"That does not require me to compound it," Merelan said, lifting her chin to match his attitude.
"You are a gracious lady," he said, relenting and bowing to her.
Halanna was granted a room to herself, the attic one, which had sufficient space for her much reduced wardrobe. If she did not apply herself to her lessons, her father had left instructions with the MasterHealer Ginia to take what disciplinary steps would be required to see that she did.
"And, if you should decide this regimen doesn't suit you," her father said in so cold a voice that Merelan shivered, "and attempt to run away from the Harper Hall, I will have the drums repudiate you across all Pern. Do you understand? You wanted to sing, you wanted to come here to the Harper Hall so that you could improve your voice. Now you will do just that, and nothing but that! Do you understand, Halanna?"
Head hanging after the ordeal of apology, she murmured something.
"I didn't hear that. Speak up."
A flash of her old spirit flared in her eyes, but vanished when her father lifted his hand. "Yes, Father. I understand." She stood, head up, lips and chin trembling slightly. Satisfied with her demeanour, he strode out of the MasterHarper's office.
"MasterSinger Merelan will be your primary instructor, Halanna," Master Gennell said. "You will review your foundation lessons with the first-year apprentices' – he was almost glad to see the flare of dismay in her eyes; her punishment had not broken her spirit, even if it had quelled her arrogance – "until you have learned enough to graduate to the more advanced classes. Although classes have begun for the day, Master Washell has given permission for you to arrive late this morning. Now go on to room 26. And you'll need this slate and chalk."
He handed her the items she had refused to carry or use in her first days at the Harper Hall. As she went out of the door, he noticed she pulled her shoulders back, steeling herself to go in among the lowest of apprentices and face whatever their reaction to her presence might be. The girl had courage. However, Gennell had made very sure that she would not be the butt of any youthful mischief.
He had given a stern lecture to the apprentice contingent that they were to behave properly at all times in her presence and never refer to the incident or they'd have worse of the same.
In fact, the affair had subtly improved the behaviour of even the more inventive miscreants among the apprentices. But that didn't keep many of the principals from deeply regretting Halanna's intransigence.
Petiron did not restore the more complex music he had written for contralto voice, but Halanna did sing at TurnOver. In the duet with Merelan, she modulated her tone to match the soprano so that it was technically well sung, though the contralto part did not match the soprano in the joy which the song had been written to express.
Petiron was profoundly disappointed in her performance, having worked so hard with her to produce the dynamics he had "heard" during composition.
"Don't you dare chide her, Petiron," Merelan said, intercepting him after the performance. "She's done well, all things considered.
No one can beat joy into music unless it comes from the heart."
"But her voice ..." Petiron was beside himself with dismay. "She could so easily have risen to the occasion."
"Give her time, love, give her time. She may not be as rebellious or arrogant as she was when she first came here, but give her the chance to realize how much she has learned and how much her voice has improved. If you can't say anything complimentary, say nothing." She looked over to where Halanna was being surrounded by Fort Hold guests who were complimenting her on her lovely voice and splendid performance. "She was note-perfect, you know, and her breath support was excellent. And her presence couldn't have been improved on. Say that. She'll know where she failed."
Petiron opened his mouth and, while Merelan knew he wanted to complain that his satisfaction had been diminished by her lacklustre performance, he observed Halanna accepting the compliments with a genuine modesty.
"Oh, well. You were splendid, Mere."
"I'm glad you think so," she said, and if her tone was a little dry, Petiron missed it as he was surrounded by those wishing to congratulate MasterComposer and MasterSinger.
CHAPTER FOUR
Of Halanna's family, only the second brother, Landon, was able to attend the TurnOver performance since Halibran had unavoidable hold obligations. She was glad enough to see her brother, and he seemed more affectionately inclined towards her. Patently impressed by her demeanour as well as her singing, he remarked several times that he didn't recognize his own sister, she'd changed so much for the better.
