Melongel frowned. “I know of several holders who have asked for dispensation on their tithes because of increases in dependants.” He shuffled through some hides. “I didn’t know the women had been made homeless. Or that they’d come from High Reaches.”
Robinton cleared his throat, coming to the most dubious part of
what Chochol had told him. “The women said that they had been driven out of holds. Chochol said that some of the younger ones had been badly handled. That they thought Lord Faroguy must be dead for such things to happen.”
Melongel scowled, fixing Robinton with a glance which many
would have been unable to meet.
“You believe Chochol?”
“I do, because I know there is a very ambitious man in High Reaches who will try to claim succession for himself… when Lord Faroguy dies.”
“Does this ambitious man have a name?”
Something in Melongel’s eyes suggested to Robinton that the
Lord Holder knew to whom he was referring.
“Fax.”
“That nephew of Faroguy?” Melongel looked away from Robinton for a long moment. “I think I shall ask Faroguy to join us for the Gather. As you have served him, he might wish to come.”
That suggestion was more than Robinton had hoped for. But Chochol’s tale had revived suspicions he had once thought groundless.
“Ah, here,” Melongel said, tweaking a hide from the pile and glancing down at the text. “I’ll just see what I can find out. Two of these enlarged holders live near by.” He folded his hands across his chest, looking down at a point on the floor. Then he looked up again, giving Robinton a little smile. “Good report, Robinton. Well done. I’ve met that nephew and, quite frankly, I tagged him as ambitious, too. Would you say that Farevene is able for him?”
Robinton cleared his throat, struggling with being honest without being derogatory. “Let me say that I wouldn’t back Farevene in a wrestling match with Fax.”
“Frankly, nor would I, but I know Farevene has been well trained to succeed his father, and I would certainly not confirm Fax in his place.”
Robinton let out a relieved breath through his lips and said nothing more.
Melongel grinned more broadly now. “Go on, lad. I know you’re eager to spend time with Kasia after being so long away. One more thing: you’ll be on the panel of the Gather Day Court with Minnarden and myself.”
Inwardly, Robinton groaned – once more the wall incident was raising its head, even if he was appreciative of the honour just accorded him. Minnarden had been very pleased with his application to the study of the Charter and his understanding of the principles of mediation and adjudication. This would be his first time to sit on a Hold Court panel. Kasia would be pleased, even if he wasn’t.
“I doubt it will be a long session, Rob, and certainly won’t cut into your espousal in the afternoon.”
With a clap on the shoulder, Melongel finally dismissed him.
“At the Gather Court? Oh, Rob, that is an honour,” Kasia exclaimed when he told her, her eyes wide. Then she giggled. “Melongel really likes you.”
“He’s working my butt-end off,” Robinton said in an unrepentant growl. “i’ll be all morning listening to troublemakers’ excuses and deciding fines for minor infractions.”
“Keep you from being nervous about the afternoon,” she said, teasingly.
“Ha! The morning’ll make me worse. Having to sit through Court will give me indigestion, having to listen to all those half-truths and alibis …” He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair, which had a soothing effect on his disturbed digestion. Kissing her provoked other sensations, and once again he didn’t get around to mentioning the Sonata to Sea-Green Eyes.
Of course, the longer he delayed, the harder it was going to be to work in a playing of it before the Gather. And suddenly he wasn’t at all sure of its worth. It was definitely the most serious music he had ever written, and he was quite unsure of its merit. He could be fooling himself. It wasn’t as if he could play for a critical listener, like Minnarden, who had seen the rest of his travel songs and liked them. They were insignificant compared with the sonata – if it was any good at all. Yet whenever he heard the music in his head, it thrilled him, and he felt a tremendous lift at the finale of the last movement. Like making love. And that’s what he wanted people to hear when they listened to it – the crescendo which was also an orgasm.