The Masterharper of Pern

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was easier to be in the Harper Hall again, surrounded by the hopes of the new young apprentices, immersed in his studies for his Mastery, which was what Master Gennell suggested he apply himself to for the rest of the summer.

But it was still a shock when Robinton heard the unmistakable music of his sonata pouring out of the open windows of the rehearsal hall.

How dared they?How had they got the music?He had kept his copy, but he had never…Then he remembered that he had given his mother a copy when she'd come for their espousal.But surely she wouldn't…

He tore out of his room, pounding down the stairs to the rehearsal hall, trying with the noise of his boots to drown out the music he had so lovingly created for his Kasia.He flung open the door, startling the instrumentalists, his mother and Petiron.

"How dare you play that?" And he advanced on his mother as if he would rip the harp from her lap.

"How dare you?" Petiron demanded, infuriated by the interruption.

"It's my music.No one plays it without my permission."

"Robie…" his mother began, rising to her feet and starting to come towards him.She stopped abruptly when he recoiled, holding his hands out in protest as much against the sympathy and pity in her face as against any contact.He almost hated her.How could she have let Petiron see his music, the sonata he had composed for Kasia, only for her?"I loved Kasia, too, Robinton.I'm playing it for her.Every time the Kasia Sonata is played, her memory will be invoked.She lives on in this beautiful music; she will be remembered with it.You must allow her that!You need to allow yourself that."

He just looked at her, feeling the anger drain away under her stern gaze.The other players remained so motionless that he scarcely noted their presence.

Then his father cleared his throat."The sonata is the best thing you've ever written," Petiron said, without a trace of condescension in his voice.

Robinton turned slowly to look at the MasterComposer.

"It is," he said, and, turning on his heel, he left the room.

He put wadding in his ears when he went back to his room so that he wouldn't have to hear the music.But some of it penetrated and towards the end of the rehearsal, which was almost a straight run-through, given the quality of the musicians performing - he took the wadding out.Listening to the rondo and the finale, he let the tears run unheeded down his face.

Yes, it was the best piece of music he had written.And listening to it, somehow he found he could think of Kasia without the terrible sense of loss and the constriction around his heart.As the final chords died away, he sighed and went back to his studying.

He tried to absent himself from the Hall whenever he knew they were practising the sonata, even if its chords sometimes seemed to follow him no matter how far away he took himself.

When it was performed at the Autumn Gather, he did not go to the performance.Instead, he saddled his Ruathan runner and took a long ride, camping out overnight.But his dreams were laden with memories of Kasia and he woke sweating, to lie awake until dawn, still remembering what he had loved about her: her laugh, the crinkling of her eyes, the lilt in her voice, the way she would swing her hips, deliberately enticing him.

Winter was just settling over Fort Hold with an early snow shower when Master Gennell came looking for him.

"Ah, Rob," he said, coming towards him.Placing a fatherly arm across Robinton's shoulders, he guided the younger harper into his office."We've an emergency.Recall Karenchok, thin, dark-skinned journeyman in the same group as Shonagar?"

"Oh, yes, I do."

"Well, he's broken his leg badly and will be unable to complete his rounds.Would you be willing to take over for him down in South Boll?Until he's able to travel again?"

Robinton was delighted to do so and hastily organized his packs for a noontime departure.He paused only long enough to tell his mother where he was going and why.She listened, nodding her head and giving him an encouraging little smile.As she walked him to the door, she reached up to caress his cheek.

"The sonata received a tremendous ovation, Rob," she said softly.

He nodded, took her hand, kissed it, and left.

Karenchok's home base was a cluster of seaside holds on the eastern shore of South Boll.It was hot and steamy when Robinton arrived, and the SeaHolder greeted him enthusiastically.

"We've all been worried about him, Journeyman.He's very popular here, and so we've kept someone with him to help."

"You're very kind, Holder Matsen.Master Gennell asked me to thank you for your care."

"We've a very good healer, local woman but trained properly in the Hall.She's been overseeing his care, but she's busy too."

The Holder was a short man, stockily built in the barrel, with thin legs that didn't look strong enough to hold up the weight he carried.But he moved quickly as he led the way to the cot set back from the little harbour.There was a long chair out in front, made by attaching a flat-topped stool to a padded chair.Vines had been trained over a lattice to shield the front from the morning sun.

"Ho, Karenchok, brought you a guest," Matsen bellowed, giving advance warning.

A woman appeared in the door, giving the loose, long skirt she wore a final twitch.Her smile was guileless as she greeted harper and Holder

"Ah, Laela, that's where you got to," said Matsen in a slightly strained voice.

Laela's smile turned on Robinton, and her eyes widened slightly.

Then her manner became subtly seductive and her smile warmer.

"This is Journeyman Harper Robinton," Matsen said stiffly.

"Laela helps Healer Saretta with hold-bound patients."

"I do my part," she said in a sultry voice, and Robinton felt his lips twitching.He could notdeny her sensuality, or that it was affecting him.It was the first time in the nearly nine months since Kasia's death that he had felt this way.He didn't know if this was a good thing or not, but there was no missing the invitation in Laela's voice and eyes as she slid past him."Karenchok is in good spirits," she said, her laughter trailing her departure.

In spite of himself, Robinton turned to see where she went.

"Karenchok is here," Matsen said, prompting his attention.

"Sorry."

Matsen cleared his throat and led the way into the cot.

Karenchok was sitting by the table, his splinted leg straight out in front of him and a pair of wooden crotches handily slanted against another chair.Robinton did recognize him: one of Shonagar's wrestling partners.Seeing Robinton, Karenchok waved a friendly hand.

"I remember you, Robinton," he said in greeting."Very good of Gennell to send me help so quickly.Come, sit.Matsen, can you find the wine-skin for me?"