Merelan took him to one side after his third loud pronouncement.
"I wouldn't make so much of her ... good behaviour, Landon," she said kindly.
"But she has improved," he protested.
"Yes, but do you have to rub it in?"
"Oh, yes." He rubbed his tanned chin and gave Merelan a charmingly penitent smile. "I see what you mean. But she's certainly turned inside out, and not before time, if you ask me, though you didn't. When she was a toddler, she was such a sweet thing ..." His voice trailed off. "Who's that?" he asked, suddenly suspicious as he noticed a young man in elegant TurnOver finery leading his sister on to the dance floor.
Merelan recognized one of the younger Ruathan nephews, Donkin, who was currently fostering with Lord Grogellan. As he had a good strong tenor voice, he usually joined the Harper Hall chorus. He'd been no more attentive to Halanna than half a dozen others brought in for the TurnOver performance. But, being from Ruathan Bloodlines, he'd be quite acceptable to the most particular of fathers as a possible spouse.
"Ruathan, you say?" Landon echoed, quite able to recognize
Donkin's suitability. "Is she showing any preference?"
"Not that we've observed."
"Still keeping your eye on her?"
"No more than we keep our eyes on any of the young women in our care," Merelan replied pointedly.
"She has learned her lesson, then?"
Merelan thought his attitude was a shade arch, but he was himself young and had spoken to and treated his sister kindly since his arrival. "She has learned a good deal more about the mechanics of both producing her voice and music in general. She has proved a good student."
"My father said she may stay on, if you think she should." Now he sounded less self-confident, and there was a hint of a plea in his tone.
"She has scarcely begun to learn the repertoire suitable for her range," Merelan told him willingly. "And she has learned to play flute and gitar well enough to do ensemble work. We would certainly like to train her as far as she is willing to go."
"She'll be willing, I fancy," said Landon, his eyes watching Halanna going through the steps of the dance with the agile Donkin. The two were obviously enjoying themselves.
Halanna was smiling more tonight than she had done since her father's disciplining. And about time, too, Merelan thought.
"Come, Landon, you can't spend all your time as observer. I'd be happy to introduce you to any number of girls here."
"I'd like to dance with you, if you'd permit it, MasterSinger." He managed not only a charming smile but a graceful bow.
Merelan glanced about to check on Robie, playing with some other children his own age at the edge of the dance floor, and Petiron, who was explaining something – with considerable gesturing – to one of the harpers home for TurnOver. Eventually he would remember that she loved to dance and oblige her, but she was quite willing to start with Landon.
"I'd love to dance, Holder Landon," she said and took his offered hand.
One of the features of the TurnOver celebrations was that everyone got a chance to play or sing – even those as young as Robinton and the other nursery children. They performed a song on the second day, each of them using a percussion instrument: tambourine, chimes, triangles, tom-toms, cymbals and the hand-bells. Robie had been chosen to beat the tempo on the small drum with the knucklebone, and Merelan glowed with
pride at the fine and complex rhythm he managed.
She was disappointed that Petiron was too deep in discussion with Bristol, the Telgar harper, to notice Robinton's performance.
Bristol, like Petiron, was a composer, though his interests lay more in balladic works for the gitar than in full chorus and orchestra. His work was easy to remember and enjoyable to sing – though Merelan grimaced even to think so disloyally.
She was rather surprised, and certainly gratified, to see Bristol speaking to Robie later that afternoon. Robinton, his little face serious, was explaining something to the harper, who paid him the courtesy of attentive listening. If only Petiron would do the same...
She reminded herself that this was TurnOver and the new Turn was nearly on them. Just one more day of freedom from the usual routine. She was pleased with her hour's recital of the old traditional airs which had been part of these festivities since Fort Hold was founded. She'd had no trouble holding her audience, and the applause had been generously prolonged though she had kept her encores to three. As MasterSinger she knew when enough was enough. There were plenty of other performers to take the TurnOver stage.
