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 her cheeks.
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 bet
ter 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 beas
t 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."
The Master Harper of Pern Page 20