The Master Harper of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  And then there was Kasia, Lady Juvana's youngest sister, who was living at Tillek Hold.

  Robinton felt a decided attraction at his first meeting with the attractive young woman. In the previous Turn, she had tragically lost her lover to a storm at sea off Nerat coast, half a month before their espousal. Her parents had sent her to Juvana to ease her grief.

  It was the aura of sadness which caught his eye, the sorrow that lurked in her lovely sea-green eyes. And the tremulous smile which, only occasionally, briefly lifted it. But she was cheerful, helpful and kind, with a real understanding of the trials of her younger nieces and nephews. She was obviously their confidante, as well as her sister's. She had comprehensive recollection and was able to come out with astonishing bits and pieces of information which she had tunnelled away in her retentive memory.

  "I just remember things," she said with a little shrug when Robinton asked her if she knew all the words to an old Teaching Song, one he was revitalizing. Which she did – word perfect. "I can't say why I know that particular ballad, but you'll find it on the second shelf from the top on the right-hand side of the library."

  And sure enough, there it was, with Kasia grinning with delight at her accuracy: an occasion when the sadness disappeared. He became determined to lift the shadow completely. He was chagrined to discover that he was not the only young man in the Hold who had the same ambition, including his fellow harpers.

  Robinton was only twenty, a fact he kept hidden since he didn't look so young and could cite five turns of active harpering.

  Neither Mumolon nor Ifor knew that he had been fifteen when he walked the tables to collect his journeyman's knot. Minnarden knew, and probably Melongel, but his youth was not a factor in assigning him difficult tasks – especially after the wall incident. If Ifor and Mumolon suspected, it didn't matter to them as he performed his duties too well to encourage criticism.

  Kasia was several turns older – and looked younger: except for the harboured grief. However, that age difference and her continued mourning for her lost lover were the reasons why Robinton was hesitant in discovering if the sudden, keen attraction was mutual. Their ordinary tasks often brought them together. In that he was luckier than the others who sighed over her.

  He contented himself with enjoying her company, her bright humour, her lovingness, and sparring with her in duels of memory and, often, song. She had had excellent training: she sang with a sweet light soprano and played fiddle and pipe. She was envious of his harp, which she played middling well, not having an instrument of her own. So he concocted the notion of making one for her in his spare time. Tillek's port shipped quantities of timber, as well as storing it for the building of hulls. He made himself agreeable to the local MasterCarver, an accomplished carpenter named Marlifin who was only too happy, when requested, to find him well-seasoned and unusual woods. Tillek Hold had a well-equipped workshop, as most large establishments did, so Robinton had only to start his project. He did ask Marlifin to do the carving of the forepillar in patterns of the flowers which Kasia had said she loved. Robinton couldn't carve fancywork without mining a lot of good wood, and this harp had to be special. It was going to take long enough as it was. After several faulty starts and not a few cuts on his hands, he did manage to carve the harmonic curve and the neck, which would hold the pegs to tune the strings of the harp ... when he got that far.

  He also took Minnarden's advice to learn more about a fishing hold and found great favour with Melongel, and incidentally with Kasia, when he volunteered to go out on a fishing run with Captain Gostol, whom he had met at the Harper Hall. Kasia shipped out on the same voyage as galley cook and companion to Gostol's daughter, Vesna, who was going for her second's ticket. There were two other women in the crew of fourteen, for the Northern Maid was the length of a queen dragon. The female sailors surprised Robinton. Being harper-trained, he was accustomed to women having equal status as performers and composers, but it had never occurred to him that other Crafts also promoted women to positions of trust and responsibility. He was astonished to find them fishing, since that was a hard life: he discovered just how hard on that trip. Fortunately his immunity to sea-sickness was a great mark in his favour. He straggled to help lower and haul in the trawling nets, slipped on fish guts, laughed when he got up covered with gore and slime – and was teased for the stench of him until the job was done and he could change. If he wasn't considered able to stand a watch, he was available to heat soup or klah in the galley for those who did.

