The Masterharper of Pern

CHAPTER SEVEN

So here he was.Falloner had diplomatically slid down the off-side of Falarth, thus avoiding a meeting with Carola who, with S'loner, greeted their MasterSinger guest and her son, thanking them profusely for accepting the invitation.

"Come to Benden?" Merelan laughed."I've been dying to." Then she was introduced to Stolla, the headwoman of the Lower Cavern, a tall woman of middle years who in turn introduced the MasterSinger to the blue rider, C'gan, who was Weyrsinger, a slight man whose boyish face was eager and earnest, and so was obviously thrilled to meet Merelan.The other woman, Miata, handled basic lessons at the Weyr.Robinton made his best bow to them all, and then S'loner took him by the shoulder.

"Go off with Falloner, Robinton," he said, grinning broadly.

"We'll take good care of your mother, never fear."

"I don't worry, not when she's in the Weyr," Robinton answered boldly and, before his mother could reprimand him, he slipped around behind Falarth to join his friend.

"C'mon, there's a lot to see," Falloner said and led the way, running across the Bowl to the black maws of the Hatching Ground.

"This is the most important place in the Weyr.Any Weyr…"

"Is that son of yours to be a harper, Merelan?" Robie heard S'loner asking.

He didn't hear his mother's exact answer and he wondered, once again, if maybe he could possibly be harper and dragonrider.And he'd Impress a bronze, too.Well…he'd settle for a brown and be in Falloner's wing and fight Thread when it came back.

Falloner showed him everything.The Hatching Ground was awe-inspiring, with the great vaulted roof, the steep ranks of seats where guests could watch Impression and the raised stone couch where the queen stayed, guarding her clutch and viewing the Hatching.Then there were some places which Robinton wasn't sure visitors were usually shown.Falloner took him up steps at the side of the Hatching Ground and pushed through a door into what had to be the Weyrwoman's quarters.Robinton gulped, hoping that Feyrith was still fast asleep on her ledge and that Carola did not take a sudden urge to leave his mother.He walked on tiptoe and noticed that Falloner was putting his feet down more quietly than usual.From there, they went to the Council Chamber, with its immense stone oval table and the massive stone chairs where the Weyrleaders and wingleaders sat for meetings.Then down into the musty-smelling rooms which housed the Weyr's Records.

"Our Archives smell exactly like this too," Robinton remarked, feeling a little safer this far from the Weyr and Feyrith.As he ran one finger across the spine of a bound volume, leather rubbed off, and he hastily cleaned his finger and hoped the mark wouldn't show.The Weyr really needed to have these seen to: they were in far worse condition than those Master Ogolly worried over.

Falloner had noticed and now snorted."That's another thing I like about Benden Hold, they keep their Records in good condition so that you can actually read them."

Which Rob allowed was true enough.There was one drudge whose sole job was to dust and oil the leather-bound Records, and check that no insects had burrowed into the hide pages.His mother had shown him some of the oldest ones, the ink still bright and who-knew-how-many-hundreds-of-Turns old.

Only when they had gone back up and out the way they had come in to the Weyrwoman's quarters did Robinton draw a sigh of relief.He did wonder why Falloner was venturing up here: did he do it because it was a way to annoy or get back at Carola for not liking him?Sneaking into her private quarters was a bit silly, Robinton thought, but he was glad he had had the chance to see the

Council Chamber.This was where the bronze riders would assemble before a Threadfall.But those Records…Wouldn't they be needed then, too?And in much better condition than they were in now?

Moving quickly across the warm sands, Robinton expected to go back to the main living area of the Weyr, but Falloner beckoned him towards the top of the Bowl with a wicked grin on his face.

"Show you something not even many weyrbred know about," he said.Casting a glance around to be sure that no one was looking in their direction, he ducked behind a large boulder.When Robinton hesitated, Falloner hauled him along by his sleeve.

Though there was still a good deal of spring daylight, the space was dimly lit, only showing a cleft in the cliffside through which Falloner disappeared.A moment later a light sprang up inside, and Robinton nervously gulped as he bravely stepped towards whatever new surprise Falloner had in store for him.

Falloner held a small glowbasket over his head, the glows still bright enough to make shadows on the walls of the narrow fissure.

"Don't talk loudly," he whispered, his mouth close to Robinton's ear, "because there's an echo and anyone near the Ground will hear it."

