Triana went off in search of another partner, though she said he was one of the best she'd had here, while Sitta and Marcine hung about the players' platform and were quite happy to wait until he was free again.
During the next few days, he seemed to meet Sitta and Marcine accidentally, wherever he went. Then he was off on his rounds for the next four. When he returned late in the evening Sitta was somehow in the main Hall, so it was natural for her to make sure he had something warm to eat and drink. And something warm in his bed to welcome him home.
Robinton used the same sign to Mallan that the older journeyman did – tipping one of the chairs against the table to indicate that he was not to be disturbed in his room. So he and Sitta discovered each other, and he found this aspect of life very good indeed. Sitta made every effort to waylay him in the Hold until he thought her as clever as a dragon to be able to find him so easily. Marcine pouted for a week or so, but both she and Triana continued to seek him out as a dance partner. Never more than two dances at a time, however.
Sitta might fancy being a harper's spouse but, until he had a more permanent placing, he could not entertain the thought of any serious long-term partnership. But it was very pleasant to have a loving friend. It was very different from a loving mother!
The news he had from the Harper Hall was that Merelan was in fine voice and very good health. He heard from her whenever the runners brought in letters, and he always had one ready to send back to her.
F'lon and Simanith came with the word that Carola had taken ill and MasterHealer Ginia had been sent for. The entire Weyr was upset because Feyrith was a relatively young queen. Any dragon's death was a shock to the rest of the Weyr, but to lose the queen was disastrous.
'I've never cared that much for Carola as a person, I know, but she is a dragonrider ...' F'lon looked glum.
'Feyrith would just go?' Robinton exclaimed. 'But the Weyr has to have a queen!'
'We do,' F'lon reminded him. 'From the last clutch, even if she is very young. Mind you, I could wish there'd been more choice for Nemorth than that Jora!' He exhaled in exasperation.
'Why?' Robinton asked, his mind more fixed on the enormity of the loss of a queen than what annoyed F'lon about Jora.
'Why? Because she's afraid of heights. Can you imagine that? Won't matter. Simanith fancies Nemorth, and I'd rather have a plump body than the rack of bones Carola's become.'
'You don't think your father's bronze will give way to yours?' Robinton asked, startled. He knew how ambitious F'lon was, and how competitive bronze riders always were about mating flights, but wasn't F'lon ignoring the fact that his father was a good deal more experienced?
F'lon had the grace to look abashed. 'Well, even S'loner can't last for ever, you know. And Simanith is a very good bronze!' 'I'm sure of that,' Robinton replied quickly.
Thank you, Harper.
Robinton beckoned for F'lon to lean closer. 'Doesn't it upset him?'
'It won't until it happens. Dragons don't much worry about tomorrow, you know. It's why they need riders.'
Three days before Turn's End, the Weyrwoman died, having valiantly fought to live. In the Harper Hall, Robinton was instantly aware of Simanith's grief at the loss of Feyrith, although he said nothing until the drums confirmed the deaths. It certainly was grim news for all the celebrations. Everyone mourned the loss of both dragon and rider. Robinton was especially devastated, as he was one of the few people in High Reaches Hold who had known both Weyrwoman and dragon in the prime of life. But he didn't have much time to mourn, for Lobira told him that Master Gennell wished him back in the Harper CraftHall for a new assignment.
'You've learned a lot here, Rob, and I'm sorry to see you go, but you've more talent – both as a teacher and a musician – than is needed here. And there are other places where you can do more,' Master Lobira said when F'lon and Simanith arrived to convey
Robinton and his effects. Then he embraced the young man firmly, despite the disparity of their heights, and turned quickly away.
Lotricia also hugged him, weeping and telling him to be careful, and to come back and visit whenever he could.
Robinton had already taken formal leave of Lord Faroguy, who had unexpectedly given him a fat purse of marks.
'You've been a fine worker, and all reports of your conduct and effectiveness have been full of praise. You deserve something to see you comfortable in your next position. Give my regards to Master Gennell, and of course to MasterSinger Merelan.' Faroguy had extended his hand, and Robinton had been happy to shake it enthusiastically, even though he had to soften his grip when he noted Faroguy wincing.
Now Mallan shook his hand, grinning, and at last Robinton was ready to leave.
'When's the mating flight?' he asked F'lon when he settled on Simanith's back behind his old friend. He spoke teasingly.
'I'm not sure Nemorth'll ever get off the ground the way Jora acts,' he said in disgust. 'The girl is afraid of heights. She only takes the steps to her weyr if someone walks on the outside to keep her' – he altered his voice to a squeaky falsetto – 'from tipping off.'
'But doesn't she ...'
'Fortunately,' F'lon went on, 'when Nemorth's lust is up, it won't matter a pile of old ashes what Jora wants.' He grinned wickedly back at the harper. 'Nemorth's blood will be up, and nature will take its course.'
'And S'loner?'
'He'll take his chances with the rest of us.'
Just then Simanith, who had surprised Robinton by walking to the edge of the High Reaches court, scared him half to death by falling off the edge into the long drop down to the valley floor. His stomach lurched and he clutched frantically at F'lon, wondering what ailment had taken the dragon so suddenly.
F'lon was howling with laughter at his reaction, and then they were between and the chill was almost welcome as the alternative to being dashed on the rocks.
'That was a damned nasty trick,' Robinton said, leaning forward so that F'lon could hear him as they circled above the Harper Hall.
He also gave F'lon an angry punch between the shoulder-blades to show his displeasure.
'Why should Simanith waste energy leaping when he can glide off?.'
'You might have warned me.'
F'lon's chuckle whipped back to Robinton's ears and he knew it was useless to complain.
Simanith, the next time F'lon does that, would you please give me a second's warning? Robinton asked. He'd had little occasion to initiate conversations with Simanith, so he wasn't sure if the bronze would hear him.
I will try to remember since you don't like falling. At least Simanith sounded reasonably apologetic, which somewhat mollified Robinton.
Not above another display, F'lon had Simanith glide in a lazy spiral down to the Harper Hall courtyard, making certain that their arrival was witnessed. By the time Simanith had folded his wings to his back, a welcoming committee had gathered on the steps.
Robinton would really have preferred a less public arrival. His mother, who did look well to his searching gaze, was standing by Lorra, who had her arm about the shoulders of a very pretty, tall brunette who looked somewhat familiar. Kubisa and Master Ogolly completed the smiling group. Glancing up at the rehearsal room where Petiron spent so much time, Robinton could neither see nor hear any activity. He breathed a sigh of relief and then dismounted, striding to the steps to embrace his mother.
She was not quite as frail in his arms as when he had bid her goodbye three turns before, but there were a lot of white streaks in her carefully braided hair and he thought her face looked more lined. Those marks of ageing disturbed him terribly – he didn't like to think of his mother growing old. But he hid his fears with smiles and all the glib, silly phrases people say when renewing contact.
In the fuss to thank them all for coming, he kept glancing at the very pretty brunette who was also pretending to be composed, a state belied by the flush that kept coming and going on her cheeks.
Then he put a name to her face.
'The turns have done you well, Silvina,' he said, holding out a hand to Lorra's youngest daughter while still embracing his mother.
'And you're not so bad yourself now, Harper,' she said pertly, grinning.
