I am Master Domick from the Harper Hall on Pern. I had gone to a gather with some of my apprentices and while we were returning, the riding straps on the dragon I was on broke." Domick interrupted her. "I may have a concussion. but I don't have amnesia and I'm not in some sort of fugue state... I know who I am."

His voice must have risen because the lady shushed him and watched the door warily. When no one appeared she sighed in relief, but then she said something Domick wasn't expecting at all; "I believe you."

"You... what?"

"I believe that you are who you say you are. I'm Bliss Labbock. But you can just call me Bliss. I don't put up with any of that Miss or Ma'am nonsense." She left his bedside for a moment, but only to pull her chair closer. "See, in this world there is a book series called the Dragonrider's of Pern written by this lady in Ireland. When I was a young woman, I remember reading them and wanting to be like Weyrwoman Lessa and ride a dragon, and have a bronzerider like F'lar at my beck and call - but I'm getting off track. Later on the author wrote more books, but these were about the Harper Hall and Menolly and Robinton. You were even in them a little bit! But to most people they're just stories, and aren't real. That's why the doctors don't believe you! They think that you've suffered some sort of psychological break and this is your brains way of handling it."

"Then why do you believe me when the healer's don't?"

"My husband, Darren, came from Pern. He appeared out of nowhere much the same way you did... only he popped into existence out on old route 9 and not in the middle of a renaissance faire. You should be glad Norah found you; she's nicer than being hit with a truck like Darren was." The old woman leaned back in her chair, a wistful look on her face. "Darren was a dragonrider, and his dragon had been hit by thread one day. They went between and the dragon passed on, but Darren didn't and something pulled him here. I don't know why I believed him. I shouldn't have. I should have just dismissed him as being crazy, like everyone's doing to you, but he had these scars that were unlike anything I'd ever seen before. The doctors who treated him weren't even sure what caused them... And near where Daddy had hit him we found these leather straps, like some sort of a harness- but if it was a harness it had to have been for something gigantic. No cow or draft horse would have fit in that thing. "

"Riding straps."

"Yes. They were broken on one side, like something had eaten through them. So maybe that has something to do with you showing up here - being adrift in between without any coordinates. Darren never wanted to really talk about it though, he was a quiet man, prone to drifting off into his own thoughts a lot and there were other things... It's a surprise they didn't institutionalize him for depression and give him a lobotomy or electric shock therapy." Bliss glanced at him, "Thankfully you don't have to worry about that as those treatments are a bit out of date."

Domick did not know what 'electric shock therapy' was, or a lobotomy, but they had done something else to him while he had been drugged. "They did an MRI."

"That's a test to make sure there's no brain damage." She reassured him. "Lucky for you, you were sedated through the whole thing. Those tests may be harmless and invasive, but they're loud. Now, since those tests didn't find anything, they'll probably let you go in another day or two, once they realize you're not a threat to yourself or anyone else. So, be good; no more trying to run away or shouting about Pern." She poked him with a bony finger.

"I never shouted."

"You also grabbed my niece's hand and begged for her to help you when she saw you in the hallway."

He frowned to himself; he didn't remember that happening either.

She patted his hand. "I wouldn't worry about it dear. Drugs nowadays are pretty powerful, and some of the painkillers can make you do strange things. I can't take vicodin myself - it makes me all loopy - but enough about me, I'm here because we need to figure out what to do about you. As I said, the hospital will be releasing you soon. There's a halfway house in the city that's agreed to take you in, but I wouldn't exactly recommend that, since that's the sort of place the real crazies stay at. So, if you don't mind me butting in, I've gone ahead and arranged it for you to come and stay with us at Pembroke. People may think we're weird, but at least you don't have to worry about accidentally stepping on needles or your roommate hearing voices"

"I appreciate the offer, but I can't accept; I have to get back to Fort Hold." Robinton and the others would be worried, and he still had that music to complete for Fort's gather... What would the hall do without him? He doubted that there was another composer as good as him within the ranks, and, while the apprentices were often idiots, without him they would be left to Morshal's tender mercies. He shuddered at the thought of a whole generation of harpers who cared more about the meaning of a half note and how many were in three four measure than how tempo and dynamics could create a soaring medley that would stun the masses.

Bliss gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible; let's say Ms. McCaffrey wasn't making up stories, and there really was a world with a Lessa and a Menolly and a Robinton on it. It's either light years or many dimensional planes away, honey, and we simply don't have the dragons or the technology to get there. I'm afraid you're stuck here, and unless you want to end up lost in some big city, begging on street corners for food and money, it really is best you come home with me when the Hospital releases you. You may not know me, but we'll feed you and you'll have a warm bed, work to do, and a roof over your head."

"I..." It was too much to take in. Never see the harper hall again? Never write music or play with Menolly, and Sebell or drink with Robinton again? To never chastise his journeyman Talmor for overstepping himself? He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "There has to be a way. They will come for me when they notice that I'm gone..." But how could anyone find him if they didn't know where he went?

He felt the old woman pat his other hand. "I'm sorry." After a moment or two she spoke again. "You don't have to stay with us permanently. Once you've learned how things work here, you could always get a job someplace else - I'm sure they'd be happy to have a man with your abilities at Juliard, or in LA. You could be the next John Williams." She gave him a smile that he assumed was supposed to be reassuring only it did nothing to improve his mood. Yes, his music may be good enough for this Juliard place, but it wasn't home.

Perhaps he should take some time to think about her offer - but Bliss had a good point; staying with her would be better than being alone on his own in a world he knew nothing about. At least she believed him and wouldn't look at him strangely when he spoke of Pern. "Alright - I accept."

"Good, I'll tell Norah to clean up a room for you." She pulled the chair away and settled back into it, fiddling with her yarn again, just as Ruez entered.

"Everything all right in here?" He regarded them both suspiciously.

"Yes, perfectly fine."

"Yes." Domick agreed even though it wasn't. Not only was he far from home, but he was someplace that didn't believe that his world existed.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: __I have never run into a Ren Faire that is open 7 days a week, so those details regarding how daily operations would function are being made up as I go :P_

_As per always, Pern, the Harper Hall, and her characters belong to Anne McCaffrey - everything else is mine :)_

* * *

"She's lost it. We're going to wake up slaughtered in our bed with a chainsaw or a hatchet..." Norah grunted as she tried to turn the mattress Mud was helping her carry on its side so it could fit through the doorway.

"You can't really wake up slaughtered; you'd be dead. You don't wake up from being dead." Was his reply. They managed to finally manhandle the mattress into the little room and let it flop on the floor. "I don't think we have anything to worry about though; Domick seems like a nice guy."

"There's the rub! He seems like a nice guy. We don't know if he really is because we have no idea who he is! There are no records about him anywhere, his fingerprints don't bring up anything, his dental records... nothing."

"Well, I think we're safe then." The musician stepped out of the way as Norah pushed past him into the hallway. She returned carrying an armful of sheets and blankets and dropped them on the bed. "If he was a murderer, or a rapist, or a thief, there would have been some record of him somewhere."

"Unless they haven't caught him yet." She started making the bed, flinging the sheets out so that they covered the mattress with a loud snap and tucking them in underneath with enough force to make the mattress jump off the floor. Mud winced at the abuse; she had scrubbed down the walls and the floor of the room in the same angry way and it was a miracle she hadn't scraped the skin off her knuckles or broken a finger yet. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" She asked when she noticed him still lingering in the doorway.

"Nope, it's Monday. No shows remember?"

"Oh, right." Mondays were slow days; due to labor laws most of the shows, attractions, and shops were closed and Pembroke became little more than a ghost town with the only residents being volunteers and the school kids who came by on field trips. "So I didn't have to bribe Nutter to watch over the Wharf after all. I hope he's not out there all alone."

Mud laughed. "I'm sure he was able to figure it out and went back to his stall... if he even remembered to show up at all."

"Hm." Norah sat down on the edge of the bed, her legs stretched out in front of her. "Do you think I'm overreacting about this?" She queried, returning the conversation to its original subject.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because everyone else seems perfectly okay with letting this guy who doesn't know who he is come and live here and I'm the only one who seems to have any sort of an issue with it."

"Oh, he has a very clear idea of who he is - whether he's really that person or someone else is debatable." Mud sat down next to her and the mattress dipped under their combined weight. "Look, like I said, when I met with him the other day he seemed perfectly normal. He may not know where he is, or what year it is, and he believes he's this fictional character, but other than that he can communicate and function just fine. Bliss is a good judge of people - you know she can see through someone's bullshit from ten miles away. If something was off about his story, she wouldn't've gone to the lengths that she did to help him."

"She never sees through Lily's bullshit."

"Lily's a different story. She's her daughter; of course Bliss is always going to see the best in her."

"Mm."

"Why do you think he shouldn't be here?"

"Well, he just showed up out of nowhere, and we have no idea who he is."

"Which you have pointed out numerous times."

"Have I also already mentioned that I don't think it's healthy for him to be out here?" He nodded and she sighed. "I don't know... I mean, I've only seen him once since I've found him, and he was drugged and then there's that whole fugue state and amnesia, so I know I shouldn't base my opinion of him on that, but it really creeped me out. He kept mumbling gibberish about how he had seen me at some 'gather'. What the hell is a gather?"

"On Pern it's like a faire. He probably remembered you from when you found him..."

"He was unconscious when I found him."

"Or maybe he saw you while he was walking around that day, before whatever happened to him happened."

"But I didn't see him throughout the day. I would have noticed someone dressed like that."

"The last time I checked, you weren't omniscient. He could have walked by and seen you when you were busy with a customer."

"True." She still didn't like the prospect of a crazy man fantasizing about her though. "I also think that maybe it's not good for Bliss if he's out here. I mean she was crying the other day. She hasn't done that since Uncle Darren passed away."

"It's probably just allergies." Norah cocked her head and raised her eyebrow at him, trying to emulate one of her Aunt's looks. Mud chuckled. "You forget, your Aunt isn't all that old. She's what? 50?"

"She's sixty six."

"That's the same age as me! Not old at all! And she's in much better physical and mental health than I am - so you don't need to worry about her going senile on us just yet. I think she's just reacting this way because it is an odd situation; Domick is claiming to be from the same planet as Darren. It's like lightning striking the same place twice! It has to be bringing up some old memories. I also don't think that fight you had with her is helping matters."

"She told you about that, eh?"

"No - I figured it out when I saw that she's been assigning you to do most of the grunt work around here when you're not working at my stall. That and you've both been avoiding each other like the plague." He leaned in close. "If I were you I would apologize to your Aunt. This situation is going to be hard enough for all of us regardless of if Domick is or isn't a serial killer; fighting with Bliss is going to only add more stress to the both of you. Plus, try to calm down and give Domick a chance. Where would you be now if I hadn't given you one?"

"You didn't have a choice."

"Well, I hate to break it to you kiddo, but you don't have a choice when it comes to Domick either. She-who-runs-the-world has decided that he is going to stay with us, and just like patching things over with Bliss will help make things easier, I think being nice to him will help too. Plus, you never know, if he turns out to have a decent head for money, you could actually leave the stall now and then. Have some fun with the kiddo around the Faire instead of just letting him run wild."

"He does not run wild." Norah gave him a look; Marcus was energetic, and often got into trouble because of said energy. She had several minders about the faire who kept an eye on him since she refused to keep him at the wharf where he could hear the bawdy songs the Gentlemen and Doxies sung, and she was not about to let him join the military guilds. However, he did have a point. If Domick had a head for money, and was trustworthy, she could take time away from the stand to spend more time with him.

Mud flipped open a wooden bauble hanging from his belt and looked at the watch hidden inside. "We've got two more hours before they're supposed to get back. What do you say we go down to the End of the World and see if the Military has anything cooking for lunch."

"I'm not really hungry." Norah lied. Marcus's father was in the military group, and even though he hadn't been to the faire in a while, well, since Marcus had been born, the others might know about what had happened. She didn't know if she could put up with their pitying looks on top of the questions about Domick. "Besides, there's so much left to do. I need to bring a bookcase or a dresser or a chest or something so he at least has someplace to put his clothes other than on the floor. And Bliss wants me to print out of some of your sheet music for him in case you need a back up." Though she wasn't so sure about how that would work out - just because the man claimed to be a harper didn't mean that he was capable of actually playing music. She didn't think it was possible for your brain to just suddenly tell you 'here, you know now how to play this' if you had no experience doing something before.

"Alright, well, you know where to find me if you change your mind."

"Yeah." Norah snorted; as if that would happen! She followed him out of the room, shutting the door, and, for the moment, her worries about the stranger behind her.

* * *

Domick pulled at the collar of the shirt he was wearing for the fifth time in as many minutes. While he was thankful for the clothing, since he couldn't be expected to wear the same tunic day after day after day without stinking like a holdless man, the shirt Bliss had given to him clung to him tightly and it constantly felt like like the collar was trying to choke him. However, the fabric it was made of it was stretchy, and it snapped back in to place as soon as he let go of it. The weavers would be … would have been, he corrected himself silently, amazed by it.

Somewhere a horn sounded, and the harper jumped in his seat, startled by the sound. He turned around, looking out of the windows of this... thing... he was in - a car, Bliss had called it - trying to locate the source of it. Instead he just saw more buildings, crowded together like cotholds, women and men walking along, and more of these metal contraptions like what he was riding along in. It was overwhelming and was beginning to wear on his nerves. Where was the order? The hierarchy?

Bliss patted him on the leg, "Don't worry, it's calmer out at Pembroke."

He nodded, glad that the old woman had offered to have him come stay with her. He had thought that the idea was crazy when she suggested it, but now that he had left the healer hall and was seeing all of this chaos, he was beginning to realize that she was right when had told him that it was the best option. Out here he would have been completely lost and probably would have been dead within a few hours - hit by one of these other cars speeding next to them.

