“Will I be able to visit the Weyr?” Robinton asked eagerly. That way, he’d know what a Weyr was like, and then an empty one wouldn’t be as scary.
“I think that’s likely. One of the reasons I’m here is to help C’gan, their current Weyrsinger. He desperately wants more training.” His mother gave a little laugh. “I’ll be so busy I won’t—” She broke off and stood up. “Well, let’s get ourselves settled in, shall we? Or are you hungry enough to sample what’s here?”
Robinton had spotted the large selection of sweet biscuits and pointed.
“Well, just two of them, so as not to spoil your appetite. I’ll have one, too – they smell so good. Fresh … every bit as good as Lorra makes.” And she chattered on as she insisted on helping him put his things away. “I didn’t want to overload the dragon,” she said, “so I didn’t bring everything you own, love, but your newest drum and pipes … we’ve my gitar to practise on, and maybe we can get enough wood for you to start your own, because I know Master Bosler said you could start preparing the wood, which takes most of the time it takes to make a gitar, you know. I’m sure we can find gut for strings when the time comes to do that step. And your new Gather clothes, because they entertain quite a bit here at Benden, Lord Maidir and Lady Hayara being so popular on this coast.
There’s a schoolroom, too, so we’ll just leave these in the carisak now, shall we? Now, that’s done and you can help me.”
As he did, Robinton realized that his mother hadn’t brought many of her own clothes. Only one Gather dress and one of the long, fine dresses she’d use when she gave concerts. And while she had lots of new musical scores, mainly the ones she’d teach from, there was nothing in his father’s familiar broad script. That was odd. His stomach felt a little queasy suddenly, and it wasn’t from eating the sweet biscuits.
“Mother, will Father come visit us?”
She paused, her back to him at that moment, then slowly turned, her expression unusually bleak.
“That will be up to your father, Robinton,” she said, and turned
back to fuss with the things in the top drawer of the chest. “Likely he’ll come to the Spring Gather here at Benden,” she added in a totally different tone of voice, as if it made no difference to her at all. “Now, let’s wash up, shall we? I think that soon enough it’ll be time to eat.” She gestured towards the fading light and then pulled the heavy curtains across each of the narrow windows, as if shutting out more than the end of this day.
At dinner that night, Robinton had a place with the Hold children: it was a crowded table for his age group – he counted twenty-four – but Falloner had held a place for Robinton beside him.
“No, you got to take his things up,” one of the Holder boys said, rushing to crowd into the space on Robinton’s right. “Mother said we’ ve all got to make him feel at home, and you had your chance.”
“Rob and I are friends,” Falloner said loftily, “but you can sit on the other side, Hayon. He’s Lady Hayara’s oldest son,” he added, and started naming everyone at their end of the table. “Rasa’s beside him, then there’s Naprila, Anta, Jonno, and Drevalla on the other side.”
Robinton had a moment to glance up at the head table where his mother sat beside Lord Maidir, with Raid on her other side and Maizella by her stepmother.
“They got graduated off the younglings’ table last year,” Falloner said with a sniff. He took the bread and board from the serving drudge and started cutting neat slices from the loaf, flipping them from the knife point up and down this end of the table until everyone had a piece. “Stew, I betcha,” he added. His bet was a fair one, because the next thing to come was a big pot.
“My turn,” Anta said, standing up and grabbing the ladle before he could.