The Masterharper of Pern

CHAPTER TEN

The three turns that Robinton spent at High Reaches seemed to go by very quickly, punctuated by the rigours of the seasons.But he learned a great deal more than harpering, and considerably more about how a Hold controlling a population of many thousands was managed.At the head table in the evenings, Lord Faroguy seemed mild, gracious and inoffensive.But in his office, directing his sons and stewards in Hold management, he was incisive and efficient.There wasn't much the man didn't know about what went on in his Hold, except for the "blind spot', as Lobira put it, about his nephew Fax.

"Oh, Fax is clever," Lobira had told Robinton."He did his time with Faroguy, same as the sons are doing, but you'd almost think Fax was a pure Blood relative."

"Maybe he is," Mallan put in, raising a critical eyebrow."They do resemble each other."

Lobira dismissed that notion."Faroguy has always adored Evelene.It's only a family resemblance."

Mallan lifted one shoulder."Fax's mother died at birth, so we'll never know, will we?There's always the possibility that, with Evelene pregnant so often, he might well have taken his ease elsewhere."

"Strike that," Lobira said roughly."And keep such notions to yourself."

"I have, but Faroguy's preference for Fax makes me wonder.He was born when Evelene had all those miscarriages: before Farevene was finally born." But Mallan had let the subject drop.

The disturbing conduct of Fax ended up being the only unpleasantness Robinton experienced during his Turns at the big Hold.He even enjoyed a woman for the first time, thanks to Mallan's conniving.Robinton had never thought much about his appearance, looking into a mirror only to be sure his hair was neat; he wore his dark brown hair long and braided, as many young men were currently doing.But he was putting flesh on his long bones, filling out, thanks to Lotricia's generosity with her "treats' and striding up and down the hills had added muscle to his lean shanks and chest.

As harper, he usually played for the dances rather than taking part in them.Then one day when Mallan noticed him chatting with three of the young holder girls between dances, he nudged Robinton.

"I'll take the next set for you.Time you picked out a partner." Another nudge to Robinton's ribs was accompanied by a wink.

Then he stopped Robinton's protest by turning to the first girl.

"Sitta, he's shy.Spent so much time playing for dancers, he doesn't know the steps."

"Don't know…of course I know how to dance," Robinton protested, and he made haste to invite Sitta to partner him.It wasn't that he hadn't noticed her, with her delicately slanting eyes in a charming face, and tiny figure set off by the bright dark blue of her Gather dress.It was more that he didn't quite know how to strike the right note with those he fancied.

"I thought you'd never ask," Sitta said demurely, setting her tiny hand among his string-callused fingers.

"I've wanted to," Robinton replied sincerely.

"It's about time you did, Harper," she replied pertly, and then they were on the dance floor, saluting each other as the other couples did before the music began, adagio this time, so he did not have the chance to embrace her.

Sitta was a nice child and, after two dances with him, suggested that he partner one of her friends so as not to give anyone cause for talk.Quickly Robinton agreed; as a harper, he certainly shouldn't publicly indicate a marked preference, yet.And secondly, he really did want to dance.It was exhilarating.He also danced with Triana and Marcine.Triana was jolly and seemed more interested in being seen to dance than in who she was partnered with; Marcine was pleasant and attentive.Then it was time for him to take up his instrument again.

Triana went off in search of another partner, though she said he was one of the best she'd had here, while Sitta and Marcine hung about the players' platform and were quite happy to wait until he was free again.

During the next few days, he seemed to meet Sitta and Marcine accidentally, wherever he went.Then he was off on his rounds for the next four.When he returned late in the evening Sitta was somehow in the main Hall, so it was natural for her to make sure he had something warm to eat and drink.And something warm in his bed to welcome him home.

Robinton used the same sign to Mallan that the older journeyman Did, tipping one of the chairs against the table to indicate that he was not to be disturbed in his room.So he and Sitta discovered each other, and he found this aspect of life very good indeed.Sitta made every effort to waylay him in the Hold until he thought her as clever as a dragon to be able to find him so easily.Marcine pouted for a week or so, but both she and Triana continued to seek him out as a dance partner.Never more than two dances at a time, however.

Sitta might fancy being a harper's spouse but, until he had a more permanent placing, he could not entertain the thought of any serious long-term partnership.But it was very pleasant to have a loving friend.It was very different from a loving mother!

The news he had from the Harper Hall was that Merelan was in fine voice and very good health.He heard from her whenever the runners brought in letters, and he always had one ready to send back to her.

F'lon and Simanith came with the word that Carola had taken ill and MasterHealer Ginia had been sent for.The entire Weyr was upset because Feyrith was a relatively young queen.Any dragon's death was a shock to the rest of the Weyr, but to lose the queen was disastrous.

"I've never cared that much for Carola as a person, I know, but she is a dragonrider…" F'lon looked glum.

"Feyrith would just go?" Robinton exclaimed."But the Weyr has to have a queen!"

"We do," F'lon reminded him."From the last clutch, even if she is very young.Mind you, I could wish there'd been more choice for Nemorth than that Jora!" He exhaled in exasperation.

"Why?" Robinton asked, his mind more fixed on the enormity of the loss of a queen than what annoyed F'lon about Jora.

"Why?Because she's afraid of heights.Can you imagine that?

Won't matter.Simanith fancies Nemorth, and I'd rather have a plump body than the rack of bones Carola's become."

"You don't think your father's bronze will give way to yours?" Robinton asked, startled.He knew how ambitious F'lon was, and how competitive bronze riders always were about mating flights, but wasn't F'lon ignoring the fact that his father was a good deal more experienced?

F'lon had the grace to look abashed."Well, even S'loner can't last for ever, you know.And Simanith is a very good bronze!" "I'm sure of that," Robinton replied quickly.

Thank you, Harper.

Robinton beckoned for F'lon to lean closer."Doesn't it upset him?"

"It won't until it happens.Dragons don't much worry about tomorrow, you know.It's why they need riders."

Three days before Turn's End, the Weyrwoman died, having valiantly fought to live.In the Harper Hall, Robinton was instantly aware of Simanith's grief at the loss of Feyrith, although he

said nothing until the drums confirmed the deaths.It certainly was grim news for all the celebrations.Everyone mourned the loss of both dragon and rider.Robinton was especially devastated, as he was one of the few people in High Reaches Hold who had known both Weyrwoman and dragon in the prime of life.But he didn't have much time to mourn, for Lobira told him that Master Gennell wished him back in the Harper CraftHall for a new assignment.

"You've learned a lot here, Rob, and I'm sorry to see you go, but you've more talent, both as a teacher and a musician, than is needed here.And there are other places where you can do more," Master Lobira said when F'lon and Simanith arrived to convey Robinton and his effects.Then he embraced the young man firmly, despite the disparity of their heights, and turned quickly away.

Lotricia also hugged him, weeping and telling him to be careful, and to come back and visit whenever he could.