Matsen did, but not without a glance which told Robinton that Karenchok had been drinking rather more than might be good for him.A curious peek at the label on the skin disclosed the fact that this was a Tillek red, which was likely harsh.Well, it was wine and would go down as well as best Benden.

By late evening he had learned all about Karenchok's accident and admired the man for the grit it must have taken to crawl, with a leg broken in three places, to a path where someone would find him.He'd been riding back to his cot when his runner, "one of the stupidest ever bred,' had been frightened by a tunnel snake and thrown him down into the gully.Once over its scare, the runner had been in no hurry to return to its home, so it was late night before a search party went out to find him.When Robinton remarked on his fortitude, Karenchok shrugged.

"Well, the misbegotten runner got me into the ditch; it was up to me to get out."

The phrases caught Robinton's attention: "Got into, get out!" Notes began once more to spin in his head.

He didn't get the rest of the tune until much later, but it was a start, and he was grateful to be able to think music again.

Although he had spent some time with his mother's family on the west coast, this part of eastern South Boll was quite different, with land sloping down into fine beaches and piers thrust far out to where the water was deep enough to accommodate the fishing boats.He even forced himself to go out to sea in Matsen's sloop, though it was five times the size of the sloop he and Kasia had sailed.But he made another step forward out of grief by doing so.

Tactful questioning of Karenchok elicited the information that Laela was her own person, beholding to none.She gave her favours where she would, and Karenchok was grateful for her generosity.

So was Robinton, although he winced when she boldly claimed that she would lift the sadness from his eyes.It annoyed her that she couldn't, though she tried often enough during his winter stay at the SeaHold.

Just after turn's End at the SeaHold, a dragon was spotted in the skies.The children Robinton was teaching at that moment could not contain their excitement: it wasn't often that dragons came this far south.As Robinton shielded his eyes from the brightness of the morning sun on the water, he tentatively spoke the name.

"Simanith?Is that you?"

It is, and there was such a note of joyfulness in the dragon's Voice, so like F'lon's, that Robinton grinned.

"What is it?What brings you so far away from Benden?" Robinton asked.

You.We've been to the Hall.They told us you were here.

F'lon was half-off Simanith's neck before the big bronze had touched the sand of the beach.

"I'm a father, Rob, I'm a father!" F'lon shouted, waving one arm and charging up the strand to thump the harper soundly on the back.He had a wine-skin thrown over the other shoulder."A son!

Lama gave me a son!"

"Lama?So you did get her!" Robinton had to dismiss the pang in his heart.Kasia had been alive when he'd first learned about F'lon's interest in the grown-up Lama, who had been such a plaguey nuisance to Falloner, the boy.

"Dismiss your class, Rob," F'lon ordered."Off you go, children!

Class again tomorrow."

Robinton had to laugh at the dragonrider's high-handed way, but F'lon's exultation brought smiles to the fishmen mending nets on the strand.Robinton hurriedly introduced F'lon to Matsen and the others, and then led his old friend to the cot he shared with Karenchok.

"A fine strong lad, just like his sire," F'lon boasted, splashing wine into the cups Karenchok hastily set out.

"Don't waste this," Robinton said, having had a taste of the white wine that was being so liberally poured."It's Benden, isn't it?"

"What else would I provide to toast the health of my first son?"F'lon demanded, and he quaffed his glass dry.

It was a merry time, though all too short because F'lon was anxious to return to Benden and his child.

"I gather Lama did forgive you for pushing her into the midden, then?" Robinton remarked after listening to F'lon's ravings.

The dragonrider gave him a startled look."I never pushed her into the midden.That was Rangul.R'gul, I should say.That isn't where he'd've liked to push her, but I? ’ and he slapped his chest proudly ‘? got her as weyrmate, not R'gul."

"I'm sure she'll be happier with you," Robinton said, remembering what a stuffy child Rangul had been.

"Of course she will," F'lon replied.Finishing his third, or maybe fourth, glass of wine, he decided he had best return to the Weyr,

Lama and his son."I've named him Fallamon."

"A fine choice for a dragonrider-to-be."

"Bronze, of course," F'lon added as he waved a cheerful goodbye to Karenchok.

"He came all the way from Benden Weyr to tell you that?" Karenchok asked, hobbling to the doorway to watch the dragonrider depart.

"We're old friends."

"Good friends." Karenchok lifted his wineglass appreciatively.

"You don't get good Benden often in South Boll."

Nine days later a runner brought Robinton a short message from F'lon: Larna had died two days after Fallarnon's birth.Robinton sent back a message by the same runner, expressing his condolences.

In his heart, though, Robinton envied F'lon, who had a son to remember his love by.

When Karenchok was finally walking soundly and able to ride again, Robinton reluctantly bequeathed him the Ruathan runner, a much sounder and smarter animal than the weedy elderly runt which had thrown him.He rode Karenchok's back to the Hall, having no other, and it was indeed the most uncomfortable of runner-beasts.

The first thing he did when he got back to the Harper Hall was to tell the beastholder to get rid of this bag of bones and find him a new riding animal.His second action was to find his mother.He didn't like what he saw and taxed her with questions about her health.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, love, really.Just a little tired.It's been a busy winter, you know."

Robinton was not so easily put off and cornered the MasterHealer the next morning.

"She does seem fine, Rob," Ginia replied slowly, "but I know, as you do, that she's not.She's losing weight, yet I see her eating well at table.I've my eye on her, never fear.She and Betrice."

"Betrice?" Robinton realized that he hadn't seen the MasterHarper's spouse, who was usually busy about the Hall somewhere."What's wrong with Betrice?" Was his whole world crumbling about him?Were all the people he loved and admired suddenly showing their mortality?

Ginia laid a hand on his arm, her expressive eyes sad."There is so much we don't know and can't help." She paused and then sighed."Sometimes people just wear out.But I promise you I'm watching your mother carefully."

"And Betrice?"