Robinton nodded vigorously.He didn't want his mother to discover that he was doing something possibly forbidden, maybe even dangerous, at Benden Weyr.Falloner led him down the twisting passage.Anyone even two hands taller would have had to duck, and it was as well both boys were slender, because once or twice they'd had to suck in their stomachs to get past protrusions.

Then suddenly there was a dull light ahead and they came to an uneven crevice where they could stand erect and look directly out at the Hatching Ground.

"This is where we come to watch the eggs while they're hardening," Falloner murmured. "I even got out there and touched the eggs last time we had a clutch."

"You did?" Robinton was truly impressed by Falloner's daring.

"Did you get caught?" Would that be one of the reasons the Weyrwoman didn't like him?

"Naw," Falloner said, flicking his fingers in dismissal.

"What do eggs feel like?" Robinton couldn't resist asking.

"Sort of rubbery at first…"

"At first?" Robinton was shocked.

"Yeah, they get harder every day." Falloner shrugged."More fun checking every day or so.They get warmer, and then the shells begin to feel thin under your hand.The dragonet eats the stuff around it in its shell, you see, while it's growing strong enough to hatch.You ever see a wherry egg when the chick is only half-made?" Robinton hadn't, but he nodded anyway.Lorra had once told him that some of the poultry eggs did that when they weren't used quickly enough."Same thing.That's why dragonets come out of their shells starving to death."

"But they don't ever die.Do they?"

"S'loner says some do, but I haven't seen any eggs that didn't hatch." There was the implication of long experience in his tone.

"Not that we have that many in a clutch." Falloner sighed."We'll get more, though, nearer to the next Pass."

"We will have one, then?"

"Sum, we will.There's been Long Intervals before.You're Harper Hall; you should know that."

"Sure," Robinton agreed hastily.He did know that, sort of.But he was going to check up on it once he got back to the Hall."But none," he added as he suddenly remembered, "when there weren't all six Weyrs waiting for the next Fall."

Falloner was thoughtful."We'll be all right," he said with more conviction than his expression implied."We keep replacing the old ones who die off.Benden's at full fighting strength."

"But there's only Benden," Robinton whispered as a sudden pang of fear shot through him.

"Benden will be more than enough," Falloner said proudly, and then covered his mouth with one hand, for he had spoken more loudly in his surety and his words echoed across the empty Hatching Ground."C'mon, let's get out of here.I'll show you the barracks and have you meet some of my friends."

They carefully retraced their steps and Falloner hid the glow-basket under a protrusion.Then the weyrbred lad took to his heels and raced towards the right-hand side of the Bowl, beyond the Lower Caverns, where there was a great deal of talking and laughing and general noise.As they flashed by, Rob caught a glimpse of his mother talking to some of the old aunties and uncles at one of the tables.Well, that duty would be over, so he wouldn't have to nod and smile at the oldsters.The look of them, not to mention sometimes their smell, distressed him.People shouldn't get that old.When harpers could no longer work, they went back to their birthplaces or down to the warmer, southern holds.

The weyrling barracks were empty, since members of the last clutch had long since graduated to individual weyrs, but the place looked in good order for the next Hatching.Falloner knew a back way out of the barracks complex, too, which took them into a broad corridor that he said led to the supply caves.

"There're lots of them," he said proudly."Benden, Lemos and Bitra still tithe properly every year, and the Telgar and Keroon Lord Holders tell us where the dragons can hunt, culling the herd-beasts for them."

Through other narrow aisles, Falloner led Robinton to the living quarters, showed him the alcove he had shared with three other lads, and then the bathing area: the Weyr's main bath, steam rising from the water, was big enough to swim in, Rob thought enviously.

Beyond, Falloner said, were more storage rooms.

"And a maze of old hallways and too many locked rooms.I'll get in to see them when I'm Weyrleader." He chuckled.

Over his laugh, they heard the muted tones of an enthusiastically rung bell.

"Supper!" And Falloner wasted no time leading Robinton back to the Lower Cavern.

"Are all the Weyrs the same?"

"Well, I've only been to Telgar once, and they've got the same sort of places, like a Hatching Ground and a queen's weyr and Records Hall and stuff like that.Haven't you ever been up to Fort Weyr?"

"You're not allowed," Robinton said cautiously, with a sideways glance at his companion.

