The Master Harper of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  "Don't mention your father's melody, Rob, love. Not unless he does' his mother hurriedly whispered in his ear, and then helped him dismount from Spakinth's high withers as Gennell and Betrice rushed forward to assist.

  "My, you've grown," Betrice cried, giving him a big hug before Lexey and Libby could reach him. "And is that young Maizella?" she asked as Master Bosler and Ginia went to help the Benden Hold girl. "Another of Halanna's stripe? No, there's not that much luggage, is there?"

  "Maizella's all right, and she listens to my mother." Robie grinned as he opened the heavy jacket he'd worn for between and resettled his shirt.

  "Didja miss us?" Lexey wanted to know, dancing about: his expression suggested that he had missed his patient friend very much indeed.

  "Course I did, Lexey," and Rob gave him a mock punch. "I learned some great new games, too, Libby," he added, turning to the girl.

  His mother began to introduce her new student to the MasterHarper, his spouse and the other adults, letting Betrice take charge.

  "Robinton ..." and his mother prompted him to thank Spakinth and C' rob for returning them home.

  "Glad to do it, MasterSinger. Any chance of your coming back to sing at the Autumn Gather? I was asked to ask you," C'rob said, grinning from ear to ear.

  "I'll see if it's possible, C'rob. I'd certainly like to." At her words, Robinton nodded vigorously, which made her laugh. "I can see that I'll be nagged to death until I do," she added, tousling her son's hair. "Can you not stop for some klah?"

  C'rob shook his head with real regret. "Not today. But thanks!" They stood there courteously while both riders remounted; then the dragons launched themselves into the air and turned eastward before disappearing.

  Robinton caught the sad little sigh from his mother before she turned back and smiled at those who had welcomed her.

  "Come now," Lorra was saying, taking Merelan by the arm, "I've put on a little something to take away the chill of between ... And you lot be careful with the MasterSinger's things," she added, scowling at the apprentices who were halfway up the stairs, burdened with carisaks.

  "We weren't between long enough to get cold," Robinton said.

  "And who's the seasoned traveller, then?" Lorra asked, amused.

  "Mother and I got to the Weyr several times a-dragonback, you know," he went on.

  "Can we come in too?" Libby asked, hovering in the doorway with Lexey and Barba.

  "When were you ever refused food in this Hall?" Lorra demanded. As she resettled young Silvina on her hip, she waved them towards the small dining room with its table set with a huge bowl of her special fruit drink and plates of pies and cakes. "Even if you only just got up from lunch. Did Benden feed you just before you left?" she asked the travellers.

  "Well, we were given lunch Benden time ..."

  "At least their timing's right," the headwoman said almost approvingly.

  Merelan swung round from the table when she heard boot-steps on the flagstones in the hall, but it was Masters Gennell, Bosler and Ogolly coming in.

  "I'd hoped that Petiron would make it back from Ruatha Hold in time," Master Gennell said apologetically to Merelan.

  "Oh?"

  "But he was certain he'd be here to greet you," Gennell went on, "so we didn't drum a message to delay your return until he was back." The MasterHarper looked towards the open Hall door as if he expected Petiron to be riding in at any moment. "It's not that long a journey, and I saw that the harpers were all well mounted.

  Their Autumn Gather, and they'd particularly requested something special from us."

  "Halanna went?" Merelan asked in a bland voice.

  "Yes, and Londik, though I'd say," Gennell added with a frown, "his voice is about to change."

  "That won't matter now," she said almost casually, and looked down at her son. "Robie can take over the treble solos. He did all that were needed at Benden, both Hold and Weyr, and it's not just as his mother that I'm proud of him."

  "No, of course not. And did you like visiting the Weyr, Rob?" Master Gennell smiled kindly down at him.

  "It was fabulous," Robinton said. He was quite willing to describe everything: he couldn't remember if Master Gennell had been to the Weyr. "Isn't it?"