Halanna had given young Donkin quite a few dances each evening, but she also partnered other lads, and Merelan was glad to see the girl relaxing and enjoying herself. Maybe that would restore the vibrancy which had initially characterized her rich voice.
But Merelan had overheard Halanna saying something to her brother which puzzled and alarmed her.
"Petiron's very strict and makes you measure up to his standard," the girl told Landon with a little grimace. Then she added in an entirely different, almost spiteful tone, "I can't wait until he realizes that that kid of his has far more talent in his little finger than he's got in all his fancy notes and difficult tempo."
How had Halanna known of Robie's innate musicality? She'd never paid any attention to him: in fact, she had steadfastly ignored his existence when she knew the child was in the next room during her lessons with Merelan. And what satisfaction would Halanna take when the father discovered his son's talent?
That problem caused Merelan not a few anxious hours, though she kept telling herself that surely Petiron would be delighted to realize his son was musically inclined. "Inclined' was an understatement: Robinton seemed to absorb music as some children absorbed food. She was also aware that the child kept a cache of meticulously written tunes and airs: Washell and Bosler had told her so, saying that the music was "delightful'. Then there were the glances they had exchanged. She had been so pleased to hear their good opinion of Robie's progress that perhaps she had failed to realize the significance of their exchange. That was when she first saw the drum he had made and used in the percussion orchestra at TurnOver.
"Master Gorazde helped," he had informed her when he brought the drum home, "but I painted ..." He ran a rather dirty finger along the blue and red lines which not too raggedly decorated the rim.
"An' I cutted the skin oh so careful." His eyes had rounded as he used a pretend knife in his hand to demonstrate how hard it had been to cut the hide. "An' I nailed it." His mother did note that the brass nails were well aligned. "Master Gorazde had me make dots where the nails go so they'd look even." He ran a finger along the shiny line. "Hard work." And he grinned up at her.
"Lovey, I don't know when I've seen a better one. I'll bet you could sell it at the Harper Gather stall!"
He clutched the drum to him, which took some doing because it overlapped his chest. "No, not this one, my first "stument, and I gotta improve a lot before Master Gorazde'll put a Harper stamp on it for sale."
With a pang to her heart, Merelan said nothing as he put it carefully on the shelf near his father's worktop. Maybe Petiron would notice and comment on it.
Two days later it was no longer in view, and she looked for the drum and finally found it hidden in his clothes chest. He never played it again.
"Drum? What drum?" Petiron asked, surprised when she casually mentioned it.
"The one Robie made for the percussion group at TurnOver." Petiron frowned, and she was so distressed by his genuine puzzlement that she wished she hadn't asked. That the little drum, so lovingly constructed, had been so carefully concealed ought to have been warning enough.
"Oh, that one," Petiron said, turning back to checking apprentice papers. "If Robinton really did have a hand in making it, I wouldn't have passed it for a Harper stamp."
Merelan abruptly rose and, murmuring that she must see Lorra, left the room before she either burst into tears or threw something at her insensitive spouse.
As she stormed downstairs and out into the crisp evening air, pausing only to throw a jacket over her shoulders, she knew that she would never, ever, mention Robie's efforts to Petiron again. He didn't deserve to have such a talented child.
"He's far ahead of the other youngsters," Kubisa told Merelan during the teacher's usual spring evaluation. "He's poring over any Record Bosler lets him see. In fact, Bosler's having him copy some of the more legible documents from the last Fall. Also, I don't think it's wise to isolate him from his own age group. He needs their companionship. All children do. But I'll say this for him: he won't stand for any teasing or bullying."
"You don't have any problems with that, do you?"
Merelan knew that the apprentices were often apt to pick on a lad who tried to push himself forward, and occasionally they would taunt a slower boy, but the Masters kept a tight rein on any physical violence and chastised culprits for verbal harangue. Some of the final-year apprentices were apt to take grudges against one another, but those were generally settled by a wrestling match overseen by a journeyman. To be a harper conferred sufficient dignity and privilege so that few would jeopardize their chance to achieve journeyman status by gross misconduct. Inevitably, there were subtle competitions among the fourth-Turn students.