Robinton had already taken formal leave of Lord Faroguy, who had unexpectedly given him a fat purse of marks.

"You've been a fine worker, and all reports of your conduct and effectiveness have been full of praise.You deserve something to see you comfortable in your next position.Give my regards to Master Gennell, and of course to MasterSinger Merelan." Faroguy had extended his hand, and Robinton had been happy to shake it enthusiastically, even though he had to soften his grip when he noted Faroguy wincing.

Now Mallan shook his hand, grinning, and at last Robinton was ready to leave.

"When's the mating flight?" he asked F'lon when he settled on Simanith's back behind his old friend.He spoke teasingly.

"I'm not sure Nemorth'll ever get off the ground the way Jora acts," he said in disgust."The girl is afraid of heights.She only takes the steps to her weyr if someone walks on the outside to keep her,' he altered his voice to a squeaky falsetto, ‘from tipping off."

"But doesn't she…"

"Fortunately," F'lon went on, "when Nemorth's lust is up, it won't matter a pile of old ashes what Jora wants." He grinned wickedly back at the harper."Nemorth's blood will be up, and nature will take its course."

"And S'loner?"

"He'll take his chances with the rest of us."

Just then Simanith, who had surprised Robinton by walking to the edge of the High Reaches court, scared him half to death by falling off the edge into the long drop down to the valley floor.His stomach lurched and he clutched frantically at F'lon, wondering what ailment had taken the dragon so suddenly.

F'lon was howling with laughter at his reaction, and then they were between and the chill was almost welcome as the alternative to being dashed on the rocks.

"That was a damned nasty trick," Robinton said, leaning forward so that F'lon could hear him as they circled above the Harper Hall.

He also gave F'lon an angry punch between the shoulder-blades to show his displeasure.

"Why should Simanith waste energy leaping when he can glide off?"

"You might have warned me."

F'lon's chuckle whipped back to Robinton's ears and he knew it was useless to complain.

Simanith, the next time F'lon does that, would you please give me a second's warning?Robinton asked.He'd had little occasion to initiate conversations with Simanith, so he wasn't sure if the bronze would hear him.

I will try to remember since you don't like falling.At least Simanith sounded reasonably apologetic, which somewhat mollified Robinton.

Not above another display, F'lon had Simanith glide in a lazy spiral down to the Harper Hall courtyard, making certain that their arrival was witnessed.By the time Simanith had folded his wings to his back, a welcoming committee had gathered on the steps.

Robinton would really have preferred a less public arrival.His mother, who did look well to his searching gaze, was standing by Lorra, who had her arm about the shoulders of a very pretty, tall brunette who looked somewhat familiar.Kubisa and Master Ogolly completed the smiling group.Glancing up at the rehearsal room where Petiron spent so much time, Robinton could neither see nor hear any activity.He breathed a sigh of relief and then dismounted, striding to the steps to embrace his mother.

She was not quite as frail in his arms as when he had bid her goodbye three turns before, but there were a lot of white streaks in her carefully braided hair and he thought her face looked more lined.Those marks of ageing disturbed him terribly, he didn't like to think of his mother growing old.But he hid his fears with smiles and all the glib, silly phrases people say when renewing contact.

In the fuss to thank them all for coming, he kept glancing at the very pretty brunette who was also pretending to be composed, a state belied by the flush that kept coming and going on hercheeks.

Then he put a name to her face.

"The turns have done you well, Silvina," he said, holding out a hand to Lorra's youngest daughter while still embracing his mother.

"And you're not so bad yourself now, Harper," she said pertly, grinning.

"You've filled out a great deal," Merelan said, patting his chest and feeling the muscles in his arm."You're even taller," she added with a sort of accusatory wonder, as if he had no right to alter his appearance while separated from her.

"Master Lobira worked me hard," he said, pretending weariness.

"Nonsense," Kubisa said in her forthright fashion."You look in fine shape.In fact, you've improved quite a bit."

Betrice appeared in the doorway."Ah, he has come.Good.

Lorra's laid a spread for you, and we're all waiting to see if she's done you proud.Come in, come in, Robie." She grabbed his hand away from Silvina and led him in.

Robinton released his mother only when they were in the small dining room and he could settle her in a chair Just as he was about to seat himself, Master Ogolly came rushing in.

"Oh, I did want to be on time," the Archivist said peevishly."My dear boy, it's so good to see you!" Then he looked at the laden table and beamed."How marvellous.I'll just stop for a cup of klah, and maybe one of those little cakes, but I've got such clumsies as apprentices this Turn.You don't know how much I miss your neat copying, Robie.Oh, I should give you your full name now, shouldn't I, Journeyman Robinton?"

"You can call me what you will, Master Ogolly.I'm always yours to command."

"Master Gennell will want to see you sometime this afternoon, Rob," Betrice said, "when his class is over"

"Any ideas about where I'm to be posted next?" He winked at Betrice to assure her that he didn't expect her to tell him.

"Oh, we'll keep you busy enough," she assured him with a mock scowl.

The conversation went to general topics, such as who had been posted where, and Robinton asked after his old dorm-mates who now were journeymen too, and heard about Shonagar's latest wrestling successes.That made him think of Fax.

"What's wrong, Rob?" his mother asked, a gentle hand on his arm, as she caught his change of mood.

"Nothing," he said.His response didn't fool her, but he didn't feel that Fax's delinquency in educating his holders was a subject for this table.

When he did have a chance to bring the subject up to Master Gennell during his interview with the harper, Gennell nodded soberly.

"Lobira has acquainted me with that situation.Unfortunately, without Faroguy's consent, the Hall can do nothing."

"But that's not right," Robinton protested.

Gennell nodded again, sympathetically."We can only do so much, Rob, and are wiser not to trespass where a harper's life might be endangered."

Robinton blinked in surprise."Endangered?"

"There have been such problems before, lad, and there will be again, but somehow it comes right.As long as Fax keeps his ideas to his own hold, I can do nothing.Nor is it wise to do so.That's something you learn as you go on.Cut your losses when you have to.One small hold in the northern lands is not as vital as a larger one nearer home, as it were.And I'm assigning you to shed the light where there has been darkness.Now,' Gennell swivelled and pointed to a peg," that's your new assignment.And I think you'll do quite well there.You got a fine recommendation from Lobira, and he's not easy to please.But first…Petiron is away for several days, so you might like to relax and spend some time with your mother."

"She's not well?" Robinton leaped on the wording.

"Yes, yes, she's fine, lad.No need to fret about her as you'll discover," Gennell said.He sounded so sincere that Robinton relaxed."There's a ship due in at the Fort Harbour and you can passage on that…and let's not prevail too much on a dragonrider's favour for transport."

"F'lon insisted…"

"Now, now, I'm not faulting you, Rob, but I think it better that you arrive at Benden? "

"Benden?" Robinton couldn't believe in such luck.

