“Well, you are both. I’ve heard you, Journeyman—”
He interrupted her. “Your parents will not object to you espousing a harper? I intend to get my Mastery, but it does mean we’ll do a lot of travelling. Will they mind?”
“And a sea captain doesn’t travel? A harper doesn’t encounter the same sort of hazards—’ She stopped there, her eyes darkening with the sorrow Robinton had hoped he had lifted for ever.
“I don’t know about that,” he said into the pause, speaking lightly
and trying to restore the happy mood they had been enjoying.
“Sorry, Rob.”
“No need to be … love,” he said, experimenting with using the word in her presence.
“That’s what I especially love about you, Rob. Your perceptions and understanding. Merdine … was not an understanding man.
Not the way you are. And I think – on balance – that’s very important in creating a good harmony for a long life together.”
They would have explored that topic much further except that they both heard voices along the hallway outside the workshop.
They had straightened themselves and their clothing, and Robinton pretended to tighten a string on the harp. The voices talked on, their
owners continued past the workshop. But that interlude was over.
TI1 carry it for you,” Robinton said.
“Then we will both explain its significance to my sister,” she said firmly. “Not that she’ll need much explanation when we walk in with this beautiful instrument.”
Nor did they. Juvana was delighted, saying this was the best birthing day gift her little sister could possibly have. There wasn’t another harper in the family, so it was about time there was one.
“Melongel’s been wondering when you would declare yourself, Robinton,” she added, giving him a sly sideways glance.
“And what gave him the need to wonder?” Robinton asked. He had prided himself on keeping his feelings under control.
“Oh, I thought he should consider the matter,” Juvana said airily,
“especially since my baby sister has been sighing over you for some time. He won’t object.”
Melongel didn’t. He already knew of the Telgar Blood connection of Petiron, and the fact that Merelan was a MasterSinger of Pern-wide prestige made no bar to an espousal.
“But the summer’s ahead of us, the busiest season for journeymen harpers,” he said more severely, since he did not permit pleasure to interfere with duty. “Autumn Equinox would be a better time for espousal than Summer Solstice. We will, however, announce the pact tonight and spare Robinton competition for dances.”
Melongel could not spare Robinton either the teasing or the envy of those who had also hoped to espouse Kasia. But the public announcement of their intention made their lives far more comfortable.
Rob had sent a formal announcement to his parents – at Juvana’s suggestion.
“Mothers need to know such things, Robinton,” she said, smiling with just a touch of maternal condescension. “You’re old enough to choose your own partner, but even if your relations with your father are poor, you should include him.”
Robinton stared at her, shocked. He’d never mentioned anything about his father.
“That’s just it, Rob,” Kasia put in gently, touching his arm and peering into his face. “You don’t mention Petiron, ever. But you mention your mother at least forty times a day.”
“I don’t … that’s exaggeration,” he said, but he relaxed and smiled at her teasing. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t admire Petiron’s music …”
“That’s what I meant,” Juvana said. “He’s never your father.
Always Petiron.” She paused, watching the shock on his face. “It gives a clue to those who have your good interests at heart. Not something a casual person would look for.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Then, too, I’ve met your father and I agree: he’s a remarkable composer. It’s your songs, however, that everyone sings.”
Robinton didn’t know what to say, since he had no idea that he had given himself away simply by not mentioning a subject.
“You’ve heard me go on and on about my father,” Kasia said, now earnestly trying to ease the shock of their casual disclosure.
“Mind you, I can see why he’d be hard to emulate.”