  Of course, Kasia's post was the galley, though she was also a dab hand at gutting and salting the catch. So they had time to talk.

  He was as subtle as he could be, light-hearted, and finding odd bits and pieces of humorous things to tell her, to dispel the sadness which still lurked. And of an evening, or sailing to another likely spot to fish, he would manage to place himself close to her while they helped pass the time by singing. He toned down his heavier baritone to blend with her light voice in duets or choruses. He also picked up a few local work-songs, favoured by the Tillek Fishmen.

  The most vivid memory he had of that seven-day was the sight of ship fish who were in the habit, Captain Gostol said, of accompanying the fishing vessels.

  "That's old Scarface, that is," the captain said, pointing to one whose bottle-nose was indeed scarred. "Got hisself caught somewhere."

  "Are they singing?" Robinton asked, hearing sounds when the leaping shipfish were airborne.

  "New, just the sounds they make, shooting the air out of them blow holes," Gostol said. "Though I've known instances when a man blown overboard's been rescued by "em." He paused and tilted his head mid-ships. "Storm was too fierce to save that "un's man. Shame, too. Good fisher. Nice girl. She shouldn't pine too long, ya think?" And now he cocked his head at Robinton, a sly grin on his rugged, weather-worn face.

  Robinton laughed. "Considering how many fellows come round to see her at Tillek Hold, it's only a question of her pointing a willing finger."

  "So you say, do you?" Then Gostol pointed. "She's got another young'un since last time I saw her. That one with the mottled rostrum. See her?"

  The shipfish was in fact almost hovering in the air, squeaking, crackling at the humans, who she knew were admiring her. Her baby, half her size, was doing its best to match her leap.

  "Do the same ones swim in these waters all the time?"

  "Think so. Recognize "em certainly." The captain gave an uncharacteristic sigh. "Like watching them. Sometimes," he said, leaning his forearms on the rail, "I think they sort of' – he made a slanting motion with his thick-fingered tight hand – "ease us one way or t'other, and we follow, "cos they seem to know where the fish are schooling."

  "Really?" Robinton leaned his arms on the rail too, as if he could get closer to the leaping shipfish who were still clicking and squeaking at him, almost as if they were saying something he just couldn't quite catch.

  "They're good luck, they are. No fishman ignores them. Always give "em something from each net." The captain stood up, peering over the rail, his stance alert. "Watch! Yup! We're sailing tight into a mess a' bordos. Good eating, bordo. Good for saltin'." And he started forward, shouting orders to the crew to be ready to drop the nets.

  Robinton could actually see the school over the starboard side of the Northern Maid. The sleek thick bodies were grey-striped, as long as his forearm, with bulging eyes on either side of their blunt heads. He'd never seen such a concentration of fish. Oh, he'd fished as a child down at Pietie Hold but had never seen a multitude.

  However did they wend their way without accident? Did they have a leader' the way some of the herd-beasts did? Or an instinct similar to dragons, who never interfered with each other even when they came out of between in wing formation? He was fascinated.

  When Gostol roared out the command to lower the nets, Robinton went forward to lend a hand.

  That was actually the last fair day of the run, for the clouds closed in and they had to work in a driving ra
in, making a difficult job even more arduous. Robinton was exhausted, his muscles protesting their abuse and his hands raw. So, when they finally had time to relax over a late meal and he was asked to play, he brought out his faithful pipe as being the easiest for his sore fingers.

  He could not help but be relieved when they sailed back into the deep natural harbour which made Tillek the best port on the long western coast. There were long rows of terraced cots carved out -or built out from – the several levels of cliff above the harbour.

  Some fishmen could anchor their ships right in front of their cot-holds. Floats that rose and fell with the tides gave access to stairs, some cut deeply into the cliffside.

  As the Northern Maid slid past the breakwaters which extended the arms of the U-shaped harbour, folk waved to the sailors who were making right and tight the sheets and lines, preparatory to docking. Gostol was allowing his second to bring his ship in, and Robinton, knowing how important it was for Vesna to complete the manoeuvre satisfactorily, was holding his breath for her when Kasia joined him. She had changed from her rough-weather gear into a long skirt and a thick woolien jumper against the chilly wind; her hair was newly braided. Her eyes didn't seem quite as shadowed.