The harper tugged at his collar again. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but Dr Quintan was driving and since the old man had arranged for his release, he didn't want to arouse his suspicions and be forced to go back to that nightmare again. "You haven't explained to me yet what I will being doing at the gather. Singing? Instrumental accompaniment?"

"It's called a Faire, not a gather." Bliss corrected. "There is a musical group, The Gentlemen of Misfortune, who have agreed to let you work with them - but since none of them are currently away from the Faire, and there's not room for a ninth man on stage, you'll be spending your time at their souvenir stand instead with my niece, Norah."

"The grey eyed girl." He had seen her from his room's window the day before; she had been waiting patiently outside for Bliss to leave the hospital and every once in awhile she had glanced up at his room. He was positive that she was the same girl he had seen at the gather, but when he had asked Bliss about her the next day, the old woman had frowned and repeated that it wasn't possible to travel from Earth to Pern. He had thought that perhaps she might be like him but Bliss had let him know very clearly that that was not possible as she had been present the day Norah was born and had watched her grow up.

"Yes, though I wouldn't bring that up around her. It makes her uncomfortable."

Yet another thing to add to the list of things Bliss felt he should not discuss with others. He understood the need for discretion as his situation was rare, and that the less he spoke about Pern and his life before the better he would fit in here, but he was beginning to feel as if he couldn't say anything to anyone. He sighed and looked out the window again, drumming his fingers in rhythm with tune on the radio. It had an upbeat tempo with a lot of bass, brass and drums, reminding him of a leap dance tune. He couldn't help but wonder what Menolly would think of it, and instantly regretted such thoughts when he remembered, for the tenth time that day, that he would never see her or any of his students again.

"Ah, we're almost there." Bliss spoke, interrupting his melancholy. He glanced around, finally noticing how the buildings had thinned out dramatically and there were now more herdbeasts and trees than people. Up ahead a sign for the Pembroke Renaissance Village was topped with pennant flags and an arrow hanging underneath the sign pointed toward a group of trees off to their right. Dr Quintan turned and the vehicle lurched as it left the paved road for the dirt one. Bliss shook her head and tsked, "I'll have to get the gravel men out here before the busy season starts."

They passed by a row of trees and through a gate in a weird woven wire fence, and then they were in an open field. At the far end there were a few rows of more metal carriages like the one he was in, but of different shapes and sizes, and beyond that was a large brick wall with a wooden gate in it. The gate was open, guarded by two men in brightly coloured trousers, tunics, and jerkins who looked extremely bored. As Domick watched, one man snapped to life as he saw the car. He waved at it, but stopped when he was distracted by a pretty girl in a skirt, shirt, and some weird vest walked through the gate.

Instead of stopping next to the other cars, Dr Quintan kept the vehicle to the side of the clearing, driving past the wall and through another fringe of trees. Here the trees were separated from the village with fabric covered fencing, and occasionally more of the woven wire fence. Through the gaps he could see the back of gather stalls and other buildings and the few people walking between them were dressed in clothing similar to the ones at the front gate. They, also, stopped to smile or wave if they caught sight of the car. "They're very friendly here."

"Yes, we are." She sighed. "We've been around for 30 years now. I've seen some of these people grow up, get married, and have children of their own..."

"We're here." Dr. Quintan announced as he finally stopped the car next to a two story building with a wrap around porch. It was hidden from the rest of the Faire site by even more trees and an oddly shaped wall that someone had tried to brighten up by painting a mural of fields and a cloudy blue sky on it.

"Good, good. Would you like to stay for dinner, Matthew?"

"I really must be going."

"Oh, please stay. I made a shepherd's pie this morning and told Norah to put it in for me. It should be done by now... if she didn't forget. It's the least I can do for everything you've done."

Dr Quintan paused, then gave the older woman a smile. "I'm sure one slice wouldn't hurt."

Bliss led the way from the vehicle up to her home. Domick tried not to shudder when he realized that the whole building was made up of wood. In fact, now that he thought about it, many of the buildings he had seen on the way through the faire were made of wood, as was that ugly wall just a short distance away. Between that and all the greenery, the people here would be doomed if thread ever fell. Even though he knew it wouldn't - Bliss had reassured him multiple times during his healer hall stay that Earth did not have a Red Star like Pern did - it was still hard to ignore the instincts he had learned as a child. He forced himself up the steps to the porch anyways, longing once again for the thick stone walls of the Harper Hall.


	8. Chapter 8

Dinner was a quiet affair: Norah apologized to Bliss while they were alone in the kitchen, but things were still strained between them, and while Norah had promised herself that she would try to give Domick a chance per Mudd's request, she had no idea what to say to him. 'I hear your planet is attacked every few days by a vegetation consuming spore from space' didn't seem like a very good ice breaker, and the thought of discussing dragons - real fire breathing dragons - made her giggle. Dr Quintan tried to make polite conversation, but there were really only so many times one could comment on the weather. Eventually the good doctor gave up, and retreated to his car as soon as he was done eating, leaving Norah alone with her Aunt and the mystery man.

Norah studied him whenever she thought he wasn't looking. He no longer looked as pale as he had in the hospital, and his eyes were bright and sharp now that he wasn't sedated. He looked uncomfortable though, and kept pulling at the collar of his shirt every so often. She resisted the urge to smack his hands away from his neck or scold him like she might with Marcus when he was fidgeting.

"Well, there are dishes to be done and I feel it's only polite that we do them since Norah cooked dinner." Bliss finally broke the silence. She started picking up the plates from the table and jerked her head at Domick. "Come along."

"Don't let her talk you into washing them in the sink. We do have a dishwasher." Norah warned him, earning a squawk of 'I never!' from her Aunt.

Domick had a confused look on his face. "You have a drudge?"

"No, not a drudge. A dishwasher is a machine that does the cleaning for us. It doesn't work very well though - sometimes it'll leave bits of food behind." Bliss explained.

Norah rolled her eyes and shook her head, trying to convey to their visitor without her aunt knowing that the dishwasher was just fine. However, he just looked at her blankly before getting up and following Bliss to the kitchen. Well, so much for that.

She escaped to the living room, intending to resume the book she had been reading; Dragonsinger. She had read a bit of Dragonflight, but skipped the rest and had moved straight to the second Harper Hall book when Mudd told her that Domick showed up in that one. She had hoped that by reading it she could get a better idea of who the mystery man thought he was, but so far all she could gather was that he was a curmudgeon who had a fondness for musically gifted brunette girls. The book did feature a gather, but it was at Fort Hold and not Tillek, and there was not a blue rider, or a girl with a child to be found in those pages.

A noise from the kitchen startled her and she dropped the book as Bliss entered the room. Bliss raised an eyebrow at her as she headed to her chair and sat down. "I decided to show Domick the dishwasher and how it works - but if I find that there is anything left behind after the load is done, I expect you to help me wash the dishes again. This time the proper way."

"Yes ma'am." She could always have Marcus do it, since it was one of the chores she assigned him at home.

The woman spoke to someone standing behind Norah, "You can come in and sit down, y'know - We won't bite."

Norah turned to find their guest standing in the doorway. Instead of entering the room though, like Bliss had suggested, he continued to stand; "Isn't there something that we should be doing? Should I go and practice with these... Gentlemen of Misfortune?"

"Well, normally on Mondays we relax, but I'm sure we could round them up for a private show. Norah..."

"The only Gentleman of Misfortune here is Mudd, and he's down at the End of the World, so I think practicing with them is out of the question." Norah said. She bent over the arm of the chair to retrieve her book - and also to avoid the dirty look that was probably being sent in her direction - only to discover that Domick had picked it up and was studying the cover, his eye brows knitting together as he read the little blurb on the back.

Shit. Was he going to have some sort of a mental breakdown when he realized that the person who he claimed to be didn't exist? The one she had witnessed at the hospital had been mild, but still terrifying. Why had the doctor had to leave so quickly? She glanced back at her Aunt for help, to see if maybe she knew what they should do next, but the old woman was merely watching their guest as he flipped through the book. He stopped at one of the pages that Norah had dog eared because Domick was featured on them. Double shit.

Surprisingly he didn't snap. There was no murderous rampage, or blubbering (not that she had really expected a man like him to cry, but one never really knew what would happen when you were dealing with someone mentally unstable) He didn't even go catatonic, or start shooting off questions. Instead he merely handed Norah the book, sat down on the couch, rubbed the back of his head absently, and then continued to look uncomfortable and maybe a even little bit lost. However, Norah realized abruptly, this was not because he didn't know where he was or what was going on, or because the book had phased him in some way - if he thought he was Domick, then he was used to a life filled with activity. If he wasn't teaching students, he was practicing, or writing music, or drinking wine with the Master Harper. There was none of that here, and so he probably didn't enjoy the prospect of being stuck in a house with two women for a full evening without anything to occupy himself. She put Dragonsinger aside, "Did Aunt Bliss tell you that you would be working with me at the souvenir stand?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's not open again until Friday, but why don't we start going over money... or do you know what that is?" She asked, hoping that maybe, somewhere under all those make believe memories, he did know what money was. Domick merely shook his head no.

"Money is our version of marks... only its not wooden rounds, but made out of paper... though there are coins..." Bliss butted in.

"Who is supposed to be teaching him?" Norah raised an eyebrow at her aunt and the older woman humphed and went back to her crochet. She stood and went into Bliss's office, returning with a metal box and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, but turned and sat cross-legged so that she was facing him. "So, when you work at the souvenir stand with me, we'll be selling products for money." She placed the box in between them and opened it with a small key, turning the box so Domick could see the neatly sorted bills and metal rounds inside.

"This is a penny," Norah held out a small copper colored coin for his inspection. "It's worth one cent. A nickel," She pulled out a larger, heavier, silver coin and dropped it into his hand, "Is worth 5 cents... so there are five pennies in a nickel."

"Of course." Domick replied dryly and placed the coins back into their respective sections. "What are the smaller ones called?"

"Dimes. They're worth 10 cents..."

"So the equivalent would be either ten pennies or two nickels." His voice, again, held that dry tone.

"Right. All of our items are rounded up to dollars so we don't handle much change... which is another word for coins... but you never know - there could be that one guy who comes in with 500 pennies and a ten wanting to buy a cd and I wouldn't want you to be confused. Now a dollar..."

"Would be this one." He held up one of the paper bills. "It says it on there."

"Right, but how many pennies or quarters are worth one dollar?" When he didn't respond she leaned forward and took the dollar from him. "See, you don't know everything now do you, Mr. smarty pants?"

The corners of his lips twitched, "I don't remember claiming that I did."

Across the room Bliss snorted in amusement. Norah opened her mouth to reply with a biting remark, but nothing came to mind. She flushed and looked back down at the lock box. "There are 100 pennies in a dollar. A quarter..."

"... of a hundred would be 25, so that means a quarter is worth 25 cents or two dimes and a nickel."

"Yes. Now the really important thing about handling money is being familiar with how it looks and being able to tell if its legitimate or not. Sometimes kids from the city will come in here and think we don't know any better because we're out here in the country dressing up in silly clothes. " She pulled out a two different bills and handed them to him; one was a real twenty, the other was one dollar bill that someone had ripped the corners off of and replaced with the corners from a twenty. "It's a bit harder for people to pull that off anymore, but they'll still try. One way to tell if a bill is real or not is to hold it up to the light. In some of the more newer bills, for like twenties and aboves, there's slip of paper inside the bill that you can see when you hold it up to the light. There's even a watermark." She handed him yet a third bill that was a newer twenty, with different colored ink and a larger portrait on it. He followed her instructions and she leaned forward to point the different features out. "When in doubt, we have a marker that we can use; it turns one color if the bill is real, another if it's a fake."

For the next hour or so Norah made Domick practice counting out the money; she would name off an amount and have him count it out, then she would tell him the price of an item, and what amount the customer was paying for it, and had him make change for it. He was a fast learner and ignored the calculator Norah had brought out and showed him how to use, doing the math in his head instead. At first she had been surprised and had used the calculator herself to double check his answers, but eventually gave up when he turned out to be correct on every question she gave him - even the tougher problems with multiple items. She found herself reevaluating her opinion of him; yes he was suffering from a fugue state, but that didn't mean he was stupid.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Domick glanced up from counting out the bills and caught her watching him. There was that little twitch at the corner of his mouth again - a small smirk that might have been sexy if it wasn't on the face of a crazy man.

A soft snore came from the direction of Bliss's chair and both of them looked over to find that Bliss had dozed off in her chair. Norah pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and checked the time - it well was past 10. "I think it's time to call it a night."

Domick nodded and helped her sort the cash back into the lock box. She carried it back into the office, checking to make sure that he hadn't followed her before she tucked it away in its hiding place, and when she returned to the living room, Bliss was awake and chatting softly with their guest. "Tomorrow," the old woman commanded, "You should take him on a tour of the village - show him where things are, introduce him to people, that sort of thing."

"Sure."

"Good night dear." She softened and gave her niece a hug.

"Good night." Norah jerked her head at their guest, motioning for him to follow her. "C'mon."

"You don't sleep here?"

"Nope. There's a building down by the Wharf that some of the performers stay at. Mud - do you remember him?" He nodded so she continued. "He has a room down there and so do I and my son. Bliss though it would be a good idea if you stayed there with us." Though why he couldn't have stayed at one of the other outbuildings was beyond her. One or two of the shops might have made a nice little studio once they were cleaned up, but no, Bliss wanted Domick to be near people who could help him if he had a problem. Well, she would just make sure that her room and Marcus's room were locked when they went to bed at night.

"That way you won't have to deal with me getting up and down throughout the night, and you can have your privacy." Bliss patted her niece's arm. "Norah spent this morning cleaning up the room for you, you wouldn't want to disappoint her now would you? Good night, dears."

Norah led Domick outside onto the porch. She paused for a moment to breathe in the cool air, spring was almost here - which meant busier crowds and more hours working. She jumped down the steps and led him around the palace facade and into the village. "The stewes are down this way."

"Stewes?"