"And Betrice," Ginia said with a nod.

At dinner that evening, Robinton sat next to Betrice, noting the slight wobble in her hand as she ate and trying not to see it.So he regaled her with the funniest incidents he could remember, and her laughter was as ready as even Once their eyes met and locked, and she gave him a funny little smile and patted his hand.

"Don't worry., Rob," she said in a low voice, turning her head away from her spouse who was involved in a lengthy exploration of some legal point with a journeyman whom Robinton remembered as another of Shonagar's voice students.

"Just you take good care of yourself, too, Betrice," Robinton said with as much love as he could put in his low tone.

"Oh, I do.I do."

Robinton had to be content with such reassurances, and the following morning he accepted the next assignment Master Gennell had for him: this time in Keroon.

"You haven't been to the plains yet, have you?Good experience, Rob, good experience.Again it's a short contract." Gennell passed Robinton a piece of hide."These are the holds you do not go to."

"Do not…?" Robinton was surprised and scanned the nine names listed.

"Yes," the MasterHarper said."I'm sorry to say, harpers are not always regarded with the respect they formerly were, as I think you've discovered a time or two."

Robinton grimaced."But why?We're only trying to help.We don't tell people lies…"

Gennell cocked his head, a sad smile turning down the corner of his expressive mouth."There are many who feel that the Duty Song is lies."

"Honouring the dragonriders?"

Gennell nodded."That's one so-called lie.You have realized that, even in the larger holds, some feel that the Weyr and its riders are relics of a past danger we no longer need to consider."

"But, Master Gennell…"

The MasterHarper held up his hand and gave a brief smile."You have had a long association with the one remaining Weyr.Many nowadays have never even seen a dragon in the sky, much less met a dragonrider.Sometimes Search is misinterpreted, too, although there have been few enough of them lately." He sighed and gestured to the list."Just save yourself grief and avoid those holds.We can't force people to learn when they've no wish to listen."

As Robinton was on his way out of the courtyard on the new young Ruathan runner-beast he had used his savings to purchase, a runner came trotting in: a man who was very familiar to him.

"Ah, you, wait a minute…" And Robinton reined his mount about.The runner had dutifully halted and turned to face him."I thought it was you."

The man smiled briefly."I've fooled many."

"Ah, but I'm a harper and as trained to notice details as you are.

Did you find Mallan?" he asked.

Hope died as the man's face drained of any expression.He shook his head."He died in the mines.That much I discovered." Then his expression altered to a fierce hatred."I'll get Fax yet."

"If you don't, I will." And with that promise, Robinton rode out of the courtyard.

Though he was welcomed wherever he went on the Keroon Plains, he occasionally felt the resistance to some of the traditional Teaching Ballads and did his best to discuss the concepts with the adults in the hold, reminding them of the Charter's provisions.

Often his evenings were spent in copying out that document so that it would be available to counteract the question of "lying'.He did feel that he got his message across to the doubters.

Several times he was warned by his host that "yon feller's not so friendly' and, if asked to play in the evening, Robinton carefully restricted his selections to unremarkable love songs or dance tunes.

Even so, he sometimes had to ignore sullen looks and manners.

One evening, at Red Cliff Hold, he was astonished when the runner he had spoken to as he left Harper Hall arrived, bearing a CraftHall reply for the holder.Robinton waited for a chance to speak to him and, by asking him to take a letter directed to his mother at the Harper Hall, managed a few private words with him.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Robinton said, flourishing the letter as if that was what was under discussion.

"How do you think Master Gennell knows where not to send harpers?" the runner said."Station Masters are the best ones to ask, by the way, should you be in doubt." Taking the letter from Robinton, he altered his tone and spoke more loudly."Wal, now, Harper, I'll be sure to take good care a' this "un fer ye."

When Robinton had finished his contract in Keroon, Master Gennell sent him on to Nerat, to a settlement which was, happily, devoted to the old ways.Robinton was able to relax his vigilance and do a proper job of instructing the young in their traditional songs and ballads.He was relieved to see that dragonriders often visited this area, collecting fresh fish for the Weyr.He always sent back greetings to F'lon and tried to speak to the dragons.They would look at him, surprised, but they never responded.

He returned in the spring to the Harper Hall.One look at his mother had him in a panic.She was nothing but skin and bones, all the beauty leached out of her face, with dry hair and a hard cough constantly racking her.She leaned on Petiron to walk even the shortest distance.

"You're not all right, Mother, not at all," Robinton said, glaring at Petiron who nodded, his expression doleful and worried.

"That's why you're home, Rob," Ginia said when he stormed into the Healer Hall in search of her.

He stood stock-still."Why I'm home?" He could not seem to comprehend what her words implied.

She pressed his arm, her face full of regret and pity."Yes, I know she's wanted you here.She doesn't have much time left."

"But…" Robinton clenched his fists at his sides."I've only just lost Kasia!"

"I know, Rob dear, I know." He could see the tears in her eyes.

"She's my dearest friend.All I can do is be sure she feels no pain."

He nodded acceptance of that, feeling the coldness of grief yet to come spreading throughout his body.

"You must help her.And Petiron."

"Her, yes.Petiron…"

"He has lived for her, Robinton."

And I never had the chance to live for my Kasia, Robinton thought bitterly.

If he had thought the days after his spouse's death were bad, those he endured while his mother slowly lost all strength, and finally the breath in her body, were worse.Without discussing it, either he or Petiron was with her, Robinton playing her songs, even the humorous setting of "Got into, get out of," which made her smile and even chuckle.Petiron played for her too: music seemed to soothe her.

It was Ginia who roused Robinton from an uneasy sleep before dawn three days later."The end is near."

He threw on pants and shirt and followed her, filled with dread.

The end was unexpectedly peaceful.He held one of Merelan's hands and Petiron the other, and she managed a feeble smile and a press of her gaunt fingers.Then she sighed, as Kasia had done, and was still.Neither man could move.Neither wished to relinquish the lifeless hand he held.