  Maybe she had sailed with them to dissipate the last vestiges of her sorrow for Merdine. She had actually mentioned his name at one point during the voyage.

  "Breathe, Rob," she said, laughing at him and lightly clasping her hands around his left arm.

  The use of a short name for him made him catch his breath twice in a row. Did that mean she liked him?

  "Will she make it?" he asked. Kasia had more experience with such things than he.

  "The ship's just making enough way, so that I think she'll nudge the dock and come to a full stop. Which is exactly what she should do."

  The Northern Maid did seem to be moving but imperceptibly, the smallest hint of a wake visible on this side of the bow.

  Kasia laughed, leaning into him, as he unconsciously exhaled as if his breath could give the ship just that touch more forward motion. They were nearly broadside of the fishing dock, their destination. Seamen stood fore and aft on the Maid's deck, ready with mooring lines. They'd already put out the buffers. Men and women on the dock were edging forward, to catch the lines and snag them on the bollards, eager to proceed with unloading the perishable cargo.

  Time seemed suspended as the Maid drifted more and more slowly until she just barely touched the dock and slid along it, the protective bumpers kissing the dock edge, coming to a final halt as the mooring lines were secured with deft loopings which stopped all movement with just the least little jar.

  Kasia let go of Robinton's arm and clapped, shouting a "Well done" in the direction of Vesna at the wheel. There were other congratulatory roars, and Robinton grinned at Vesna's pantomime of wiping sweat from her brow. She was smiling happily.

  "Gostol's a hard taskmaster, but I'd say she's passed this test," Kasia said. "Let's go. They'll be at the unloading for hours, and I'm dying for a long hot soak. My hair must reek of fish and cooking oils."

  Since she hadn't spoken a word of complaint throughout the voyage, Robinton was surprised at the return of fastidiousness. Not that he wasn't just as eager for a bath as she.

  They'd given Gostol formal thanks and made farewells as the Maid was on her final tack into the harbour, so now they were free to disembark with carisaks of wet and dirty clothing over their shoulders.

  "There're worn spots on this wharf, Rob," she said as they started across the wooden expanse. "Watch where you go."

  "A mere several hundred turns old, Minnarden said."

  "A mere?" She tossed her head sideways, laughing at him, her sea-green eyes sparkling.

  They wove past the fish-factory workers, guiding their carts to the ship, and strode up the wide steps to the right and on to the wide road which led to the Hold.

  The day was overcast, rain threatening, but the roadway was bustling with people on their everyday activities. Many greeted the harper and Kasia without interrupting their progress. Occasionally their free hands touched, and Robinton was aware of each brush.

  He didn't dare look down at Kasia to see if she noticed the contact, but he did feel that the trip had been very worthwhile in cementing a relationship. A glow of satisfaction added to his contented sense of accomplishment.

  "Let's do it again, Rob, and soon," Kasia said, her face glowing.

  "You're a good sailor, and Captain Gostol said he'd take you on board any time you wanted to lend a hand."

  "I'll sail again, any time, with you," he said, grinning down at her and, daringly, caught her hand in his, squeezing it a trifle and eager to see her reaction to such a familiarity.

  She squeezed right back. "I can't wait to get clean," she exclaimed and raced up the steps to the Hold so he had to follow with more haste than dignity.

  In fact, she seemed intent on leaving him behind as she careened into the hall and then around to the first flight of steps. They had two more to go before they were on their level. She was half a step ahead of him as they reached the top landing, breathless with laughter and the climb. She turned, grinning at her success and he paused on the next-to-last step – their faces on a level. He didn't think – he just caught her about the waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

  He hadn't known he was going to before he did, and as she leaned into him, arms about his neck, he was thrilled that she didn't reject him. It was the sweetest of kisses but far too short because, hearing steps coming down one of the halls, they broke apart. Kasia whirled, flashing him a brilliant smile, and dashed off to her apartment, leaving him more breathless than ever but surely the happiest man in the Hold at that moment.