"Yup. But not like 'that's a good stew, Martha, I think I'll have some more' but Stewes as in a part of London back in Elizabethan England that was..." He was watching her intently again. Did they even have brothels on Pern? Or prostitution? The author hadn't really covered that in the book she was reading, but then again, you didn't really discuss those sorts of things in a young adult book from the 80's. She decided not to elaborate if only to save herself the embarrassment of discussing an adult topic with a crazy man she barely knew. "It was a seedy place. Despite what the history of the name though, the Stewes here are completely up to building codes, and you don't have to worry about any questionable activities or anything."

"Ah." He pulled at the neck of his shirt, scowling a little. "Have you lived here very long?"

"Awhile. I came here after I let go from my old job. I wasn't have much luck finding a new one, so I came out here because it at least paid the bills, y'know? Then Bliss needed surgery to replace her hip, so I stuck around to help her out, and now there's this recession going on, which makes it even harder to find a job, so here I am eight years later..." The Wharf was in sight now and Norah found herself breathing a sigh of relief. She could show him his room and retreat to her own and not have to worry about anymore awkward 'getting to know you' questions or small talk. She ducked under the rope that blocked off the entrance to the theater. "There's a gate around the side that we're supposed to use, but this is faster. Only use it when there aren't any guests around though - the last thing we want is them following us to where we sleep at night." She led him to the far end of the stage and back into the wings. She pushed past a curtain, and then suddenly they were backstage, the green grass dropping down a slight hill to a sprawling one story house. Originally Bliss's father had used to house itinerant workers when the Faire used to be a farm. When Bliss took over and converted the farm into a living history museum, she had turned it into a dorm, and had then added on more rooms as the Faire became more and more popular. As a result, the addons were made out of different materials than the original house, and had been painted different colors by various tenants over the years - a mosiac timeline of the faire's growth. "Here we are; the Stewes."

Domick was silent - and understandably so; Norah had had her own reservations about the place when she had first moved in, but despite it's outward appearance the Stewes were comfortable and cozy inside.

The front door was open and laughter, light and music was spilling out onto the lawn. Apparently, Mud had brought some of the military boys back to the house with him. Joy. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for their knowing looks, and led Domick into the den.


	9. Chapter 9

The front room of the Stewes - as Norah had affectionately called it - was lit brightly by a hanging light from the ceiling and another one of those glowing boxes that had images flashing over the front of it like what Domick had seen in the hospital. Three men were sitting on the couch in front of it; he recognized the first man as someone Bliss had introduced him to while he was in the hospital, Mud, but the other two men next to him where strangers. One was a portly fellow, with greasy short black hair, and the other was tall with long red hair that hung in a neat braid down his back. His blue eyes focused on Norah the moment that she walked in the room and he gave her a slow smile. She did not return it; instead she avoided his gaze and Domick noticed that her face had turned very very pale.

"Norah! There you are!" Mud's loud voice echoed in the room and he stumbled as he got to his feet, the beer sloshing over the sides of the glass he was holding. "Look who's back in town!"

"Hello." Norah crossed her arms over her chest, and attempted to cross the room quickly. Mud reached out and stopped her though.

"Why don't you introduce our new friend to the boys here?"

"Domick, this is Hammer and Harris; they're members of the Queen's guard. Hammer and Harris, this is Domick."

"Oh so you're Bliss's new charity case." The portly man, Hammer, stood and held out his hand for Domick to shake. The harper ignored it, and opened his mouth with a reply, but, before he could say anything, Norah had leapt to his defense.

"Oh please, you're more of a charity case than he is; Domick here, at least, has a job with us - what do you do? Oh. Right. Collect unemployment and live in your Mother's basement."

"Hey now!"

"It's nice to see that you are still as sharp as ever, Norah. I've missed that tongue of yours." Harris's smile took on a lewd quality.

She blushed, but her eyes flashed in anger. "I bet you have; from what I've heard, your wife's is pretty limp."

Hammer guffawed and made some comment Domick didn't quite understand - something about a burn, or burning. Harris shot a look at the younger man and he fell silent. "Marcus isn't around?"

"No, he's staying at his grandmother's right now."

"For how long? I'd like to..."

"No. Not now, not ever."

He sighed and looked away, his expression suddenly pained. "I think we should be going."

"Yes, I think you should." She backed up as he stood up, almost bumping into the wall in her efforts to avoid the other man.

Mud stared after the two men and then at Domick and Norah. "What in the blue blazes Norah! Is that a way to treat your old friends that you haven't seen in ages?"

She whirled on him, "No, they are not. They are your friends, not mine." She gestured for Domick to follow her again, "Come on, your room is down this way and I'll show you where the bathroom is."

"This conversation isn't over!" The old harper shouted at their retreating backs.

Norah didn't respond - instead she led Domick down a short hallway that bisected a longer one. She opened a door open on the right hand side showing him a room that was covered in small blue, white, black, and green tiles. "This is the bathroom." A couple of stalls lined one wall. The curtains separating them from the rest of the room were open revealing a shower head and two knobs in each stall. She spun one of the dials, standing well outside of the stall to show how the showers worked. "The right knob is for hot water, the left knob is for cold water." Another door opened to reveal an odd looking seat. "Here's the toilet..."

"Shouldn't you go back and apologize to him?"

"To who?"

"Mud." He didn't know if the old man was the lord or master of the young woman in front of him, or how her rank compared to the men of the Queen's guard - he assumed that they were the equivalent of a bronzerider - but clearly she was of an inferior rank and if they were at the Hall, she would have been put on water rations or even dismissed for her behavior. "He's your superior."

She stared at him, her eyebrows raised and her mouth formed into a perfect O. "Mud is certainly my elder, and he may pay me a bit because I run his souvenir stand for him, but he's not my boss all the time."

"Boss?"

"Supervisor. CEO. Manager. Leader... um..."

"Giving me additional synonyms doesn't clarify what a boss is if I'm unfamiliar with what they mean."

Norah cocked her head at him, and he leaned back against the wall, expecting her to call him another childish name like she had done so earlier, when she was teaching him about the marks and paper. Instead she just studied him silently for a moment, a little crease appearing in her forehead between her wrinkled eyebrows. "A boss to employee relationship would be like your Masterharper's relationship with you. He tells you what to do, and pays you to do it." He nodded, wondering why she couldn't have just explained it that way to begin with. He had seen her reading one of those books Bliss had told him about so she had to have an idea of how their social system worked. "However, the Masterharper has authority over you all the time. Here, any authority Mud has over us ends once the stand closes for the day. And even that bit of authority he has is questionable since, well, he's drunk most of the day, and he's technically not our boss - Bliss is. We're just on loan to him because he's too lazy to go out and hire a new employee."

"What about the other men?"

"Hammer and Harris? They're members of the queens guard so they follow her around, and when we are working we have to be nice to them - however, once faire is over for the day they're just normal people like us."

"You don't like them."

"I have my reasons - but frankly, that's none of your business." She led him out of the bathroom and down the hallway again - this cothold... stewes... was much bigger than it looked from the outside - and another door was pushed open, revealing small room that reminded him of the Journeymen cells he had lived in at the hall before walking walking the tables. "Here's your room. Mud will be loaning you one of his old guitars to play, and teaching you some of their songs incase they need you to substitute for one of the Gentlemen. I would have put the clothing away, but I didn't know what your size was, so I've left that for you to go through. You can just dump what you don't want out here and we can take it to the good will later in the week."

"What time does everyone arise?"

"It depends. Tuesday is an off day, so there is no set wake up time for us since the Gentlemen of Misfortune aren't playing. Bliss wants me to show you the ropes, so I'll come by about nine? Ten?"

"How will I know what time to get up then to be ready? Will a bell sound? A gong?"

"Oh, you'll know." She jerked a thumb towards the living room. "You'll hear that one up and around. Goodnight, Domick."

"Good night." The harper watched as she walked away and opened another door down the hall, closing it behind her. He sighed and turned to his own room, surveying the narrow bed and bare walls quietly. His own rooms at the Harper Hall were spartan as well, but more welcoming than this what with the cluttered shelves and sand tables. He flinched away from the memory of that place, telling himself, yet again, that there was no way to return. He would just have to make do with what he had been given and try to carve out a life in this new world.

Kicking aside the pile of clothing on the floor - he would deal with that tomorrow - he stripped off what he was wearing and laid down on the bed, pulling the sleeping furs over his head and willing himself to sleep.

Unfortunately it was elusive. The Faire site was much quieter than the monstrous healer hall that Bliss had rescued him from or the Harper Hall. There was no beeping machines monitoring his body or muffled conversations from his fellow masters to lull him to sleep. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours until suddenly the faint sound of music reached his ears. It was an instrumental; exotic sounding with heavy drums and bass, and what almost sounded like cymbals... no, not cymbals... these were tinny and tiny sounding, making a ringing noise like a bell but shorter and sharper.

The music shifted then - there were still drums - but the beat was much slower, and his ears could pick out the sound of a violin and chanting, but he couldn't make out the words. He closed his eyes again, finally drifting off to the lull of the unfamiliar tune.

* * *

Domick awoke to the clanging of pots and pans and the murmur of voices. For a moment, he laid there with his eyes closed, hoping that when he opened them he would find himself back in the Harper Hall. It was to no avail; he found himself staring at the same plain walls from the night before. He dressed quickly, pulling on the same pants he had worn yesterday and finding a looser shirt in the pile of clothing that didn't feel like it was going to strangle him, and left the room following the voices and savory smells to the kitchen.

"Well," Mud was sitting at the table, head in his hands and a mug of something black and steaming in front of him. "That's a new development."

Norah dropped a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him and he gave her a grateful smile as she sat down across from him. Apparently the unpleasantness from last night had either been forgiven or forgotten. "Sometimes you can be so dense. Don't you listen to any gossip?"

"No."

"You are a horrible liar."

"People may tell me things now and then, but I never actually pay attention to that noise." He snorted. "I have better things to do with my time."

"Like what? Drinking?"

"And other things. It makes sense now - I always wondered where Marcus got that bright red hair from - but why did he stay away for so long? Did he not know?"

"He knew all right..."

Mud caught sight of Domick standing in the doorway. "Look who decided to join the living."

Norah glanced over her shoulder at him and quickly stood up, returning to the stove. "Have a seat. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled? Sunny side up?"

"Scrambled?" Domick asked, expecting one of them to clarify, but Norah must have misunderstood, for she started cracking eggs into a pan and mixing them together with milk. He sighed and took a seat at the table. Mud chuckled, "You look like you had a rough night like me."

"It took me a while to fall asleep."

"I'm not surprised. Bliss says that they kept you sedated in the hospital, and gave you sleeping pills and the like. Sometimes going off of that stuff can make it hard to fall asleep normally. But don't worry, I'm sure our girl here will keep you busy today, and you'll be falling asleep during the six o'clock news like the rest of us."

Norah rolled her eyes as she handed Domick his food and a mug of some dark liquid. "Here you go. Now, don't expect this every morning - normally we just fend for ourselves. There's cereal and other stuff in the pantry, milk and yogurt in the fridge." The harper nodded as he took a gulp of his drink expecting it to taste like Klah - instead he was surprised with a mouthful of bitterness that he barely managed to swallow. Norah gave him a sympathetic smile. "I would suggest giving it a few minutes to cool and adding some creamer and sugar."

"What? He doesn't like coffee?"

"Not everyone can drink it straight like you, you crazy Swede."

Mud chuckled as Domick pushed his coffee away. Thankfully the food was edible and, actually, quite good. He finished and stood to leave the room, but Norah cleared her throat and pointed at the plate. "We don't have servants here, so you need to clean up after yourself."

"Or you could leave it there. Eventually she gets tired of the mess and cleans it for you."

"Shush you." She glared at the old man, but he just chuckled again in response.

"There's no dishwasher here?" Domick looked around the room for the odd cabinet that Bliss had introduced him to the night before.

"Sadly no. Not every house is lucky enough to have one of those." She showed him where the scrubs and the soap for the dishes were stored and he quickly washed off of his plate, leaving it in the drying rack that sat next to the sink. "So, did you get a chance to go through that clothing?"

"No."

"Alright. That's the first job of the day then; sorting through that mess." Norah finished her coffee, rinsed the mug out, and then led him back towards his room. She pulled a shirt off of the top of the pile and held it up for his inspection. "Do you think this will fit you?"

"I don't know."

"Well then try it on." He gave her a look that would have sent his apprentices scurrying; he was not a prude but he was not about to undress in front of this woman he didn't really know. She just cocked her head at him and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not asking you to drop your pants or anything. Just pull off your shirt and try it on. There's nothing to be embarrassed about being shirtless for a moment or two. Guys do it all the time." When he still wouldn't move she turned her back on him with a 'hmf'. "There. Happy now?"

"Yes." He quickly tried the shirt on and pulled it off. He didn't like the way it clung to his abdomen. "It's a bit tight."

"Okay, so no smalls or mediums for you." She directed him to drop it on the floor and quickly went through the pile tossing any shirts that apparently were small or medium into the hallway. Those that passed her inspection were folded and placed on the bed. Next she handed him a pair of pants, "Go try these on."

He did and reported that they fit, but were a little long. She shrugged and said that he could either roll them up or have one of the many seamstresses that worked at the Faire hem them, and added them to the pile on the bed. Things continued in this fashion until the pile of clothes were divided into four separate piles: keep, work, faire, and Goodwill. Norah bagged the Goodwill pile while Domick put the other clothing away, biting his tongue to keep himself from snapping at her that he was not a child.

When that was done they left the Stewes and Norah gave him the tour of Pembroke. The started at the front gate and she pointed out the various sites that lined the dirt pathways as they walked along. There were at least 30 shops that sold clothing, jewelry, and other oddities, 15 food stands, and five games booths. Very few of the shops were open, which, she explained, was because it was still considered an off day, even though there were some families and a 'school' group walking around. In addition to the Wharf Theatre, there were four other stages - the children's stage, and a reproduction of the Globe, which, he learned, was an old theatre in a place called England. There was also the Queen's stage, which was used by the nobility, this world's historical equivalent of lord holders, and a final stage near where the military re-enactors camped and the 'joust' was set up.