It was Ginia who gently unwrapped their fingers and laid first one hand, then the other across her frail chest.

Petiron broke first, sobbing bitterly."How could you leave me, Merelan?How could you leave me?"

Robinton looked up at the man who was his father and thought that Petiron was taking Merelan's death as a personal affront.But Petiron had been possessive of her all her life.Why should he change at her death?And yet, Robinton felt immense pity for the man.

"Father…" he said, rising slowly to his feet.

Petiron blinked and looked at his son as if he shouldn't be there.

"You must leave.She was all I ever had.I must be alone with her in my grief."

"I grieve, too.She was my mother."

"How can you possibly know my pain?" The older man clutched at his chest, fingers digging into fabric and flesh.

Robinton almost laughed.He heard an inarticulate sound come from Ginia and held up his hand to answer for himself.

"How could I possibly know, Petiron?How can you say that to me?I know far too well how you must feel right now."

Petiron's eyes widened and he stared at his son, remembering.

Then his sobbing renewed, his spirit so devastated by Merelan's death that Robinton, moving without thought, came round the bed and took his father in his arms to comfort him.

Petiron never wrote another note of music.Merelan had been his inspiration.Her death altered him as she could have wished he had altered during her lifetime.He and Robinton never became friends, but Petiron grew easier in his son's company.Master Gennell remarked on how much grief had mellowed the man.The apprentices and journeymen studying composition might not have agreed, for he was as difficult as ever to satisfy, but none of them could fault the depth and knowledge he was able to drill into their heads.

Master Gennell took up where Minnarden had left off in Tillek Hold, bringing Robinton on in his Mastery studies.Gennell worked him ruthlessly on Charter clauses and mediation techniques, had him read endless accounts of arbitration and Conclave proceedings.

Such intense study, and Gennell turned into a drill master as exacting as Petiron, was a good way to distract a heart that was grieving, and Robinton was truly grateful to his Master.

Robinton was resident in the Hall when Betrice died of a sudden failure of her heart.So he was able to help Master Gennell deal with that loss.The entire Hall felt it, from the youngest apprentice to Petiron; and Halanna, now a sedate and plumply happy spouse and mother, put in an unexpected appearance.

"I owe that woman a great deal," she said."Almost as much as I owed your mother, Master Robinton." She gave him an odd glance out of the corner of her eye."In spite of what a nasty child I was then, it was those two who finally stuffed some sense in my conceited head.May I sing for her, with you?And for Merelan?I've always kept my voice going, you know."

"I didn't know, but I'm glad you have.My mother would be pleased," Robinton replied and he meant it.

So Halanna sang the music Petiron chose for the occasion, and her voice was warmer and more expressive than it had ever been while she had trained at the Harper Hall.In fact, it was such a fine voice that Master Gennell, once he had dried his eyes, wistfully commented that it was a shame there were so few women training at the Harper Hall these days.

"Can't you find us some, Robinton, in your travels?" Master Gennell asked."To be sure, your mother was unusually dedicated, but here's Halanna still singing and I understand that Maizella does too.Find me some new females, will you?"

"You may be sure I'll look," Robinton replied fervently.

Anything to bring back the twinkle in his Master's eyes.

And he did look, listening to many hopeful girls as well as boys and trying to interest the better voices in coming to the Harper Hall to be trained.

Robinton attained his Mastery the following Turn and continued to be sent by Master Gennell to handle difficult Holders, substitute for ailing harpers or to attend Gathers in distant holds.He was also requested as an arbiter in Hold and Hall.When he could, he drummed to Benden Weyr and asked for F'lon's assistance, and listened to the dragonrider talking about his son, Fallamon, who was being fostered by Manora, the dignified weyr girl Robinton had noticed when S'loner and Maidir died.It was no surprise to Robinton to learn that, three Turns after Fallarnon's birth, she gave F'lon a second son: Famanoran.

F'lon had two worries.The first, and more important, was that the lazy Nemorth would never get off her couch in the queen's weyr for another mating flight so that he could become Weyrleader in place of the four-man leadership of C'vrel, C'rob, M'ridin and M'odon.The second was that no one would take him seriously about the threat posed by the "upstart Lord Holder Fax'.

Jora seemed to favour C'vrel, which further infuriated F'lon.

"Ever since S'loner took Lord Maidir between, C'vrel's been afraid to "annoy" the Lord Holders.I can understand him treading quietly around Raid, and there's another hide-bound idiot…" He glared at Robinton when the harper made a mild protest."Well, he is.Does everything the way his father did…only Maidir was not only far more tolerant but also fairer-minded.He does send a scrupulous tithe to the Weyr, for which we are all grateful." F'lon grimaced."I hate being beholden to the man!"

"It is his duty," Robinton said mildly.

F'lon scowled."Well, we'll teach him his duty when I've flown Nemorth." Now his grimace was darker."I dread it, I do, Rob.Jora's a fat slug.We oversee what Nemorth eats so she'll be able to climb to a decent height for her flight…but she has to be bullied into the air.Jora!" He raised his hands skyward in disgust and frustration.

"Imagine having a Weyrwoman who's afraid of heights!"

"I've often wondered how that happened," Robinton murmured.

F'lon snorted."My father fancied her over the other candidates.

There were only four, so low has the Weyr sunk in the estimation of the people of Pern it is pledged to protect."

That made Robinton sit up."The Red Star's returning…"

"No." F'lon pushed that notion away with one hand."Not yet.For which I am grateful.Not for another three decades, by my reckoning."

"You'll be an old rider by then."

"I'll have two sons to take over for me, should I happen to fail…" F'lon showed his white teeth in a challenging grin.Then his expression turned grim again."They'll know what the Weyr stands for.They'll know from me,' he declared, prodding his chest, ‘what dragonriders are meant to do."

