"You didn't ask," Robinton said, grinning.
"You been waiting to show Maizella up?"
"Not waiting," Robinton said, bouncing the large goal ball. There was a hoop set on a pole, and the aim was to see how often one could get the ball through the hoop each go. Rob was pretty good at goal ball but, just as he was aiming, he saw the dragons flying in a distant formation and missed the hoop entirely.
Falloner intercepted the ball from Hayon's hopeful hand and lobbed it neatly through the hoop, catching it deftly and returning to the white line to toss again.
Robinton ignored all that, keeping his eyes on the rapidly disappearing V of dragons.
"Better get used to seeing "em in the sky, or you'll never get a turn at goal ball," Falloner said on their way back to the classroom after their recess.
"I suppose, you're used to it," Robinton said, "but to see them like that, the way the music says – well, that was special to me."
Falloner gave his friend an odd look. "Yes, I guess it would be. Just like you singing as good as any harper I've ever heard is a surprise for me. Say, let's scare the watchwher!" He grinned from ear to ear.
Robinton stared at him. "But you're weyrbred."
"So what? They're not dragons, and it's good fun to see how loud you can make it so' Falloner never finished that sentence, because Robinton head-butted him to the dirt and then flopped down on his chest, holding a fist in readiness.
"I don't let watchwhers get teased, not at Fort, or the Hall, or here!" he said in a loud and forceful voice. "Say you won't?" And he cocked his arm further, ready to strike.
"But it's not hurting them ..."
"If they scream, they hurt. Promise?"
"Sure, whatever you say, Rob."
"You mean it?"
"On my hope of riding a dragon!" Falloner said fervently. "Now let me up. I've a stone digging in my ribs."
Robinton gave his friend a hand up and then brushed him off.
"Just don't let me catch you breaking your word."
"I gave it to you!" Falloner said in a surly tone. "Don't know what's got into you."
"I just don't like to hear them scream." Robinton gave a convulsive shake. "Goes right through my ears and down to my heel-bones. Like chalk on a slate."
"It does?" Now Falloner gave himself a shake at the thought of that sound. "Doesn't me, but ..." He held up his hands defensively as Robinton made a fist again. I'll keep my word." He shook his head, though. Robinton's unexpected behaviour was beyond his comprehension.
There were, of course, other teachers at the Hold to cope with the basic reading, writing and figuring which all children were obliged to learn before their twelfth year. After that, they would take up apprenticeships to whatever Hall their inclination suited them, or go on in their family Hold's work. With a large Hold like Benden, there were enough pupils to be divided by age and ability. But all had their hour of daily musical training with the MasterSinger.
Without ever calling attention to the assignment, Merelan had her son teaching some of the younger children their scales and how to read music, since he was actually well ahead of whatever Falloner and Hayon had learned from the Hold's previous harper.
Robinton never minded such duties. He liked seeing the little ones learn more quickly because he knew exactly how to get them to do it – the way he had with Lexey. In the privacy of their own quarters, his mother tutored him at his own pace and encouraged him to use one of the instruments when he was composing. For he still wrote music. He couldn't not write. Tunes, especially when he saw dragons in the sky, just pushed against his temples until he had to put them down. And, accustomed as he had become to not mentioning this activity, no one – not even Falloner – knew that the songs merelan was teaching them had been composed by Robinton.
"This isn't like the Harper Hall, Robie," she explained carefully the day before she introduced the first of his melodies, "where everyone knows you. I don't want to put you at a disadvantage. Do you understand what I mean?"
Robinton thought a moment. "Yeah, Maizella would go all tissy about having to sing something I wrote." And he made his grin as understanding as he could. "Can we tell her someday, though, Mother?" he added wistfully.
She ruffled his hair. "I can promise you that, my love. When it seems auspicious."
"That means "favourable", doesn't it?"
She chuckled. "It does ..."
"Harpers use that word a lot."
