Clearly audible was the distant startled reply:
“Master?”
“REPORT, PIEMUR!”
“Thank goodness we put him on a ship to rest,” Brekke said, smiling at the Weyrwoman. “Can you imagine the time we’d have had with him on land?”
“What you two cannot appreciate is how much my momentary disability has set back some very important-”
“Momentary disability?” Fandarel’s eyes protruded in amazement. “My dear Robinton-”
“Master Robinton?” Menolly took a cup from the crowded cabinet, a beautiful glass goblet, its base stained harper blue, its cup incised with the Master’s name and a harp. “Have you seen this?” She held it out to him, her eyes round with approval.
“My word, harper blue!” Robinton took and examined the beautiful thing.
“From my crafthall,” Fandarel said, beaming. “Mermal thought to tint the entire glass blue but I argued that you would prefer to see the red of Benden wine in a clear cup.”
Robinton’s eyes gleamed with appreciation and gratitude as he examined the cup carefully. Then his long face fell into a sorrowful expression.
“But it’s empty,” he said in a plaintive, mournful tone.
At that moment a commotion started in the kitchen corner of the Hold. The curtain was flung roughly aside as Piemur, all but losing his balance in an effort not to careen into Brekke, lurched into the room.
“Master?” he gasped.
“Ah, yes, Piemur,” the Harper drawled, eyeing his young journeyman as if he had momentarily forgotten why he had summoned the young man. The two regarded each other steadily, a puzzled frown on the Harper’s face while Piemur’s chest heaved as he panted, blinking sweat from his eyes. “Piemur, you’ve been here long enough to know where they store the wine? I’ve been given this lovely goblet and it’s empty!”
Piemur blinked again and then shook his head slowly and said to the room at large, “There’s nothing wrong with him anymore! And if that roast wherry bums …” He gave the Harper a thoroughly disgusted look, turned on his heel, whipped aside the curtain and could be heard noisily opening doors.
Jaxom caught Menolly’s eye and she winked at him. Piemur’s gruff manner and cracking voice had not disguised his emotion to those who knew him. He stamped back into the main hall, swinging a wineskin, with Benden wax on its stopper.
“Don’t swing it, lad,” the Harper cried, holding up a restraining hand at such sacrilegious treatment. “Wine must be handled with respect …” He took the skin from Piemur and peered at the seal. “Hmmm, One of the better vintages! Tsk, tsk, Piemur, have you learned nothing from me of how to treat wine?” He made a grimace as he expertly cracked the seal and sighed with relief as he saw the condition of the stopper’s end. He passed it under his nose, sniffing delicately. “Ah! Yes! Beautiful! Took no harm from its travel! There’s a good lad, Piemur, pour for us all, will you, please? I can see this Hold is admirably supplied with cups.”
Jaxom and Menolly were already distributing them as Piemur, with the courtesy due good Benden vintages, poured. The Harper, holding his cup high, watched the ceremony with growing impatience.
“Your continued good health, my friend.” Fandarel proposed the toast which was repeated firmly by everyone.
“I am truly overwhelmed by all this,” the Harper said, giving strength to his claim by taking only a small sip of the excellent wine. He looked from one to another of his friends, nodding his head and then shaking it. “Truly overwhelmed!”
“You haven’t seen everything yet, Robinton,” Lessa said and took him by the hand. “Brekke, you come see, too. Piemur, Jaxom, bring the bundles.”
“Not so fast, Lessa. I’ll spill the wine!” The Harper watched his glass as Lessa pulled him behind her.
He was guided through the sliding panel into the small corridor that separated the main Hall from the sleeping quarters. Brekke followed, her face alight with keen interest and curiosity.
The Harper’s sleeping room was the largest, occupying the comer opposite his workroom. Four more sleeping rooms had been furnished to accommodate two guests in each but, as Lessa pointed out, the porch itself could comfortably sleep half a Hold of guests. Not that Robinton was to be allowed that many. He expressed pleasure at the bathing room and was suitably impressed by the large kitchen, and dutifully peered at the auxiliary hearth outside. He sniffed as the aroma of roasting meat wafted on the sea breeze. “Where’s that being done, might I ask?”