"Yes, Benden, but arrive this time without benefit of Simanith's wings.That young lad is a thorn in Lord Maidir's side, both he and that father of his, the Weyrleader."

"But, when Mother and I were there, Lord Maidir? "

Gennell held up his hand."As I said, it would be better if you didn't arrive on dragonwing.I don't want you considered an alarmist too.Harper Evarel is looking forward to your assistance.

He's retiring soon and, if you suit Lord Maidir, in fact, he asked if you were available now, you'll probably stay on there."

Robinton forbore to ask further questions, knowing that he could find out for himself what the situation was.It was very odd that the Weyr's own Hold was doubting the Weyrleaders.

F'lon had expressed himself on this score during the informal party.The young bronze rider had also given him something more to think about as they crossed the courtyard to the waiting Simanith.

"That pretty girl, Silvina, fancies you, lad," he said."She wouldn't give me the time of day, but she couldn't keep her eyes off you.Don't let a good opportunity pass you by, Rob." And F'lon winked as he clapped the harper on the back before taking the jump-step he always used to reach Simanith's forearm.And then he was waving farewell from his bronze's back.

Robinton was so surprised by the comment that he had no time to tell F'lon that he'd known Vina as a child and she was probably just happy to see him again.She was much too young, anyhow.He retreated a good dragon-length to avoid getting dust and grit in his eyes when Simanith leapt upwards.

But later that night, after he and his mother had caught up on some of his more amusing adventures at High Reaches, he was too restless to sleep.Though she had told him his room was ready, he had insisted that he sleep in the journeymen's accommodation.He knew she was disappointed, that she wanted to see to his comfort herself and enjoy his proximity.What he couldn't say was that his old room would bring back far too many memories he had no desire to recall.Or maybe she understood that, because she didn't press him.Casually she mentioned that Petiron was doing special music for a Tillek Holder espousal, and that was why the Hall seemed almost deserted.She had also noticed Silvina's intentness.

"She's grown into such a lovely young woman.A nice rich contralto.

Have you written any songs for that voice?"

Yes, actually, I have," Robinton said, reaching for the leather folder which contained his scores.It gave him something to divert her from thinking more about Vina's so-called interest in him."In fact, I've copied out the best of my new tunes for you." He put an emphasis on the word ‘tunes,' Petiron's sarcastic name for them.

"Now, Rob…" His mother gave him a reproving look.

That was when he told her about Master Lobira's laughing fit, and she was appropriately amused by the incident.She insisted on looking at all his new songs, and played them, singing along half-voice, although occasionally singing out fully for the ones she particularly liked.He hummed along with her because he couldn't help himself: singing his own songs with his mother was a pleasure long denied him.

"Ah, dear love, you have such a knack for song and ballad," she said when she had gone through them all."And you've developed so much…" She sighed.And Robinton, deciding she was tired, gathered up the scores, telling her that she must rest.

There was something about his mother that was different, not quite right, despite all the assurances he had been given.He gave her a goodnight hug and kiss.

"I've several days before I have to take ship," he told her.

"Where did Gennell assign you?"

"You didn't know?"

She laughed."Gennell keeps his own business to himself, but he did assure me that it was a posting worthy of your abilities."

She was delighted when he informed her that he'd been assigned to Benden.

"I'd hoped that you might be.I know Evarel is thinking about retiring," she said, hugging him fiercely.Then she gave him a mock coy glance."Why, I'd even thought of asking Gennell if he wouldn't consider you, but that would be favouritism."

"And my mother wouldn't stoop to that?" he said, teasing her lightly."Even for her own son?"

"I have my scruples, dear," she replied, affecting a prim manner.

Silvina served him dinner first at the journeymen's table, gave him larger portions than she gave the others, and hung around, asking him about High Reaches and being not quite a nuisance.Two or three harpers he didn't know very well grinned at him until he became a little uncomfortable about her attentiveness.

She was pretty, prettier than Sitta or Marcine, but he wasn't going to be around long enough to get to know the adult Vina.

Anyway, Master Gennell rose to his feet and started the ceremonies which made apprentices into journeymen, always a marvellous occasion.His new posting was included, and he saw how proud his mother was when it was announced.He wondered what his father would have said.

So he travelled by ship, runner-beast and foot to Benden, a journey which not only made him appreciate the speed of transport a-dragonback, but impressed on him the size of the continent which until then had only been a map and not actual lengths he had set foot on.

He discovered that he could sail without getting seasick, which pleased the captain no end when the storm made half the crew too nauseated to work and Robinton was pressed into service.And he saw the Dawn Sisters for the first time.

He'd come on deck just at dawn and noticed the bright spark in the sky.

"That can't be a star," he said.

"Ent one of the dog-watch sailor said with a grin."We calls "um the Dawn Sisters.Why, I dunno.We sees "em just as clear at dusk, too.Only from this latitude, though.You won't see "em up north where you comes from."

"Amazing," Robinton said, leaning against the cabin housing, unable to take his eyes from the shining spot.Then, abruptly, the sun raised itself above the horizon and the spot winked out.He meant to come back and test the sailor's word that the phenomenon occurred at dusk as well, but he forgot about it.

He liked Ista Island with its herd of smaller isles, what he saw of it sailing past the coastline, and admired the black diamond beach around the little off-shore island, which was no more than an old volcano sticking its crater head up out of the water.He found he could manage a runner-beast adequately to help drive burden-beasts and other runners to their destination, and all his travels up the High Reaches mountain tracks made the rest of his journey more of a delight than a problem.Especially since, as a harper, he was welcome in any small hold where, in return for an evening's songs, he got the best meal available as well as the best bed.

Except for one night when he had left the drovers who'd sold him an elderly but sturdy pack-beast to carry his possessions, and was proceeding on his own.He was nearly to the Benden Hold borders, the head drover had told him, and recommended the inland road as being the shorter way.He'd passed a Runner Station mid-afternoon, but decided to travel as far as he could that night.As the sun was nearly down over the mountains, he was beginning to look around for any shelter, even an old Thread halt, when he came across a runner trace.These were always laid out as the straightest distance between two points, so he switched to the narrow, mossy trace and was ascending a hill when he saw lights ahead, off to his left, snug against a forest.The trace was bisected by a wider road that appeared to lead directly to the hold, so he turned, his elderly pack animal moaning in protest.

"It's near by.Not much further, and you can eat, too."

The animal groaned on a different note.If Robinton hadn't been so tired and hungry, he'd have been amused at the variety of sounds the beast could make.

As he approached the cothold, he smelled tantalizing odours coming from within and his stomach growled.So did several canines within the cot.The pack-beast gave off a loud, slightly fearful protest.

"They're inside and can't hurt you," he told the beast as he resettled his tunic, pushed his hair neatly behind his ears, and courteously rapped at the door.

"Who's there?" a sharp male voice demanded, and then told the canines to shut their fuss."Can't hear over the noise."

A female voice murmured something.