Falloner laughed."Since when did that keep someone from doing something?I'll bet it's visited a lot."

"Well, actually, I think it is, but…"

Falloner put a finger over his lips and winked."No two Weyrs are laid out quite the same, but…” and he gave a shrug "…you've been in one, you'll find your way around Fort after this."

"I know, and thanks, Fal."

"Sure thing, Rob."

They swung into the Lower Cavern then.His mother was standing on the slightly raised platform where a long table had been set up at right-angles to the rest of the dining area.There was another dais, too, with music stands, stools and chairs; that was where they' d perform.

"How many players does the Weyr have?" Rob asked, counting up to fourteen places.

"We've got one good gitarist, C'gan, one decent fiddler, and the usual pipers and a drummer, though you're much better than he is."

Rob considered this and then noticed that the top table was filling up with riders, and not all bronze to judge by the shoulder knots they wore on their Gather shirts.

His mother, seeing him, made a gesture to indicate that he could stay in Falloner's company.He was delighted.The weyrfolk, summoned to the dining area by the bell, took whatever seat they fancied.Falloner, hauling on Rob's sleeve, took him to a table occupied by six boys more or less Falloner's age.He waved vigorously and held up two fingers, in time to prevent some smaller lads from taking the vacant chairs.

"Just made it," said a black-haired lad whose curls covered his forehead to his eyebrows."Go on, there're plenty of other places," he added to the nearest of the small lads.

"This is Robinton, from the Harper Hall," Falloner said, flumping himself down."That's Pragal," he told Robie, pointing to their greeter, "Jesken, Morif, Rangul, Sellel, and Bravonner; he's my younger brother."

Robinton thought there wasn't much resemblance, except in the eyes, but then they must have had different mothers, since Falloner had said his was dead.

"How come you got back?" Bravonner asked.

"I told you I'm only at Benden for more schooling," Falloner said in a kindly manner to his sibling."You been OK?" He glanced accusingly around the table at the others.

"Sure…" Bravonner began.

"I promised you, didn't I?" Pragal said, bridling."No one's bothered him."

"Cepting you," Bravonner said with a wicked sideways look at Pragal, who promptly socked him on the arm with mock-ferocity.

"You see?" Bravonner added, appealing to his older brother.

"Yeah.I can see that.Something good for dinner?" he asked Rangul.

This lad was of stockier build and well fleshed, with eyes that darted from one speaker to another.He reminded Robinton of one of the apprentices whom he didn't much trust, a boy who lied bold-facedly after a dispute at his table and then laid all the blame on another apprentice.

"Roast herd-beast," Rangul said, smacking his lips.His expression altered to disgust."And lots of tubers."

"You should know," said Jesken, a thin-faced lad with a close-cropped head of hair, "since you had to peel so many of them." And he laughed.

"Whatcha do to get that duty?" Falloner asked, his expression eager.

"No one's business but mine," Rangul said sullenly, with a fierce scowl across the table at the laughing Jesken.

"He pushed Lama in the midden," Jesken said, raising a protective arm when Rangul reached across the table with his fork to poke him.

"Enough of that," Falloner said in a crisp tone of command which indicated he often had to intervene between this pair.He glanced quickly around to be sure no one had noticed."Not that Larna doesn't need to be taught some manners…but you only get in trouble.Who's minding her now?" He looked around again, and his eyes paused at a table on the other side of the room which was occupied by young girls."Oh, Manora would be stuck with her." He turned back to the other boys."Didn't anything interesting happen since I left?"

The report that followed didn't mean much to Robinton, who didn't know the weyrfolk named.But shortly a platter of sliced roast was shoved at Falloner, ending the discussion.

"Back are you?" the serving woman asked sourly."Make sure there's no trouble at this table.You hear me?"

"As ever, Milla," he replied with an innocent smile.

"Rangul, go fetch the tubers," she added.

"I had to peel "em," he protested.

"All the more reason to serve the product of your labours.Go!

Jesken, you get the salad."

Grumbling under his breath, Rangul pushed back his chair and with no good grace collected the large, steaming bowl.Jesken was back before him with the basket of salad.

Falloner had by then served two big slices to Rob and himself, before passing the platter on.He gestured for Rangul to bring him the tubers.The lad complied, but sullenly: Falloner was clearly not one Rangul cared to antagonize.