"What's the latest on Fax?" Robinton would never dignify the man with his assumed title.As it was, there never had been a Council of Lord Holders, CraftMasters and the Weyr to confirm his holding at High Reaches, usurping Bargen, if the young Lord Holder still lived.

"Oh, he's busy." F'lon's grin turned wickedly malicious."Still can't get any male issue, and he's ploughing any pretty girl he can find.Isn't safe to be female in High Reaches any longer.And his duelling?Ha!" He raised both hands again."He's got a grand way to rid himself of any who'd oppose him.He insults a man to the point of a fight…and he always wins.Then he puts those oafs and dimwits of his in any prosperous hold…and continues to encroach whenever he can."

"I'd heard."

Robinton had spied Gennell's invisible minion from time to time in his travels and patently ignored him.They had met, more formally, in Master Gennell's office on two occasions.

"Call me Nip, if my lack of name offends you," the runner had said with an amused grin."I nip in and out, you see!"

Master Gennell had smiled at their confrontation."And you're never to see him, Rob."

"I know," the young MasterHarper had replied.

But he also heard reports of Nip's forays.

"What had you heard, Rob?" F'lon asked.

"I know he's nibbling away on the borders of Crom and Nabol.

He daren't try his tricks in Tillek or Telgar.Both Melongel and Tarathel have mounted border guards with hill beacons to spread an alarm."

"Good, good," F'lon said, nodding approval."But tell me when the rest of our languid Lords are going to take action against him.

They will have to, you know."

Robinton had had arguments with both Lord Grogellan of Fort and Lord Ashmichel of Ruatha.Groghe, fortunately, was more concerned than his father was.The Ruathan heir, Kale, had not been present when Robinton had sounded out Ashmichel.That Lord Holder had discounted Robinton's apprehensions, which worried him still more, since Ruatha not only bordered Nabol but was one of the most prosperous Holds, due to the fine runner-beasts it bred.

They would be a fine prize for Fax when he turned his covetous eyes to the grasslands of Telgar and Keroon."It's foreign to the nature of Lord Holders to distrust one of their number," Robinton said flatly.

"And to ignore what they don't wish to admit."

"True.I'm doing my best to worry them."

"Did you know that he's espoused a Ruathan Blood?"

"No, I didn't." Robinton leaned forward intently."Who?"

"Gemma." And when Robinton frowned, unable to place her, F'lon identified her: "She may be only a third cousin, but she's got Ruathan Blood if Fax wanted to use that as a pretext to Hold there.

A come-down from being nephew or espousing a daughter."

"How many has he espoused now?" Robinton demanded, having heard of far too large a number for any sane man to contend with.

"As many as he now has holdings, I suspect," F'lon said, and added with a lascivious leer, "The man's insatiable, and not just for land."

"Surely there's a limit…"

"Let us hope so," agreed F'lon.

The Turn after the birth of Famanoran, Nemorth rose in a mating flight and it was Simanith who flew her.F'lon became Weyrleader at last.M'odon, the oldest of his riders, died quietly in his sleep.

This, too, was a bitter winter.Twenty-four dragonriders fell ill of a fever, and the Weyr echoed with the sounds of keening dragons.

Nemorth produced nineteen dragons in her second clutch, not enough to make up the losses.

The dissatisfaction with the Harper Hall was insidiously spreading.

There had been several cases of harpers being waylaid on their routes and beaten.The worst incident occurred in Crom where the young tenor, Evenek, had been specifically employed by the Lord Holder, Lesselden, to entertain.Evenek had had to audition for Lesselden and his Lady, Relna, who wished to have someone who could instruct instrumentalists to accompany her and to help put on the little evening plays she was fond of writing.Evenek sent back a runner message that he had accepted the position since Lady Relna had a good voice, was pleasant enough and he felt confident he could satisfy her requirement to train players.He added that he felt he would stick to the music and the musical training, since Lord Lesselden had made it quite clear that the contract did not require him to teach the "usual harper nonsense'.Master Gennell had mentioned some concern for Evenek, but he and the other Masters agreed that the tenor would be clever enough to manage, especially since the terms of the contract had been so specific.

The runner, not Nip this time, came directly to Master Gennell, not even stopping at the Fort Runner Station as the messengers usually did. Immediately, Master Gennell called Robinton.

"Evenek's been severely beaten and thrown out of the Hold.In fact, if a runner hadn't found him he'd probably be dead by now.

Go get a healer, and pick five of the biggest, strongest apprentices to go with you.The runners got him over the Crom border into Nabol to Station 193.D'you know its location?"

Robinton did, since he had often studied the disposition of Runner Stations.He gathered up the group, including the sturdiest healer out of the journeymen presently in the Healer Hall, and mounted them on the best of the runner-beasts available.They made it to the Station, riding hard and changing mounts at Ruatha.

Evenek had been very kindly attended by the Station Master, who had brought in the nearest healer he could reach.

"I've done what I can." Germathen, the healer, shook his head clearly distressed by the incident."They broke every bone in his hands.They also mangled his throat so badly I'd be surprised if he ever sings again."

"Does he know who did it?" Robinton demanded once he had calmed down the vengeful mutterings of his companions: hard to do with rage consuming him, but he knew that retaliation, however satisfying that might be, would achieve nothing helpful for the Harper Hall.

Germathen shrugged."I think he does, but he won't say, and talking is painful enough for him.I've set all the bones I could, but I'd wish for someone more adept than I to check my settings." "Can he travel?"

Robinton noticed the Station Master's interest in the answer.

"If you take it by slow stages," Germathen replied."In fact, I think Evenek will not feel safe until he is back in the Harper Hall."

"If any of us are safe there…" one of the apprentices muttered.

"Fort and Ruatha would protect the Harper Hall to the last man," Robinton said firmly."May I see Ev now?"