"Harpering is not just knowing the words and melody to a lot of songs ...
"And not just knowing when to sing them, either." He finished the saying for her.
She tilted his face up to her and regarded him with a very pensive expression on her face. "I think, my darling son, that you are going to make a splendid harper."
"I plan to," he said, grinning impishly at her.
She gave him a quick hug and then asked to see the lessons she had set him in contrapuntal theory.
A few evenings later, Merelan asked Maizella to sing a new song after dinner. At first the conversations didn't abate, but gradually a respectful silence rewarded the noticeable improvement in both tone and volume. Maizella sat down flushed with achievement and didn't notice that the applause was more from relief than approval.
Then Merelan had her and Robinton sing the duet they had practised in class.
By now, Merelan had identified other good voices in the Hold, and gradually the evenings featured four-part harmonies and the addition of several more instruments, as well as more new songs and a far larger chorus.
Then, about six seven-days after their arrival at Benden, Falloner told Robinton that the Weyrleaders were coming to the Hold with some of the wingleaders and their women.
"They come often?" Robinton asked, awed. Would his mother ask him to sing for the dragonriders? There would surely be music after dinner.
Falloner shrugged. "Often enough. S'loner and Lord Maidir get along really well because Benden believes in the dragonriders and Carola, who's Weyrwoman, is the daughter of Hayara's oldest sister. So they're kin."
"S'loner?" Robinton couldn't help gawking at his friend. He knew how weyrfolk named children – generally using some part of the father's as well as the mother's name. "Your father's the Weyrleader?"
"Yeah." Falloner gave an indifferent shrug. Then he grinned at Robinton's startled expression. "That's one reason why I'm sure to Impress a bronze, and why I'll get the chance to stand on the Hatching Ground as long as there're eggs clutched. There've been a lot of Weyrleaders in my lineage." He straightened up proudly.
"And I'm here because I'm supposed to learn more than I'd get taught at the Weyr since we don't have a Hall-trained harper. If I'm going to lead the Weyr in the next Fall, I've got to know more than the average bronze rider, haven't I?"
"I guess you have," Robinton murmured, still trying to cope with the status of his friend.
"Ah, don't go looking at me like that, will ya, Robie?" And Falloner gave his shoulder a friendly buffet.
When they were in their own quarters, Robinton had to tell his mother.
"I knew that, dear, and it's one reason I encourage your friendship with him. Falloner's a good-hearted lad and intelligent enough to want to learn. I feel that it's very important for you to have this chance to get to know something about how the Weyr operates.
Especially as we only have the one now." She looked off into the middle distance for a long moment.
"Isn't that what the Question Song is about?"
"I didn't know you knew about that one," she said almost sharply, staring at him. "How did you come across it?"
"Oh, when I was copying out some of the worm-eaten music in the Archives. Master Ogolly says I write with a good, neat hand, you know." He preened slightly.
"Yes, I do know, love." She finger-stroked a parting into his thick dark hair. "Do you know the music?"
"Of course I do, Mother," he said, mildly indignant. She, of all people, should know that he memorized music after on
e hearing or one reading.
"Yes, you would, wouldn't you, dear." She gave a final pat to his hair. "Well, run over it in your mind. It might be suitable for tonight. And a treble voice would make it more poignant, I think. Yes, rehearse it, Robie."
Falloner was not at the head table as Robinton had thought he might be, since S'loner was his father. Carola was not his mother and, as Falloner took his usual place next to Robinton, he muttered something about her disliking S'loner's weyrlings.
"Aren't weyrlings small dragons?"
"Yes," Falloner said with a little snort. "Applied to us," he explained, sticking his thumb into his chest, "it's not a compliment.
All she can get is girls... when she has anything."
Robinton nodded and decided maybe now wasn't the time to ask more questions about the Weyr. Besides, the special dinner was being served: special even for those at the lower table, since Nerat had sent up fresh red-fruits and other delicacies, transported a-dragonback.
