“Didn’t realize Gifflen got you.”
“Giflen?
“That was the man’s name. I’d marked him as a troublemaker.
He’s been thrown out of several holds and his apprentice hall for provoking fights and bullying. He’s killed often. I preferred that he didn’t walk away from this one.”
Robinton nodded in agreement. “More would thank you if they knew. I thank you.”
“Clever of you to shout like that. Stirred them all to their senses.”
Robinton exhaled, remembering. “We’ve all become soft, you know. Letting someone else take the blame or do the disagreeable.”
“That’s why Fax controls as many holds as he does.” Nip’s tone was harsh. “Rob, you’ve got to shake the Lord holders awake before he takes another one.”
“I’ve done what I can. Groghe’s training men, so is Oterel and,
after this, Tarathel will be wary.”
“What about Kale at Ruatha?”
“I plan to see him on my way back.”
“How soon before you could travel a-dragonback?”
“I think I’ve lost that privilege.”
“No.” Nip shook his head. “Drum C’gan. He’ll come any time.
Too bad F’lon’s sons aren’t a little older.”
Robinton frowned. “I haven’t had a chance to get to know them, not as I did their father. R’gul keeps the Weyr so much to itself. I should go…”
“You should not. You should get to Ruatha Hold as fast as you can.” Then Nip was on his feet and at the door. “See you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Nip, where …” But the door was already closing silently behind the man.
Despite the fellis and the numbweed, it took Robinton a long while to sleep again.
Tarathel reluctantly let him start the journey back to the Harper Hall two days later when an equally reluctant Hold Healer permitted it. The Lord Holder sent six men as escort.
“Don’t be a fool, Master Robinton,” Tarathel said, scowling.
“The Hall may have played down the attacks made on harpers over the last few Turns, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t known. And Gifflen’s attack on you was inexcusable. I’ve even heard that Evenek was lured to Crom at Fax’s instigation, so he could make him an example.” He paused, his voice becoming more gentle. “Did Evenek ever play again?”
“He can play. He’ll never sing again.”
“Well, then,” Tarathel said, stern again, “you’ll travel back from here without incident and as I deem you should go – with an escort.” So Robinton accepted, though he would rather have travelled on his own, because he was certain that the men would have orders to keep to a reasonable pace in deference to his injury.
There was nothing reasonable about his urgent need to talk sense into Kale. He wished that the Ruathan Holder had been at the Gather, but his spouse had recently given birth to a son, so he had remained at his Hold. The other Lord Holders who had been present had received salutary shocks: the murder of a dragonrider, an attack on a MasterHarper, and then Fax’s rejection of Tarathel’s valid judgment on the assassin. Robinton was sure he wasn’t the only one who had trouble remembering that such a word – assassin – existed in the vocabulary.
“An escort is necessary, MasterHarper Robinton,” Tarathel said, scowling. “It is bad enough that you were attacked at all. I fear a man so lost to honour as Fax has proved himself would not hesitate to make an attempt on your life again if you were not close-guarded.”
“He has scarcely had time to return to—’ Robinton paused.
“I will believe anything of that man now,” said Tarathel. “You’d do well to limit your wanderings, MasterHarper, or ride with an escort.”
“Limit my wanderings? That I cannot in conscience do – not
now.”
“Be careful then, Robinton.” Tarathel pressed his hand warningly against Robinton’s uninjured shoulder. “I’ve put one of my best runner-beasts at your disposal.”
Robinton thanked the Lord Holder … though he wasn’t so sure how thankful he should be when he tried to mount it. Three men had to hold the black’s head. Once he was in the saddle, the animal became obedient … at least to Robinton. No one on foot could get near enough to hand the harper his saddlebags. After that, his gear was attached to the saddle when the runner was tacked – and even that took several men.