For once robbed of words, Robinton scooped the two items off the table and, pivoting on one heel, strode out of the office, wanting very much to slam the door behind him.
Without a word to anyone, as much because he was embarrassed and furious about his dismissal, he went up to his rooms and packed his things. He had to visit the schoolroom, where Maizella was rehearsing the secondary children; she must have known about his dismissal, because she only glanced up to see who was entering the room, then averted her eyes, saying nothing to him, continuing to listen to the recitations. He collected all his music and notes; and though he smiled at his former pupils, he said nothing.
Better to leave it at that, he thought, as he ran up the Tower steps three at a time. He was breathless at the top, but he had also worked off some of the frustration and anger he felt at such an unfair dismissal. Raid was just too inexperienced to realize how he offended his holders, or that a harper could be a good resource for management.
Hayon was on watch and smiled as Robinton entered. But whatever he was about to say by way of greeting died before he could sound it.
“I’m allowed to send a message,” Robinton said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. He picked up the sticks and rattled out a terse request for conveyance. Hayon’s eyes widened and he looked about to speak again, but held his peace.
It was awkward, waiting there for a response from the Weyr, but Robinton was not in a mood to placate anyone and Hayon was sensitive enough to feel it. The journeyman sank back down on the stool and waited, sipping at his klah during the interminable time it took for the distant drums to sound. A dragon would be there presently.
“All right, what’s wrong, Rob?” Hayon asked finally.
“Your brother does not find me a suitable harper.”
Hayon regarded him steadily. “My half-brother’, he said with a deliberate emphasis on the degree of the relationship, “sometimes does not use the wits he was born with. If he was. Does he know all that you do to calm down the experienced holders he keeps insulting?”
“That is precisely why I am to leave, Hayon. Tell Lady Hayara I’m sorry to go …
“She’ll really miss you,” Hayon said staunchly.
“I certainly don’t envy her. Nor you.”
Hayon gave a little smile. “I’ll survive. At least, I’ve always known that I would have to.”
“There’s that,” Robinton said and extended his hand, which Hayon clasped heartily in both of his.
“Tell you one thing, Maizella’s going to miss you at her espousal.”
“I think not,” Robinton said, but he smiled without rancour.
“Here comes your dragon. Oh, and if it’s F’lon, warn him that my brother’s raging over him paying so much attention to Naprila.”
“Oh?” Robinton had missed that. No, Lord Raid would not want his half-sister seeing too much of a dragonrider, though he rather thought that Lord Maidir would have been receptive.
Maidir had known that life in a Weyr could be preferable to working a hold.
When Hayon rose to escort Robinton down the stairs, the journeyman shook his head. “Let’s not give Raid any cause for complaint about my departure. I want out as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.”
Hayon chuckled. “You will have to work hard to be inconspicuous, Rob. I shall miss you badly.”
With a final nod of thanks, Robinton started down, collected his carisaks from his room and made his way down the main stairs and out of the door without seeing anyone.
F’lon and Simanith had come for him. Robinton did see Raid at the office window, watching him sling his things up to F’lon to arrange on Simanith’s back. Then, with a good leap of his long legs, he made it to Simanith’s cocked forearm and grabbed F’lon’s gloved hand to help him the rest of the way.
“Sacked you, did he?” said F’lon, grinning and tossing an airy wave in the direction of the office window.
“Did you know he would?” Robinton asked, wondering how he had missed the change in Raid’s attitude.