Robinton watched with awe as the great beasts, having deposited riders and burdens in the courtyard, rose to the top of Benden's cliff, spacing themselves along the fire heights. The golden queen, Feyrith, settled in the exact centre, the other ten dragons, including her weyrmate, settled on either side of her, like guardians. Which was silly, because there wasn't anything on the entire planet that would attack a queen, much less eleven dragons.
Robinton thought they were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen as they peered down at the courtyard, their beautiful faceted eyes gleaming in the late spring evening. He hadn't thought "bronze' could come in so many different shadings.
Cortath ? Kilminth ? Spakinth ? he thought daringly.
No one answered his tentative query. Well, maybe none of the bronzes he had spoken to before were on the heights. He could scarcely pick out individual features from this distance. Or maybe because they were guarding the queen, they couldn't talk to a little boy.
The evening entertainment was almost more splendid than the meal which had preceded it. Not only were there acrobats, but a man who made things disappear – and reappear from behind Raid's ear or Maizella's sleeve – or produced the world's smallest canine from his cloak or a tiny tunnel snake from under the cap on his head.
When everyone had settled down again after that diversion, Merelan signalled for the group of singers and players she had been practising with to take their places. Robinton hurried to join them.
The Duty Song, which was one of the first Teaching Ballads taught by any harper to a class, should be sung in honour of any drug-onrider guests: Robinton had heard it practised prior to every Gather. From the quick look he shot at the Weyrleaders, they were expecting it, but they hadn't foreseen a proper instrumental accompaniment.
Nor the quality of the soloists. Robinton waited for his mother's signal and sang the first verse, noting the surprise on S'loner's face. So Robinton sang the words with all his heart for this special audience.
S'loner kept right on smiling and tapped out the rhythm as the chorus came to "from those dangers that are by the dragons braved'. The applause was suitably enthusiastic, his loud clapping leading the others.
Then Maizella stepped forward from her place in the chorus.
Robinton heard the rustle: dismay or annoyance. They were in for a surprise too, now that his mother had taken the girl in hand.
Instead of planting herself in a defiant way, as if to indicate that she was going to sing and everyone had better listen to her, she came to the front in a quiet and professional manner and then looked to Merelan, who was accompanying her on the gitar.
Robinton couldn't miss Weyrwoman Carola's expression – total dismay – until Maizella started singing. Even S'loner regarded the girl with a pleased look and murmured something to Maidir, who nodded and smiled back.
Maizella sang harmony to the chorus of the song, which had three more verses. The hearty applause was certainly as much an improvement as her performance, and there was a nice rumble of remarks as she stepped back.
Merelan beckoned for the rest of the chorus to attend her signal, and they sang a ballad which was new in the Harper Hall and had such a beat to it that, before long, everyone was stamping or clapping to the rhythm.
The band played new music and although Robinton caught a few sour notes, he knew how hard they'd worked. A few more rehearsals and performances and they'd be as good as any Gather band. But he was glad he'd be singing with just his mother to accompany him. And he was next: at her gesture he came to her side. Flute in one hand, she put her other arm around his shoulders as she made her introductory remarks.
"This song is very old and, although it's supposed to be in every harper's repertoire, it has lately been sadly neglected. I don't find it even in the very comprehensive Benden Library, so it's about time I reintroduced it to you all." She smiled at the audience. "You children will be learning it next week, so listen closely." With that she put the mouthpiece to her lips and nodded to her son.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the weyrfolk fled?
Where have dragons gone together?
Leaving Weyrs to wind and weather?
Setting herd-beasts free of tether?
Gone, our safeguards, gone but whither?
Have they flown to some new Weyr
When cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh, why, the empty Weyr ?
There was a stunned silence when Robinton let the last note die away and his mother lowered the flute. Almost an embarrassing silence, and yet he knew he had sung it well. Everyone looked at the pair of them as if they couldn't believe their ears.
