Masterharper of Pern (2 page)

Gennell had once looked at the Records kept in the Archives of both the Harper Hall and Fort Hold and there was only the one entry, shortly after the end of the last Pass.

“The MasterHarper was asked to Fort Weyr this fifth day of the seventh month, first Turn after Pass End.”

That was it: short and cryptic. In other similar instances when the MasterHarper was called to the Weyr, a fuller explanation was given.

The next entry was by the then-MasterHarper, Creline, dated a full two months later when Fort Hold’s tithe train duly arrived with supplies and found the Weyr abandoned, and nothing but broken pottery on the top of the midden heap. Other Holders had noticed that their flags requesting dragon assistance had gone unanswered and, while annoyed by the discourtesy, people were far too involved in relaxing after fifty Turns of ground-crew duty to wonder much about the absence of dragons from the skies. It was enough that Thread was gone.

A Conclave had been convened when it became all too apparent that five of the six Weyrs were empty. Benden’s two Weyrleaders were mystified as well, truly surprised by the abandonment, and by Benden’s being the only remaining Weyr.

Many theories had been put forth. A favorite claimed that a mysterious disease had spread through the five Weyrs, killing both dragons and riders. But that didn’t account for the missing weyrfolk or the absence of every stick and stitch belonging to them. Benden Weyr had even sent a wing, with reliable Hold and Hall passengers, to scan the Southern Continent in case all five Weyrs had—for some unknown reason—decided to resettle south, despite the hazards of that country.

The matter was under discussion, often heated, for Turns afterward and no one the wiser for all the talk.

Then Creline performed a new work, which he called the Question Song, and which was to be included in the compulsory Teaching Ballads. Gennell had made a mental note to return the song to that category since someone—he wouldn’t like to point a finger—had let it drop out some time before he became MasterHarper. Such things happened: but they shouldn’t, considering the importance with which Creline had treated the work. Odd song. Haunting melody. Yes, worth reviving.

Another fifty-five Turns remained before Threadfall was due again. That is, Gennell amended to himself, if it
was
going to Fall again. Many believed Thread was gone forever. A common theory claimed that the Weyrs had been bound by some bizarre suicide pact, leaving only Benden to carry on the draconic traditions. That made no sense whatever to a thinking man. But at least he was unlikely to have to contend with
that
in his term as MasterHarper. With a sigh of relief, he firmly turned his mind toward sleep.

Merelan’s cough developed into a chest cold shortly after Turnover. Sniffles and coughs were prevalent during the beginning of any new Turn when the weather remained cold and snowy, and young Robinton and Petiron both suffered from colds, but they threw off the worst of the infection quickly. But Merelan’s cough seemed determined to linger, and she could rarely get through a vocal exercise without having to break off in a spasm. For the first time, Petiron became seriously worried about her health.

So did Betrice and Ginia, for the singer had quickly lost what weight she had gained after the baby’s birth—and more.

“You’ve really nothing big coming up in the way of rehearsals, have you?” Ginia asked Petiron privately after delivering another bottle of cough mixture for Merelan. With a certain degree of reluctance, he shook his head; had he not been sick, he most assuredly would have started composing something extravagant for the Spring Gathers.

“Well, then,” Ginia continued, “I happen to know the MasterHarper is looking for someone to provide basic instruction at a hold in South Boll. Not far from where Merelan was born. So why don’t you ask him to allow you to take the post? I believe the accommodations would be adequate for a small family like yours. The Ritecamp traders just arrived here, and their route takes you close by Pierie Hold.”

Before Petiron could produce a good reason why he couldn’t leave the Harper Hall at that time, he and his small family were on their way south, their baggage loaded on pack animals that Master Gennell ordered. He sent along two good Ruathan-bred mounts, as well. Master Sev Ritecamp was only too happy to oblige the Harper Hall and had agreed to take them to the very door of Pierie Hold.

“If Master Petiron wouldn’t mind taking some time of an evening to learn some of our youngsters their Teaching Ballads. They’re in dire need of some educating,” Sev had suggested very politely. “And maybe give us a new song or two in the evening around our fire.”

