The highlight of his second turn as an apprentice came in the spring. Robinton was in the semi-basement workshop at the front end of the Hall rectangle when suddenly a bronze dragon landed in the centre of the courtyard and the rider cupped his hands and yelled, “Robinton? Robinton!Apprentice Robinton.t’ That final call was almost a taunt, coming out in a singsong tone.
“By the First Egg! It’s you the dragonrider wants, Rob,” Master Bosler said.
Robinton peered out of the half-window and saw nothing but bronze dragon feet and belly. “May I go?”
“My dear boy, if a dragonrider calls for anyone,” the Master said, grinning, “that person had better hop it… Off with you!”
Robinton raced up the steps and out of the right-hand door into the courtyard. “I’m here, F’lon.t’ he yelled, racing across the courtyard to the bronze, who had craned his neck round, eyes bright blue and whirling with excitement.
“I told you i’d come…” and F’lon modified his tone as he dismounted gracefully to meet his old friend, embracing him in his eagerness.
Once again, Rob was struck by F’lon’s unusual amber eyes, which sparkled with delight.
“You also told me you’d Impress bronze…” Rob looked politely at the watching dragon. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind?”
The dragon blinked.
“Ah, he’s shy.” F’lon’s wicked smile belied that. “His name is Simanith.” The dragon put his head close to his rider’s body, his eyes on Robinton. “You can always speak to my friend Robinton, if you want. He’s going to be MasterHarper – when he gets old enough.”
“Now, wait a minute!” Robinton exclaimed, holding up his hands defensively and laughing at the very thought. MasterHarper was not only a position he had no desire for but one his father would certainly veto.
“Dream, man, that you make Harper. I dreamed and look…” F’lon gestured dramatically at Simanith – a broad, proud grin nearly splitting his face in two.
“I was in the Drum Tower when the news came in, and I got permission to find out who Impressed bronze, so I’ve known,” Rob told his friend.
“And never sent me word.”?” F’lon scowled in mock disgust as he stripped off the close-fitting riding helmet.
“Well, you’re not supposed to send private messages. I got the whole list though, Rangul and Sellel…”
F’lon wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, R’gul and S’lel are bronze riders, too, though why they were picked out of those presented I will never know.” He rubbed at his sweaty hair. “Hey, you’ve got tall.”
Robinton stepped back to sweep his friend with an appraising look. “You’re not short yourself.”
F’lon turned sideways and tapped his shoulder. Obediently Robinton stood back to back with him. F’lon’s hand proved their heads were on the same level.
“Going to grow any more.”?” F’lon asked.
Robinton laughed, partly out of elation that F’lon had remembered his promise and partly because they were the object of much attention from the windows overlooking the courtyard – including, Robinton realized, stifling a groan, the rehearsal hall where his father was working with the chorus. He also caught a glimpse of Lorra, standing on the steps of the Hall and beckoning to him. And then he saw her youngest daughter, Silvina, running across the courtyard towards them. She skidded to a stop and passed the dragon at a more decorous pace.
“Mother… says… he must have… hospitality…” she said, catching her breath and looking awed to be so close to dragon and rider.
“This is my friend from Benden Weyr who is now bronze rider, F’lon,” Rob said, daring to clap F’lon on the back to show that a dragonrider would allow him such familiarity. “This is Silvina, whose mother makes the best cakes and pastries in the world.”
“Well,” F’lon said, rubbing his hands together appreciatively, “a dragonrider never refuses hospitality!” He paused, looking directly at Simanith. “He’ll wait for me on the heights. Plenty of sun today.”
Simanith sprang up after his rider and Robinton reached the steps, and yet his wings still flung dirt and gravel at them.
“Is riding a dragon as good as you thought it would be?” Rob asked shyly as they entered the Hall.