“But, even if Thread comes, it’s not due for another fifty turns or more, and you and I will be old.”
“Fifty isn’t old when most dragonriders live to their tenth decade and better. Old M’odon’s nearly one hundred and ten, and there’s
nothing decrepit about his brown Nigarth.”
“Does he remember Threadfall?”
“Naw, he’s too young for that, but his great-grandfather flew it.” Just then Merelan called the class to order. “We’re going to learn the new song today, the Question Song. Weyrleader S’loner particularly asked me to teach it. Robinton, if you’ll sing it again for us so we can start learning the melody, we will honour that request, as we should honour all dragons and their riders.”
Five days later a green rider came with an invitation for the MasterSinger and her son to dine at the Weyr and, if she would be so kind, to bring some of the new music that had been heard in Benden Hold.
Robinton was never sure if it was because he had sung the Question Song or because the Weyrleaders wanted his mother to sing more for them.
“Of course it means I’m to sing, love,” she said, grinning at her son, “so we’ll take instruments with us. But I’m glad that you’ve been invited, too. I’ve wanted you to see Benden Weyr.” She paused and then winked conspiratorially at him. “Then, when you have to spend the night up at Fort Weyr, you won’t be the least bit scared.”
“How did you know about that?” The apprentices did not tell anyone, certainly not the girls.
Merelan chuckled. “There’s a lot that goes on in the Hall that is
known but not talked about, lovey. Not that, for a single moment, I would think you’d be frightened of just an empty place.”
Robinton puffed out his chest. “But aren’t all the Weyrs different?”
Merelan considered this. “Yes, and in fact there are maps of the interiors lodged in the Archives … or should be. Another thing that I must check on when we get back.”
“When are we going back, Mother?” Not that he really wanted to, if he was being honest with himself. He really, truly liked it here at Benden, and especially Falloner. He had never had a best friend before.
He felt his mother smoothing his hair. “Do you miss the Hall?” she asked.
“Not when I get my lessons from you,” he said, grinning up at
her. “You’re harder on me than Master Washell or Kubisa.”
“I am, am I?”
“And it’s great to have you to myself,” he added and felt her hand hesitate.
“But you don’t, Robie,” she said, and her voice sounded so funny that he looked up at her to see why. He caught the hint of her frown.
“You share me with Benden Hold and all its students.”
He thought that over for a moment. “Yes, but it’s not the same.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said very slowly. “However, you and I must do some practising so we’ll show them our mettle.”
Later, Robinton told Falloner about the invitation. “Will you be
coming up too?” he asked, practically dancing in his delight.
“Me? No, why should I be?” “But … but … but …”