“Well, we won’t go into that any further since, in effect, the entire Hall has fostered you – and your talent.” When Robinton ducked his head with embarrassment, Master Gennell prodded his knee. “Modesty is all very well and good, Robinton, but don’t let it get in your way.”
Robinton didn’t know what to do and looked around the comfortable office for inspiration. His glance caught the map with its little coloured pegs signifying the position of journeymen and Masters across the continent. There were many places without pegs, which meant they were waiting to be assigned a harper.
“Sir, I like teaching,” he said, pointing to the map, “and I’ve had good results with those I’ve tutored.”
“Not that all those unassigned holdings would accept a harper if I had one to assign them,” Gennell said drolly. And when Robinton looked apprehensive, he added with a sigh, “There are some holds who profess not to require the services we provide.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Robinton said, appalled. Not want to learn how to read, and write, and reckon? How could people get along in life without such basic skills?
“Believe it, Rob,” Gennell said, shifting in his chair “At least, since there are so many still who do, we’re not in any danger of going empty the way the Weyrs did.” He cleared his throat, and moved records about on his desk. “You may discover that not everyone respects harpers as we would like them to. However, to a happier topic, would you take on a purely teaching assignment?”
Robinton shifted again, this time with excitement. He knew his roommates thought him daft to enjoy teaching – lighting the dimwits, they called it. But Robinton never saw the task as a chore. He looked for the end result, the bright smile of understanding on a student’s face when knowledge suddenly seeped in.
“I think I’d like that, sir.” He took a surreptitious glance at the map but then realized a fact. “But, Master Gennell, who’s going to take instruction from someone only fifteen? I know I’m well grown, but …” He flicked his hands out in a helpless gesture.
“If you’re assigned to work under a more experienced teacher, you’d be welcome anywhere,” Gennell said, rubbing his chin, “especially if you promise me to continue writing those songs and ballads.”
Robinton flushed. “I can’t seem to stop writing them,” he said meekly.
“Good. We need to freshen up the repertoire with catchy tunes and musical nonsense. People like to whistle a tune, like to sing a new song and find harmonies. You’re good at that. I expect you to continue.”
“As long as it’s all right …” Robinton said in an almost unintelligible murmur.
“It is more than “all right”, Robinton, it is essential. Now, stop colouring up like a glowbasket. Learn to take honest praise with the same dignity with which you’ve received criticism.” Abruptly, Gennell cleared his throat. “Well, that’s decided, but I wanted to know if you wished to stay on in the Hall. We’d find something to keep you busy if you did, though your mother’s much better since she came back.”
Robinton met Master Gennell’s concerned grey eyes and gave a grateful smile. “I’m your apprentice, sir; you can assign me where you will. Where I’d do some good.” What he didn’t add hung in the air: Because I can’t do any good here.
“Well then, that’s settled. I’ll see who can use an assistant harper.”
Robinton was still trying to absorb this astonishing news when he found himself out in the corridor.
To be utterly truthful, he looked forward to leaving the Harper Hall and getting away from the constant censorious glances of his father. Privately he thought this was what cher, you’d be welcome anywhere,” Gennell said, rubbing his chin, “especially if you promise me to continue writing those songs and ballads.”
Robinton flushed. “I can’t seem to stop writing them,” he said meekly.
“Good. We need to freshen up the repertoire with catchy tunes and musical nonsense. People like to whistle a tune, like to sing a new song and find harmonies. You’re good at that. I expect you to continue.”