Petiron rose indignantly. “I’m his father – have I no say in this?” “Until a boy child is twelve, it is traditional for him to be in his mother’s care unless fostered to a family.”
“This has all been conducted with precipitous and unnecessary haste,” Petiron began, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to control the rage that was boiling up inside him. Not only were his paternal rights being denied, but why was his spouse, usually so understanding, suddenly rejecting him?
“On the contrary, Master Petiron,” Gennell replied, shaking his head slowly and sadly, “the decision was neither an easy nor an abrupt one.”
“But … she was there!” Petiron waved a shaking hand towards his own quarters on the level above. “She cannot have gone far…”
“A Benden dragon arrived this morning with a further entreaty from Lord Maidir for her to accept the posting, especially as his contracted harper, Evarel, has been advised to rest by the healer.
She took the message up to your quarters to discuss it with you. I admit to being surprised that she returned and accepted it. She told me that she felt it was in both her interests and Robinton’s that she do so.”
“Because I didn’t know my son’s age?” Petiron heard his voice rise to tenor range in surprise.
Gennell blinked in such an honest reaction that Petiron had to accept that that subject had not come up. Still, Merelan’s acceptance of any posting away from him, away from the Hall, was so uncharacteristic of her that he could think of no reason at all beyond that rather trite one.
“About that I do not know, Petiron, but she and the boy will already have reached Benden Hold. She asked Betfice to pack up what she and Robinton will need. Doubtless you will hear from her shortly with a private letter.” Petiron stared at his MasterHarper, having great difficulty absorbing what he had just heard.
“If it is a mother’s right to have her child until he is twelve, then I shall not interfere with her maternal instincts,” he said so harshly that Gennell flinched. “At twelve I shall have him.” With that, both promise and threat, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the MasterHarper’s workroom.
CHAPTER SIX
His mother never did explain to Robinton exactly why she came to his classroom that morning, to speak quietly and briefly to Kubisa, whose face gave away nothing. She just gave him his heavy jacket to put on, while she cleared the contents of his desk into a carisak, adding the roll of things which Kubisa handed her.
There was something about his mother’s attitude that warned Robinton not to ask questions. The rest of the children in the classroom were whispering excitedly; two had even left their seats and were peering out of the window.
That was when Robinton saw the wing claws of a bronze dragon in the courtyard.
“I don’t think you’ll mind riding a dragon today, dear,” his mother said, as she carefully closed the classroom door behind her.
She had the half-full carisak clutched under her arm and took his hand to guide him down the steep steps.
“Ride a dragon?” He stumbled in surprise, and was glad of the tight hold she had on his hand.
“Yes, we’re going to Benden Hold. Lord Maidir sent a dragon for us.”
“He sent a dragon for us?”
Robinton was floored. Yet there were Betrice and Masters Bosler and Washell handing up carisaks to the bronze rider, who was securing them to the dragon’s harness. As his mother briskly rushed him across the courtyard to the dragon, he looked about for his father.
“Your father’s not coming with us,” his mother said with an odd catch to her voice. Before he could protest, she had swung him off his feet and up to the bronze rider’s waiting arms. Then she mounted and sat behind him.
I am Spakinth and my rider is C’rob. Cortath and Kilminth say do not fear us.
“I’m going to get to ride you?” Robinton asked, his voice nearly a squeak in his excitement.
“You’re certainly getting to ride my dragon,” the rider said.