He couldn't help but notice that Norah took him around the far side of the lake rather than walk close to the Queen's Guard and other soldiers. When he asked why they didn't take the other path, which was obviously shorter, she shrugged and said that a few more minutes of walking wouldn't hurt them.

Here on the far side of the lake there were less trees and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. Also, where the shops at the front of Pembroke were permanent buildings, tents and pavilions lined either side of the walkways here, reminding him vaguely of an Igen gather. However, Norah had a happy smile on her face and she stopped to spin, gesturing to the closed up stalls. "This is the End of the World! It's a figure of speech, of course - the world is round so it doesn't have an end..."

"I know." It was nice to know that this place had at least that much in common with Pern.

"...But this is the end of Pembroke - there's nothing beyond here except for our offices - so we all call it the End of the World. The shops back here are more exotic; they sell spices and middle eastern inspired clothing and jewelry. There's even a couple of booths that do henna."

"Henna?"

"It's a paste that they paint onto your skin in designs, when it dries, it flakes off and leaves behind a marking that fades with time."

"Why?" Painting the skin was only used to mark prisoners and other unwanteds on Pern.

"Because it's pretty. Because it's like having a tattoo, only with less pain." She shrugged. "The reasons depend on the person. I used to get it done because when I work back here it was a part of the character I was playing."

"What type of instrument did you play? Or did you sing?"

"Neither. I couldn't carry a tune if I tried - and trust me, I've tried - and I've never learned to play an instrument. I do know how to use zils - they're a cross between castanets and cymbals." She tapped her thumb and first two fingers together in a tempo. "Belly dancers will use them sometimes."

"Belly dancing?"

"It's a form of dancing based on Middle Eastern and Indian tribal dances, it came over to America at the turn of the century but it's become really popular the last few years."

Norah pointed at a stage set off the main path just a bit; hay bales were arranged in rows in front of it for people to sit on, and the stage itself was decorated with exotic looking tapestries, similar to the stalls around them, and pillows. "That's the last stage in Pembroke; the Market Stage. That's where the belly dancers perform, except we call it Moorish dancing instead of Belly Dancing because it sounds more 'period'."

"Mm." Domick was intrigued. "So this belly dancing... is it something you dance with a partner?"

"Oh God no. I mean, there are dances guys can do, but, no, it's not like that." She sighed, her tone suddenly a little wistful. "I would take you to a show but the dance troupe we had last year won't be coming back."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there another group that could replace them?"

"No," She shook her head and led him back around the far side of the lake, and up the different paths and backstage areas until they arrived at the Wharf.

The rest of the afternoon was spent going over where different items were stored in the souvenir stand, and what the different prices were for certain items. Women's shirts were priced a little higher than men's shirts, and children's shirts were the cheapest of all. Then there were various stickers and posters and something called a cd as well, which, Norah explained, played music when put into a cd player. When he cracked a case open to see, he was greeted with a weird little disc that had a design printed on one side and a rainbow of colors on the other that shifted as he turned this disc to and fro. Domick was baffled by it. "How can this play music?"

"There's microscopic little bumps on there, underneath the plastic." Norah knelt next to him and pointed at the rainbow side of the disc. "When you put this into the disc player, like a boom box, or a computer, there's a laser inside of that machine, that goes over the disc and reads those bumps, and those bumps tell the machine what to play."

"How do the bumps get on there?"

"Another laser burned them on there." She held up hand to forestall any other questions for him. "As for how the laser knows what bumps to burn and what sequence means what notes to play, I don't know. That's a bit beyond me. C'mon; let's put this stuff away."

"I haven't had a chance to memorize any of the prices yet."

"Don't worry - there will be signs that say what costs how much. And I'll make you a cheat sheet. You just have to be able to add and subtract." She locked the stand up and pulled him back to his feet.

Back at the Stewes Norah left him in the living room and disappeared into her room. A few short moments later she came back carrying a rectangular object that was the size of a slate, but a bit thicker and hinged on one end. She gestured to one of the couches, motioning for him to sit, and opened it, revealing a glowing screen that reminded him of the ones he had seen in the hospital. A little arrow moved around the screen at her fingers command after a few minutes of clicking on things with it, she pushed object on to his lap. "Say something."

"What?"

"Whatever you want."

"I am Domick from Pern." She smiled, and clicked something on the screen. Suddenly a voice from inside the rectangle repeated what he had just said. "What was that?"

"You."

"I do not sound like that."

"Yes, you do." She clicked the screen again, and the voice repeated. Upon listening to it a second time he had to admit that it was his voice, but deeper than he thought he spoke. At times it sounded as if he was talking into a bucket. He cringed and Norah laughed. "Don't worry, I hate what my real voice sounds like too. Most people hate hearing recordings of themselves actually." She tapped a spot at the top of the rectangle. "That's a microphone; it records what you say and saves it as a file on the computer. Then the computer can write it to a cd, using the laser I told you about earlier. Except, in order to make a cd like the one you are holding there, the Gentlemen of Misfortune had to go to a recording studio, which is specifically setup to record and edit music. Their microphones and computers there are much larger than this. And... this... is what the final product sounds like when you have those resources."

While she had been talking she had inserted the cd into a slot on the computer and music began to fill the room. It was an explicit tune about drinking and how that made women seem prettier than they were, and then waking up the next morning to discover that the girl you had fallen asleep next to was not the attractive maiden you had met the night before. The rest of the songs on the cd were similar to the first; they were either about drinking or women and had simple tunes and lyrics that got stuck easily in one's head. He found himself absently humming one as he peeled tubers for dinner - much to his chagrin and Norah's amusement.

"Is all music like that here?"

"Like what?"

"About debauchery."

"It depends." She took the tubers from him and dumped them into a pot on the stove.

"What about instrumentals?"

"Yeah, there's some instrumentals; there's the classics, like Beethoven and Bach. Yanni does some new age stuff... Um, there's also a lot of instrumental music in movies. Hans Zimmer is very famous for his soundtracks, and John Williams does a lot of that too." Norah played some of the composers she was talking about while the stew finished cooking. She didn't have any Beethoven, Bach or Yanni, but she was able to find some selections from the soundtracks she had mentioned. Hans Zimmer's work seemed to vary from piece to piece while the songs she found for John William's had a lot of horns or drums and bass.

After weeks of being stuck in the healer hall and hearing nothing but the beeping of machines or whatever was playing on the TV, it was a relief to hear a well written piece of music. Domick felt himself relaxing as he listened to the crescendos and diminuendos soaring and falling around him. His fingers twitched with the urge to pick up an instrument and join them.

"C'mon, time to eat." Norah closed the computer abruptly on him, cutting off the song he was listening to. He frowned but followed her into the kitchen, feeling, for the first time, that maybe there was hope for a life in this world after all.


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: My apologies for taking so long since to updated this (Almost a year and a half! Sheesh!) Since my last update I've gotten married, changed jobs, and started working on my own story. Please accept this new chapter as an apology. _

_I recommend that you re-read this from the beginning. I've gone through and made some changes to the previous chapters and characters and I've extended scenes as well. _

_Other than that, please enjoy and let me know what you think! -AS_

* * *

Mud's prediction was right: as soon as dinner was done, Domick retreated to his room and quickly fell asleep on his bed. But his dreams were haunted by music with odd deep beats and instruments he had never heard before and little discs that unemployed the Harpers of Pern.

In the morning they returned to the souvenir stand. However, instead of being drilled again on how much this item or that item might cost, Norah had him help her count how many of the various t-shirts, cds, and something called a sticker, that the stand had and had him double and triple check his counts.

"You're pretty good at this." She said as she kept track of the amounts he told her on a piece of paper. "Did you work in a store or something? Maybe for an inventory company?"

"A store?" When he was a journeyman he had the misfortune of being assigned to assist Silvina one day with sorting the Harper Hall storerooms - somehow he didn't think that that was what she meant. "No, but counting things isn't very hard work."

"Sorry - I was just trying to see if maybe this sparked a memory or something."

Domick sighed; doing this did had stirred up memories all right. Silvina had made him shift boxes just like Norah was doing, and she had written down the numbers he told her in tight script like Norah did - though she didn't draw stars next to the items they needed more of. Did they miss him, as much as he missed them? He shook his head, cutting off his thoughts before they could go any further. He was a grown man, not an apprentice fresh from his hold - he should not be stricken with homesickness every other moment. What had happened had happened; there was no going back. "Are you this concerned with other's memories as well?"

"You're the only person I know who's suffering from amnesia, so no." She made another little mark on the paper that faintly resembled a firelizard or a dragon. He had to look away and they worked in silence for a moment or two before she spoke again. "It gets easier, you know."

"If I am the only person who you know who's suffering from amnesia..." Faranth, how he hated that word. He did not have amnesia, he knew who he was! However, he stuck to Bliss's advice and played along. "...How do you know that it gets easier?"

To his surprise Norah did not whimper like one of the holder girls at the Hall might if they caught him in a foul mood. Nor did she flush and stammer and stare at the ground like Menolly sometimes did. She just raised an eyebrow at him and returned to what she was doing. However he did catch her watching him warily out of the corner of his eye every so often.

Finally after another hour of the drudgery of taking inventory she said. "C'mon. Let's break for lunch."

They locked up everything in the stand and headed back to the Stewes for sandwiches. After they ate, Norah told Domick he was free to do whatever he wanted while she saw to the various chores that Bliss had assigned her. Unfortunately, Mud had still not loaned him a guitar, so he found himself following Norah around and helping her out as she cleaned up this store or building for a new occupant. As they worked she explained that there were different types of crafters who came to the faire to sell their products: there were a few who had been with the faire ever since it had opened, but others would stay for a month or two, and there were still more that would only come in for a weekend at a time. Her job on the faire's off days was to make sure that the buildings were ready for the crafters when they needed them.

Once the chores were done they went to Bliss's cothold for dinner. There the old woman badgered him with questions on how he was doing, was he enjoying the faire, and his room was all right wasn't it? He was also told not to let Norah work him too hard. He advised her that he was fine, that Pembroke was a beautiful place - though he left out his continued concern about all the trees and other foliage - and that his room was perfectly acceptable. Then he found himself dozing on Bliss's couch while Norah did the dishes and Bliss watched something called the evening news on the TV. The news seemed to give updates on events around the world, much like harpers or dragonmen did whenever they visited an isolated hold. He caught glimpses of men armed with strange weapons fighting and dying in faraway lands, people protesting their lord holders, and the aftermath of floods and earthquakes in his moments of consciousness. It only made his heart ache even more for Pern and the Harper Hall; these sort of things would never happen there. No hold had dared to attack another now that Fax was gone and most Lord Holders were just and kind - with the rare exception of Meron and Toric. If something devastating happened at a hold or hall, others were quick to respond and help out.

There was a click from behind him and the TV changed to a different show; this one of three people trying to solve some sort of word puzzle. Norah turned from where she was sitting on the other side of the couch to glare at Bliss, "Hey! I was watching that!"

"Some of us would rather we watch something a little more uplifting." The old woman said with a significant look in Domick's direction. He sat up a bit straighter; did she think he was a child to be protected from the things going on in this new world? He glared at her, but she was oblivious to his dark look. She returned the long black object she held in her hand to the table next to her chair and picked up a ball of yarn and that hook of hers.

"What if something on there sparked his..." Norah started, but whatever else she was going to say trailed off when Domick turned his dark look on her.

"I can assure you, nothing on there is going to spark my memory," His tone was sharp and harsher than what he would use on even his unruliest students. He stood, suddenly sick of the wooden walls surrounding him and the company this whole mess was forcing him to keep. "I'm going to retire."

"All right dear, Norah will walk you back." Bliss said, volunteering her niece. However the grey eyed girl was watching him warily again - which only irked him more. Did she think he would actually hurt them?

"I can walk myself."

"There's no need to snap."

He didn't trust himself to respond without raising his voice; there was every need for him to snap. He simply turned and left the room and the house. The door slammed rather loudly behind him, and he was aware of Bliss shouting after him, asking him to come back and tell them what was wrong. He paused on the grass in front of the house for a moment; perhaps he should go back. Bliss was letting him live at Pembroke and providing him with work and food. She believed him...

"Let him go," Norah's calm voice drifted to him through the windows on the front of the house. "He hasn't had a moment to himself since he got here."

"But what if he gets lost?" Bliss's voice quavered.

"At Pembroke?" Norah scoffed.

"Fine. He can't really get lost here can he? However, if he's in a mood he shouldn't be alone."

"He isn't Uncle Darren."

"Oh, you're one to talk. You don't trust him."

"Of course I don't - I barely know him! And you only just met him too!"

"You never gave him a chance!"

Domick didn't want to hear anymore. He turned his back on the house and the argument the two women were having and began the long walk back to the Stewes.

He had a feeling that Norah did not enjoy his presence; when she was showing him about or training him, her manner was very straightforward and brusque. He understood that there may be some awkwardness between them after what had happened in the hospital, but to learn that she didn't trust him? Even though he conceded that it was reasonable, it still stung. He might berate idiotic apprentices and journeymen, but he would never physically hurt someone.

The living area of the Stewes was empty when he arrived. Mud had probably gone off to drink with one of his friends again, and while Domick was relieved, a part of him was also disappointed. He had not had a chance to talk with the old harper since arriving at Pembroke, but he didn't patronize him, doubt him, and didn't seem to care that he was supposedly an amnesiac.

Domick showered and retreated to his room before Norah came home. He could hear her walk down the hallway and pause just outside his door. She didn't knock though, and he heard the floorboards creak under her feet as she retreated to her own room.