The wounded man had been installed in the last, and safest, of the connecting dormitory rooms in the Station.Three older runners were seated outside his door, while the Station Master's spouse sat inside, sewing quietly.She rose, one hand reaching for a stout cudgel, when the harpers entered.

Evenek was asleep, his hands swathed in bulky bandages and cushioned by pillows.His face was a mass of bruises, and his neck was covered in bandages as far down as his chest.Robinton was sick to his stomach, and one of the other harpers abruptly retreated from the room.As Robinton stood there, a bitterness welled up in him of a strength he had not imagined himself capable of feeling, far deeper and more primitive even than that which had assailed him after Kasia's death.He thought briefly of asking for F'lon's help to transport Evenek, but with such injuries the cold of between was inadvisable.

The joy and relief in Evenek's eyes, his broken attempts to thank them, had an even more profound effect on those who had come to his aid.He managed to indicate that he would endure any discomfort which travelling might cause him.

"Home…the Hall…" he kept repeating.

Germathen and the healer journeyman had a quiet professional discussion and told Robinton that they could start back the next morning.If those in the Runner Station looked relieved, they had succored Evenek when he most needed their help and Robinton made certain that the Harper Hall stood in their debt.

"To do that to a harper, Robinton, is something I never thought to see," the Station Master said, shaking his head."I don't know what the world is coming to, I don't."

After dinner, the harpers, quietly, entertained those at the Station. They brought Evenek safely back to the Harper Hall, where his condition reduced Master Gennell to tears.Later MasterHealer Ginia and her assistant, Oldive, having had a chance to assess his injuries, announced that while they thought they could give him back the use of his hands, he might not be as adept on some instruments as before.About his voice, they could not yet give any reassurance: the trachea had been badly damaged.

It was some time before the shock of Evenek's injuries was absorbed by the Hall.But Lord Grogellan, with his sons, made a formal visit to Master Gennell, assuring Harper Hall of their firm and unequivocal support, and protection, of the Hall and any harpers wherever they might need assistance.

While such brutality seemed to be an isolated incident, harpers everywhere were warned to be on their guard and to travel with traders or other known-to-be-friendly groups.

Master Gennell, who suffered badly now from joint-ail, continued to send Robinton as his representative, and as another set of "eyes and ears'.This morning, when Gennell sent an apprentice to ask Robinton to join him in his office, Robinton registered a mild and humorous complaint.

"So where can you send me this time, Master?I do believe that I've met every Lord Holder, most of the minor ones, and been in every Crafthold on the continent.What place can I have missed on my travels for you?"

"Oh, I've found one," Gennell replied with a smile, gesturing for Robinton to be seated."Not that you haven't been at Telgar often enough, but there's to be a big Gather and Lord Tarathel has invited Fax."

"What?"

"I thought that would get your attention.Tarathel means to have a chat with the man.He's annoyed over certain problems on his borders with Fax."

"I shouldn't wonder."

"Nip tells me that Fax is planning something.He can't figure out what, but Fax is far too eager to attend and has been drilling his men…

"In what?"

"Parades.And wrestling.With daggers."

"How are you with a dagger, Rob?"

"I've pinned Shonagar with my blade at his throat," the young Master said.

"Oh, really?" Gennell's eyebrows raised high in surprise."That's good.But…you're to keep your dagger in its sheath.I've more use for you than being pincushion to one of Fax's louts."

"Oh?"

Gennell shifted in his chair, clasping his stiff, knotted fingers across his increasing paunch.He tilted his head to one side, observing Robinton for such a long moment that, in spite of himself, Robinton shifted at such scrutiny.

"I've had a purpose in sending you here and there, to every major Hold and Hall on pern."

"Really!" With great difficulty, Robinton kept curiosity out of his response.But it was hard.

"Yes, I'm growing old, Rob, and I've to look for a replacement.

Of course all the MasterHarpers vote as their conscience dictates, but I've made my wish clear.You!"

Robinton stared at his old friend.He hadn't expected that.

"You'll be around a long time yet, Gennell," he said with a laugh which died when he saw the expression on Gennell's face.

"No, I think not," the MasterHarper said."What with this joint-ail and no Betrice to fuss? ’ Gennell smiled fondly at the thought of his spouse ‘? the heart's gone out of me.I may call for the election and spend my remaining time on a warm beach in Ista."

"Now, wait a minute, Gennell, I'm much too young…

"The Hall must have someone young and vigorous as MasterHarper, Rob." Gennell's manner turned resolute, as well as anxious."Now more than ever before.I can't leave the CraftHall without someone who appreciates the threat Fax poses to the entire world.I must know that other holds will not suffer the same future that High Reaches and now Crom are facing: illiteracy and oppression."

Watching intently, Robinton could see clearly how age and infirmity were hampering the once brisk and energetic MasterHarper."And someone," Gennell continued, pointing a gnarled forefinger at the seated harper, "who believes, as I do, that Thread will return to menace the land." He wearily brushed back thinning hair."I don't know what the Weyr is going to do, but it is our beholden duty as harpers to support Benden in any way we can.

Your going there as a child, and as a journeyman, has given you an admirable contact in F'lon.He's making himself a shade unpopular with some of the Lord Holders.If you could give him some advice…"

"Which F'lon's not likely to take from anyone.Including me," Robinton said sourly.

"I think you underestimate your influence on him, Rob," Gennell said; he sank heavily into his chair again, grimacing at the pain.

"And I think you've more influence throughout the land now than you may realize.Are you still able to talk to dragons?"

Robinton nodded."Simanith, at any rate.I suspect that's onlybecause of F'lon.Not that our conversations are anything to write ballads about."

Gennell waggled a finger at him."It's more than most non-weyrfolk ever have."

"That's true enough."

Gennell smiled briefly."Nip reports that of all the harpers, you're one that even the Hall's worst critics will accept."