“That would be only fair,” Merelan said when Petiron was not as prompt as he could have been in agreeing. Then she winked at her spouse, knowing very well that he hated doing “basics” with beginners, while she enjoyed teaching the very young. So long as the children were taught, it really didn’t matter who did the teaching. As Mastersinger, she knew her Teaching Ballads and Songs as well as Petiron did.

The young daughter of the Ritecamps’ leader had a toddler the same age as Robie, though not, Merelan privately thought, as sturdy as her lad, but she doubted that Dalma would mind watching two who could amuse each other while Merelan taught.

MasterHarper Gennell was delighted to have a master to assign for however short a term. Betrice had a word with the Ritecamp healer about Merelan’s condition and waved farewell with the rest of the Hall.

Although the Ruathan runnerbeasts provided were well trained and easy riding, Merelan at first rode in Dalma’s efficient house-wagon, since she knew herself incapable of managing the antics of a mount right then. Petiron, less familiar with riding beasts, was more often on the lead wagon seat, talking to Sev Ritecamp or his father or his uncle or whoever was the day’s guide. Despite his forebodings and initial dismay, Petiron soon began to relax and enjoy the trip. Having overheard the favorable comments about the Ruathan breed, he offered Sev’s eldest son the chance to ride his mount, and consequently he found all the Ritecamp men more genial toward him. He even enjoyed the nightly music sessions, for almost everyone in the thirty wagons of the train played some instrument and could carry intricate parts. Many had good voices, and he found himself conducting four- and five-part harmonies to some of their favorite ballads and airs, as well as teaching them the newer songs.

“They’re nearly as good as fourth-year apprentices,” he said with some surprise to Merelan at the end of the third evening’s session.

“They do it for fun,” she said gently.

“There’s no reason they cannot do it better and have fun, too,” he said, not at all pleased at her subtle rebuke over his attempt to improve the harmonies.

“Now, hold still, while I put the salve on your face,” she went on, holding his chin firmly while she pasted his cheeks and nose with the remedy for the windburn he’d acquired.

With her that close to him, he could see she had more color in her pale cheeks, though she still coughed so hard it made him wince to think what damage she might be doing her vocal cords. But she didn’t seem quite as strained about the eyes and mouth as she had been.

“Are you all right, Mere?” he asked, holding her by the arms.

“Of course, I’m all right. Why, it’s an answer to one of my childhood dreams: going adventuring in a trader’s van.”

She favored him with the wide smile that put dimples in both cheeks, and she was more
his
Merelan than she had been since before her pregnancy. He folded her into his arms, hugging her—remembering to be gentle, as he felt how thin she still was in his embrace. That reminded him what he might not have, and he was about to put her firmly away from him when she clung tightly.

“It’s safe enough,” she murmured and he clasped her with a passion that he had been aching to express but had sternly repressed. He didn’t even have to worry about an inopportune interruption from the baby sleeping in the spare crib in Dalma’s wagon. So he loved Merelan with a single-minded urgency that had been denied him far too long. Nor was there any reluctance in her response to him.

The slow trip south was really a very good idea.

At some point during that ambling three-week journey to the southern tip of South Boll, Petiron realized that he had been nearly as strung out, emotionally and physically, as Merelan. Being in the Harper Hall, with music, musicians, and instruments constantly heard, caused one to think only of music to write for instruments and voices to perform. On the road, he was not compelled by the tacit competition rampant in the Harper Hall to produce yet more complex and glorious sounds. He had an opportunity for the first time since he had started his apprentice years to realize the richness—as well as the simplicity—of life all around him.

He’d come from Telgar Hold, one of the largest, so he had never really been short of the necessities of day-to-day existence. Living in the Harper Hall had been a continuation of his childhood’s conditions. He took so many things for granted that it was a lesson to him to be denied easy access to, say, the well-tanned hides for musical compositions that he was accustomed to covering with quick, large notations. Now he learned to write economically, using small marks that allowed him to fit more than one work on a single hide.