* * *

Breakfast was a simple affair of cereal and toast the next morning. It was also a very quiet meal; Mud groaned at any noise that was louder than a whisper and Norah was busy reading a list of chores that had been left on their door that morning. She gave the list black looks whenever she encountered a chore that she didn't like, the little line in between her eyebrows disappearing and reappearing with every frown. Finally she sighed and stood, tucking it away in her pocket and motioning for Domick to follow her. They left Mud to his misery, being careful not to let the door or the screen slam shut behind them.

They finished doing inventory, and made sure everything in the stand was put away nice and neat where it would be easy to find in the morning. Afterwards Norah grilled him again on the prices, but other than that she did not speak a word to him.

He did not follow her as she did her chores this time. Instead he wandered back to the Stewes to find that Mud had finally remembered to retrieve the guitar from storage. It was plain and battered, but serviceable. Tired of only ever seeing the Stewes, or the Wharf stand, or Bliss's home, he took the guitar with him and headed out into Pembroke.

Since it was closer to the 'weekend' - which was what this world called their rest days - Pembroke was busier than it had been since Domick had arrived here. There were more school groups than usual, and quite a few families wandering around. There were also more re-enactors walking the streets; they bowed as he passed and asked him if he was interested in trying this or that. He shook his head and continued down the dirt roads until he reached the End of the World.

It was quieter here. None of the guests had made it back this far yet, and, even if they had, there were no shows or booths to distract them and keep them here - which was perfectly fine by him. He didn't want an audience asking questions like they did with the smiths across from the Wharf stand or any of the other re-enactors who wandered about. He just wanted to play and lose himself in the music of his home.

He found a bit of shade underneath a tree. It had been awhile since he had played a guitar - normally he preferred the pipes - but even though he was out of practice, he was able to tune it fairly quickly. He struck a chord and strummed with his thumb, his fingers sliding into the next one and then into a third as he reacquainted himself with the instrument. While the guitar might be old, it did have a lovely sound and the strings held their key as he played the Duty Song. Once that had ended he moved on to Moreta's, but his relief at finally having an instrument in his hands was short lived.

His fingers were beginning to betray him.

They were stiff and the joints ached. He continued on but the pain was too much - finally he stopped playing, stretching his hands to ease the cramps that threatened his momentary happiness.

"Wow, you really can play." Norah's voice surprised him. He turned to find her standing between two booths a short distance away, watching him with a strange expression on her face.

"Yes, I can - when my fingers decide to cooperate, that is." Domick sighed and stretched his hands again, flinching at the dull ache that throbbed through them. It had only been a week since the gather, so he shouldn't be this out of shape. Could it be something else? Wouldn't it be just his luck to finally receive an instrument and be struck down with joint ail. Faranth curse this world and the accident that had brought him here.

"Hands bugging you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her; What a silly question! "I should think it's rather obvious."

"Here, let me see." She sat down on the grass in front of him, close enough for their knees to touch, and held out her hand expectantly.

"Are you a healer?"

"No, but I know a thing or two." Norah wiggled her fingers. "C'mon. I promise to be gentle."

"I fail to see why I should trust you if you don't trust me."

She blushed. "You heard that last night?"

"A bit."

"Look, in my defense..."

"You only just met me and barely know me."

"Okay, so you caught that part too."

"Bliss explained to me, before she brought me here, that no one would believe who I was because it was impossible. But I am Domick; I don't have amnesia and I'm not suffering from some sort of mental break down or a fugue state."

"I understand that - you've said it multiple times... But try to think of it from our point of view. It would be like... what's her name... Moreta showing up at the Harper Hall."

"Not possible. Moreta is dead and has been for years."

"But who's to say that she didn't just miss-time her jumps between? At least I gathered that what she was doing from those books of Bliss's - how else could one visit so many places in one day? Unless you happen to be a wizard and have access to a time turner..."

"It wasn't common knowledge that going between times was possible until Lessa went brought the Oldtimers forward. For the longest time it was believed that she and her dragon had made so many trips to various holds around Pern that they were tired, but if they were timing it then I suppose that may have been what actually happened." She was staring at him as he spoke, her head canted a little to one side and eyes a tad wide with either surprise or shock... he couldn't really tell. Now he understood why Bliss had advised him not to speak of Pern.

"Okay," Norah drawled out the word into two long syllables that lasted several whole notes each. "Thank you for that information, professor - but do you understand how crazy this all sounds now? Why it's so hard for us to believe what you're saying? You guys would probably treat her with the same wariness that I'm treating you until you could get to the bottom of it. However, you would have it easier finding out the truth because you have dragons who could communicate with her dragon. Us? We just have to go off of ID cards, fingerprints, and dental records to prove someone is who they say they are. You didn't have an ID card, and you're not in any system so... how do we know you're not just stringing us along, and will kill us while we're sleeping or run off with all of our money?"

"Pretending to be an amnesiac is a rather elaborate plan just to make off with a few bits of paper."

"People have done crazier things." She sighed. "But there's more to it than that - I have a son to worry about and there are other kids running around Pembroke too. I want to make sure they're safe."

Ah, yes, the son she had mentioned. He understood her wariness a little better now as mothers were always protective of their children - or so he understood, his own mother had been far too busy with his other brothers and sisters to bother much with him as a child. "I admit I may not have the best patience with children sometimes, but I would never abuse one."

"Good. If I do find out that you have hurt anyone, then please know that there are several sharp implements at this faire and people who know how to use them." She smiled. "Now that that is out of the way, and you hopefully understand where I am coming from better, let me apologize for not giving you much of a chance - though to be honest there hasn't been much of an opportunity to give you a chance since I've pretty much been forcing information down your throat ever since you got here or we've been working."

He smiled; it was true, his time with her had been filled with her showing him this or that and explaining what it was. And when he wasn't learning, they were busy doing the type of manual labor he hadn't had to suffer through since he was a journeyman. "And when we're not doing that, I'm sleeping."

"We're clear then?"

"Yes, your rambling attempt at an apology is accepted. Normally you're much more forward and direct."

"Well, this is a special situation." She wiggled her fingers again. "Now give me your hand."

"What are you going to do?" He asked, but he set aside the guitar and placed his hand in hers.

She turned his hand over so the palm faced up and ran her thumb over the lines that criss crossed it. He flinched at the touch - so soft and gentle, so surprisingly intimate - but if Norah noticed she made no sign of it. Instead she pursed her lips together. "Just as I thought."

"Yes?"

"Your hands are softer than mine. You haven't done a day of hard labor in your life have you?"

"Not in many years." He admitted. The only calluses he had now that he was a Master were from playing the pipes or writing music.

"Did you work with computers?"

"No, the one you showed me was the first one I had seen outside of the healer hall." He pulled his hand away from hers. "Now that you have explained where you are 'coming from' and why you feel the way you do, I would ask that you please respect me and my feelings. If I ever remember something else - which is doubtful - I will let you know. Until then please don't try to prod me for memories that don't exist."

"Got it. Hand please, I wasn't done." Domick sighed and let her take his hand again. "Now the reason why I was bringing up the hard labor thing is because this happened to me when I first came here. Harris suffered from it too." She held his hand between hers but the intimate moment was ruined when she suddenly dug her thumbs into his palm, massaging the tendons and muscles. He sucked in a quick breath and bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying out in pain. She would injure him permanently if she kept this up! He debated if he should pull his hand away, but her grip on his hand was strong, and, slowly, the pain was actually beginning to fade. "When you just sit at a desk all day, your body isn't used to doing anything strenuous. Sure you can go to a gym and work out but that's not really the same thing as doing heavy lifting and cleaning like we did yesterday."

"Isn't there numbweed or something that can help with the pain?" He asked.

"There's icy hot, it's not quite the same as numbweed, but it helps with sore muscles. It doesn't really work on hands though. Or feet. Switch." Norah released his hand and he let her take the other one. He closed his eyes, focusing on her voice and trying to ignore the severe pain. "You're handling this way better than he ever did."

"He?"

"Harris." Her hands slid up to his wrist and his forearm and start working on the muscles there.

"So you two were friends once?" There was a pause, and he opened his eyes to find her frowning at his arm. "I'm sorry, you said it wasn't any of my business."

"It isn't. But yes we were, once. Seeing him the other night was a bit of a shock - it's been about seven years since he was last here." Norah's thumbs dug into his arm ferociously and he couldn't help but wince. "Sorry, there was a knot there." She sat back, freeing his hand from her abuse. "How does that feel? Better?"

Domick stretched his hands out, splaying his fingers as wide as they could go and then closing them into fists. They were still sore but... "Yes, much better."

"Good." She stood and dusted off her pants. "Now c'mon, dinner's waiting."


	11. Chapter 11

_Meanwhile on Pern..._

Two green dragons came out of between above Fort Hold. They landed in the empty field outside of the harper hall and stood patiently while their charges noisily dismounted. Once the area around them was clear of apprentices and their instruments they launched themselves skyward, stirring up dust with the down strokes of their wings.

The boys squinted against the dirt and crowed in delight before running towards the Hall. They laughed and talked about the time they had spent at the gather, totally oblivious to the fact that they were short one Master of Composition or that the journeyman who had traveled with them still waited in the field for one more dragon to arrive.

Talmor could not put his finger on the exact moment that he began to suspect that something was wrong. At first he merely thought that perhaps the blue dragon Domick had been riding had gone between a few moments later than the greens. Or perhaps the rider of the blue was giving the greens time to land and take off before he landed as well, but that was ridiculous as there was more than enough room in the field for several dragons to land at once. Maybe Domick had forgotten something at the gather. There could be all sorts of explanations for the delay.

It grew later and later, the glows in the Harper Hall windows began to dim one by one, and still there was no blue dragon or Master Domick.

Had they become lost between? Talmor wondered. How would he explain that to the others? He glanced at the watch dragon on the heights, expecting it to keen and mourn the blue dragon's death at any moment. It remained silent.

Talmor had just decided to go inside and alert the MasterHarper to Domick's disappearance when the blue dragon he had been riding on came out of between and finally landed in front of him.

But there was only one person riding on the dragon's back.

"Where is he?" The journeyman shouted as he rushed to the dragon's side. The straps that had been clipped around Domick's person hung limply against the blue's neck, their ends were frayed and stretched out.

"I don't know. He didn't land here did he?"

Talmor gaped at him in surprise. "How could he land here? He was with you!"

"He was. His straps broke and I hoped..."

"That he fell out of between? A person can't fall out of between. Only dragons can take us in and out."

"I know that!" The rider snapped.

"So he's... he's... gone." Talmor ran a hand through his hair. The best master composer the Hall had had in Faranth knew how long was... gone... And all because some idiot dragonrider's laziness and incompetence. "Get down," He barked, forgetting for a moment that he was just a journeyman and had no place ordering about a dragonrider. "You're coming with me."

"Why?"

"We have to tell the Masterharper that Domick's..."

"There's no need for that. There's a chance he could've survived..."

"Without a dragon to guide him? How?"

"I..." The blue rider sighed, and dismounted from his dragon. "Wait here Blizarth."

The dragon crooned and watched them as they walked down towards the Harper Hall.

* * *

AN: The update is short this time because I reached a certain point and the ending just felt right. Also, I don't trust myself to write Robinton yet. Besides, all the action is happening back on Earth anyways ;)

~AS


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Holy crap, two updates in one month!_

_I know the last update was short, and that it was frustrating to some readers as a result. On_ Renegade Weyr _I will sometimes update with little tidbits to tease readers and let them know that an update is coming soon (if real life allows that is). That was not the case with the previous update for _Between Two Worlds_. That update is a full blown update - short though it may be. This chapter is a bit longer - so__ please accept it as an apology._

_~AS_

* * *

Norah woke Domick earlier than normal the next day. She knocked on his door, calling through it that it was time to get up and startling him awake.

He blinked at the ceiling in sleepy surprise. He was used to waking early at the Harper Hall, but he had grown accustomed to the later hours Pembroke favored; to suddenly have to wake up so early was quite a shock. While the sun was up, the light it was casting through his windows was still dim. He watched for a moment as the dust motes danced through the rays in lazy circles, and, for a moment, they almost lulled him back to sleep.

The pounding on his door came again. "If you're not up in five minutes, I will toss a bucket full of water on you." She threatened. "And I will make sure it's freezing cold."

That threat got him moving. He started dressing in a clean pair of the jeans he had been loaned, but then he remembered that today was Friday. After days of reviewing prices and money he would finally be working at the Wharf stand today. He would need to wear the other clothing - garb, Norah called it. It was looser than the other clothing he had, made from more natural materials, and handmade judging from the stitching that held it together. While it was still different than what he wore on Pern, it was closer than anything else he had seen here, and he relaxed under it's familiar weight.

Norah was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee, waiting patiently for him to wake up. Her garb was far more somber in hue than his: her underskirt was black, the top skirt was a roughly woven beige and black striped fabric, and the odd laced vest she wore was a dark grey. Normally her chest was hidden by the t-shirts she favored, but today the collar of her shirt had been pulled open wide to display the decolletage her vest pushed up. To find her assets displayed so openly was quite a shock - a welcome one, but a shock nonetheless - and he found himself staring a little longer than what might be considered appropriate. He quickly glanced away and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot brewing on the counter before she could catch that he had been gawking at her like an addle brained apprentice.

A bucket full of water sat in the sink - just like she had promised. He eyed it warily, "Surely you weren't actually going to dump that on me."

"Maybe." He stared at her and she smiled then shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have, because then I would have had to help you move your mattress into the yard so it could dry, hang your sheets out on the line, and we don't have time for that."

"Ah." He sat down at the table next to her, pouring in sweetener and a spice labeled cinnamon until the coffee more closely resembled the klah he was used to. "Do you usually have to resort to such threats to get people up in the morning?"

"Sometimes - Mud can sleep through anything, and Marcus can be just as bad."

"Marcus is your son, correct?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?" Domick had not seen a child running about the Stewes - unless they were the source behind the strange music.