"A traveller, in need of a night's lodging," Robinton said.

"Can you pay?"

"Certainly." A harper was expected to sing and entertain for supper.

He would usually offer a half-mark, but was always refused.

The door opened a crack, but he couldn't see the face of the man, the light being behind him.

"Who be you."?" the man asked.

"Robinton's my name," the journeyman replied with a slight bow, and put his hand to his belt pouch."I have good Harper Hall marks? "

"Ha!Harper Hall." There was contempt in the voice.

"They're good at any Gather," Robinton said, more than a little taken aback by the response.

"Do let him in, Targus.We've more than enough stew," the woman said.She pulled the door open, peering out at him."Why, it's only one man, Targus.And carries no weapons but an eating knife." She swung the door wider and Robinton could see four large men seated at the table."Sortie, boy, go put his pack-beast in the lean-to, and come in, Robinton, you said your name was?I'm Kulla," she told him.

A gawky lad appeared and slipped past Targus, taking the lead rope from Robinton's hand and clucking encouragingly at the pack-beast.The animal started to resist, but Robinton swatted him across his stubborn rump and he followed the boy.

"I really appreciate your hospitality, lady," he said, ducking his head to step into the room.He nodded impartially around at the others."I'm on my way to Benden Hold."

"He's a harper, Pa.That's blue cords on his shoulder," one of the diners said, pointing with his knife at Robinton's left arm.

Targus, scowling deeply, hauled Robinton around so that he could see the offensive cords himself.

"Now, you see here, Targus," the woman said, planting both fists on her ample hips and glaring at her spouse."You keep me from Gathering, but if a harper comes to my door, I'm not turning him out.Not that I'd turn anyone away so late in the night."

She grabbed Robinton's other arm and pulled him away from Targus's grasp and towards the table.

"Brodo, get a plate.Mosser, a cup.All we've got's beer but it'll quench a thirst." She angled Robinton towards the table and pushed him into what he took to be her own chair.Taking the plate from Brodo, who was grinning as he passed it to his mother, she filled it amply and gestured for him to be seated."Erkin, the bread's by you.And, Targus, you sit.I'm so eager to see a smiling face that I'd eat with a watchwher who did."

Jutting his jaw out, Targus held out his hand to Robinton, his eyes suspicious."Said you could pay?"

"Indeed, and I can," Robinton said, half-rising to reach his pouch.

The woman Kulla pushed his hand away."Harpers shouldn't have to pay, Targus.You weren't ever brought up right by that family of yours."

"I insist," Robinton said earnestly and because he didn't like the expression on Targus's face.He only kept a few small pieces in his belt pouch, the rest were in a sash inside his shirt, and he displayed them all."This one is SmithCraft.Will that be preferable?"

"Preferable?" sneered Targus as his thick and slightly greasy fingers gathered the mark piece from Robinton's palm."Harper words.What's wrong with "Is that good?" Or do you always have to show off your larnin"?"

Kulla pulled Robinton back down."Eat.You look peaked, and don't mind Targus."

Robinton decided to concentrate on eating.There was nothing wrong with the flavorsome stew, or the quality of the tubers and greens that accompanied it.The bread had been made fresh that day, and when the last piece was taken by Erkin, or maybe that was Mosser, the woman sliced up another loaf and filled the dish.

Though his hunger would have been sated by the first helping, she served Robinton a second, equally large portion while Targus grumbled.

"I’ll feed whoever I choose in this house, Targus.This hold has always been hospitable.You can dislike harpers all you want, but I don't," she said fiercely.Then in a completely different tone of voice she turned and smiled with genuine appeal in her eyes.

"Would you mind playing for us after?" When Targus started to growl, she turned on him."And you shut your face, Targus.I haven't heard any music since last Solstice, and I promise you'll eat nothing but cold porridge for the month if you say another nasty thing."

The young boy had slipped back in and helped himself to more stew and bread, shooting glances at the other end of the table where Robinton ate, solidly protected by the woman.

"Music!" Targus did growl when Robinton brought out his pipes.

"You've no gitar?" Kulla asked plaintively."I was hoping you'd sing for me."

"It's on my pack animal…"

She sent the boy, Sheve, for the instrument."And handle it careful, y'hear?"

The moment Robinton started playing, Targus stamped towards a half-open door, turned and glared at his sons expressively, but all of them pretended not to see and he slammed the door behind him.

Robinton played and sang far more softly than was his habit.

When he finally struck a few bad chords from sheer fatigue, Brodo touched his mother's arm."He's sung for a week of suppers, Ma."

"Why's Pa hate music so?" Erkin asked.

"He says harpers sing lies," Mosser said, malice in his twinkling eyes.

"Didn't hear a one," their mother said stoutly.Then she waggled her finger at Mosser."Nor you, neither, or you'd're stirred yourself out of the room when your pa left.You'll sleep in here, Harper.

Erkin, get the furs.Sheve, throw down that spare mattress from the loft.I'll just bank the fire."

His bed was quickly organized and the final night-time chores completed, leaving him in sole possession of the main room.He was relieved to see the canines follow the boys out to another part of the cot.

The next thing he knew, the thud of wood going into the fireplace roused him from a deep sleep and he saw his hostess taking the porridge pot from the back of the hearth where it had simmered all night.

"You'll want to travel soon's it's light, Harper," she said in a soft voice.

"He hasn't given you any trouble…" Robinton began.

Kulla's snort of denial was soft, but he could see her lips were smiling."He knows better," she said, still quietly, and then reached for a cup to pour him klah.

It was thick and very strong; the jolt of the liquid in his belly woke him up completely.She set a bowl of porridge on the table and began to slice more bread, which she then covered with a worn but clean napkin.

"The beast'll be to the left as you leave the cot," she said.

He finished his breakfast quickly, accepting her haste, hospitable though it remained.With the bread in one hand and his gitar in the other, he murmured his thanks again and left.

The sun was not yet up, but there was light enough to show him the beasthold.He'd had plenty of practice now in settling the pack, so that he was off down the road again within minutes.

"And let that be a lesson to you," he murmured to himself.

"Harper lies?Whatever would he mean by that?"

He passed over the Benden border late that morning, and that night stayed at a friendly Runner Station where harpers were always welcome.

When he finally arrived at the Hold, no one was on the steps waiting to welcome him.Just as he was climbing up to the entryway, a party of riders clattered in on the northern road and he recognized Raid, Lord Maidir's eldest son.

"Ah, Journeyman, we've been expecting you," said Raid, swinging down from his mount and throwing the reins of the tired beast to the holder who came running up from the beasthold.

"Raid, it's good to see you again," Robinton said genially.

Raid peered up at the harper."I know you?"

"Robinton.MasterSinger Merelan's son," Robinton said, taken aback.

But Raid responded with a wide grin and an extended hand, then a clout on the arm."I wouldn't have recognized you from that scrawny kid!"

