“You are related to MasterSinger Merelan?” Silvina asked as she poured klah and passed around the sweetener.
“We were very proud of her, we were, Silvina,” Rantou replied proudly. “We all were,” Silvina said and her warm smile included the newest recruit to the Harper Hall, who grinned shyly back at her as she passed him the plate of cakes.
Sebell settled in, a quiet lad but endlessly curious about things musical. He kept appearing to ask if Robinton needed anything, until everyone took it for granted that he was Robinton’s shadow.
Sebell also began .to play with Camo, trying to get him to hold a drumstick and use it properly on the little drum Robinton had made for him. Seeing the two together caused Robinton some heartache, but he could no more ask Sebell to leave his son alone than be could ignore Sebell’s deft and discreet services.
“The lad’s so kind to Camo,” Silvina remarked one evening to him. “He’s not like the other apprentices, helter-skelter and rough, and he seems so genuinely fond of Camo’ She broke off and regarded Robinton closely. “You know, you’ve a true son of your heart in Sebell, Rob. In fact,” she added, cocking her head, “Sebell’s not the only apprentice who adores you, Rob. Don’t hesitate to give them the love which Camo cannot return. They deserve it, each in their own way, so you’re taking nothing from Camo.”
“I wish I could give the child something,” Robinton said wistfully.
“Oh, you do. He always smiles when he hears your voice.”
On reflection he realized that Silvina’s remark about concentrating on his many “sons’ was sound advice. So he stopped yearning for what Camo could never do and, as his mother did, accepted the boy’s cheerful smile and praised him for what progress he made: learning to walk, learning to feed himself, learning to do simple tasks. Sebell, as often as not, helping him.
Robinton had occasional visits from F’lon, especially after Nemorth deposited a very good clutch on the Hatching Ground sands. Not triple her last clutch, but a respectable twenty-four.
Sometimes when he asked for conveyance a-dragonback, F’lon would send the Weyrsinger, C’gan, but Robinton was just as glad to see the young-faced Weyrsinger. C’gan’s infallible good nature was a tonic in itself. In fact, it was C’gan who came to collect the MasterHarper for his first official attendance at a Benden Weyr Hatching. Such an event happened all too infrequently. Harper Records spoke of many more in former times – before the five Weyrs disappeared.
“The older lad’s well grown but, frankly, I think Manora’s son’s a bit young,” C’gan informed the MasterHarper as they hurried to blue Tagath, waiting impatiently in the courtyard. The blue rider had given the MasterHarper only moments to change into appropriate finery, and now he half-boosted him to Tagath’s back. “But F’lon was not going to risk not having both sons dragonriders. No, he wasn’t. And it’s true we don’t have as many clutches. Nor as many eggs in “em as we should do. That Nemorth’s too fat to fly.
Up you go!”
“Good day, Tagath,” Robinton said, stroking the blue shoulder as he settled himself between neck ridges. He tried to find the best place for his gitar and ended up cradling it in his arms behind C’gan.
Tagath turned his head round to look at Robinton. Hatching is always a good day, Harper.
“He answered me!” Robinton said, delighted. He grinned at C’gan.
“Ah, he’s not much of a talker, is Tagath. Even to me. I think you surprised him, Harper. Does him good.”
Robinton felt his neck snap, and his nose connected with the tuning knobs of the gitar as Tagath made a mighty leap skyward.
The power in those blue haunches was formidable. Robinton had time to finger his nose and establish that it wasn’t bleeding before he heard C’gan give the command to go between.
Then they were hanging above Benden Weyr and Robinton caught his breath. The Bowl was alive with people streaming into the Hatching Ground and dragons weaving up to and disappearing down the upper tunnel to where they could watch Impression.
Dragon eyes gleamed with the brightest of blues and greens, flashed with the yellows of excitement.