“This song is very old and, although it’s supposed to be in every harper’s repertoire, it has lately been sadly neglected. I don’t find it even in the very comprehensive Benden Library, so it’s about time I reintroduced it to you all.” She smiled at the audience. “You children will be learning it next week, so listen closely.” With that she put the mouthpiece to her lips and nodded to her son.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the weyrfolk fled?
Where have dragons gone together?
Leaving Weyrs to wind and weather?
Setting herd-beasts free of tether?
Gone, our safeguards, gone but whither?
Have they flown to some new Weyr
When cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh, why, the empty Weyr ?
There was a stunned silence when Robinton let the last note die away and his mother lowered the flute. Almost an embarrassing silence, and yet he knew he had sung it well. Everyone looked at the pair of them as if they couldn’t believe their ears.
Then there was the noise of a chair scraping and S’loner rose to his feet, his expression almost severe.
“I thank you, MasterSinger, for the beautiful rendition of the classic Question Song.” And he inclined his body to them both with the greatest respect. “It has haunted every Benden Weydeader for generations. I learned it as a weyrling, but I haven’t heard it in …
oh, decades now. I think it needs to be heard more often. Maybe someone will find its answer.”
“Then, S’loner, do you believe that Thread will return?” asked a man, rising from the far end of the head table. Robinton hadn’t seen him before, but he must be a Benden holder of some prosperity to judge by his clothing and where he was seated.
Robinton was close enough to see Carola tug at S’loner’s sleeve, her brows drawn together in a scowl. Rob glanced over to where Falloner still sat, and saw an eager expression on his friend’s face.
The entire audience seemed to hold their breaths.
“We’ve another fifty turns to go before the Star Stones will tell us yea or nay, my friend. But the dragons are here and Benden keeps up its strength. That is the pledge we made to Hold and Hall when the first dragon cracked its shell. It is one that I, and every Weyrleader after me, will keep!” Then he bowed again to Merelan, caught Robinton’s eyes briefly and sat down.
Quickly then, Merelan gestured for the instrumentalists to strike up a merry tune. That was also the signal for the drudges to come and clear the tables, to make space for dancing in the centre of the Hall. There was a lot more talking while the tables were cleared, dismantled and stored to one side, chairs rearranged and the younger children taken off to their beds.
Robinton was playing hand-drum for the early sessions of the dancing, so he didn’t get a chance to speak to Falloner that evening.
But the next morning in music class, the moment he and his mother entered the room Falloner leaped on him, hauling him by his shirt to one side.
“Who told you to sing that?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, his expression intense, almost accusing.
“Mother,” Robinton said, having hoped to hear something else from his best friend: like, “You sang that well.”
“Shards, but it had Carola going!” Falloner grinned. “S’loner must’ve been over the moons with delight. Our old harper – the one before C’gan – didn’t know it and couldn’t find it even when S’loner made him hunt through the Records for it. He only knew that he’d learned it. It’s possible G’ranad, the Weyrleader before him, struck it out of our Teaching.”
“It’s back in Harper Hall Records,” Robinton said. “I had to copy it out several times for harpers going off on assignment.”
“Well, one thing sure, you made my father very happy.” “Why?”
“Because he knows -‘ Falloner paused significantly, his expression oddly intense, “- that Thread will come again. And he’s fighting to get others to believe it. That song is a warning, as well as a question.” He clapped Robinton on the back. “And I’ll be following him, on a fighting bronze. Just you see if I’m not.”