Masterharper of Pern (30 page)

“You must wear it tonight,” Juvana said.

“Not tonight,” Kasia protested, her fingers running along the stylized embroidery. “I’ll save it for the Gather.”

“Well, just try it on and let’s see you in it,” Juvana insisted.

“Later, not now,” Kasia said firmly and arranged her presents in a pile before sitting down to the midday meal. As was customary, all the food offerings were known favorites of hers.

“Everyone’s making such a fuss over just a birthing day,” she said, coloring with embarrassment.

“But it’s
your
birthday,” her oldest niece protested.

Robinton could hardly eat. But eventually the meal was over and he made a leisurely descent to the workshop. And then paced and paced, waiting for Kasia to arrive.

When she did, she was flustered.

“I couldn’t get away!” she said. “Now what—
oh!”

He hadn’t been able to think of anything appropriate to say to introduce the gift so he had been standing in front of it. He moved aside and, with his best and most elaborate gesture, indicated it was hers.

“Oh, Robie . . .”

His name, said in just that voice and tone, was more than compensation for all his hard work. On seeing it, her eyes had widened and then filled with tears as she stepped forward. Almost hesitantly, she reached out to touch it, a fingertip following the line of the neck progressing around the ornamentation down the forepillar before she let her fingers run up the strings.

“Oh!” she gasped again at the delicate sound it gave.

Impatient for her to use it, to hold it on her lap and give it voice, he pulled a chair over to her and practically sat her down, lifting the harp to her knee.

“Oh, Robie, this is the most beautiful thing. I’ve never had such a magnificent gift. Even—” And she stopped short. He suspected she might have been about to cite something Merdine had given her. She gave him a quick glance and he smiled encouragingly back, though his mouth had gone very dry and he had a sick feeling in his stomach. Then she lifted her hands, as he had seen her do in his mind during the long hours of woodworking, and struck a chord. He had tuned the harp very carefully so the chord sang tremulously on the still air of the empty workshop. “This is not just a birthing gift, is it, Rob?” she asked, turning to him, her wide eyes soft. No shadows. When he didn’t—couldn’t—answer, she said in the tenderest possible tone, “Is my eloquent harper wordless for once?”

He swallowed and managed a sharp nod. “Absolutely,” he said, opening his arms in his helplessness, knowing that his smile must appear inane.

Her lips curved in one of her gentle and delicious smiles. “Oh, Robie,” she said, turning her head from side to side, a look of wonder and joy on her face. “Haven’t I done my best to
show
you how I care? Even braving the sea to fish so we’d be together?”

His paralysis ended at her gentle reprimand and he pulled her into his arms. Her arms went about his neck, her hands catching in his thick hair as she pulled his head down. “I want a proper kiss from you now, Harper Robinton! Not a polite birthday peck.”

He was as properly improper as he dared. Only she dared more, and before he could fret about any inadequacies as a lover, she was responding in such a way that it fueled his ardor out of bounds. Always, afterward, he remembered that moment any time he smelled the pungency of varnish or well-seasoned wood.

In the loving aftermath, Kasia told him that Juvana approved and would support her choice with their parents.

“How does she know?” Robinton demanded, startled to think that Lady Juvana had been discussing him with Kasia. And possibly with Lord Melongel.

“Because I’ve been filling her ears with Rob this and Rob that,” Kasia said, grinning at his reaction.

Kasia was more than old enough to choose for herself, and her parents had sent her to Tillek Hold so that she would have more choice—and fewer memories of the man she had lost

“Am I at all like him?” Robinton asked, a question that had run circles in his head for along time.

She regarded him with a little smile on her lips, tracing the line of his mouth with her finger. “Yes, and no. Not in looks. Merdine hadn’t your inches: as well for a seaman who’d be clouting his head all the time on beams. He was good-looking, but your face has far more character. You’ll grow handsomer as you age . . . and I’ll be there to keep the roving women away.” She drew his head down to kiss him. “You’ve lovely bones!”

“Bones, the girl says!” Robinton burst out laughing in surprise.

“Lots of long bones,” she repeated with a newly established proprietary delight. “Merdine was much more assertive. Well, he’d have to be as a sea captain, whereas a harper has to be more tactful and persuasive.”