  "Yes, a very special place indeed." Gennell gave Rob a pat on his head and then turned to Merelan. "So, tell me more about our new soprano, Lord Maidir's girl."

  "She's a well-behaved young lady," Merelan said, chuckling as Master Gennell's obvious apprehension eased. "I'd scarcely inflict the Hall with another ..." She cleared her throat and suggested that Robie might like to finish his drink with his friends.

  Robinton went off, grinning to himself because he knew what she'd been about to say.

  His father did not arrive back at the Hall until the autumn day had nearly ended. Two of the journeymen with him were leading runner-beasts, one of which was very definitely lame.

  "Runner-beasts went lame, Mother," Robinton said from his perch at the front window. "Not Father's, though," he added as she hurried in from her bedroom to peer over his shoulder. "See. There he is!" And he pointed to his father's unmistakable tall, lean figure, dismounting from a Ruathan bay gelding.

  He couldn't understand his mother's reaction. She'd worried about Petiron not being there, and now she didn't seem to care that he was safely home.

  "It wouldn't be like Father to hurry on ahead unless everything was all right," he said.

  "Sometimes, Robie," she told him, putting her hand under his chin and tipping his face up, "you're too forgiving."

  He didn't feel so forgiving when it seemed to take an age for his father to greet his family.

  "Trouble on the way, Petiron?" his mother asked, turning from the window and the brilliant sunset.

  "Two lame runner-beasts, because they thought to get home faster," he said, swinging saddlebags and instrument case to the bench. "You had the safer way to travel." He came over to her and

  gave her a peck on her cheek. "Londik's voice is gone."

  "I can sing instead, then," Robinton piped up.

  His father, almost as if just realizing his son was in the room too, frowned slightly. "That's as it may be. But it is way past your bedtime, Robinton, and your mother and I have a lot to discuss. Good night."

  "And you've no more welcome than that for your son, Petiron?" Merelan asked in such a tense voice that Robie was startled.

  "It's all right, Mother. Good night, Father," he said and left, almost running out of the room in his dismay.

  "Petiron, how could you?"

  Robie shut the door on whatever reply his father made, glad that

  he couldn't hear anything through the thick wooden panels. He flung himself on his bed and wished he was back at Benden Hold.

  Even Lord Maidir was nicer to him than his father was. Why couldn't he please his own father? What had he done wrong?

  Why couldn't he do something right? He probably shouldn't have said that he could take Londik's place. But he could. He knew he could. His mother had said that his voice was every bit as good as Londik's, and he was the better musician. And she didn't just say things like that to make you feel good – not about professional matters.

  He muffled the sobs he could not control in his pillow. And when he heard some shouting later, he pulled the pillow over his head and pushed it tight against his ears so that he couldn't hear anything except his own pulse.

  He had to audition for the position of solo treble singer in front of all the Masters, which made him a little nervous. The requirement had made his mother furious.

  "Are you doubting my professional opinion, Petiron?" she asked when she heard what was proposed. All the windows were open, making it impossible for Robinton to avoid hearing.

  "Any singer who is to be a soloist for the Harper Hall has to be auditioned," his father had answered.

  "Only if he hasn't been heard by all the Masters before," Merelan had said, tight-voiced.

  "I do not wish anyone to think that I a
m pushing my son into a place that another also qualifies for."

  "There is no other treble as qualified! And everyone but you knows very well that Robinton has a splendid treble."

  "Then there is no problem in following protocol, is there?"

  "Protocol! Protocol? For your own son?"

  "Of course. For him more than any other. Surely you can see that, MerelanT

  "I wish, Petiron, I do sincerely wish that I could."

  Robie had flinched when he heard the outer door slam. He felt his throat tighten, and then reminded himself sternly that he had no time for that right now. He was harper-trained and he'd prove -especially to his father – that he was well trained.

  Because he was, of course, facing his auditors, he caught the little reassuring gestures they made, and his mother's encouraging expression as she played the introduction to the music they had decided he should present first. He was to sing two songs, showing off his abilities, an optional piece and then a score he had not seen before.