Then there was the noise of a chair scraping and S'loner rose to his feet, his expression almost severe.
"I thank you, MasterSinger, for the beautiful rendition of the classic Question Song." And he inclined his body to them both with the greatest respect. "It has haunted every Benden Weydeader for generations. I learned it as a weyrling, but I haven't heard it in ...
oh, decades now. I think it needs to be heard more often. Maybe someone will find its answer."
"Then, S'loner, do you believe that Thread will return?" asked a man, rising from the far end of the head table. Robinton hadn't seen him before, but he must be a Benden holder of some prosperity to judge by his clothing and where he was seated.
Robinton was close enough to see Carola tug at S'loner's sleeve, her brows drawn together in a scowl. Rob glanced over to where Falloner still sat, and saw an eager expression on his friend's face.
The entire audience seemed to hold their breaths.
"We've another fifty turns to go before the Star Stones will tell us yea or nay, my friend. But the dragons are here and Benden keeps up its strength. That is the pledge we made to Hold and Hall when the first dragon cracked its shell. It is one that I, and every Weyrleader after me, will keep!" Then he bowed again to Merelan, caught Robinton's eyes briefly and sat down.
Quickly then, Merelan gestured for the instrumentalists to strike up a merry tune. That was also the signal for the drudges to come and clear the tables, to make space for dancing in the centre of the Hall. There was a lot more talking while the tables were cleared, dismantled and stored to one side, chairs rearranged and the younger children taken off to their beds.
Robinton was playing hand-drum for the early sessions of the dancing, so he didn't get a chance to speak to Falloner that evening.
But the next morning in music class, the moment he and his mother entered the room Falloner leaped on him, hauling him by his shirt to one side.
"Who told you to sing that?" he demanded in a harsh whisper, his expression intense, almost accusing.
"Mother," Robinton said, having hoped to hear something else from his best friend: like, "You sang that well."
"Shards, but it had Carola going!" Falloner grinned. "S'loner must've
been over the moons with delight. Our old harper – the one before C'gan – didn't know it and couldn't find it even when S'loner made him hunt through the Records for it. He only knew that he'd learned it. It's possible G'ranad, the Weyrleader before him, struck it out of our Teaching."
"It's back in Harper Hall Records," Robinton said. "I had to copy it out several times for harpers going off on assignment."
"Well, one thing sure, you made my father very happy."
"Why?"
"Because he knows -' Falloner paused significantly, his expression oddly intense, "– that Thread will come again. And he's fighting to get others to believe it. That song is a warning, as well as a question." He clapped Robinton on the back. "And I'll be following him, on a fighting bronze. Just you see if I'm not."
"But, even if Thread comes, it's not due for another fifty turns or more, and you and I will be old."
"Fifty isn't old when most dragonriders live to their tenth decade and better. Old M'odon's nearly one hundred and ten, and there's nothing decrepit about his brown Nigarth."
"Does he remember Threadfall?"
"Naw, he's too young for that, but his great-grandfather flew it." Just then Merelan called the class to order. "We're going to learn the new song today, the Question Song. Weyrleader S'loner particularly asked me to teach it. Robinton, if you'll sing it again for us so we can start learning the melody, we will honour that request, as we should honour all dragons and their riders."
Five days later a green rider came with an invitation for the MasterSinger and her son to dine at the Weyr and, if she would be so kind, to bring some of the new music that had been heard in Benden Hold.
Robinton was never sure if it was because he had sung the Question Song or because the Weyrleaders wanted his mother to sing more for them.
"Of course it means I'm to sing, love," she said, grinning at her son, "so we'll take instruments with us. But I'm glad that you've been invited, too. I've wanted you to see Benden Weyr." She paused and then winked conspiratorially at him. "Then, when you have to spend the night up at Fort Weyr, you won't be the least bit scared."
The Master Harper of Pern Page 11