  All during his bath, which he was half tempted to shorten so that he could search Kasia out that much sooner, he fantasized about their possible future together. After all, a journeyman harper who was going for his Mastery was a good match to make, even for a Holder's Blood. And his father had Telgar Blood. They couldn't fault his mother's achievements as a MasterSinger. He could always make instruments for extra marks. His contract with Tilek Hold was fair enough for a single man; he felt he could rely on Lord Melongel's basic sense of fair play to make an adjustment for an espoused, especially one espoused to kin. He could finish his contract here, and make certain his next one improved enough to support a spouse.

  Since Kasia was Blood kin to the Lady Holder, they could expect to receive larger quarters for an espoused pair, and there were rooms available. He chided himself for such thoughts on the one hand and, on the other, relished the joy of having them.

  Since he suspected Kasia would take her time bathing off the brine and fish oils, he forced himself to be as thorough. The colour of the water and the thin slick of oil suggested that he was wise to soak. His hands stung a bit from the soap-sand, and he'd several broken nails as well as various scrapes and nicks. Nothing that wouldn't heal. Salt water was good to clean wounds, even little ones.

  So he tended to his appearance and nails as he dressed in clean, warm clothes. He must see about getting some new things. These were all old: serviceable, but not exactly stylish. Clostan, the Hold's healer, was always so well turned out that he might ask the man which tailor he used in Tillek. Clean at last, Robinton became conscious of the reek from the carisak of dirty clothing. He'd take it down to the washroom himself rather than have it contaminate his quarters. After all, maybe Kasia... and he cut short that delightful thought, although the prospect might be possible.

  He was apologizing to the old auntie in charge of the laundry drudges for the state of his clothes and she was grinning toothlessly up at him, when light steps on the stairs alerted him to Kasia's arrival with her bundle. Their eyes met, and he was sure he was blushing at the intensity of her gaze. That her cheeks reddened, too, was an excellent sign.

  "Juvana wants to hear how we fared, Robinton," Kasia said, almost formal in manner. She passed over her clothing to the auntie, all too casual, and th
e woman's grin broadened as she looked from one to the other.

  "Well, by all means let us relate our adventures," he said as blandly as he could, and taking her arm in his with a grand gesture – at which the auntie cackled – he led her up the stairs.

  This time they did not race but walked slowly, eyes meeting when their legs brushed as they climbed the steps. At the top, Robinton was almost trembling. Oh, he'd sung lover songs and knew the various degrees of loving as well as the next harper. But to be himself immersed in precisely what the lyrics described was another experience entirely. To see Kasia responding to him was an even greater miracle.

  They spent an hour with Juvana and helped her to sort mending yarns, allowing their hands to meet in the process. Robinton knew how to spin out a good tale about his inadequacies on board a working ship, while Kasia loyally corrected him with her version of the mattel

  "I have considerably more respect for fishmen now, I assure you, Lady Juvana," he said when the bell sounded for the midday meal.

  "D'you think Gostol will give Vesna her ticket now?" Juvana asked Kasia as they made their way down to the dining hall.

  "I know he was pleased with her docking ... stylish and accurate," Kasia said after a pause to consider her answer. "And she certainly knows her craft. Is she after the new hull in the shipyard?"

  "Which joumeyman isn't?" Juvana said in a droll tone. "Now you're back, will you help me with fitting the children's new clothes?"

  "Did you get the borders all done?"

  "I didn't waste my time while you were having fun sailing ..."

  "Fun?" Kasia protested, giving her sister a stern look. "In the weather we had?"

  Robinton felt left out of this exchange, but told himself not to be silly. Just because he was besotted with Kasia, it didn't mean he could expect her undivided attention. And she might not wish to ascribe more to that quick kiss than the whimsy of the moment.

  Gloomily he added to himself that it might only have been the elation of getting home. There were other men, as he'd told Gostol, who showed a keen interest in Kasia. What did he, a journeyman harper, really have to offer a girl of good Blood?