"I have to be truthful, Merelan. Some of them are jealous of his quick mind."
"Well, I can scarcely punish him for that," Merelan said, trying to suppress a spurt of outrage.
Kubisa held up both hands in simulated defence. "Easy, Mother, and I won't tell you who, either," she added before Merelan could open her mouth. "That's for me to know and handle. And I have. I ask Rob to take one of the slower ones off to hear their lesson. He's actually very patient – more so than I would be with that rascal, Lexey."
"Lexey? Bosler's youngest?"
"I realize you know that Lexey has learning difficulties, but Rob has him repeat his lessons until he knows them by heart." Kubisa sighed. "Sometimes late-life babies are a little ... backward. And Rob made up another tune, one that Lexey can actually remember, to help him with place names." She reached into the folder and brought out a scrap of hide, cleaned so often that it was almost transparent, and handed it to Merelan. "Robie's a caring child and a born teacher."
The MasterSinger had no trouble identifying the writer of the tiny, precisely placed notes, and she hummed the tune. Simple and very easy, up the C scale and down by thirds.
Fort was first, South Boll then
Ruatha came and Tillek, too.
Benden next and north Telgar ...
Easy enough for a child to sing, but effective with the tune itself as an aid to memory.
"That's not bad," Merelan said.
"Not bad?" Kubisa stared at her in disgust. "For a child five turns old? It's incredible. Washell wants me to use it in class as a
Teaching Ballad."
"He does?"
"He does, and we don't intend to tell Petiron either." Kubisa's tone was almost defensive. "I never ask Rob to do these. He just does them. Should I discourage him, Merelan?" She couldn't quite keep her expression neutral.
"No, don't discourage him Kubisa. And thank you for your understanding."
The interview troubled Merelan for several days, but she could see no way to mention Robie's abilities to Petiron. As usual, he had music he had to compose – this time for an espousal at Nerat. He planned a duet between Mere
lan and Halanna, and a very ambitious quartet, making use of a fine young tenor who would soon be walking the tables to become a journeyman. Petiron was always bemoaning the loss of any good tenor voice, and Merelan entertained the wry hope that Robie might end up in the tenor range as an adult. At least he sang on key in his childish treble. Even if his father never noticed. These were the times when she was very glad that she wasn't able to bear more children, or foster them.
That spring young Robinton had a revelation which made a tremendous impact on his mind: he met dragons.
He'd always known they existed, and once in a while a wing would be seen flying in formation high overhead. He knew that Fort Weyr had been empty for several hundred turns, and that no one knew why. He knew, from Teaching Songs and Ballads, why there were dragons: that they kept Thread away – though he didn't understand why Thread was so dangerous. People's clothes were made of thread, and they wouldn't wear something that was dangerous to them, would they? When he asked Kubisa about it, she said that Thread was a living organism, not spun and woven as was the undangerous thread that went into clothing. This bad Thread fell from the sky and hungrily ate anything living that it touched, from grass to runner and herd-beasts, and even people. Her listeners got very still at that, and no one even squirmed when she went on to explain how dragons kept Thread away from Halls and Holds. However, she ended on a bright and pleasant note: that bad Thread was not likely to bother them, and they might live their whole lives without seeing it fall from the skies.
"Then why," the logical Robie asked, "do we keep singing about it?"
"In appreciation of those times when the dragons did keep the danger away," she said, at her most reassuring.
Robinton asked his mother about Thread and got much the same answer, which really wasn't sufficient to satisfy his curiosity. If the dragons were so important, and they were still flying the skies of Pern, they were there to keep Thread away. They were keeping it away, but there weren't as many as there used to be – not with five Weyrs empty. Would they be enough if Thread came?
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