"Except in the High Reaches."

"Fax will overstep himself.That sort of man always does.

There've been others like him before; there will be more like him in the future.When we live by the Charter, everyone prospers. When it is abrogated, the whole continent suffers."

Robinton nodded in complete agreement, though the prospect of trying to ensure that the Charter was obeyed was daunting. Especially in the face of Fax's active aggression.

"So, Master Robinton, I have named you my choice of successor."

Robinton demurred, muttering about his youth and the fact that there were plenty of men who would be more logical choices.

"None of them wants the job," Gennell said with grim humour.

"Minnarden strongly urged me to consider you, as did Evarel, and certainly I've had support from all the resident Masters."

"Including…Petiron?" Robinton asked, grinning.

"Oddly enough, yes.Oh, I doubt he would have suggested you, but he did not oppose the selection."

That did surprise Robinton.

"I admit that I got the position more by default than ambition," Gennell said with a hearty chuckle."I have served the Hall to the best of my ability…" Robinton concurred: Gennell was exceedingly popular as MasterHarper.The old Master went on: "I shouldn't care to take on the responsibilities of dealing with Fax, much less Thread."

"You're too kind," Robinton murmured ironically.

"I've had you marked as my successor from the moment I saw you talking to the dragons.Do you remember that day?"

Robinton nodded; that had been one of the high points of his childhood.Once F'lon had mentioned that dragons were whimsical about talking to non-weyrfolk.Sometimes they would.More often they would not.F'lon had added with one of his mischievous smiles, "The dragons do like you, Rob." But Robinton had thought that was a secret between himself, the dragons and their riders.

"I didn't realize that anyone was watching."

Gennell grinned."I've watched you from the moment your mother told me you were piping variations on a theme."

"Have I ever thanked you, Gennell, for all you've done for me?" There was no irony in Robinton's voice now.

"Pssst." Gennell dismissed the matter with a flick of his fingers.

"I was your MasterHarper then, as I am now.Be a good Master to all within this Hall and I am doubly repaid.Do not let a tyrant like Fax still the voices of any more harpers."

To that Robinton swore purpose and loyalty.

"Did you hear the drum message this morning?" Gennell asked in a complete change of subject.

"Yes." Robinton smiled."A new baby at Ruatha Hold.A girl, small but healthy."

Two days later, both Robinton and Gennell were called to Fort Hold.Lord Grogellan had refused the advice of MasterHealer Ginia, her very capable young journeyman Oldive, and the Hold's healer.He would not allow them to attempt surgery.

"Talk some sense into him, can you, Gennell?" Ginia said, her face red with frustration."I've done this operation, so has Oldive, and it takes but minutes.If we can't remove the inflamed appendix, he will die from a poisoning of his system."

"You can't cut into him," Lady Winalia said, weeping."You can't.That's barbaric."

Ginia shook her head."It is not.It's as simple as removing infected tonsils from a throat, and you permitted me to do that for your children."

"Lord Grogellan will not have his body violated, mutilated…" Lady Winalia shuddered with repugnance, her expression stubborn.

"His person cannot be carved like an animal!"

"Mother, if it's a question of his life…" said Groghe, trying to reason with his parent."I saw it done at Tillek, didn't I, Rob?"

Robinton nodded."Clostan performed it on a seaman taken with terrible belly pain.He was back on his ship the next week."

Lady Winalia kept shaking her head, her lips pressed together.

"We will not permit it," she repeated, pressing her handkerchief to her lips as she opened the door to her spouse's room.Grogellan's moans could be heard."Oh, he must be in such pain, Ginia.More fellis, please.How can you let him suffer so?"

"He wouldn't if he would permit me to"

"No, no, never.How can you even suggest such a thing?"

"He didn't object when I sewed up that shin wound…it's much the same thing," Ginia said urgently.

"But that was a natural wound," Lady Winalla protested."Oh, listen to him.Surely you can give him more fellis?"

"Yes, I can give him more fellis," Ginia said through gritted teeth."I can fellis him right into death!"

"Oh, no, don't say that, Ginia.Please don't say he'll die."

"I can't say anything else and be honest, Winalla.If I do not operate…"

Winalia clamped her hands to her ears and, with a little shriek of protest, half-ran to her spouse, where he twisted and writhed in bed.

He died later that day, in a terrible agony which not even the massive doses of fellis or the application of numbweed on his abdomen could dull.

"No violation, no mutilation, just death," Ginia murmured as she wearily stumbled away from the tragedy."Once we knew so much more…" She shook a little and leaned on Oldive.

So the Telgar Gather was cancelled and, instead, the Lord Holders came to Fort Hold to confirm Groghe as the new Lord Holder.Fax was conspicuous by his absence.

"But then, he wasn't invited," Gennell said grimly, "because he has not followed the established procedure of taking formal Hold."

"I doubt that bothers him," Robinton remarked."I wish I knew what he had planned at Telgar."

That question was answered, in part or in whole, when Lady Relna of Crom and her two youngest children begged sanctuary from Lord Ashmichel and Lady Adessa at Ruatha Hold.Neither her spouse nor their two oldest boys had survived Fax's forcible entry into their Hold.

Groghe began to drill every man in Fort between the ages of sixteen and fifty.Tarathel and Melongel grimly followed his example and doubled their border patrols.

The following winter, another bitterly cold one, MasterHarper Gennell died of a failing heart.Ogolly, Washell, and Gorazde, frail though he was, drummed messages about the country.They had known that Master Robinton was the named successor, but it would be spring before the requisite number of Masters could return to the Hall for a formal election.No one wished the Harper Hall to be leaderless at such a time.Robinton could hear the messages coming in and going out.He found that their import was muffled down in the kitchen of the Harper Hall, where Silvina, Lorra's capable daughter, kept him company and poured out the numerous cups of klah he drank during the long wait.