  "That," his mother had said in an odd voice, "is going to be very difficult because he knows all the music."

  "There will be one he doesn't know," his father had said, giving his head the one final nod which indicated this subject was closed.

  So he sang the Question Song, and that made all the Masters sit up, including his father. But the song suited his range and showed good phrasing as well as voice control, as he let the final note die away without breaking it off.

  "Odd choice," was his father's comment after the warm applause had died. Petiron handed him a double sheet. "This would have been Londik's next solo. Not even he has seen it. You may have a few minutes to look through it." He held out his hand to take Merelan's gitar from her and sat on the stool, prepared to accompany his son himself.

  With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Robinton turned his eyes down to his father's bold notations. But by the time he had to turn the page, he felt a surge of relief. If his father thought this would show up his unsuitability, he might even get a pleasant surprise.

  "I'm ready," Robie said, turning the music back to the first page.

  "You should take more time than that," his father told him.

  "I've read it through, Father," Robinton replied. His father didn't know how quickly he memorized music, even the complex tempo Petiron liked to use and the odd intervals he was fond of putting in: "To jar the audience awake," one of the journeymen had said in Robie's hearing.

  "Let's not make the lad nervous, Petiron," Master Gennell said. "If he says he's ready, we'll have to take him at his word."

  "I'll play the first measure, then go back to the top," Petiron said, as if conferring a special favour.

  Robinton saw his mother's warning finger go up, so he said nothing. But he was spot perfect coming in at the top. He didn't need to, but he kept the score in front of his eyes, not wanting to look in his father's direction. He had no trouble singing the unusual intervals, or keeping an accurate tempo, even when it changed almost every other measure. There was one run, which would have suited Londik's flexible voice too, and a trill which Rob had no trouble with either, his mother having used him to show Maizella how to deal with that sort of vocal embellishment.

  "I do believe we have a more than adequate replacement for Londik," Master Gennell said, rising and speaking over the applause. "That was very well done, Robie. Surprised you too, didn't he, Petiron? You've been working the lad hard at Benden, Merelan, but it shows. It shows."

  Petiron was looking at his son, his mouth slightly open, his right hand silencing the strings of the gitar.

  "I do believe, Petiron, that you've forgotten that Robie turned ten while we were in Benden," Merelan said briskly.

  "Yes, I had." Petiron rose slowly, putting the gitar carefully back in its case. "But you must read the dynamics of a new piece more carefully, Son. In the fourth measure--"

  "Petiron, I don't believe you," Master Gennell said. "The lad did not so much as falter once, singing difficult music – for you don't write any other kind – which he had never seen before, and you're quibbling about the dynamics in one measure?"

  "If he is to take Londik's place, he must be accurate in all particulars," Petiron said. "And he will be. From now on, I shall oversee his musical education. There's a lot to be done ..."

  "Ah, but you're in error there, my good Petiron," Master Gennell said in his mildest voice, his round face quite bland. "You' – he pointed his finger at the MasterComposer – "teach at journeyman level. We must follow the protocol, you know." And he beamed at a stunned Petiron.

  Robinton heard a stifled noise and looked round at his mother, who gave him the oddest smile.

  "Robinton is not old enough to be an apprentice, though as our lead treble he is now definitely under Hall jurisdiction. But," Gennell went on in a very satisfied tone, "I think that he would benefit from special lessons with his mother, since obviously Merelan has brought his voice along this far with her usual excellent training." He nodded and bowed to her. "And, of course, he'll continue his regular lessons with Kubisa, for we can't short him on general knowledge and the basics, now can we, simply because he has a splendid treble? You did very well, Robinton." Gennell's beam now included Robinton, and he awarded the boy a proprietary caress on his head and a final decisive pat. "Yes, and I think some of us here – I, certainly – will be more than willing to oversee other elements of his training until he does reach apprentice age." Gennell then sighed abruptly. "Of course, when his voice breaks, we'll just have to see what his other musical qualifications are."