“He does?” Robinton mocked her.

“Well, you are both. I’ve heard you, Journeyman—”

He interrupted her. “Your parents will not object to you espousing a harper? I intend to get my Mastery, but it does mean we’ll do a lot of traveling. Will they mind?”

“And a sea captain doesn’t travel? A harper doesn’t encounter the same sort of hazards—” She stopped there, her eyes darkening with the sorrow Robinton had hoped he had lifted forever.

“I don’t know about that,” he said into the pause, speaking lightly and trying to restore the happy mood they had been enjoying.

“Sorry, Rob.”

“No need to be . . . love,” he said, experimenting with using the word in her presence.

“That’s what I especially love about you, Rob. Your perceptions and understanding. Merdine . . . was not an understanding man. Not the way you are. And I think—on balance—that’s very important in creating a good harmony for a long life together.”

They would have explored that topic much further except that they both heard voices along the hallway outside the wood shop. They had straightened themselves and their clothing, and Robinton pretended to tighten a string on the harp. The voices talked on, their owners continuing past the workshop. But that interlude was over.

“I’ll carry it for you,” Robinton said.

“Then we will both explain its significance to my sister,” she said firmly. “Not that she’ll need much explanation when we walk in with this beautiful instrument.”

Nor did they. Juvana was delighted, saying this was the best birthing day gift her little sister could possibly have. There wasn’t another harper in the family so it was about time there was one.

“Melongel’s been wondering when you would declare yourself, Robinton,” she added, giving him a sly sideways glance.

“And what gave him the need to wonder?” Robinton asked. He had prided himself on keeping his feelings under control.

“Oh, I thought he should consider the matter,” Juvana said airily, “especially since my baby sister has been sighing over you for some time. He won’t object”

Melongel didn’t. He already knew of the Telgar Blood connection of Petiron, and the fact that Merelan was a Mastersinger of Pern-wide prestige made no bar to an espousal.

“But the summer’s ahead of us, the busiest season for journeymen harpers,” he said more severely, since he did not permit pleasure to interfere with duty. “Autumn Equinox would be a better time for espousal than summer. We will, however, announce the pact tonight and spare Robinton competition for dances.”

Melongel could not spare Robinton either the teasing or the envy of those who had also hoped to espouse Kasia. But the public announcement of their intention made their lives far more comfortable.

Rob had sent a formal announcement to his parents—at Juvana’s suggestion.

“Mothers need to know such things, Robinton,” she said, smiling with just a touch of maternal condescension. “You’re old enough to choose your own partner, but even if your relations with your father are poor, you should include him.”

Robinton stared at her, shocked. He’d never mentioned anything about his father.

“That’s just it, Rob,” Kasia put in gently, touching his arm and peering into his face. “You
don’t
mention Petiron, ever. But you mention your mother at least forty times a day.”

“I don’t . . . that’s exaggeration,” he said, but he relaxed and smiled at her teasing. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t admire Petiron’s music . . .”

“That’s what I meant,” Juvana said. “He’s never your father. Always Petiron.” She paused, watching the shock on his face. “It gives a clue to those who have your good interests at heart. Not something a casual person would look for.” She wrinkled her nose. “Then, too, I’ve met your father and I agree: he’s a remarkable composer. It’s
your
songs, however, that everyone sings.”

Robinton didn’t know what to say, since he’d had no idea that he had given himself away simply by not mentioning a subject.

“You’ve heard me go on and on about my father,” Kasia said, now earnestly trying to ease the shock of their casual disclosure. “Mind you, I can see why he’d be hard to emulate.”

“Nonsense, I’d far rather have music I can hum or whistle than those intricate and—yes, I’ll say it—tortured musical forms.”

Robinton couldn’t stifle the nervous chuckle at Juvana’s remark.

“There, that’s better,” Kasia said. “If I ever meet him, I’ll be oh so punctilious and formal. Now your mother . . . she’s a dear and loving person.”

Robinton gawked at her. “How do you figure that? Have you met her?”