"He's staying with my mother for Spring Break. He'll be back next week."

"Spring Break?" He asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Um, kids here go to school until they are 18 or graduate the 12th grade. Some schools go from September to June with breaks in December and in the Spring to break up the monotony. Marcus goes to a year round school, so he goes for two months or so and then he gets a month off."

"Ah." On Pern harpers taught the children every day, except for rest days and gather days. He found himself wondering how the children did not forget their lessons.

"How are your hands this morning?"

"Better, thank you." He took a sip of his coffee. "The ointment you gave me was... interesting." First it had been hot one moment, and then cold the next. And it had smelled strange too - sharp, cool, and oddly refreshing. While he had gone to Oldive in the past for various liniments to help with this ache or that pain, usually they did not smell nearly as nice.

"Good - just be careful to wash your hands off after you use it. Sometimes the... effects can transfer to other... parts of your body if you're not careful."

"I noticed."

Norah snorted and choked on her coffee. Domick took a step towards her side but she waved him away. "I'm fine. I'm fine." She coughed to cover her embarrassment and clear her throat. "C'mon. Enough chattering - there's work to be done."

"Lead on."

She dumped her coffee mug in the other side of the sink, and pulled out the bucket of water. When he offered to carry it for her, she shook her head and told him he could carry it tomorrow - she did not want his hands cramping up on him again. She lugged the bucket down to the Wharf Stage, some of the water splashing up over the sides and dampening her skirt enough that the fabric clung to her legs. She ignored it, and set the bucket on the stage. "There are some pitchers in the alcoves - can you get them for me?"

"Yes." He found them, a mix of clay and glass jugs sitting on a shelf, and carried them out to her.

"Now one of the things we do every day is to make sure there is water available for the performers." She explained as she filled them with the water from the bucket. "Honestly, they could get the water for themselves... but they forget. It's easy to do when beer and other stuff is easily available. Speaking of, we don't care if you drink while you're working at the stand, just make sure you aren't drunk and make sure to drink water as well that way you don't get dehydrated. It is not fun."

They put the water pitchers back where he had found them, and she led him out to the stand. "Once the water is taken care of, we start to set up the stand." She unlocked the sides, swinging them up to provide shade around the outside of the booth. Then they entered it and she walked him through unpacking the boxes so all of the goods were displayed on the counter tops "Put them out in groups of five - there's not enough room for anymore and we can add more as we sell them off. If it's a t-shirt or some other article of clothing, make sure to set them out smallest size to largest."

Domick nodded as he followed her instructions. Soon they had everything set out and prices hung from the rafters and side poles where customers could see them.

"And now?" He asked.

"We wait." Norah eyed the clock that hung in the rafters. "It's 9:00am, Faire doesn't open till 10:00am. We made pretty good time. Normally, I'm still putting things out by the time the gates open."

"Or you could go to the all cast meeting like you're supposed to." Mudd said as he passed by.

"Or we could do that." Norah agreed.

"All cast meeting?" Domick asked as eyed the dubious fuzzy purple robe the old man wore.

"It's where the management - Bliss and them- give updates on the weather, what gigs are going on, who's visiting from other faires - that sort of thing. It's usually very boring, but it's good information to know, and it'll give you a chance to meet everyone." She grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the booth.

* * *

Domick soon learned that Norah was correct - for the most part the all cast meeting was very boring. Bliss stood on a stage in the middle of the Festival of Feast - which was also called the food court, Norah told him - and discussed how it should be a little warmer today but not too hot. She reminded them all to drink water, and that if a guest started to bother you, you could go up to another performer and use the safe word to ask for help without ruining the show.

"Domick," Bliss called out to him after she dismissed the meeting. "How are you this morning?"

"Well, and yourself?"

"Good, good. About the other night..."

He couldn't quite keep the grimace off his face.

"It's been straightened out." Norah stepped forward before he could speak.

"Yes, we've both discussed it and reached a resolution." He added.

"Good, Good. I came over to speak to you about something else though," Bliss handed him an envelope. "Since you don't have a social security card we can't pay you normally - but I'm not going to let you go without either. That should be enough for you to get some of your own things and have enough left over to last you until next week."

"We get paid every Friday." Norah elaborated.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome dear." She patted him on the arm. "I'll be by later to see how you're doing."

Domick closed his eyes. He was not a child who needed checking up on. Before he could say anything though, Norah grabbed his arm and started pulling him away. "See you then!" She let go of him as soon as they were far enough away. "Don't be peeved - she's just like that with people who are new to faire. Even if you weren't .. well... you... she'd still be stopping by to see how your day was going and if you were enjoying yourself."

"Ah." He felt a little less offended now.

"So how much did she pay you?"

He opened the envelope Bliss had handed him and flipped through the bills inside. "Four hundred." That seemed a bit excessive for the menial labor he had been doing the past week. "Surely that can't be correct."

"No, that's about right for minimum wage in California."

Since he did not have a purse, and the pants he wore did not have pockets, he slid the envelope through the neck of his shirt. He looked up to find her watching him with a bemused look on her face. "Yes?"

"Nothing. It's just that, we do have extra pouches if you'd like to use one."

"Good morning, Miss Norah." A cheerful voice called out, interrupting Domick before he could speak. Norah's pleasant expression instantly became troubled as they spotted a figure in a red and black uniform walking towards them.

"Good morning, Captain Harris." She called out to him, but did not return the smile he gave her.

"Master... um..."

"Domick." The harper reminded him of his name.

"Yes, yes." Harris turned back to Norah. "When will Marcus be returning?"

"Next week."

"I was wondering if I might be able to..."

"Nope." Norah cut him off. "Excuse me." She stepped around him and started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Could you give us a moment alone please?" Harris asked Domick.

Domick shook his head; while Norah did not seem to be in any pain, the Captain of the Queen's guard was grabbing her arm rather tightly. Also it bothered him that while she had made it very clear that she did not want anything to do with the man, he persisted in trying to talk to him. To Domick's surprise, she nodded at him. "Go on - I'll be at the stand in just a moment."

"Alright." Even though he did not want to, he left them standing there.

Eventually he reached the stand in front of the Wharf stage. He stood outside of it, looking over the various products that they offered and making sure that everything was arranged how Norah wanted it. He hated to admit it, but without her to tell him what to do next, he was a bit lost. He glanced back down the way he had come, expecting to see her walking towards him - surely whatever the Captain had to discuss with her wouldn't take that long - but he spied Mudd instead.

"Where's your partner in crime?" The old man asked.

"Talking with Harris."

Mudd's eyebrows rose at that. "Really? What about?"

Domick shrugged - he had never been one to indulge in gossip and he was not about to start now.

"Well, the Faire's about to open. Hopefully she'll be back soon. I wouldn't want you to be stuck out here by yourself."

"Mmm."

"Gates open in ten. I'll see you then."

"Where are you off to if they open so soon?"

"I can't let my adoring fans see me in this now, can I?" Mudd opened his arms wide, showing off more of the questionable purple bathrobe. "Or does it look good on me? I could be on to the newest and latest fashion trend."

Domick's silence must have spoken volumes, for the old man laughed and turned around. "Change it is then!"

* * *

Norah returned to the stand shortly before the gates opened. Even though it was still early in the day, she looked exhausted and her eyes and nose were red as if she had been crying. Upon seeing Domick's shocked look, she shook her head. "I'm fine." He doubted that, but when he started to open his mouth to say so she glared at him. "I'm fine."

If his apprentices thought his temper was bad, he wondered what they would make of the woman standing next to him and her current mood. Likely they would run back to whatever hold or hall they came from and cling to their mother's skirts.

Far off in the distance he heard a blare of trumpets. Norah cursed, and ducked into the booth. Domick watched as she squatted between the counter tops and pulled a small mirror from the pouch hanging on her belt. What she saw must have displeased her, for she cursed again and pulled a small assortment of various tubes and tubs from the pouch. She smeared their contents on her face until her red nose and eyes were much less noticeable.

Norah had always struck him as a practical woman. Aside from today, she normally dressed in jeans and t-shirt, and he had yet to notice if she wore make up. So, it was a bit of a shock for her to suddenly be so vain about her appearance, and he found himself staring a bit longer than he meant to. She glanced up, caught him, and blushed - which was another first. "How far away are they?"

"Who?"

"The Queen and her entourage."

"Ah." So that was what the noise was. "I can hear them, but I cannot see them yet."

Norah tucked her cosmetics in her pouch and held her hands up to him, "A little help please? It's hard to get up from the floor in here when you're wearing a bodice." He grabbed them and tugged her to her feet. She almost fell into him, but quickly caught herself. "Thank you."

He nodded, watching her again as she brushed the dirt off of her skirt. She then proceeded to start refolding the shirts that they had set out earlier. Had she completely taken leave of her senses? "Those are fine."

"I know."

"Then why are you folding them again?"

"To look busy."

Domick continued to stare at her, unsure of what to say next. There were several questions and statements brewing in his mind, but none of them seemed like a wise thing to give voice to considering the manic mood she was in.

"I don't want him to think he upset me." She finally explained.

"Who?"

However the Queen's procession was drawing near and Harris lead the phalanx of guards surrounding her and her court. Norah gave a quick shake of her head and continued refolding the shirts.

Domick sighed, wishing, yet again, that he was at the harper hall. Yes the holder girls they sometimes taught were flighty, but he rarely had to deal with them. In fact he saw Menolly and Silvina far more often than he ever saw them. They at least were sensible and not mad like this daft woman standing next to him.

The Queen was passing directly in front of them now, and the harper found his eyes drawn to her figure in a sea of red. She was a pretty thing with red hair, dressed in a gown made of rich gold fabric that the weavers would probably die to get their hands on. Even though he knew it was pretend, it was a bit odd that she was so heavily protected; from what he understood a King or Queen was the equivalent of a Lord Holder, and he had never known of Groghe or any other Lord going about escorted by guards. "Why is there so much fuss over a silly little girl?"

"Queen Elizabeth was hardly silly - she was very powerful and smart. Bliss has tons of books on her and her family if you're interested. And the actress playing her is not little - she's our age."

"And what is our age?"

"Well, I'm twenty eight, and you look like you're thirty. Vicky there is twenty seven." She smoothed her hands over the stack of shirts she had just folded. "How old are you anyways, or is that one of the things you can't..."

"Thirty Four turns."

"Hm."

"How old is Marcus?"

"Nine."

"And Mudd and Bliss?"

"They're in their sixties." There were heavy footsteps behind them, and Norah smiled as Mudd came racing out of the Wharf.. "Speaking of the devil..."

The old man no longer wore his bathrobe - instead he had changed into a shirt and jerkin. However, instead of being made out of a simple fabric in an indeterminate shades of brown like Domick's, Mudd's garb appeared to be made of every fabric and color known to mankind. "Did I miss her?"

"She went that way." Norah pointed towards the retreating procession.

"Hopefully I'm not too late..." The old man took off at a clip, his guitar banging against his back as he ran.

"What is he up to?" Domick asked.

"He's probably off to propose to the Queen again."

"What?" Why in the world would a Queen want to marry an old harper like Mudd?

"It's a bit he does maybe once or twice a year for laughs." Seeing that he still looked confused, she continued to explain how the Faire worked. "From now until closing, everyone who is not working at a shop or stand has a character to play and they'll interact with each other and with the guests to entertain our visitors and give them an idea of what Elizabethan life might be like. Those little interactions are called bits or gigs. Sometimes there are faire wide ones like when the Queen decides to run away, or when someone gets 'married'."

"Don't you have better things to do with your time? More productive things?" The questions slipped out before he could stop them. Off in the distance he could hear Mudd begin to play some little tune and promptly butcher it.

She shrugged. "Maybe, but as Shakespeare said _'__All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They each have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts'_." Her eyes sparkled with a sudden passion that left him stunned. "This may seem completely pointless and a waste of time to you, but what we do is important; we give people a place to come and relax and enjoy themselves and visit a bygone era when things were supposedly better. And like it or not, you're stuck here until you can find something better. Now, we have guests to sell things t0o, so let's get to work."

* * *

_AN part 2: No where in Dragonsinger does Anne McCaffrey mention Domick's age, so I had to come up with one. As the current actor who I picture as Domick in my head is about 34, I went with that. _

_~AS _


	13. Chapter 13

_AN - I'm trying to update at least once a month. May flew by so quickly, so I'm a couple of days off, but please enjoy ~AS_

* * *

Around noon, the crowds had slowed, and Norah felt it was safe to leave Domick in the booth by himself. He seemed to have a good handle on the money and the prices for various products - in fact, he was doing better than she was at the moment - and there wouldn't be another show for an hour, so she told him that she was leaving to get some food for them and slipped away.

The food court was busy as all the guests lined up to get lunch. Norah groaned at the sight. However, being an employee of the faire had it's perks; many of the food booths sold meals to participants through their back doors for a few dollars cheaper than what normal guests paid. So, she pushed through the crowds until she found a gap between two food stands that lead to the backstage area.

Norah ducked through it, pausing to make sure the burlap hiding the cut through fell back into place. Now that she was well and truly alone for the first time since this morning, she leaned against the wall behind her, pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, and took a few moments to try and relax.

It proved to be impossible.

Normally Fridays were not so hectic, but for some reason everyone in the vicinity had decided it was a good day to go to the faire. She could have handled that and keeping an eye on Domick easily, but then Harris had decided to pull her aside and that was when everything went South.

After ten years of never hearing from him or seeing him, having Harris suddenly appear at Pembroke as if he had never left was quite a shock. Then, to add insult to injury, he had announced that he wanted to be a part of his son's life. Even though she knew that Marcus should know who his father was and that Harris had every right to spend time with him, the very thought of it made her want to scream. How dare he try to get involved now after ignoring them for so long! How dare he threaten her with lawyers! Especially after everything that had happened!

