Harpers, of course, were different, and he shouldn’t judge one by another’s standards. Yet … that didn’t make it easier being his father’s son.
He completed all his projects and passed all the examinations that would promote him to the rank of journeyman by the time he was halfway through his third Turn of training. Of course, he had had a head start, having begun his training so much sooner than any of the other lads in his group, who learned to come to him for help with any difficulties in their studies or their projects. Not even Lear teased him about his competence because, by the time they reached Third with him, they knew all about his problems with his father -and sympathized – and they all adored his mother. That was easier for Robinton to deal with: he adored her, too. But he knew, if his father didn’t, that every performance took more out of her than it should. He even took his worry to MasterHealer Ginia, when Maizella told him his mother had fainted after one intense rehearsal prior to the Spring Equinox Gather at Fort.
“I really don’t know what’s ailing her, Rob,” Ginia said, frowning slightly, “though I’ve made her promise to take the remainder of the summer off and rest. Let Petiron handle whatever vocal training has to be done—’ She shot him a searching look. “Or you.” Her expression softened and she patted his hand. “You almost do anyway, from what I’ve heard.”
Robinton sat up straighter in the chair, alarmed. All he needed was for his father to know about his coaching some of the chorus …
“Now, don’t fret. Your father notices only what he wishes, and he certainly has not seen what’s happening to Merelan.”
“But you don’t know what is happening,” Robinton protested.
“I know that she needs rest, a lack of tension – you know how your mother is before a performance, learning new music …” He nodded, because she often worked herself as hard bringing the soloists up to the level Petiron expected as he did his instrumentalists and chorus.
“I think a summer down in South Boll with her family, with absolutely no performances and responsibilities, will see her right.
It has been a very hard winter.”
She patted Robinton’s hand again. “You’re a good son, Rob, and your concern does you credit. Now, I’ll keep you informed, but you
help me in getting her to take a good long rest, will you?”
“Have you spoken to Master Gennell?”
“Repeatedly,” Ginia said, pursing her full mouth with indignation.
“But we all know that the Spring Equinox is important in our calendar and had better go off with no problems …” She rose, a signal that their interview was at an end, and smiled at him. “You should go with her and be sure she eats well and rests every day.”
“I’ll try.” And he’d take F’lon up on his offer to fly MasterSinger Merelan anywhere.
As it happened, he didn’t go with his mother: his father did.
Merelan collapsed after singing the exacting solo at the end of the Equinox Ceremony, and Petiron could no longer ignore the fact that his spouse was ill.
Robinton did send the drum message, requesting F’lon’s assistance, and he did help his mother on to Simanith’s back. He had to step away as his father mounted behind her. The fact that his father looked distinctly nervous, anxious and worried did not at all alleviate his own fears for her. Just this once – he sent his thoughts at his father -just this once, think of her first!
An hour later, F’lon returned and, over a cool juice drink and more of Lorra’s light pastries, gave details of how he had installed Merelan in the cliffside dwelling with its splendid view of the sea, and how Petiron had hovered like an old wherry, fussing until F’lon was sure he’d drive Merelan insane with his attentions. Her youngest sister had appealed to her spouse to take the man away and let Merelan rest, and promised to see that Merelan did do so.
“She was upset when she saw your mother. I remember her being slight at Benden but not … not … frail,” F’lon said, glancing at Lorra, who nodded.