"You're a guest," Jesken said, offering Robinton the salad.

"And he'll be singing later, too.Good voice, good music." And Falloner winked at Robinton, who was then rather nervous about anyone finding out who had written the songs which Merelan had told him were to be the one taught some manners…but you only get in trouble.Who's minding her now?" He looked around again, and his eyes paused at a table on the other side of the room which was occupied by young girls."Oh, Manora would be stuck with her." He turned back to the other boys."Didn't anything interesting happen since I left?"

The report that followed didn't mean much to Robinton, who didn't know the weyrfolk named.But shortly a platter of sliced roast was shoved at Falloner, ending the discussion.

"Back are you?" the serving woman asked sourly."Make sure there's no trouble at this table.You hear me?"

"As ever, Milla," he replied with an innocent smile.

"Rangul, go fetch the tubers," she added.

"I had to peel "em," he protested.

"All the more reason to serve the product of your labours.Go!

Jesken, you get the salad."

Grumbling under his breath, Rangul pushed back his chair and with no good grace collected the large, steaming bowl.Jesken was back before him with the basket of salad.

Falloner had by then served two big slices to Rob and himself, before passing the platter on.He gestured for Rangul to bring him the tubers.The lad complied, but sullenly: Falloner was clearly not one Rangul cared to antagonize.

"You're a guest," Jesken said, offering Robinton the salad.

"And he'll be singing later, too.Good voice, good music." And Falloner winked at Robinton, who was then rather nervous about anyone finding out who had written the songs which Merelan had told him were to be the Weyr's evening entertainment.

"I suppose we'll have to listen to you, too," Rangul said nastily to Falloner, his expression a mixture of both irritation and envy.

"I'm the one who can carry a tune," Falloner said, grinning snidely across the table.

"Those who can't sing play instruments at the Harper Hall," Robinton said, sensing this sort of teasing could easily turn nasty.

Weyr lads were really no different from Harper Hall apprentices.

"Hey, this roast is really good," he added, hoping to divert the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," Falloner agreed, chewing."Not that we don't eat well here…"

"Most of the time," Jesken put in, his mouth so full that he had to push the gravy back in with one finger, which he then licked.

"Real good tonight.Must have been younger than we usually get."

"We've got Robinton at the table, after all," Falloner said, grinning.

"You staying up here a while?" Sellel asked, glancing from Falloner to Robinton.

"Tonight for sure," Falloner said.He nudged Robinton in the ribs."They'll have you singing ‘til dawn, you know."

"Then you'll be singing right with us," Robinton said, and put another forkful of the tender roast into his mouth.He sort of regretted that he'd have to eat lightly, but he couldn't sing properly with a full gut.

Sing he did, with Falloner, with his mother and as a soloist.First, of course, they did the Duty Song, in which the entire audience joined, singing both chorus and verses once Robinton had sung the opening verse.There was applause for him through the first chorus.

He rather liked that and took it for the compliment it was.

Then his mother mouthed "Question Song' at him.It was not next on the programme, but as she was conducting the concert he sang it, to a hushed and very thoughtful audience.S'loner was beaming with delight at the weyrfolk's surprise and attention.

Robinton and Falloner did several of his songs, without saying who the composer was, and these were well received.The Weyr might not have a highly trained harper, but there were a lot of good voices and folk who picked up quickly on tune and chorus.This was a totally different audience from any Robinton had ever sung for, and quite possibly the best.His mother was responding to it, too, because her voice was joyous again, even in the more nostalgic melodies.They had established an unusual rapport with this audience, a new depth of "listening'.

We listen, too, you know, harper boy, a voice said in his head, almost throwing him off his harmony.

That explained much to Robinton, but he didn't have time then to think it all through: he had to keep singing so as not to disappoint.

There were calls for old favourites from the gathering, and it wasn't until Robinton's voice cracked with fatigue that Merelan called a reluctant halt to the evening's entertainment.

"We've imposed outrageously on you, Merelan and young Robinton," S'loner said, rising to his feet and scissoring his hands at the requests still being shouted from the tables."It's late, even for a Weyr gathering, and you've been more than generous with your time and repertoire."

"The Harper Hall's tithe to the Weyr," she replied, dipping her knees in her elegant bow and spreading her left hand to include the entire audience."It is a pleasure to sing for you."