Surprisingly, Marcus had never asked about his father or why he wasn't around and Norah had never thought to bring it up. She had expected that they might have a talk about it when he was older, but... now? How could she explain to a nine year old that she had slept with a married man - though in her defence, Harris had claimed that he was separated from his wife - and that his dad, who had up and disappeared when she told him she was pregnant and wanted to keep the child suddenly wanted to be a part of his life? Would he act out? Would he refuse to have anything to do with Harris? Would Harris respect his son if that happened or force him to obey?

Thinking about it made her head hurt. She longed to go back to the Stewes, pour herself a very strong drink, curl up with a good book, and pretend that today had never happened. However, there were still eight more shows at the Wharf stage and six hours before Pembroke closed up for the night.

"Just keep putting one foot in front of the other," She told herself. "And cross that bridge when you get to it." It had been a favorite saying of her fathers, and even though he had passed away nearly fifteen years ago, she still found comfort in it.

Norah pushed herself away from the wall, rolled her shoulders back, and set off to get lunch for Domick and herself.

* * *

It had taken Domick most of the morning to get used to the participants who worked the faire. Even though Norah had explained what they did and why, it was still odd to see them act one way while portraying their characters in front of guests and then watch them switch back to themselves as soon as they were alone. Mudd was the only one who stayed consistent; his behavior did not change much at all, though his speech did become a bit more flowery and archaic if he was in character and trying to impress a particularly pretty lady.

The outfits they wore were just as confusing. Some wore loose shirts and pants, others had jerkins or coats, while some men wandered around in short skirts, and then there were those whose garb was very elaborate with puffy breeches, tights and capes. What the women wore stayed the same for the most part, though the fabric their garb was made of was more expensive and the decorations more elaborate if they were higher class. The guests dressed in anything from jeans and t-shirts, to skimpy dresses, suits with long striped scarves, and armor made out of some flimsy substance. However there were some who wore outfits similar to what the workers dressed in - which made it particularly hard to figure out if they were an employee or a guest.

At the moment, he was alone though. A family had just left the booth - the mother huffing over the titles of some of the songs on one of the CDs - and the stream of people entering the faire through the entrance had died down to a trickle who seemed more interested in going towards the food court then stopping to look at T-shirts and posters. Across the way the smith had stopped pounding at whatever he was creating and leaned against the railing separating his work area from his shop as he ate his meal with his lady, and Norah had run off several moments ago to get their own lunch.

While he waited for her to return, he set about straightening up the stand. However, there was not much to straighten up - aside from dusting for the fourth time that day. It seemed that having so many people walking about stirred up all the dirt constantly. When it settled, it left a fine film of grime on top of everything that was not covered up, and it was impossible to get rid of.

It was while he was dusting that he noticed that he had an audience. A boy of about 10 turns stood at one end of the stand. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a hat with a bill only in the front, he leaned against the countertop and watched the harper with a curious expression.

"Mom never bothers with that." He said without any preamble.

Domick was not surprised. Judging from the boy's rumpled state of dress, he doubted the child's mother did any other house cleaning - like laundry. "Can I help you with something?"

"No." The boy reached up and pushed at the cds leaning against each other in a tray with a grimy finger. They tumbled backwards like dominos. He then proceeded to walk his fingers across the tops of them, flipping them so they leaned forward again.

He was going to knock them back over again, but Domick put a hand over the bin and gave him his most withering look. "Where are your parents?"

The boy was unfazed by his dark stare. He shrugged. "I dunno."

"Perhaps you should go and find them."

"I was told to wait here." Since his access to the CDs was blocked, he moved on to the stickers. He flipped through them, messing up the nice, orderly stacks Domick had arranged them in earlier. "You're new here. Are you the crazy one Nana was yelling at my Aunt about?"

Domick closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. No this again. "I am not insane."

"Oh." He put the stickers back on the counter. "I didn't think so - you don't look crazy, like old Tom."

"Mm." Domick followed the boy around the stand, scooting things out of his reach, and considering how to get him to leave the stand. Was it the faire children, whom she called brats, that he was not allowed to yell at, or the guests?

The boy lifted up his hat to try on one that was hanging from one of the stand's posts, revealing that he had copper hair that was as bright as one of the pennies in the cash drawer. Didn't Mud make a comment about wondering where Norah's son's red hair had come from? Norah said her son was with her mother though. However, hadn't this boy just mentioned that his grandmother had yelled at his aunt over a crazy man? "What's your name, boy?"

"Mom said I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Marcus?" Norah's appearance surprised them both. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

"So Grandma dropped you off early again, because of why?" Norah asked as she watched her son eat the sausage, bread, and cheese that she had bought for lunch.

"Because her vase broke."

"Which one?" Her mother would expect her to either buy a new one, or to be paid back for it. Hopefully it was one of the cheaper ones her sister had bought their mother during one of the many holidays the old woman expected gifts for. Those vases were cheap. The other ones, the ones that were handed down from her great grandma would be harder to replace.

He mumbled something indecipherable around a mouth full of food.

"What do I always say?"

"Don..." She gave him a look and he quickly swallowed what he was eating. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"So which vase was it again?"

"The blue one."

"The foggy blue one? The one with the flowers painted on it? Or the one that has the rainbow finish?"

"The rainbow one."

"Shi...swoonz." Norah quickly corrected her language; even though she could curse like a sailor, she refused to do so in front of Marcus. "Fie, and swoonz, and shards and shells." The blue vase with the rainbow finish was one of her mother's more expensive possessions. A depression era piece that would cost a pretty penny to replace.

Upon hearing the Pernese explicative, Domick glanced over at them from his current post outside the stand. "What?" She asked him. "So I picked up a word or two from those stupid books."

He shook his head and looked away - but not before she caught the smile threatening to curl the corners of his mouth upwards. Also, did her ears deceive her, or did he just laugh? It was short and soft, and could almost be mistaken for a snort... but no, it was a laugh.

Dragging her eyes away from his back, Norah looked back at her son. "So how was the vase broken."

"Will did it." Marcus explained as he took another bite of his mother's lunch. "We were playing hide and seek because it was too hot outside, and he bumped into the table and it fell over. Then when Grandma came in the room he said I did it."

"Why didn't you tell her the truth, then?" Domick asked.

Marcus looked at him in surprise, as if he had forgotten the man was there. "Because she never believes me. Will's her favorite. Her little angel."

"No, he's not. She loves you both equally." Norah sighed. It was a lie though: she knew her mother favored her other grandson - just like she favored Norah's sister when they were children.

"Then why does he always gets the best presents? And she gives him thirds at dinner time, and desert - even if he's broken her rules like going the park the next block over without an adult."

"So rather than putting you on time out or making you do chores she decided to send you back here?" Norah prompted him, in an attempt to keep the conversation on track before it could stray too far.

"She said all I do is cause trouble and get into things I'm not supposed to and she doesn't have the time to watch over me every second of the day. And that I wouldn't be such a problem if you would enroll me in a military school and discipline me more and get married and have a proper family instead of living on a hippie commune and doing God knows what."

There was another smothered snort from the peanut gallery. Norah rubbed at her forehead. "Is my mom still here?"

"No. She dropped me off, yelled at Aunt Bliss, and then when Aunt Bliss asked if she wanted to see you she said 'No - not until she decides to grow up and be an adult'."

"Right." She sighed. While she was happy to have her son back, having him come back so early was going to be an issue; most of the people she could rely on to watch him were currently at other faires and would not be at Pembroke for at least another week or two. And there was no way she was going to have him hanging about the Wharf all day. An idea occurred to her - one she wasn't entirely happy with, but it was better than the alternative. "Okay, so here is what we are going to do. I'm going to take you back to the Stewes where you can hang out in your room by yourself. You can play your video games if you want, or watch movies, but I'd really rather you'd read. You are only allowed to leave that room to go to the restroom, or to come and get me if there's an emergency - and by emergency I mean the Stewes has to be burning down, not that there's a spider on the window or something, alright?"

He nodded.

"And I'll come by and check on you throughout the afternoon, too." She glanced up at Domick. "Do you mind watching the stand by yourself for a little longer?"

"Not at all." Said the man who claimed to be from Pern.

"Thank you - I'll be right back."

He nodded, and she was dimly aware of him watching her while she pulled her knees underneath her and slowly got to her feet. Bodices did amazing things to the figure, but were not forgiving when one was crammed into an unusual position and wanted to get out of said position.

Domick surprised her by coming into the stand and offering her a hand. She had noticed earlier that he had surprisingly long fingers for someone with such a stocky build - which, she thought, was probably why he was such a good musician... and probably good at other things as well...

She stopped that thought before it could go any further. He had amnesia! He thought he was someone else! She had only known him for a week! Her son was sitting right there next to her. There were a multitude of reasons she should not even be thinking of him like that!

Sighing, she placed her hands in his and let him pull her upwards until she was standing. "Thanks again." She smiled at him, praying that he didn't notice the blush tinting her cheeks, and pushed Marcus out of the stand ahead of her. "C'mon kiddo."


	14. Chapter 14

AN: This chapter was originally longer, much longer. It was close to 4000 words and still not finished yet. So, rather than make everyone wait, I decided to chop it in half and share the first part with you!

~AS

* * *

The afternoon passed without any other surprises; Harris avoided the Wharf, Marcus stayed in his room as Norah had requested, no drunken guests hit on her, and no one else appeared out of nowhere claiming they were from another planet.

They counted the money - which was even down to the last penny - put it away in the safe hidden underneath the floorboards, locked the stand up, and then made their way back to the Stewes. Norah unlaced her bodice as she walked, taking a deep breath as soon as it was loose enough and relishing the ability to breathe without fabric and steel boning restricting her. Next to taking a nice hot shower, undressing and freeing herself from the layers of clothing was one of her favorite things to do after a long day of Faire.

She caught Domick watching her with a strange expression as she stepped out of her skirts and picked them up. "What?"

He quickly looked away. "Is it... acceptable for women here to walk around half dressed?"

"Most do." She glanced down at her body; she was still wearing her chemise, which came down to her knees, her bloomers, socks and shoes. Funny how he found this scandalous compared to when she wore jeans and a t-shirt. The material was a little bit thinner though, and if the sun caught it just right... She clutched her bodice and skirts against her chest. "If you think this is bad, I can't wait to see your expression when you see what some of the girls wear during summer."

His eyebrows rose slightly as he considered that.

"Hello dears." Bliss greeted them as they walked inside the Stewes. She sat in the living room, a game of checkers spread out between her and Marcus on the coffee table. "I found this poor boy locked up all alone in here, playing one of those bloody video games."

"He was not locked up, and I was checking on him every hour so he wasn't really alone."

"Still those video games can rot your brain."

Norah dropped her garb on the back of the couch and walked to where her son was sitting. She put a hand on the boy's head and squeezed it gently. "I don't know. Feels pretty solid to me." She tilted his head back and peered into his eyes, then surprised him by tickling his armpits. He giggled and swatted her hands away. "Yup, still good."

"What is a video game?" Domick asked.

"How do you not know what a video game is?" Marcus gaped at him.

"Because..." Norah drawled out the word as she struggled to think of an explanation for her son. She knew Domick hated to be reminded of his amnesia, but she couldn't just say he was from a different world. Her mother would really have a fit if she heard that! "He doesn't remember them."

"How can he not remember..."

"Not everyone is lucky enough as you to have a PSP, okay?"

Thankfully Bliss chose that moment to pluck one of Marcus's red checkers off the board. It distracted him for the moment, but Norah knew he would have questions later.

"Hey!" The boy complained.

Bliss just chuckled. "So what are you going to do with him tomorrow? You can't keep him locked up in here all the time."

"I was considering it." Norah sighed. "Do you happen to have any suggestions?"

"Well, Scabson's Finery arrived an hour or so ago. Fancy has a son about Marcus's age - maybe she would be willing to watch him." Bliss looked up at Domick, "You could take him with you and get him a doublet that fits properly."

"This is quite fine, thank you." Domick spoke up from where he leaned against the wall.

"Yes, but wouldn't you like to have something of your own?" Bliss suggested. "And Scabson's will give you a good price - and they'll tailor it to fit you if they need to. Maybe they'll have something in blue."

Norah did not understand what the importance of having something in blue was, however she noticed Domick wince at Bliss's words. "Perhaps."

"Hey, you know how I said a few days ago that Bliss was our boss and we had to do what she said, but not all the time?" Norah said and he nodded. "Well this is one of those times."

He smiled, but his expression was still pained.

"Scabson's is only out for a month and then they go to Colorado though." Norah sighed as she remembered Pembrokes schedule of vendors. "What would with him then?"

"Then you could put him with Court."

Norah said, "Oh, God, no," at the same time Marcus said, "I don't want to wear tights!"

"Tinker then? He needs an apprentice. Or the ploughboys..."

"No, ploughboys." They were even bawdier than the wharf at times. "Tinker might work though."

"He'll make me carry all of his stuff." Marcus whined.

"Maybe, but you know there's nothing in that pack of his. Just food and a couple of pots that he uses for his gigs." Norah reassured him.

"Besides, think of how funny it'll look. Especially if you whine loudly - like you're about to do right now." Bliss claimed another one of his checkers and the boy groaned. She smiled. "So what would you all like for dinner?"

"Something with strong alcohol."

Bliss glanced up at her niece in surprise. "Tough day?"

"It had it's moments."

"Marcus dear, why don't you go show Domick what a video game is?"

Norah shot a quick glance at Domick. "He doesn't..."

"Oh, nonsense. Go on now."

Marcus sighed and stood up, motioning for Domick to follow him. "C'mon, I got this new one where you're an assassin..."

Domick followed the boy down the hallway.

Bliss waited until they were out of earshot before she began speaking. "I couldn't help but notice this morning that Harris is back in town."

"Yes, he's made his presence known." Norah picked at the hem of her chemise absently. "He wants to be involved in Marcus's life now."

