'Thank you, dear. That was well done,' Merelan said, and she allowed Robinton to have a second cake. He stuffed his pipe away under his trouser waistband and sat on the little stool to eat the cake.
'Indeed, and I couldn't have done better myself, young Robinton,' Washell said solemnly. 'You played that perfectly, young man. I'm glad that your mother has you here to keep her strictly in tempo. Do you know any other tunes on that pipe?'
Robie glanced at his mother for permission. She nodded, and he licked his lips free of crumbs, lifted the pipe to his mouth and began to play one of his own favourites. When he had finished, he gave his mother a second look.
'Yes, go on,' she said with a little flick of her fingers.
He looked for a moment at Washell, who knew enough to keep his expression polite, and then the boy closed his eyes and started the round of variations he liked to wind about that tune.
Washell bent his head down over his heavy chest until he was peering directly at Robinton, who was now oblivious, wrapped up in his piping, fingers dancing, stopping, busy over the little pipe's holes. The instrument was small and could have produced an unpleasantly shrill sound, but the way the youngster handled his breathing and instinctive dynamics sweetened it to a delightful lilt.
As one variation followed another, Washell cocked his head in amazement and gradually turned his eyes to Merelan, who was totally relaxed as if this performance were a daily marvel.
Suddenly the muted sounds of the choristers ended. Immediately, Merelan leaped forward and tapped Robinton out of his concentration.
He looked almost rebellious.
'That was a very good one,' his mother said, casually appreciative.
'New, isn't it?'
'I s'ought it up as I was playing,' he said and then glanced coyly up at Washell. 'It fitted in.'
'Yes, dear, it did,' Merelan replied agreeably. 'The trills were very well done.'
'Nice to have a pipe just the right size for you, isn't it?' Washell began, extending his hand for the instrument. Robinton, with a touch of reluctance, handed it over. Washell tried to put his large fingers over the stops and ran out of pipe, looking so surprised that Robinton giggled, covering his mouth and glancing quickly at his mother to be sure this was acceptable behaviour. 'Maybe you'd like to see some of the other instruments I have that might also be the right size for a lad like you to play on. This one is much too small for me, isn't it?' And Washell handed it back with a little flourish.
Robinton grinned up at the big man and tucked his pipe back under the waistband, out of sight under his loose shirt.
'I think you could manage to get the pitcher and the cake-plate back down to the kitchen, couldn't you, Robie dear?' Merelan asked, rising to open the door as she spoke.
'Can. Will. Bye.' And he walked quite sedately down the hallway with his burden as merelan closed the door.
'Yes, my dear merelan, you do have a problem growing up here.
'May I extend you my compliments as well as my assistance? If we move patiently, what is an astonishing natural talent can be nurtured. I admire Petiron in many matters, Singer, but...' Washell sighed with a rueful smile. 'He can be single-minded to the point of irrationality. He will of course be delighted to discover his son's musicality, but quite frankly, my dear, I would be sorry to be that son when he does. Which is obviously why you have sent for me, and I take that as the highest compliment you could pay me.'
'Petiron will push him too far and too fast ...'
'Therefore we will lay the groundwork carefully, so that his father's tuition will not be the sudden shock it could be.'
'I feel so ... treacherous, going behind Petiron's back like this,' merelan said, 'but I know what he's like, and Robie loves to make music. I don't want that to be taken from him.'
Washell reached across and patted her nervously drumming fingers.
'My dear, we can put Petirons single-mindedness to our advantage. I gather he has no idea that the boy has learned to pipe?' Merelan shook her head.
'Right now, of course,' he went on, 'he's up to his inky fingers with TurnOver music to write and the rehearsals and then the Spring Gathers, and I shall have a word with Gennell myself about this. If you permit?'
She nodded.
'Why, I do believe the entire Hall could be in on the secret education of our burgeoning young genius ...'
'Genius?' Merelan's hand went to her throat.
'Of course, Robinton's a musical genius and, though I've never encountered one before in my decades here, I can certainly recognize one when I get the chance. Petiron's good, but he is not quite in the same class as his son.'
'Oh!' The little exclamation she let slip before she guarded her mouth with her hand was far more eloquent than she intended.
'A child who can tootle that ridiculous little pipe into the sweetest tone and then produce rather sophisticated variations on a simple theme at three Turns is, unquestionably, a genius. And we must all protect him.'
'Oh! Protect him? Petiron's not a monster, Washell ...' She shook her head vigorously.
'No, of course he isn't, but he does have rather strong views about his competence and achievements. On the other hand, what else could he expect of a child from such a fine musical background, who is being raised in the Harper Hall with music all around him?'
'Not all the Hall children are musical by virtue of their environment,' Merelan said in a droll tone.
'But when one is, as your Robinton, there couldn't be a better environment, and we shall see that the matter is handled as diplomatically and ... kindly as possible. I give you my hand on that, MasterSinger Merelan.' He held it out and she took it gladly, the relief– and even her guilt at the promised subterfuge – easily read by Master Washell. 'We'll do no more than what the lad is able, and willing, to absorb. Ease him gently' – his thick fingers rippled descriptively – 'into the discipline so that when' – and he clapped his hands together – 'we suddenly discover that this five– ... maybe six-Turn-old lad is so musically inclined, why, we can be as surprised and delighted as Petiron will be.'
'But won't Petiron be at all suspicious when he discovers how much Robie already knows?'
Washell raised his arm in a broad gesture. 'Why, the boy absorbed it from his parents, of course. Why would he not, with two such talented musicians?'
'Oh, come now, Washell. Petiron is scarcely stupid ...'
'With musical scores and instruments all around... you'll doubtless mention that you've heard him humming tunes now and then .. on key. That you gave him the little pipe, and a drum, since he begged for them. Bosler will say he only thought to amuse the lad one afternoon while you were busy with rehearsing and taught him how to place his fingers on the gitar strings... It won't be hard to get our MasterArchivist to connive to teach the boy more than his letters ... And we'll all be so amazed that Petiron will have such a student to bring on. He's always better with the quicker students, you know. They don't try his patience the way the younger or slower ones do.' Thoroughly pleased with the plot he was spinning, Washell once more patted Merelan's hands reassuringly. Then, abruptly, he pulled the quartet sheet between them. 'Beat it out one more time, Merelan, as I sing the bass line. You should--'
The door opened, and there were Petiron and Robinton.
'I really do think, Petiron, that you write some passages just to tease me,' she said. 'And did you get the plate and pitcher safely down to Lorra, dear?'
'I did, Mother.'
'Well, then, off with you, Rob,' his father said, giving his son a slight push towards the other room. 'Why you should have any trouble with the tempo surprises me, Merelan'
'Because your scribbling is almost unreadable, Petiron,' Washell said firmly, his bass voice rumbling in mock rebuke. 'See here?' His thick index finger pounded the culprit measure. 'One can barely see the dot. No wonder Merelan was having difficulty with the beat when she couldn't even see the dot after the half note. It's clearly marked on my copy, but not on this.'
Petiron peered down at the offending score. 'It is a little faint at that. Sing it for me.' And he gave her the upbeat.
