“He’ll learn, young Raid will,” Melongel said after Robinton had been candid with him. “His loss, Tillek’s gain. Come, meet my Lady and my tribe of promising Bloods. Master Minnarden’s off doing an arbitration service for me, so you’ll have to wait to hear what your precise duties are here. However, I’ll warn you now that I like to change journeymen every three or four turns, so don’t take it personally when either Minnarden or I suggest we make a change.”
Robinton grinned back, liking the man’s manner: a refreshing change from the two much older Lords he had served, and a decided relief after Raid’s didacticism. Melongel was in his prime, active and vigorous, with ragged good looks, though not quite as tall as his harper. He seemed to have time to attend to all his duties and still go out with the fishing fleet from time to time. Since Tillek Hold not only hosted the FishCraftHall but the MasterFishman, and did most of the western shipbuilding, Melongel thoroughly understood the needs of that Craft as well as the agriculture and forestry which made Tillek a profitable Hold. He had even qualified for his captaincy, but had never taken a command. On one cruise around the Southern Sea to Nerat, Melongel had found a major Holder’s daughter, espoused her, and carried her back to his Hold. Robinton heard him call that the most profitable journey he’d ever made.
When Master Minnarden returned two days later, he welcomed his new journeyman effusively, with reminiscences of earlier days spent at the Harper Hall and duets sung with the MasterSinger Merelan. Robinton held his breath, but the MasterHarper did not embarrass him in front of the other two journeymen with tales of Merelan’s little boy.
“I understand you’re very patient with the slow, and I’ve several here I’d like to see you bring up to the level the others are at. With one it may not be possible. But if you can do anything, his parents and I would be grateful.”
Robinton murmured something polite.
“To offset that chore, I’d like you to take the singers of the Hold for choral practice. I’ve had to do so much mediation lately, that I’ve had to give up a steady progression for them. You’ll stand the necessary Drum Tower watches.” At that, Minnarden grimaced, for the long hours of listening and little action were a penance for most harpers, who tended to be gregarious by nature. “If you can find a couple of lads in the Hold to train up to drumming, I’d be grateful.
Shorten our hours. I’ve not had the time, and neither Mumolon nor Ifor has the top rating you got from the Hall DrumMaster.”
Again Robinton nodded. He had had the advantage of being raised in the Harper Hall and learning to decipher messages long before he took the actual course.
“The usual evening divertissements, but we trade off.” Then Master Minnarden looked quizzically at him. “Bring any new songs with you?” When Robinton smiled in assent, Minnarden sighed with relief. “Both Mumolon and Ifor are good harpers, excellent teachers, but couldn’t compose if you gave them words and music to put together. That’s your special skill, I understand … and don’t turn modest on me.”
Robinton chuckled.
“You’re quartered well?”
Robinton bowed his head gratefully, for he had an outside room,
small but private, with a window facing east and a bath next door.
“Need anything?” Robinton shook his head.
“Good. Tillek is not as much a warren as many big Holds. Bd be grateful.”
Robinton murmured something polite.
“To offset that chore, I’d like you to take the singers of the Hold for choral practice. I’ve had to do so much mediation lately, that I’ve had to give up a steady progression for them. You’ll stand the necessary Drum Tower watches.” At that, Minnarden grimaced, for the long hours of listening and little action were a penance for most harpers, who tended to be gregarious by nature. “If you can find a couple of lads in the Hold to train up to drumming, I’d be grateful.
Shorten our hours. I’ve not had the time, and neither Mumolon nor Ifor has the top rating you got from the Hall DrumMaster.”