Robinton had to laugh, Raid was in no way altered from his memory of the young man.

"I have earnestly tried to improve myself," he admitted.

"Glad to hear that," Raid said, characteristically unable to spot irony."Come, there'll be hot klah or wine, now that you're old enough, to wash away the travel dust.Been long on the way?"

"Yes, and fully appreciate the size of this continent now in a manner I had not experienced."

"Yes, well, there's that, isn't there?"

Robinton reflected that Raid had been born in a mould and not altered the framework one bit in his nearly thirty Turns.Well, there is something to be said about predictability for a harper's purposes, he thought.

"Your father's well?And Lady Hayara?" he asked politely.

"My father is much bothered by joint tail." Raid frowned with concern."Our healer can relieve the discomfort only for short periods of time." He sighed and, also characteristically, did not mention his father's second wife.

But she had been alerted by the return of the work party and was sailing into the hall, a woman whose proportions seemed to be a permanent appearance of late pregnancy.Her smile when she recognized Robinton, and she had no trouble doing so, was all he could wish for, both as a returned guest and a new harper.

Talking away furiously, which permitted her to ignore Raid beyond a brief nod, she called for a drudge to take Robinton's carisaks to his quarters, then urged him into the hall where food and drink were being brought in and set on a table.She ordered chairs to be set for her and the harper, and apologized for Lord Maidir's absence, and told him that Maizella was about to be espoused to a fine young holder, and said that she was glad he had come so that he could plan the music because she really didn't have anything new, and if Robinton did, that would be splendid,but only music which had a tune that people could enjoy.Then she realized what she had said and started apologizing about his father's sooo impressive music, but really that sort of thing wouldn't do for such a happy occasion, would it?

At some point during that monologue, when she stopped to draw a breath, Raid said that he would inform Lord Maidir of the harper's arrival and see when it would be convenient for Robinton to present himself officially to the Lord Holder.He would also apprise Harper Evarel that his journeyman had arrived.

Breath taken, Lady Hayara, whose ebullience had not altered, brought him up to date on how many students there were currently, and told him that Maizella, in her spare time, was conducting lessons with Harper Evarel, who was nearly as crippled with joint-ail as her spouse but carrying on bravely until Robinton could arrive, and exclaimed how happy Evarel would be to have a trained assistant because,she didn't know why, the holders seemed to be breeding enormous families.

Robinton managed to stifle a laugh.He had counted up the number of offspring she had presented to Lord Maidir in the Turns since Rob and his mother had been at Benden Hold: she was a fine one to talk about large families, with seven more in the intervening Turns, making a total of ten.Small wonder that Raid said little to her.She was presenting him with problems; although undoubtedly Raid would delegate the more responsible males to assist him, while espousing the girls as creditably as possible.Robinton just hoped there wasn't an ambitious and scheming nephew in Benden Hold, too.

Then, his klah finished, he said that he would go to the schoolrooms and see if he could help Master Evarel.

"But you've just arrived from a long and terrible journey.He won't be expecting you to pitch in…right away!"

"I shall see what Evarel wishes, Lady Hayara, but I assure you that I have travelled at a leisurely enough pace and been well treated by everyone on the way."

So he thanked her again for the welcome and the refreshment and would have used the back stairs when she called him sharply back and pointed to the main ones at the side of the hall.

"Journeyman Robinton, kindly remember your new status," she said with a hint of dismay."You are not a child any more." It was the closest he had ever heard her come to disapproval.

He bowed and, muttering something about old habits dying hard, strode across the floor to the appropriate staircase.

Master Evarel was quietly delighted at his arrival, and at his willingness to get right to work if that was required, for the older man'shands were badly gnarled with the joint-ail and obviously paining him.

"Maizella usually plays for me, but she's away this morning," Evarel said in a gruff tone, leading Robinton to suspect that the harper's voice was also going.He had sung bass: it was the tenor range that was apt to go first."That is, if you're not fatigued…"

"I'm fine, Master Evarel.I'd be happy to assist.Perhaps I should have pushed on last night…"

"No, no, the last part of the track could be dangerous at night." Evarel put up a hand to reassure Robinton even as he passed the gitar over.

The youngsters in the room giggled and squirmed in their seats at the change-over, looking at the lanky journeyman with eager expressions.

Just as he was singing them through the first verse of the first Teaching Ballad, he heard the drums and paused to listen to the brief message: "Harper Safe."

It took him a moment to realize that the message concerned him.

That made him feel even more welcome than ever, to be the subject of drum talk.

And thus began Robinton's second stay at Benden Hold.

At Evarel's request, Robinton's effects had been put in the room he had shared with his mother during their previous stay at Benden Hold.It was Evarel's apartment, which he apologetically offered to share, if Robinton had no objections.His spouse had died some Turns back and he felt odd about having such a large apartment all to himself.Robinton was more than pleased because, while the inner rooms at High Reaches had been only one corridor away from outside, he much preferred having outer wall accommodation.

It was silly to feel the constraint of rock when that was actually all he'd known in his life, and when so many folk lived long, healthy lives quite contentedly in the inner passages of the bigger Holds and Halls, but he did like to be able to look out whenever he chose.He also felt closer to his mother in rooms they had occupied together in one of the happiest spells of his boyhood.

Being journeyman in a busy Hold was a considerable change from that earlier time, and yet Robinton was not the sort of personality who could abide idleness.If he wasn't instructing, taking his Drum Tower watches, Hayon, the oldest of Hayara's brood, was technically in charge of that part of the Hold's routine duties, or taking a few days to travel to the corners of the Hold to tutor small holder groups, he busied himself mending instruments, repairing music sheets and copying those which Evarel's pain-racked hands had been unable to keep in good shape.

When the cold weather deepened, Lady Hayara arrived with the Hold's healer, Master Yorag, bringing the basin of warm wax to ease the frozen joints of the old harper's hands and his knees.She helped rub in the herbal oils which increased daytime mobility.

"I do wish you'd reconsider the Neratian offer," she would invariably say when she entered."It is freezing here, and the cold is simply not good for your joints."

I'll be fine, Lady Hayara, I'll be fine," old Evarel insisted, adding most mornings, "now that Robinton's here to assist."

Then he began to add, "And he's halved my work and taken over all the difficult tasks."

By Turn's End, when a chest congestion kept him in bed for six days running, and Robinton was beside himself to keep the water bottles warm enough to give him some comfort, Evarel succumbed to the inevitable and said that perhaps he ought to spend the rest of the winter where it was a trifle warmer.

Lady Hayara ordered up the travel wagon and had Robinton send drum messages to holds on the southern route to have team changes and fresh drivers ready so that Evarel would make the journey in the most comfort she could secure for him.Maizella and Hayon were sent along as his escort.

