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. But that’s because the cliff doesn’t have that many caves, so they’ve used the local stone to build sturdy, Threadproof housing.”
Robinton looked at him sharply. This was the first time anyone had mentioned Thread.
“Hmmm, yes, young harper, I believe we’ll see Thread again,” Minnarden said solemnly. “I’ve read too much in the Archives to think Pern will escape its return … in due time. Are you of my mind? Which, I must add, is not shared by many, including Melongel, though he’s a well-read man.”
“The dragons told me. And I’ve friends in the Weyr…” Robinton admitted hesitantly. But if Minnarden believed Thread would return, he wouldn’t object to Robinton’s friendship with a dragonrider.
“Keep them. Cherish them,” Minnarden said. Then he cocked his head to one side. “Is that why young Lord Raid let you go?” He held up his hand when Robinton moved uneasily in the chair “I know, I know. If you believe in anything – anything – keep that faith. Now,” he went on, rising, “if you’ve any questions after you’ve settled in, I prefer my harpers talking to me rather than complaining to each other. One last item, though, since this Hold’s main source of income is from fishing, I’d like it if you could see your way clear to learn as much of this different lifestyle as you could. Never hurts. Even the hull of a ship has two sides.”
Robinton groaned: he was getting mighty tired of that reference !
But he had to grin at Minnarden, who was clearly delighted with his new journeyman’s adventure.
Minnarden then retrieved from the shelf behind him a squared-off, leather-bound record book and slid it across the table to Robinton.
“If you haven’t memorized the Charter, you’d better, and study the examples of some of the more common infractions.” Minnarden grinned. “That aspect of our job can be quite interesting at times …” He paused to sigh. “And at others, about as infuriating as dealing with the dumbest, most insubordinate, mentally deficient adolescent male.” Melongel’s middle children – he had nine – were part of the chores group that Robinton was to rehearse. Bright, intelligent and curious, the two boys and one girl were musical enough so that any of the three could have apprenticed in the Harper Hall. His oldest, just a turn younger than Robinton, was Oterel – a rangy, awkward lad needing to grow into his bones. Oterel was delighted to have Groghe share both his room and his duties, for he already had stewardship responsibilities, which went more swiftly with help.
And then there was Kasia, Lady Juvana’s youngest sister, who was living at Tillek Hold.
Robinton felt a decided attraction at his first meeting with the attractive young woman. In the previous Turn, she had tragically lost her lover to a storm at sea off Nerat coast, half a month before their espousal. Her parents had sent her to Juvana to ease her grief.
It was the aura of sadness which caught his eye, the sorrow that lurked in her lovely sea-green eyes. And the tremulous smile which, only occasionally, briefly lifted it. But she was cheerful, helpful and kind, with a real understanding of the trials of her younger nieces and nephews. She was obviously their confidante, as well as her sister’s. She had comprehensive recollection and was able to come out with astonishing bits and pieces of information which she had tunnelled away in her retentive memory.