Simanith, the next time F’lon does that, would you please give me a second’s warning? Robinton asked. He’d had little occasion to initiate conversations with Simanith, so he wasn’t sure if the bronze would hear him.
I will try to remember since you don’t like falling. At least Simanith sounded reasonably apologetic, which somewhat mollified Robinton.
Not above another display, F’lon had Simanith glide in a lazy spiral down to the Harper Hall courtyard, making certain that their arrival was witnessed. By the time Simanith had folded his wings to his back, a welcoming committee had gathered on the steps.
Robinton would really have preferred a less public arrival. His mother, who did look well to his searching gaze, was standing by Lorra, who had her arm about the shoulders of a very pretty, tall brunette who looked somewhat familiar. Kubisa and Master Ogolly completed the smiling group. Glancing up at the rehearsal room where Petiron spent so much time, Robinton could neither see nor hear any activity. He breathed a sigh of relief and then dismounted, striding to the steps to embrace his mother.
She was not quite as frail in his arms as when he had bid her goodbye three turns before, but there were a lot of white streaks in her carefully braided hair and he thought her face looked more lined. Those marks of ageing disturbed him terribly – he didn’t like to think of his mother growing old. But he hid his fears with smiles and all the glib, silly phrases people say when renewing contact.
In the fuss to thank them all for coming, he kept glancing at the very pretty brunette who was also pretending to be composed, a state belied by the flush that kept coming and going on her cheeks.
Then he put a name to her face.
“The turns have done you well, Silvina,” he said, holding out a
hand to Lorra’s youngest daughter while still embracing his mother.
“And you’re not so bad yourself now, Harper,” she said pertly, grinning.
“You’ve filled out a great deal,” Merelan said, patting his chest and feeling the muscles in his arm. “You’re even taller,” she added with a sort of accusatory wonder, as if he had no right to alter his appearance while separated from her.
“Master Lobira worked me hard,” he said, pretending weariness.
“Nonsense,” Kubisa said in her forthright fashion. “You look in fine shape. In fact, you’ve improved quite a bit.”
Betrice appeared in the doorway. “Ah, he has come. Good.
Lorra’s laid a spread for you, and we’re all waiting to see if she’s done you proud. Come in, come in, Robie.” She grabbed his hand away from Silvina and led him in.
Robinton released his mother only when they were in the small dining room and he could settle her in a chair Just as he was about to seat himself, Master Ogolly came rushing in.
“Oh, I did want to be on time,” the Archivist said peevishly. “My dear boy, it’s so good to see you!” Then he looked at the laden table and beamed. “How marvellous. I’ll just stop for a cup of klah, and maybe one of those little cakes, but I’ve got such clumsies as apprentices this Turn. You don’t know how much I miss your neat copying, Robie. Oh, I should give you your full name now, shouldn’t I, Journeyman Robinton?”
“You can call me what you will, Master Ogolly. I’m always yours to command.”
“Master Gennell will want to see you sometime this afternoon, Rob,” Betrice said, “when his class is over”
“Any ideas about where I’m to be posted next?” He winked at Betrice to assure her that he didn’t expect her to tell him.
“Oh, we’ll keep you busy enough,” she assured him with a mock scowl.
The conversation went to general topics, such as who had been posted where, and Robinton asked after his old dorm-mates who now were journeymen too, and heard about Shonagar’s latest wrestling successes. That made him think of Fax.
“What’s wrong, Rob?” his mother asked, a gentle hand on his arm, as she caught his change of mood.
“Nothing,” he said. His response didn’t fool her, but he didn’t