Masterharper of Pern (29 page)

Then Gostol roared out the command to lower the nets, and 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 rain, 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 harbor that 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 harbor. Some fishermen could anchor their ships right in front of their cotholds. 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 that extended the arms of the U-shaped harbor, 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 maneuver 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 woolen 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 making just 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 that 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 harbor, so now they were free to disembark, 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 onto the wide road that 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 onboard any time you wanted to lend a hand.”

“I’ll sail again, anytime, 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 Hold steps 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 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 Tillek 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 color of the water and the thin slick of oil suggested that he was wise to soak. His hands stung a bit from the sweetsand and he’d several broken nails as well as various scrapes and nicks. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. Saltwater 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 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 wash room 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 the Auntie’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 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 love 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 matter.

“I have considerably more respect for fishermen 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 journeyman 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?

So he plunged back into the work he was contracted to do and tried not to think of ways to intercept Kasia in her daily rounds. But it was hard and they did seem to keep meeting—in the halls, on the steps, certainly in the schoolroom, and for meals. She accepted his company at table as readily as she accepted that of Valden, who was soon to take over a new hold created in the forested lands above Tillek—which Robinton devoutly hoped might be too isolated to attract a socially active girl. Or Kalem, who was a journeyman shipbuilder with a cot of his own up the hill, so that Kasia would be near her sister. Emry was exceedingly handsome and managed one of the Storage and Shipping holds for Melongel. He evidently made plenty of marks, judging by the fine clothing he wore: even what he wore bringing reports to his Lord Holder was better than Robinton’s best Gather wear. And during the evenings, when Rob might have monopolized her company, he had to play or sing with the other harpers. He only had one or two dances with her, when Mumolon or Ifor took turns. The other men had the whole evening in her company, with no responsibilities.

It was frustrating. He worked on the harp. Her birthing day was in early spring and he wanted it ready by then, but he had to restrain himself from slighting any of the steps required in its making. The glue had to harden on the sound box; he had carved the pegs and set the sharping blades, which would permit modulation and even changing keys. He intended to tune the harp to C major. He had to wait for the strings to arrive from the Fort Smithcrafthall, which specialized in extruding the fine wire needed. Still, he spent less time working on the harp than he did looking at it—and thinking about how it would look in Kasia’s lap, being touched by Kasia’s hands.

Everyone in the Hold seemed anxious to celebrate Kasia’s day with her, and Robinton wanted desperately to have privacy when he presented her with the harp. He was beginning to think that such a gift would establish the depth of his feeling for her. Which was what it was supposed to do, really. It was scarcely on a level with the casual gifts that were generally presented on a birthing day. Presenting it to her publicly would leave him open to teasing, as well as speculation about his affection for her. Affection? His love! And the harp was a fine one. He gave himself that much credit. He did do good work—especially when his heart was in the doing.

So he did not appear empty-handed in public, he had found some early berries in the woods above the Hold. She made much of his thoughtfulness and exclaimed a lot over the pretty basket he had woven to hold them. He managed to get a private word in her ear, because, fortunately, it was customary to give a birthday girl an embrace and a quick kiss—if you were so inclined. In Robinton’s mind, there were too many so inclined. He watched to see just how long she permitted the familiarity and rather thought she had clung just a moment longer to him. So he took that chance to murmur in her ear that he had something special to give her but not in front of everyone. Could she meet him in the workshop?

She nodded, her eyes dancing, and murmured, “After the meal,” before releasing him and turning to accept other tokens. For she was popular. There were presents from everyone, including a lovely comb, which Vesna had scrimshawed on the
Northern Maid
for giving her the moral courage she needed in getting her second mate’s ticket. There were the usual lengths of cloth, and scarves and bracelets. Valden had presented a slim little belt knife with a blue leather sheath. The most impressive gift was from her parents: a beautiful Gather outfit in a shade of delicate spring yellow, with stiff silver thread embroidering neck, hem, and cuffs. Various sea captains had obliged bypassing it on around the continent on the Great Western Stream from Mardela Hold in Nerat until it arrived at Tillek, three days before her party. Juvana had kept it hidden in her closet.