Eating was another thing he had never given much thought to. Food arrived in the Hall with no indication to those who dined of its acquisition or preparation. Now he learned to hunt and fish with the other men of the caravan, even as the women gathered firewood and nuts and, as they continued to the warmer areas, early greens, fruits, and berries.

Petiron could stride along with the other traders all day long now, and Merelan, too, put on weight and became weather-tanned, and fit. She walked part of each day with Dalma and the other young mothers, at a pace slow enough for the youngest toddler to keep up. Her cough disappeared and she was once again vivid with the beauty that had stopped Petiron’s heart five Turns earlier. And he began to realize just how restrictive he had been in the Harper Hall; so immersed had he become in composition and practice that he had forgotten that other things existed in life: a normal life.

The caravan camped for three days by one of the Runner Stations, and, as usual, the Station Master sent his runners out in all directions to alert those who lived far off the southern road.

“Some of these people are very shy,” the Station Master told his guests. “You might even find them . . . well, a bit . . . odd.”

“You mean, from living off in the hills?” Merelan asked.

Sev scratched his head. “They got odd notions, you might say.”

Merelan knew there was something that he was not saying, and she couldn’t understand his sudden reticence.

“Ah, d’you have something that isn’t Harper blue?” he blurted.

“I do,” Merelan said, “but I don’t think Petiron does. You mean, he might aggravate someone?” She smiled to show that she perfectly understood.

“Ah, yes, that’s about the size of it.”

“I’ll see what I can do about keeping him occupied,” she said, smiling sympathetically.

Everything went very well the first two days. The morning of the third, Merelan was entertaining all the children with game songs and teaching them the gestures that went with them, when a very tattered girl, eyes wide with delight, moved with surreptitious stealth closer and closer. When she was near enough, Merelan smiled at her.

“Do you want to join us?” she asked in a carefully soft voice.

The girl shook her head, her eyes wide now with a mixture of longing and fear.

“Oh, please, everyone else is here,” Merelan said, doing her best to reassure the timid child. “Rob, open the circle and let her in, will you, dear?”

The child took another step and then suddenly squealed when she saw a man charging from the trader’s wagon, right at Merelan’s circle.

“You there . . . you stop that, you harlot. You evil creature, luring children away from their parents . . .”

Merelan didn’t realize at first that he meant her. The child raced into the shelter of the heavy plantation just beyond the clearing, but that didn’t seem to cool the man’s fury, for he charged right up to Merelan, his arm raised to strike her.

Robinton ran to clutch his mother’s skirts, frightened by the wild threats and crazed behavior. Sev, the Station Master, two of the male runners, and three other traders charged to her rescue, Sev just in time to push the attacker off balance and away from Merelan. The children were by then all weeping and running away.

“Easy, Rochers, she’s a mother, singing baby songs,” Sev said, holding the man away.

“She’s singing, ent she? Singing comes first, don’t it? Singing to lure kids away! She’s evil. Just like all harperfolk. Teachin’ things no one needs to know to live proper.”

“Rochers, leave be,” the Station Master said, exercising considerable force to pull the man away, shooting embarrassed and apologetic glances at Merelan.

“Come, Rochers, we need to finish dealing,” said one of the traders. “Come on, we’d nearly shook hands . . .”

“Harper harlot!” Rochers shouted, trying to free a fist to wave at Merelan, who was clinging to Robinton as much as he was clinging to her.

“She’s
not
a harper, Rochers. She’s a mother, amusing the kids,” the Station Master said, loudly enough to try to drown out what the man was saying.

“She had ’em dancing!” Spittle was beginning to form in the corners of his mouth as the men pulled him back to the wagons.

“Get into Dalma’s wagon, Merelan,” Sev said quickly. “We’ll clear him out.”

Merelan complied, picking Robie up in her arms and trying to calm his frightened sobs. She slipped behind a tree and through the wooded verge until she could duck into Dalma’s wagon, one of the last in the Station clearing. She was shaking when she got inside it, and she nearly shrieked with fear when someone pushed open the little door. But it was only Dalma, her face white with anxiety. She embraced Merelan and tried to soothe Robinton all at the same time.