Her mother had retired to her family home in South Boll three turns before and Silvina, as dark-haired and energetic as her mother had been, was headwoman in the Hall.Robinton liked her matter-of-fact attitude towards the duties and the disasters of the Hall, and the fact that she had been quite willing to bed him whenever he stopped there long enough to renew their friendship.She had more sense than to mention any sadness in his eyes, though she knew the memory of Kasia had not dimmed in the ten turns since her death.Vina accepted him as he was and made no demands, and gave him considerable relief and kindness.He was grateful, and that seemed to be enough for her.She was as big-hearted as her mother.

"The drums have stopped," she said suddenly, about to pour him yet another cup of klah.

"So they have," he said, realizing that he could no longer feel the vibrations through the stone walls of the Hall.He swallowed and she grinned at his discomfort.

"You could have stayed above and kept count."

"What if? ' He stopped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.At least two people were approaching.

Silvina reached out a hand and gripped his.

A grinning Ogolly and Jerint appeared, a sheaf of small square hides in hand.

"Master Robinton, would you be willing to assume the responsibility of the Master of the Hall and Craft?" Ogolly asked formally, his tone belied by his wide grin and happy eyes.

"I would be willing," Robinton said, though his throat had gone dry.

"It is the unanimous…" Jerint paused to be sure Robinton appreciated that "…decision of all the Masters of this Craft that you accept this position and all its honours, privileges, prerogatives and…all that hard work!" He stepped forward, gripping Robinton's hand in his and shaking it hard."I bless the Egg that it's you, Rob!"

"Who else?" Ogolly demanded, taking his turn to pump the hand of the newly appointed MasterHarper of the Craft."Who else, dear boy?Who else?Merelan would be so? ' Ogolly's eyes teared up and his voice cracked, but he went on "? so very, very proud of you right now."

Robinton, gripping Ogolly's hand, felt his throat close in response to the mention of his beloved mother."She would, she would."

"She always said you would be Master," Silvina said.She threw her arms about Robinton's neck to kiss him soundly."Mother'll be so happy, Rob.So happy.The day you were born, she said she knew you were destined for great things."

"Petiron helped take the count, Rob," Jerint put in, and there was a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

"He's proud of you, too, Robinton…" Ogolly said quite solemnly."Really, he is."

Robinton only nodded.Silvina, busy at one of the cupboards, produced glasses and a wine-skin, which she held out to Robinton so that he could see the label.

"Benden?" he exclaimed.

"Gennell ordered in a supply just for today!" she said."I've kept it safe," she added, casting a reproving glare at Jerint, "so open this skin.There'll be enough to get every last one of you legless tonight."

Robinton was still hung over the next morning when he entered the office of the MasterHarper.He stopped when he saw there was someone waiting: Petiron.His father had not been backward in toasting and drinking the health of the new MasterHarper the previous night, a fact of which Robinton had taken wary note.

"As one of your first duties as MasterHarper, Robinton, I wish you will assign me to a post," his father said in a stiff and formal tone."I think you will do well in this office.I wish you the best, but I feel that my presence here in the Hall might cause you embarrassment…"

"Really…Father…" Robinton mentally berated himself that the unused title came out so awkwardly.

Petiron gave a little smile, as if that hesitation was proof enough of his contention."I think it would be easier for you to assume your responsibilities without…feeling…well, that I might not agree."

Robinton caught his father's eyes and slowly nodded."That is considerate, most considerate, but hardly necessary…

"I insist," Petiron said, raising his chin in a stubborn pose his son knew all too well.

"There aren't any major Holds…"

"I would prefer a minor one? "

"You are a Master and as such deserve? "

"What I ask for."

"But you have that fine new apprentice, Domick?I thought you were very pleased with his progress."

Petiron gave a snort and dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand."That young man thinks he knows everything.You can have the pleasure of dealing with him."

Robinton managed not to grin.He had heard about the fine rows his father had with Domick, arguing chromatic variations, and he rather thought Petiron might have met his match.

"I just thought that…" he tried again.

"Well, you thought wrong.What contracts are available?" And Petiron held out his hand, all but snapping his fingers at his son to speed him up.

Robinton stepped round to the front of the desk where messages were piled in order and by subject.For the last few weeks of his life, Gennell had kept Robinton up to date on all Hall matters, so he knew which pile contained the requests for harpers.He picked it up and handed it to Petiron.

"See if one of these suits," he said, acquiescing to the inevitable.

In a way, he was relieved.He would indeed feel a slight inhibition that his father might question some of the decisions he would have to make, especially as Petiron had widely opposite notions about the imminence of Threadfall and what fourth-turn composition apprentices had to learn even if they were unlikely ever to have to teach theory and composition.It would be easier if Petiron were not here.

"I have made it quite clear to my peers that this is my choice, Robinton, and none of your doing," said Petiron, picking out one message and handing it to his son."This one will suit me."

Robinton looked at it and blinked."Half Circle SeaHold?Father, you can't!It's the back end of nowhere.I've been there.The only ways in are by sea or dragonback."

"Still, it is right on Nerat Bay, and any halfway decent captain can get me there.They haven't had a harper in six turns.There'll be a lot of work to remedy that sort of neglect.You are so determined that everyone shall know the Teaching Ballads: here's a challenge for me."

"But there are holds in Keroon, and that one on the Telgar River…"

"I have chosen Half Circle SeaHold.Do not deny me, Robinton."

"Please consider another," Robinton insisted, worried about the degree of isolation afforded by Half Circle SeaHold.

"I have chosen, MasterHarper." With that, Petiron made a formal bow and left the office.

"By the Egg!" Robinton flopped down into the comfortable chair which Gennell had occupied and wondered if he would ever fit in it as well as the dear old man had hoped.He had already made, or had made for him, his first official decision.He devoutly hoped it was the right one.