As Robinton carried the gaunt old MasterHarper down to the conveyance, he wondered why Benden hadn't requested a dragon and rider.He had seen dragons in the sky, but none had touched down at Benden Hold as they used to do, and none had been invited for any of the dinners which Lady Hayara loved to give with the least excuse.Robinton had been too busy to visit F'lon on his own, to discover the Weyr's viewpoint on the coldness between Hold and Weyr.Then he answered his own question, as he realized that the cold of between would have been the worst possible course for the sick man, not to mention the difficulty involved in hoisting him to the dragon's back without additional pain.

The travel wagon's narrow body was well sprung and well padded and would pass on most of the normal trails.Such vehicles had become quite popular during the long Interval.And most holders kept good teams ready in the beasthold or in a nearby paddock for travellers' needs.This wagon was also comfortably sized: "Lady Hayara wide, which means the two of us will fit," Maizella said with a touch of malice, although Robinton had noticed that she was now on better terms with her father's second spouse than Raid was.

Robinton watched with a lump in his throat as the old man left.

Lady Hayara was openly weeping.

"He's taught all my children, you see," she admitted as Robinton gave her a steadying hand up the steps to the Hold."And I really don't think he should come back, even in the warmer weather."

And so it was that Evarel did not return to Benden Hold.

Robinton slid into the vacancy and started quietly training three of the brighter Hold children to be his assistants.One lad was harper material, if he was not much mistaken.Robinton had a sixth sense for that: he likened it to the green dragon's ability to perceive rider potential in youngsters.He did wish that somehow or other he could find a girl as talented.His mother would so enjoy having another voice to train as she had Halanna and Maizella.

A Turn and a half later, S'loner's Chendith flew Jora's Nemorth and a clutch resulted.Not a large one, but six bronzes, three browns, five blues and six greens.F'lon would still come to visit Robinton whenever he chose, seemingly oblivious to the bad feeling between S'loner and Maidin

F'lon had been quite caustic about the long wait for Nemorth to come into season.He blamed it on Jora's own immaturity and fearfulness.

"This business of Jora being afraid of heights is inhibiting her queen, of all stupidities!" F'lon paced up and down Robinton's apartment, waving his arms about in frustration."I personally know that Nemorth was glowing as bright as a gold nugget when Jora takes it in her head to be violently nauseated and faint.Naturally that put the poor queen off, making her nearly frantic with worry over her rider." F'lon kicked at a chair in his way, venting his disgust with the Weyrwoman."Frankly, I'll be surprised if we ever get Nemorth in the air to mate."

When the mating flight did occur, Robinton tactfully did not ask for any details the next time F'lon appeared at Benden Hold.F'lon made only one reference to the event.

"S'loner had no great joy in the day.We all hope Chendith had more." He spoke in such a neutral tone that Robinton couldn't tell if F'lon had got over his disappointment; but the bronze rider had an infinite capacity to ignore what he wished.

F'lon was shortly able to report that Nemorth was showing unmistakable signs that she was in egg.He even appeared happy to be able to make such an announcement.

"All in all, considering the way Jora carries on, I'm just as glad that I don't have to put up with her nonsense and carryings-on.

S'loner's welcome to them." He grinned maliciously.

In his capacity as Hold harper, Robinton was invited to the Hatching and the Impression.And impressive that was for the sensitive harper.He had never seen such joy, or felt so touched by another's elation.Each new bonding added to the impact, and he found himself wishing desperately that somehow he could have been both harper and rider.He was in tears, and unashamed, by the end of the Hatching.Even F'lon, collecting him from the spectators' seats above the Hatching Ground, was blurry-eyed with unshed tears.

"Gets to you, doesn't it?" the bronze rider murmured, wiping his eyes.

"I didn't realize it was like…" And Robinton spread his hand helplessly over the hot sands, which made him speed up his pace lest he scorch the soles of his feet even through good harper boot leather."The most incredible moment in a man's life…isn't it?"

"Indeed." F'lon glanced fondly over his shoulder at Simanith, who was leaving the Hatching Ground by the upper exit.Most of the dragons were already on their way to their own weyrs, and Robinton was awed by the sight of their deft insertion in the dark hole at the top of the immense cavern.He was amazed how gracefully imminent collisions were avoided as the flying dragons filed out.

F'lon draped a careless arm across Robinton's shoulders."Now is the good time.In the euphoria of an Impression, all old insults and agitations are put aside.Even Raid came today."

"Wasn't he supposed to?" Robinton asked, hoping that tonight he might at last get some answers to explain the estrangement between Raid and F'lon.They had once been very good friends.Robinton hadn't noticed at first that the two were never in the same room together.But F'lon could be caustic, and Raid had his own foibles.

"Maidir and Hayara have talked of nothing else since the drum message came about the clutch."

"And Maizella and that fish-faced spouse of hers." F'lon grimaced."She's pretty enough to have done better than that."

"Cording's got a large and prosperous hold on the Eastern Sea.

He gives her sea jewels and goes goggle-eyed when she sings to him," Robinton remarked, keeping his tone non-judgmental.He liked Maizella much better now than he ever had as a child.He also rather liked Cording, who was solicitous of his love's parents and the brood of younger children, and courteous to his Lord Holder, but he did have a distinct resemblance to a fish: with that shock of sun-bleached hair, flat face, and rather blunted features.But a harper had to be careful of admitting to anything at all improper, even in confidence to a friend.

"That's as may be, but he doesn't believe in Thread," F'lon said in a flatly disapproving tone.

Since that would have caused F'lon to dislike anyone, male or female, Robinton declined to comment further on Cording's good points.And now he'd been given a lead-in to the problem he'd been dying to address.

"Is that the basis of your argument with Lord Maidir and Raid?" Robinton asked.After all, one of his duties as harper was to act as mediator whenever necessary.Not that he felt himself an expert, but he could at least try to understand the dispute from both sides.

"Of course." F'lon actually ground his teeth."Neither of them will listen to S'loner or me.And it's not as if we were the only riders of that opinion.M'odon is adamant that we'll see Thread within the next three decades.And I've checked his figuring time and again.He might be out a Turn or two, but not by more than that." He glanced about irritably, as if hoping to find something he could at least kick.A stone lay across his path, and he kicked that across the Bowl so that both of them heard it connect with the cliff and shatter.F'lon grunted at his success.Then, in one of his abrupt changes, he pointed to a table not far from the entrance to the Lower Caverns."Let's take that one before anyone else can settle."

Robinton decided to wait for a more propitious opening to obtain further details.F'lon was not the most tactful of riders, nor, for that matter, was his father, but perhaps, in the aftermath of the Hatching, he could make some progress in healing the breach.

