He completed his summer tour of the upper holds, although sometimes the folk – in expressing their sympathy for his loss – caused him more pain than they knew. Chochol’s hold was enlarged by several tents, sheltering a contingent of armed men who patrolled the high ground.
“More coming in all the time,” Chochol told Robinton in a lugubrious voice, shaking his head at the terror which drove them from their holds. “Someone ought to do something about that man.
They say he’s got six, seven spouses, all of “em pregnant.” Then he chuckled and his droll face lit up. “Can’t seem to get himself a son.” Robinton laughed too. “We don’t need more of his ilk!”
So he was there when Lobira and Lotricia managed to make good their escape, escorted by a small, thin man whom Robinton thought he recognized from his Hall days. But he couldn’t be sure.
The man had no distinguishing features, being quiet and capable but self-effacing.
“Don’t I recognize you from the Hall?” Robinton asked him much later when he found the man by himself, stuffing food into his carisak. By then, Robinton had heard Lobira’s account of the last Turn and a half.
“You may, and again you may not, Robinton. Just forget you’ve
ever seen me. That’s the safest thing. I’m going back, as you see.” “Why? You’ve brought Lobira and Lotricia safely out.”
“I’m going to try for Mallan next. I think I know where I might find him.”
“Why? What happened to him?”
Lobira and Lotricia had had enough warning to be able to escape the Hold before Fax could arrest them. Mallan had not been so lucky.
“Fax doesn’t waste anything. Even a loathsome harper can work
for his living. If you call that work … or living.”
“What?” Robinton was insistent.
“The mines. The mines always need live bodies.”
Robinton felt a shiver of fear shoot up his spine. Mallan’s hands would be ruined, digging in rock.
“I’ll find him, never fear, Robinton,” the man said, pressing the harper’s hand firmly, and then he was off down the hills on the High Reaches side, disappearing into the falling dusk.
Robinton and two men escorted the thin, weary Master and his spouse to the next hold, where he stayed to teach while they went forward as fast as they could travel comfortably. Robinton thought of Lotricia, a shadow of her once plump and generous self, and the plates of food she had brought him and Mallan, and hated Fax more than ever – if that was possible.
Returning to Tillek Hold was almost more than he could bear. He hadn’t minded the long journeys between holds, the teaching, even the focus of his thoughts – Kasia’s beautiful sea-green eyes, her laugh, her body, the peace she had given him. But seeing the Hold again in the bright afternoon light, remembering with what hopes he had come back the previous Turn, he almost turned his runner aside.
When he came to give Melongel his formal report, the Lord Holder put it to one side.
“I saw your face when you came back … brother,” he said, “and it decided me. Just being here in Tillek is making it worse, not helping.
I’m releasing you from our contract. Master Gennell agrees that you should return to the Harper Hall where you won’t always be reminded … of Kasia.”
Numbed by the suddenness of that decision and yet grateful that it had been made for him, Robinton nodded. Melongel rose; so did Robinton.
“There is always room for… our brother… here at Tillek Hold, any time you care to claim it,” the Lord Holder said formally and held out his hand. “I think Master Gennell wants you to bring that good Ruathan runner back with you.” He gave a little smile. “Young Groghe’s to go home too. You can keep each other company. He’ll
make a good Lord Holder when he inherits.”
“He’ll be wary of Fax, too.”
Melongel’s eyebrows rose and his eyes caught Robinton’s. “Yes, he will, and that’s all to the good.”
Two mornings later, having allowed his runner a good rest, Robinton rode south with Groghe, retracing their original route and spending two days with Sucho, Tortole and their family. He had Saday’s bowl with him, and showed her how much he treasured it.