know very well grinned at him until he became a little uncomfortable about her attentiveness.
She was pretty – prettier than Sitta or Marcine – but he wasn't going to be around long enough to get to know the adult Vina.
Anyway, Master Gennell rose to his feet and started the ceremonies which made apprentices into journeymen – always a marvellous occasion. His new posting was included, and he saw how proud his mother was when it was announced. He wondered what his father would have said.
So he travelled by ship, runner-beast and foot to Benden, a journey which not only made him appreciate the speed of transport a-dragonback, but impressed on him the size of the continent which until then had only been a map and not actual lengths he had set foot on.
He discovered that he could sail without getting seasick – which pleased the captain no end when the storm made half the crew too nauseated to work and Robinton was pressed into service. And he saw the Dawn Sisters for the first time.
He'd come on deck just at dawn and noticed the bright spark in the sky.
'That can't be a star,' he said.
'Ent one of the dog-watch sailor said with a grin. 'We calls 'um the Dawn Sisters. Why, I dunno. We sees 'em just as clear at dusk, too. Only from this latitude, though. You won't see 'em up north where you comes from.'
'Amazing,' Robinton said, leaning against the cabin housing, unable to take his eyes from the shining spot. Then, abruptly, the sun raised itself above the horizon and the spot winked out. He meant to come back and test the sailor's word that the phenomenon occurred at dusk as well, but he forgot about it.
He liked Ista Island with its herd of smaller isles – what he saw of it sailing past the coastline – and admired the black diamond beach around the little off-shore island, which was no more than an old volcano sticking its crater head up out of the water. He found he could manage a runner-beast adequately to help drive burden-beasts and other runners to their destination, and all his travels up the High Reaches mountain tracks made the rest of his journey more of a delight than a problem. Especially since, as a harper, he was welcome in any small hold where, in return for an evening's songs, he got the best meal available as well as the best bed.
Except for one night when he had left the drovers who'd sold him an elderly but sturdy pack-beast to carry his possessions, and was proceeding on his own. He was nearly to the Benden Hold borders, the head drover had told him, and recommended the inland road as being the shorter way. He'd passed a Runner Station mid-afternoon, but decided to travel as far as he could that night. As the sun was nearly down over the mountains, he was beginning to look around for any shelter, even an old Thread halt, when he came across a runner trace. These were always laid out as the straightest distance between two points, so he switched to the narrow, mossy trace and was ascending a hill when he saw lights ahead, off to his left, snug against a forest. The trace was bisected by a wider road that appeared to lead directly to the hold, so he turned, his elderly pack animal moaning in protest.
'It's near by. Not much further, and you can eat, too.'
The animal groaned on a different note. If Robinton hadn't been so tired and hungry, he'd have been amused at the variety of sounds the beast could make.
As he approached the cothold, he smelled tantalizing odours coming from within and his stomach growled. So did several canines within the cot. The pack-beast gave off a loud, slightly fearful protest.
'They're inside and can't hurt you,' he told the beast as he resettled his tunic, pushed his hair neatly behind his ears, and courteously rapped at the door.
'Who's there?' a sharp male voice demanded, and then told the canines to shut their fuss. 'Can't hear over the noise.'
A female voice murmured something.
'A traveller, in need of a night's lodging,' Robinton said.
'Can you pay?'
'Certainly.' A harper was expected to sing and entertain for supper. He would usually offer a half-mark, but was always refused.
The door opened a crack, but he couldn't see the face of the man, the light being behind him.
'Who be you.'?' the man asked.
'Robinton's my name,' the journeyman replied with a slight bow, and put his hand to his belt pouch. 'I have good Harper Hall marks--'
'Ha! Harper Hall.' There was contempt in the voice.
'They're good at any Gather,' Robinton said, more than a little taken aback by the response.
'Do let him in, Targus. We've more than enough stew,' the woman said. She pulled the door open, peering out at him. 'Why, it's only one man, Targus. And carries no weapons but an eating knife.' She swung the door wider and Robinton could see four large men seated at the table. 'Sortie, boy, go put his pack-beast in the lean-to, and come in, Robinton, you said your name was? I'm Kulla,' she told him.
A gawky lad appeared and slipped past Targus, taking the lead rope from Robinton's hand and clucking encouragingly at the pack-beast. The animal started to resist, but Robinton swatted him across his stubborn rump and he followed the boy.
'I really appreciate your hospitality, lady,' he said, ducking his head to step into the room. He nodded impartially around at the others. 'I'm on my way to Benden Hold.'
'He's a harper, Pa. That's blue cords on his shoulder,' one of the diners said, pointing with his knife at Robinton's left arm.
Targus, scowling deeply, hauled Robinton around so that he could see the offensive cords himself.
'Now, you see here, Targus,' the woman said, planting both fists on her ample hips and glaring at her spouse. 'You keep me from Gathering, but if a harper comes to my door, I'm not turning him out. Not that I'd turn anyone away so late in the night.'
She grabbed Robinton's other arm and pulled him away from Targus's grasp and towards the table.
'Brodo, get a plate. Mosser, a cup. All we've got's beer but it'll quench a thirst.' She angled Robinton towards the table and pushed him into what he took to be her own chair. Taking the plate from Brodo, who was grinning as he passed it to his mother, she filled it amply and gestured for him to be seated. 'Erkin, the bread's by you. And, Targus, you sit. I'm so eager to see a smiling face that I'd eat with a watchwher who did.'
Jutting his jaw out, Targus held out his hand to Robinton, his eyes suspicious. 'Said you could pay?'
'Indeed, and I can,' Robinton said, half-rising to reach his pouch.
The woman Kulla pushed his hand away. 'Harpers shouldn't have to pay, Targus. You weren't ever brought up right by that family of yours.'
'I insist,' Robinton said earnestly and because he didn't like the expression on Targus's face. He only kept a few small pieces in his belt pouch – the rest were in a sash inside his shirt – and he displayed them all. 'This one is SmithCraft. Will that be preferable?'
'Preferable?' sneered Targus as his thick and slightly greasy fingers gathered the mark piece from Robinton's palm. 'Harper words. What's wrong with 'Is that good?' Or do you always have to show off your larnin'?'
Kulla pulled Robinton back down. 'Eat. You look peaked, and don't mind Targus.'
Robinton decided to concentrate on eating. There was nothing wrong with the flavoursome stew, or the quality of the tubers and greens that accompanied it. The bread had been made fresh that day, and when the last piece was taken by Erkin – or maybe that was Mosser – the woman sliced up another loaf and filled the dish. Though his hunger would have been sated by the first helping, she served Robinton a second, equally large portion while Targus grumbled.
'i'll feed whoever I choose in this house, Targus. This hold has always been hospitable. You can dislike harpers all you want, but I don't,' she said fiercely. Then in a completely different tone of voice she turned and smiled with genuine appeal in her eyes.
'Would you mind playing for us after?' When Targus started to growl, she turned on him. 'And you shut your face, Targus. I haven't heard any music since last Solstice, and I promise you'll eat nothing but cold porridge for the month if you say another nasty thing.'
The young boy had slipped back in and helped himself to more stew and bread, shooting glances at the other end of the table where Robinton ate, solidly protected by the woman.
'Music !' Targus did growl when Robinton brought out his pipes.
'You've no gitar?' Kulla asked plaintively. 'I was hoping you'd sing for me.'
'It's on my pack animal ...'