Most of the invited guests were still on their feet, wineglasses or klah mugs in their hands, while the aromas of the upcoming feast wafted in tantalizing waves from the busy kitchen.In the distance, by the weyrling barracks, Robinton caught sight of the newly Impressed riders feeding their dragonets, who raised squeaky but imperious voices protesting the slowness of the service.Once sufficiently full, the dragonets would be bedded down, and then the new riders would join their parents for the festivities, elated with pride at their success.Robinton had noted that a Benden holder lad had Impressed a bronze, a talking point with Maidir.There was such an air of rejoicing, of gladness, of accomplishment, that Robinton had trouble restraining himself from grabbing up his gitar and making appropriate triumphant music.His turn would come soon enough, and meanwhile here was C'gan, his oddly boyish face smiling, making his way towards them carrying a tray of glasses, a skin of wine looped over his shoulder.

F'lon waved for C'gan to hurry.Robinton had had a chance on his arrival to quiz C'gan on how many musicians he would have to supply music, and what special songs might be requested.He had brought some new songs, as well: three of his own and four from the Harper Hall.He had learned that he didn't need to tell anyone who had composed them.If the songs were good, they were sung again and again, and those that failed to catch on he could simply forget.There were few of his in the latter category.A march from Petiron's pen was included in those from the Hall, and Robinton deemed it a new departure for the MasterComposer: rhythmic and solemn, but stirring.

Eventually those at the head table took their places, a signal for the weyrfolk to serve their guests, green riders helping to cater to the extra numbers.Bronze and brown riders were not required to serve guests, so R'gul, S'lel, L'tol and R'yar, the lad who had been Searched from his first apprentice turn at the Harper Hall, joined Robinton's table.

Robinton was close enough to the head table to get his first good look at the young new Weyrwoman.She was not at all as attractive or sensual as Caroh had been.But that was not relevant, no matter what her looks or personality were like, S'loner's bronze had to fly her queen to keep him in the Weyrleader's position.From the scowl on S'loner's face, he wasn't too pleased with his new Weyrwoman.He was, in fact, leaning away from her, idly robbing his left shoulder and arm, and not directing much conversation in Jora's direction.She was pretty enough, in a sort of overblown way, but was already getting more plump than was healthy for a rider, not to mention for a young woman.She was flushed with the success of her queen, Nemorth, and making what appeared to be giddy confessions to Lady Hayara, who merely listened with a polite smile plastered on her face.Lord Maidir exchanged a few comments with S'loner, but for the most part concentrated on the excellent food served and the fine Benden wines.

Robinton considered that wine one of the fringe benefits of being a Benden-based harper: they had the best vineyards on the continent, and the main Vintners' Hall was in the next valley over from the Hold itself.The whites were crisp and light, sometimes with a citrus tang, sometimes an almost floral taste.He had been used to the foxy sauternes of Tillek, the other large wine-producing Hold, and the variety produced by Benden fascinated him.The reds, especially the clarets and the burgundies, were full and wonderful to hold in the nose and savour through the mouth.

Robinton had discovered that he could drink the whites all night long and generally rise up from his bed the next morning without a heavy head or sick stomach, but he had to be careful with the reds.

And he dreamed of tasting the sparkling wine that once had been produced at Benden.MasterVintner Wonegal was still trying to reproduce it, but the vine blight of two hundred turns before had wiped out that varietal, and cross-pollinating of the better white grapes had not yet produced an adequate replacement.

The feast was superb.There was roast herd-beast, flavourful with herbs and done to pink, though there were crusty top slices available for those who liked it well done.Wild wherry in quantity, and so tenderized as to slide down the throat with its accompanying stickle-berry gravy.There were also a variety of fish, grilled and baked, with enormous bowls of tubers and vine beans; breads, both flat and raised; and fresh greens which had been grown in tropical Nerat.Fruits, too, and nuts from Lemos.Though most of the candidates had been weyrbred, some had come from nearby Holds, and their families had probably brought offerings. Only two lads had been injured, slightly, when the dragonets lurched out of their shells and looked around, keening, for their mind mates.

And a bronze had hatched first.

"The best omen we could have," F'lon remarked.

"Why is that?" Robinton asked.

"Bronze is the best, of course," F'lon said with a slightly drunken grin on his face."A bronze first means the clutch is strong, even if not as large as some would have made it.Jora's useless as a Weyrwoman." His tone turned disdainful."Not only is she afraid of heights but she's nervous with Nemorth, and if S'loner hadn't been helping, she'd've let the queen eat before her mating flight." He snorted in contempt.

"That wouldn't have kept you from edging S'loner out, though," R'gul said, a disapproving frown on his round face.

"Tchaaa!" F'lon waved aside the rebuke."So he sired me, but bronze riders are all equal in the air at mating time.The queen should have the best available, more to make up for her shortcomings than anything else." And he made another contemptuous noise and unslung the wine-skin from the chair back."So, Harper Robinton, with what songs will you regale us tonight?" He waved towards the top table."Everyone's eaten, and let's not have another brawl between our Weyrleader and our Lord Holder."

Robinton got to his feet, his height making him visible to the head table, and he waited until he could catch S'loner's attention.

The Weyrleader had bent his head to listen to something one of the weyr girls was saying: a girl Robinton had noticed himself because of her quiet dignity and gracefulness.S'loner shook his head, and then the girl pointed towards Robinton.Spotting the harper, S'loner raised his right hand to give him the signal to begin the entertainment.

C'gan had been watching too, and he stood, which told the players to gather on the dais.

"I've a few new ones for your ears," Robinton told F'lon, "and a fine march.Enter-the-new-riders sort of thing."

"Great!" F'lon waved a loose arm in command for the music to begin.He was fairly well gone in wine, so Robinton did not take offence.

Looking closely at the head table as he made his way to the players' raised dais, Robinton did not see any signs of an imminent dispute between Leader and Holder.But the two were looking away from each other and neither was talking.It was indeed time for diversion before the silence became unbearable.Jora was still talking to Lady Hayara, who was all but slumped down in her chair with boredom.Now, seeing the harper gathering his instrumentalists, Hayara sat up straighter and waggled her fingers at him, doubtless from gratitude, unless Jora would talk through music too.

But then Lady Hayara would have a legitimate excuse to request her silence.

Robinton started off with Petiron's march; it had a few feet stamping and some clapping in rhythm, so he was subtly amused that his opinion was now verified.Then he called for the Duty Song, followed closely by the Question Song which he played whenever he could.But this time it was not as well received by either Weyrleader or Lord Holder, and he was almost sorry he had included it.

So he did a solo rendition of one of his newer songs, with C'gan on gitar, and two pipers and the hand drum.The song was appreciated enough to require him to repeat it immediately, and there were many voices lifted in the chorus with him.Riders were not as inhibited as most holders and, whether they had the voice for the song or not, they were lusty in their singing.

C'gan took turns with him and then called forth some of the solo voices.Maizella sang, as did R'yar, who had an excellent light baritone and hadn't forgotten any of his repertoire in his turns as a rider.

Robinton never knew when Lord Maidir and S'loner left the table, for night had fallen and, although there were plenty of glow-baskets on the poles around the Bowl, there were so many coming and going with wine or to answer nature's requirements, and so much for him to oversee as harper, that he noticed their absence only when Lady Hayara rose and left the table, escaping a Jora slumped drunkenly across it.