“Not really, but I’ve heard her sing. And her face is so expressive that she must be loving. And if she brought you up the way you are now, she’s a dear.” Then she gave him a warm hug and loving kiss before she relaxed against his arm. He covered her hand with his.

“Should I ask the MasterHarper’s permission?” he asked.

“You’re a journeyman,” Juvana said, lifting one shoulder. “You’ve the permission of your contract Holder and have officially announced your intent. But I think it would do no harm to tell Master Gennell.”

“I’d like to tell the whole world,” Robinton said, beaming down at Kasia, still marveling that she would love him. That was when the music poured into his head and he knew exactly how he could publish his happiness. Sonata to Sea-Green Eyes, he would call it, and he hung on to the lyrical line as he often did when there was no opportunity to write music down.

“As Kasia’s sister and as your Lady Holder, I will expect you to come to me with any problems you might encounter as you start your lives together,” Juvana said, coming to the real purpose of her interview with the pair. “I have already discussed this with Kasia, and she will protect herself, which is her duty, until such time as you are settled enough to contemplate children.”

Robinton blushed. He and Kasia had not discussed the natural outcome of their lovemaking, and he realized that he had been remiss in this regard.

Juvana went on. “I offer the suggestion that you should spend several years enjoying each other’s company, consolidating your new relationship, especially since neither of you need children to help in your professions.” She was quite matter-of-fact, and Robinton knew that she spoke common sense. “You’re both young. You have time. I have told Kasia that I would gladly foster any child of yours should your work make it impossible to give that child the advantages of a permanent home.”

Robinton managed to stammer out his astonishment at such a magnificent offer: an honor that he had never imagined being offered him. Usually it was the grandparents who offered fostering, or a very close friend. To have his child fostered at Tillek Hold would be a privilege.

“That’s an incredible offer, Juvana,” he said, getting his wits together. “I’d like to think I’d be a good enough father that a child would not need more than his parents to reassure him, wherever we went.”

Juvana regarded him solemnly for a moment. “Yes, you would want to be a good father. And I think you would be. I’ve watched you with the slow ones, and you’re kind and patient, though some of their antics would be enough to drive me to sea in a leaky boat.”

Kasia laughed. “Juvana gets seasick just
looking
at a rocking boat.”

“This is all—” He gestured with the hand Kasia was not holding to indicate being overwhelmed. “—rather more than I thought espousing entailed.”

“That’s why there are such wise women as myself,” Juvana said portentously, grinning to take any sting out of her tone. “So we’ll plan the formal vow-taking for the Autumn Equinox. I doubt our parents can come . . .”

“If they wouldn’t mind riding a dragon, I think I can arrange conveyance,” Robinton said, wondering at himself for speaking out since he had been delighted her parents lived as far away as Nerat and he’d be unlikely to meet them. But that was just faintheartedness on his part, and silly of him, since he’d been reassured by Melongel, as well as Juvana, that Kasia’s parents had no objection at all to a harper in the family.

“Can you arrange such a ride?” Juvana was surprised.

“Yes, sister dear,” Kasia said, beaming on her intended. “He’s been friends with F’lon, bronze rider of Simanith, ever since he and his mother spent a winter at Benden Hold.”

“Really? How useful.”

“You wouldn’t mind a dragonrider?”

“Who could possibly be so dense as to ignore that sort of a connection?” Juvana asked parenthetically.

Robinton thought of Fax. And he had occasionally encountered the notion—from men who knew little beyond their cotholds—that the Weyr and the dragonriders were an encumbrance, maintained long past their usefulness.

“I’ll see if F’lon is willing. I think he might like to come to the espousal.”

“I think my parents would very much enjoy coming a-dragonback,” Juvana said wistfully. “Is it as exciting as I’ve heard?”

Robinton was quite happy to give her a full accounting of his various trips a-dragonback.

He and Kasia enjoyed the next two sevendays, until they were separated by his duties as the Turn moved into summer, fair weather, and long days, when the journeymen had to travel to the outlying holds to make sure the Teaching Ballads were being correctly taught and sung. Mumolon and Ifor envied Robinton his smooth-paced Ruathan runner, so he volunteered to take the farthest assigned sweep.