"Took him long enough." The old woman snorted. "Well, you know my lawyers are good people if you'd like to..."

"I can't afford to fight him!"

"Who says you'd be the one paying them?"

"Thank you," She sighed. The idea was tempting, but... "I want to try to keep this as peaceful as possible. He does have a point;. Marcus should know who his dad is."

"Hmph. I wonder what happened to make him suddenly remember he has a son."

Norah shrugged in reply.

"Will he be helping you out in other ways?"

"What do you mean?"

"Child support, of course."

"Oh, right." She had been so desperate to get away from him that hadn't thought to ask about that. Maybe she would need Bliss's lawyers after all...

The old woman patted her hand. "We'll get it figured out. We always do."

"One foot in front of the other." Norah murmured the familiar words again for the second time that day.

"Right."

"So what did my Mother have to say when she stopped by to visit?"

"Oh, the usual; I should sell this land and move to a nice retirement community. That I shouldn't take in so many homeless and crazy folks. That one of them will murder me in my bed one of these days." Bliss glanced at her niece with a raised eyebrow. The younger woman flushed and looked away. "She wanted to know how you were doing..."

"Funny. Marcus said she didn't want to talk to me until I got my act together - and I spoke to her last week, so she knows I'm alive." Norah did not mention that the phone call had been short and consisting of mainly one word answers.

"I tried to get him out of the house before he could hear that part." She sighed. "And she's your mother; she may be mad at you, Heaven's knows why, but she still cares about you." Now it was Norah's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Well, she does. How did Domick do today?" She asked, changing the subject.

"He did okay - The register balanced."

"What? Were you expecting him to steal from us?"

She snorted. "No, but I just taught him about money how many days ago? Two? Three? I was expecting to be over or short at least a couple of dollars."

Bliss just smiled.

"Speaking of him..." Norah turned her head towards the hallway. "It's awfully silent." She had learned with Marcus (though other parents had told her that it was the same with any child) that silence usually meant that he was up to something. "I should go check on them."

"Oh, for the love of... have a little faith in the man, Norah!"

"I promised to try to trust him and I am." She said as she started towards her son's room. "My son, however..." Once, when Marcus had been seven,, she had gone on a date and left him in Mud's care - only to come home and find Mud asleep and tied up in the living room while Marcus sat in the kitchen eating all the candy and sweets he could get his grubby little hands on.

She paused and shook her head; no, it was foolish of her to think that Marcus could trick Domick like he could with Mud. He was younger and faster, and he did not seem like the type to put up with any shenanigans.

Still she peered around the doorjamb into her son's room slowly, expecting to find the worst.

Instead she found that both Domick and Marcus were sitting on the bed. The boy had scooted as close to the man as he could and was explaining how the PSP and game worked to him patiently. "See, you do this and you can jump up here." Domick did not seem interested in what the characters on the screen were doing at all. However, he did not say so quickly enough, and Marcus took that as encouragement to continue. "If you do this, you can kill someone. Here, why don't you try?"

"Ah..." The man stared at the PSP the boy was handing to him as if it was a dangerous object.

"C'mon, you don't really kill anyone. It's just a game."

"Marcus," Norah spoke up from the doorway. "Why don't you put that away and let Domick go? I'm sure he probably wants to take a shower."

Domick did not seem pleased at her suggestion. In fact, he seemed a little offended, as if she might be questioning his hygiene. "I assure you, I am quite clean..."

"With all that dust that gets everywhere? Trust me, you need to take a shower." She raised her eyebrows, willing him to understand that she was giving him a way to escape her son and his games.

He stared at her, frowning. He stood and pushed past her through the hallway. "Fine."

Norah turned to follow him, wanting to explain, but Marcus had started to whine. "Mom, I don't have to put it away do I? You said that I can play with the PSP until 730!"

"On weeknights."

"So? It's the weekend - I can stay up later, so why I can't I play the PSP later?"

"Because you've been playing it all day." She stepped into the room. "And if you keep it up, you won't be able to play it at all for a month. Got it?"

He clutched it to his chest. "Yes."

She turned to leave, longing to take her own shower and change into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, but Marcus stopped her. "Mom?"

Norah sighed, "Yes?"

"Twenty more minutes, please? I'm almost to the end of this level..."

She sighed again. "Alright. But just this once..."

* * *

AN part two: Chemise are shirts or shifts that are worn under the clothing. The basic modern version resembles a peasant shirt without any embroidery, but they can be quite elaborate. Also, bodices are quite comfortable to wear if they are built properly - however, it is a pretty orgasmic feeling to be able to take it off at the end of the day!


	15. Chapter 15

Setting up the stand the next morning proceeded almost as quickly as the day before - however, this time it was impeded by a child who constantly whined about having to wake up early and had a habit of getting underfoot. Finally once everything was set out, Norah pushed Marcus along in front of her. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"To see Fancy remember?"

"Will James be there?"

"Dunno."

To Norah's surprise, Domick followed them. When she glanced his way, he said. "Thanks to the generosity of your friends I do not need anymore clothing - but, it would be nice to have something of my own in this place."

"Scabson's is the place to go then. They used to be re-enactors themselves so they know what's period appropriate and they understand the abuse our clothing goes through so they make things to last." Unlike the vendor they were passing right now, whose bodices featured bright prints that would be more at home on a quilt. "About last night..."

"You were right, the dust had gotten everywhere."

"It does, but that wasn't the reason I said you should shower." Thankfully her son had wandered far enough ahead that she didn't need to worry about him overhearing them or getting offended. "I was worried about you and Marcus being alone for so long. He can be a bit overwhelming at times..."

"He's no worse than some of the boys at the Hall. There's one scamp, Piemur..." Domick stopped as soon as he started. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. "He was small and wiry, and energetic like Marcus. He got into trouble quite often."

"Ah." Norah was unsure of what one should say when their companion was speaking about someone who didn't exist, so she did not say anything else until they reached Scabson's.

The shop was one of the larger ones at the Village; it was a two story building on the main street that had recreated the half timber style which had been so popular in Tudor England. At some point, someone had painted the walls a golden yellow that contrasted with exposed dark wooden beams. Two dark brown double doors opened onto the street and, on the second floor, someone had opened the window. Norah could hear children complaining at being woken up - much like how Marcus had whined when she had dragged him out of bed this morning.

As they approached, a woman opened one side of the doors and carried a dressmakers dummy wearing skirts, chemise, and a bodice onto the street. She sat it to one side of the entrance and looked up, waving to them when she saw them. "Good morning, Norah!"

"Good morning, Sassy."

"What happened? Did he outgrow his clothing already?" Sassy nodded at Marcus sulked sleepily nearby.

"No, not yet, I think he'll be able to get away with what he has for another summer. Actually, I was wondering if I could speak to Fancy about something."

"Ah. She should be in back. Come on in."

They followed the plump woman through the crowded shop into the storage room in back. Another woman, clad only in her chemise and skirts, leaned against a stack of boxes while she waited for a tea kettle to boil on a camping burner. She glanced up as they entered and a large smile spreading across her face. "Norah! I was wondering when you might stop by!"

Norah let herself be pulled into a warm hug. "How was the drive? I heard you got in late last night."

"Ugh. You know how LA traffic can be..."

"Wouldn't know - haven't had to deal with any traffic since I moved here."

"Lucky." Fancy ran a hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face. "So what can we help you with today?"

"Well, Domick here would like to purchase some garb." She decided to start with that first, hopefully making a sale so early would put the women in a good mood.

"Oh?" The other woman glanced at Domick, her eyes scanning him up and down. "Anything in particular? A jerkin and some breeches? The ones you have are a little sloppy."

"They're hand me downs."

"Ah."

"There's some lovely off the rack stuff out front, if you're interested." Sassy gestured towards the crowded store they had just walked through.

"That would be fine." Domick agreed.

"What size do you wear?" Fancy asked.

"I..." He glanced at Norah, his eyebrows drawing together as he thought. "A large I believe."

"Well, let me measure you just in case." She pulled a knotted string out of one of the boxes, and wrapped it around his waist and chest. She reported the measurements to Sassy, who retreated into the shop and began looking for clothing that would fit Domick's stocky build. "Where do you work?"

"The wharf, with me." Norah answered the question for him.

"Peasant garb then."

"Well, supposedly, he's supposed to be their backup if someone can't make it out - so he could get away with something a little nicer..." She said, and instantly regretted it. Fancy's eyebrows went up several inches, and her expression became more calculating as she eyed Domick once again. She pulled a book filled with costumes out of another box. She began to flip through it. "What are you plotting?"

"Nothing..."

"He can't spend very much... Fifty at most." She knew he could afford more - especially since he didn't have any bills to like a cell phone or electricity to worry about - and she half expected him to contradict her. Thankfully he stayed quiet.

"A hundred. That'll get him another pair of breeches, a shirt, a simple jerkin, and this..." Fancy showed them a rendering of a jerkin with hundreds of small slashes decorating the body.

Domick's expression was doubtful. "It looks like something a lord holder would wear."

"A lord... what?"

"He's a fan of those Dragonriders of Pern books." Norah explained.

"Oh. Well." Fancy chewed on her lip as she studied the picture. "If we remove most of the trim and the embroidery, it would pass as middle class, so you'd be fine. I know that the wharf isn't into gigging, but if someone complains you can always claim you're a merchant, or the bastard son of a noble."

"Seventy five then, for everything." Domick said, surprising Norah as he took charge of the bargaining.

"I don't know... It'll be a custom piece... Normally those go for much more." Fancy hemmed and hawed.

"You said yourself that you will not add the trim and the embroidery - which means you will not have to use as many supplies, nor spend as much time making it."

"Eighty five."

He glanced at Norah. "Do I really need two more jerkins?"

Norah bit back her smile. "It's nice to have, so you're not wearing the same thing every day. But I think I saw other ones in that pile of clothes back at the Stewes."

"And I noticed on our walk the other day that there are other weavers and millers about the Faire."

"Several. In fact there's always Heart's..."

"Stop! Stop! Just stop right there!" Fancy waved her arms above her head in defeat. "Fine. You win. Seventy Five it is."

Domick shook her hand to seal the deal. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." She glared at Norah. "I can't believe you were actually going to take him to that store and let him wear that crap."

Norah finally allowed herself to grin. "Not really... I can't stand them anymore than you do."

"Hmf." Fancy glanced back at Domick, suddenly all business again. "What colors would you like your fancy new jerkin to be in, good sir? With your skin tone, you'd look lovely in a burgundy or a hunter green."

"Do you have any blue?" He asked.

Wait... Hadn't that been the color bliss suggested last night? The one that had troubled him so much? Norah glanced at him in surprise.

"I believe so... one second." She disappeared through the door that led to the back and they could hear her as she dug through the trailer parked there.

"You don't have to get it in blue." Norah whispered to him while Fancy pulled out swatches of sample fabrics.

"I would prefer it."

"Harpers wear blue, Mom. Duh." Marcus said from where he had sat down on the floor.

Domick looked down at the boy in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"Mud read the books to me last year. They were fun when Menolly was at the weyr, but when she got to the harper hall they got kinda boring. They got better again when Piemur went to the South." He squinted at the man towering over him. "Are you really Domick?"

"I am."

"How did you get here? Pern isn't real."

"So everyone keeps reminding me." He replied dryly.

"Here we go!" Fancy returned from her search carrying a two large bolts of fabric. She stood them in front of her for Domick to inspect. One was a dark blue in a faux suede material, while the other was more gray in color and linen. "Maybe we could do one over the other? It'd only cost you $20 more.." She smiled at him hopefully.

The harper shook his head, "The dark blue please."

"You got it." She leaned the bolt against the wall. "So was there anything else I could help you with today?"

Norah licked her lips nervously. "Actually I was wondering if you might be able to keep an eye on Marcus..."

"For today? Sure."

"Actually for the next couple of days..."

"Oh. What about St. Nick's?"

"Well..." Norah stalled, trying to think of what to say. "They don't think they can keep up with a rambunctious..."

Marcus, however, was more blunt. "They kicked me out because I cut Lala's hair. But she asked for it."

Fancy's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"He knows better now, don't you Marcus?" Norah nudged him with her foot. The boy nodded.

"Well, we'll just make sure to keep him away from the scissors then... Far far away." She squatted down so she was on his level. "Do you promise to not get in trouble, and to do what Sassy and I tell you? Especially Sassy, she'll put you in the boo box if you don't do what she says."

Norah coughed to cover her laugh, and shook her head when Domick gave her a questioning look. Thankfully her son did not notice; his eyes still on Fancy, he nodded solemnly. "Yes, ma'am."

The other woman eyed him for a moment or two, then jerked her head towards the steep stairs along the far wall. "Go on then. James and Lily are up there eating their breakfast. There should be enough for you too if you haven't eaten yet."

"Thank you," Norah said as soon as he was out of earshot. "I couldn't keep him at the Wharf with me and there's nowhere else for him to go until school's back in session..."

"I know... It's tough having kids out here sometimes. I have no idea how my Mom did it." Fancy dusted off her skirts as she stood. "Have you thought about working someplace else other than the Wharf?"

"Several times, but there aren't many booths that stick around all year, and I can't sing or play an instrument." She couldn't help but notice Domick's interest in their conversation peak again.

"You used to dance with what's-her-face's group."

"They left, and I doubt they'll ever come back."

"I had heard about that drama and how it was quite a to-do."

"Yeah." Quite a to-do was putting it mildly.

"You should go talk to Atiya."

"Atiya?" Norah asked. "Isn't she one of your girls?"

"Normally, but she's trying to get a dancing group together."

"Really." She drawled out the word as she considered what Fancy was saying. While dancing did not pay as well as working at a booth, there was the opportunity to earn tips. Plus she would also be able to keep a better eye on Marcus. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Don't mention it." The seamstress jerked her head at Domick. "Now get him out of here before he talks me into giving him everything for free."


End file.

Dragonriders of Pern series, Fantasy, Romance