No one would ever know exactly what did happen that night, but suddenly a piercing scream from Nemorth roused everyone.

Especially when every other dragon voice augmented her heart-rending, piteous scream.It seemed to go on and on, as if none of the dragons need pause for breath.It cut through the night air, worse than any tormented watchwher's cry, a knife to the ears and to the heart.He thought his heart would stop at the anguish which reverberated in the Bowl.

He was by no means the first person to clap hands to his ears to muffle the awful screeching.It was the look of shock on dragonrider faces that gave Robinton his clue to the tragedy which had just been announced in dragon voice.The entire Weyr was mourning the death of a dragon.

Robinton grabbed C'gan and turned the stricken rider to him.

C'gan's nerveless fingers slipped off the gitar neck as tears sprang from his eyes.

"What is it, C'gan?What's happened?"

Gulping to clear his throat, C'gan turned anguished eyes to the harper."It's Chendith.He's dead."

"Chendith?" Robinton whirled round, trying to spot S'loner in the crowd of shocked people.He saw F'lon, miraculously sober, running first to T'rell, the Weyrlingmaster, because the keening had aroused the dragonets and T'rell needed help in rounding up the new riders to go and comfort their distressed beasts.Not a young man himself, T'rell looked haggard with grief and staggered as he moved about the tables.

"Dead?Why?How?" Robinton demanded."He didn't look sick or anything during the Hatching." He lost sight of F'lon, then saw him again, hauling the Weyr's healer into the light.

Then Lady Hayara gave a shriek that pierced through the keening.

"Maidir?Maidir!Where are you?"

It was the watchrider, circling down on his dragon, who told them that he had seen Chendith, with two aboard him, going between.He couldn't see too well in the darkness above the lighted Bowl, but he thought that Chendith's passenger had been Lord Maidir.He'd caught the shine of white hair and the green of the man's garments.Lord Maidir had been wearing green.

"But why?What could have happened to them?S'loner wouldn't take Chendith's life.Nor his own," C'gan said, sunken in despair."What could have happened?He was in such high spirits over the Impression.And twenty dragons."

They had to try to rouse Jora from her drunken stupor, because Lady Hayara had not seen the two men leave the table.

"They have been estranged so long," Hayara said through her tears, "and it was only after that song of yours, Rob, that they started speaking to each other.I thought it was such a good sign, but I couldn't hear what they were saying because? " She cut off what negative comment she had been about to make, though her disgust with the Weyrwoman was plain.

F'lon, R'gul and S'lel were trying to sober up Jora with strong klah, but she was boneless and kept sliding down the chair and having to be propped up to get any of the restorative liquid down her throat.

Healer Tinamon, assisting, put forward a tentative theory.

"S'loner may have looked strong and healthy, but he was having chest pains far too frequently," he said."I'd given him the usual remedy, although I wanted him to call in a MasterHealer or at least visit the Healer Hall.He said he would after Impression."

That did not explain why Maidir had accompanied S'loner on what was his last flight, although Lady Hayara said that her spouse was very tired and might have requested either a place to rest here at the Weyr or the courtesy of a return to Benden Hold.

"Oh, please will someone take me back to the Hold immediately?" Lady Hayara asked piteously."Maidir may be there and have some explanation for us."

R'gul promptly volunteered, and Manora, the quiet weyr girl who had spoken to C'gan earlier, had the good sense to bring Lady Hayara's riding jacket.Together they escorted her into the darkness of the Bowl where Nemorth, still keening, waited.

C'rob, M'ridin and C'vrel, the oldest of the wingleaders, were holding a conference, which F'lon joined as if he had the right.

Plainly the other riders did not think so.

"The next mating flight will decide that, F'lon, so let's not jump to any premature assumptions.And with Jora the way she is, that's likely to take a few Turns," M'ridin said in a low but angry voice.

"I suggest we clear the Weyr of all visitors," C'rob said."This Impression is over."

"And marred by a death, which is not good, not good at all," C'vrel added, shaking his head.

"Keeping the dragons busy is the best thing for them," M'ridin went on."Only be bloody sure to remind riders to give the clearest coordinates they ever had in their minds."

"Wouldn't it be better to let people stay…" C'vrel suggested.

"No, the Weyr must mourn its own," C'rob said.I'll ask only the older riders to convey passengers." He ignored F'lon and went to choose those whom he considered responsible enough.

S'lel and another stalwart weyr man were now carrying Jora up the steps to her quarters, having failed to rouse her.On the ledge, Nemorth was still keening loudly for her mate, swaying her head and neck back and forth, her eyes whirling with the muddy purples shot with orangey yellows of extreme distress.It was then that Robinton realized the sides of the Weyr were punctuated by many pairs of whirling, distressed dragon eyes, like coloured glow-baskets of unusual size.He remembered that long after other details of the terrible evening faded: the whirling eyes and the sad, bone-shaking keening from several hundred dragon throats echoing back and forth across the Bowl, all night long.

A drum message brought the information that Lady Hayara had not found Maidir at Benden Hold.The fatal accident had taken all three in that brief instant between.Robinton asked C'gan to convey himself and Raid, who was probably now the Lord Holder of Benden, back to the Hold.His stepmother would need his support and what comfort could be given her. Robinton was packing up his music and instrument when F'lon came up to him.

"You'll want to go back," the young bronze rider said in a weary voice.

"I've asked C'gan…"

"Why him?" F'lon was angry.

"You've just lost your father, man," Robinton said, gripping the rider tightly on the arm."I could scarcely impose on you…"

F'lon brushed hair back from his forehead in an irritable gesture and swung this way and that."It's not as if we were close, weyrbred not taking that much store in relationships, and shards!

But he's messed things up dying like this!"

Whether or not that outburst was F'lon's way of expressing his grief, Robinton was never sure, but the dragonrider was certainly furious.Robinton knew that the young bronze rider had been proud of being the Weyrleader's son.He'd always affected an attitude of disdain for the relationship, but at least he had had one with his father.Robinton envied him that.

"The others are too nervous as it is," F'lon went on savagely, looking every way but at the harper.He kicked at the dirt of the Bowl and kept shaking his head."I told him he was chancing it with those chest pains.Listen to his son?Oh, no, he knew it all."

In the glowbaskets, Robinton now noticed the wet streaks on F'lon's cheeks and he wished he could find something to say that would ease his loss.There was nothing.

"Oh, go on, Rob.You're safer with C'gan anyway.At least right now."

"Keep me posted how things are here, will you, F'lon?I know you can drum."

He gripped the bronze rider's arm in what he hoped expressed his sympathy and regret and then, picking up his carisaks, made his way out of the brightly lit area to the blackness of the Bowl, the silhouetted shape of C'gan's blue Tagath, and the glimmering shine of sad dragon eyes, dotting the wall of the Weyr.