"Our dragons have enjoyed it almost as much as we have," the Weyrleader said, and looked from her to Robinton, winking.

Suddenly the elation which had sustained him through a very long performance seemed to drain out of Robinton, and he wavered on his feet.

"Falloner, take young Robinton to bed," S'loner said arbitrarily, pointing towards the dormitory area.

"I'm near as tired as he is," Falloner said and, throwing an arm about his friend's shoulders, he led him off.

"As for you, my dear Merelan, Carola will escort you to our guest weyr, one that should be occupied by a queen dragon.Well, soon enough, soon enough…" S'loner was saying as the two boys left for the Lower Cavern.

The next day, S'loner himself took them back to Benden Hold, Robinton and his mother quite conscious of the honour even if they were both still fatigued by their exertions.Even Falloner was not his usual self, silent in his father's presence.

"I shall sleep all week," Merelan said as they waved farewell to the bronze rider and Chendith."But what a splendid evening, Robie.

That was a glorious performance.I know I've never sung so well before, and you were fabulous.I only hope that you keep that treble a while longer." She sighed and ruffled his hair as they climbed the steps into the Hold."And have a mature voice too, of course."

Lady Hayara arrived, waddling awkwardly since she was nearly at the end of this pregnancy."I was sure they would keep you overnight when you didn't arrive at a decent hour," she said as she accompanied them into the Hold and towards the main stairs."You look exhausted…did it go well?You have a glow about you, you know.Do you need anything?I won't go up the stairs with you today, I think." She gave a breathy sigh and fanned her face with her hand."I had hoped to be delivered on time this time…"

Commiserating with the Lady and assuring her that they were all right, Merelan led her son up to their quarters, her shoulders sagging only when they were out of Hayara's sight.

"Singing like that certainly takes it out of one, doesn't it?" his mother said as they entered their quarters."Oh!"

They both saw the roll of a large message on the table, its origin obvious by the Harper-blue band spiralling its length.Her hand hesitated above the tube just a moment, but then she grasped it firmly and broke the seal as she seated herself.She pulled out a sheaf of music and spread it open.Robinton saw her face pale and her fingers shake slightly as she read the brief message attached to it.

"No, it's not from your father." She looked at the music before finishing the note."It's from Master Gennell.Hand me my gitar, Robie."

He uncased it instantly, surprised at her urgency.It was then that he realized his mother had not sung any of his father's compositions In the Hold or in the Weyr.He knew that she was probably the only singer who could technically handle the difficult works Petiron wrote.Seeing her struggle a bit to stop the score from rolling up again, he planted his hands on the edges.

She struck the opening chord, paused to tune the strings slightly, and began again.halfway through the first page, she looked up at her son, confused and surprised.

"This isn't at all like your father…" She peered closely at the script."But it is certainly his writing," she said, and continued playing the notes.

Robie followed the music, deftly shifting the pages from one to the next.He almost missed one turning because he too became touched by the plaintive melody, the minor chordings, the whole tenor of the music.As the last of the gitar notes died away, mother and son looked at each other, Merelan perplexed and Robinton anxious.He wanted her to like it, too.

"I think I can say," she began slowly, "without fear of contradiction," a little smile turned up the corners of her mouth, "that this is the most expressive music your father has ever written." She wrapped both arms around her gitar."I think he misses us, Robie."

He nodded.The music had definitely been melancholic, where his father usually wrote more…more positive, aggressive music, full of embellishments and variations, with wild cadenzas and other such flourishes.Rarely as simple, and elegant, a melody as this.

And it was melodic.

She picked up Master Gennell's note."Master Gennell thinks so, too: "Thought you ought to see this, Merelan.A definite trend towards the lyric.And, in my opinion, quite likely the best thing he's ever written, though he'd be the last to admit that."' Merelan gave a little laugh."He'll never admit it, but I think you're right, Master Gennell." She looked at her son."What do you think, dear?

About the music?"

"Me?" Flustered, he didn't know what to say."Are there any words to it?"

"Why don't you write some, dear?Then it would be a father-and-son collaboration.The first, perhaps, of many?"

"No," Robinton said thoughtfully, though he wished with all his heart right then that there could be a chance his father would use words he had written."I think you'd better add the words, Mother."

"I think, my son, we'll both work on the proper lyrics." She ruffled his hair, her eyes sad despite the slight smile on her lips."If we can find appropriate ones…"