  Robinton blinked when Gennell, whose wide shoulders shielded him from his father, gave him a solemn wink.

  "Thank you, MasterHarper, I'll do my best not to disappoint," Robie said in the silence that fell.

  Then everyone began to clear throats or shift feet or stand up. His mother moved to his side, hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly to indicate her approval.

  "Ah, Petiron, there's a drum message request from Igen for a repeat of that programme you put on for them last Turn," Gennell said, taking the MasterComposer by the arm and leading him out of the audition room. "You might make it the debut for your son.

  Not surprised he did so well, considering his parentage. You must be proud of him ..." His voice trailed off down the hall.

  "The MasterHarper may appear to be asleep from time to time," Master Ogolly remarked in his dry wispy voice, "but he doesn't miss much, does he, Merelan? What with summer schedules and all, I'm short of apprentices when I need them most. Robie, could you give me a few hours and help me catch up on copying manuscripts?"

  Robie looked up at his mother for permission and she nodded.

  "He writes the clearest hand, you know, Mere. Have you some free time this afternoon perhaps?" he added wistfully to Robinton.

  "I'll be there after lunch," Robie said, grateful to be legitimately somewhere other than his own quarters for the rest of the day. Ever since he'd been considered old enough to feed himself, he'd sat at the younglings' table in the dining hall so that he could avoid his father at noon. He'd get a copy from Master Ogolly of the work Londik had sung last turn and memorize it. That way he wouldn't annoy his father.

  If Robinton did not realize until he was full grown how deftly the Harper Hall conspired to save him from his father's perfectionism, he was consumed with relief when "protocol' required him to join the other apprentices in their dormitory the day after his twelfth birthday.

  Instead of being on better terms with his father after two turns of solo work, he seemed to annoy Petiron even more, no matter how hard he tried. In fact, it got so that everyone noticed, and the other singers made a point of telling him how well he did, loudly enough for his father – who gave him only a nod now and then – to hear.

  He knew his transfer upset his mother, and yet he was positive it would make things a lot easier for her. It was only too obvious that his father couldn't wait to see the back of him. And his case wasn't the same a
s that of other apprentice lads: he'd lived in the Hall all his life, so he wouldn't be homesick in the dormitory. Although he would miss his mother's loving care, he was earnestly looking forward to leaving the family apartment.

  "The boy is not going more than two hundred feet away," Petiron said as he watched Merelan taking great care in packing Robinton's belongings. Then he saw the thick roll of music she was stowing away. "What's that?" he demanded suspiciously.

  "Rob's done some exercises," she replied indifferently, and tried to place them out of sight in the carton.

  "Exercises?"

  "Classwork, I think," she added to stress the insignificance. She had it almost packed away when Petiron extracted the roll and pulled it open.

  In the exasperating fashion thin hide can have, it resisted, and he was muttering under his breath with frustration. Merelan steeled herself and motioned surreptitiously for Robie to continue folding his clothing into the carisak.

  Rob had so hoped that he could leave the apartment without any unpleasantness. Why did his father have to hang around this afternoon when he could have been anywhere else in the Hall just then?

  "Exercises? Exercises!" Petiron glared first at his spouse and then through the doorway at his son. His tendency to use scowls as facial expressions had already carved deep lines in his long face.

  "These are copies of those ridiculous tunes the apprentices keep asking to sing."

  Robinton couldn't see his mother's face because she had risen, hoping to retrieve the roll. Petiron looked from one to the other and, for the first time in his dealings with his son, had a sudden perception.

  "You" – he waved the offending roll in his son's direction -"wrote these."

  "Yes ..." Robinton had to tell the truth now, if never again. "As exercises," he heard himself adding when he saw the deepening of the scowl on his father's face. "Sort of variations ..."

  "Variations which all the Masters use in their classes. Variations which the instrumentalists constantly use. And twaddle at that, silly tunes that anyone can sing or play. Useless nonsense! Just what has been going on behind my back?"