was going to Fall again. Many believed Thread was gone for ever. A common theory claimed that the Weyrs had been bound by some bizarre suicide pact, leaving only Benden to carry on the draconic traditions. That made no sense whatever to a thinking man. But at least he was unlikely to have to contend with that in his term as MasterHarper.
With a sigh of relief, he firmly turned his mind towards sleep.
Merelan's cough developed into a chest cold shortly after TurnOver. Sniffles and coughs were prevalent during the beginning of any new Turn when the weather remained cold and snowy, and young Robinton and Petiron both suffered from colds, but they threw off the worst of the infection quickly. But Merelan's cough seemed determined to linger, and she could rarely get through a vocal exercise without having to break off in a spasm. For the first time, Petiron became seriously worried about her health.
So did Betrice and Ginia, for the singer had quickly lost what weight she had gained after the baby's birth – and more.
'You've really nothing big coming up in the way of rehearsals, have you?' Ginia asked Petiron privately after delivering another bottle of cough mixture for Merelan. With a certain degree of reluctance, he shook his head – had he not been sick, he most assuredly would have started composing something extravagant for the Spring Gathers.
'Well, then,' Ginia continued, 'I happen to know MasterHarper is looking for someone to provide basic instruction at a hold in South Boll – not far from where Merelan was born. So why don't you ask him to allow you to take the post? I believe the accommodation would be adequate for a small family like yours. The Ritecamp traders just arrived here, and their route takes you close by Pierie Hold.'
Before Petiron could produce a good reason why he couldn't leave the Harper Hall at that time, he and his small family were on their way south, their baggage packed on pack animals which Master Gennell ordered. He sent along two good Ruathan-bred mounts, as well. MasterTrader Sev Ritecamp was only too happy to oblige the Harper Hall and had agreed to take them to the very door of Pierie Hold.
'If Master Petiron wouldn't mind taking some time of an evening to learn some of our youngsters their Teaching Ballads?
They're in dire need of some educating,' Sev had suggested very politely. 'And maybe give us a new song or two in the evening around our fire.'
'That would be only fair,' Merelan said when Petiron was not as prompt as he could have been in agreeing. Then she winked at her spouse, knowing very well that he hated doing 'basics' with beginners while she enjoyed teaching the very young. So long as the children were taught, it really didn't matter who did the teaching.
As MasterSinger, she knew her Teaching Ballads and Songs as well as Petiron did.
The young daughter of the Ritecamps' leader had a toddler the same age as Robie – though not, Merelan privately thought, as sturdy as her lad – but she doubted that Dalma would mind watching two who could amuse each other while Merelan taught.
MasterHarper Gennell was delighted to have a Master to assign for however short a term. Betrice had a word with the Ritecamp healer about Merelan's condition and waved farewell with the rest of the Hall.
Although the Ruathan runner-beasts provided were well trained and easy riding, Merelan at first rode in Dalma's efficient housewagon, since she knew herself incapable of managing the antics of a mount right then. Petiron, less familiar with riding beasts, was more often on the lead-wagon seat, talking to Sev Ritecamp or his father or his uncle or whoever was the day's guide.
Despite his forebodings and initial dismay, Petiron soon began to relax and enjoy the trip. Having overheard the favourable comments about the Ruathan breed, he offered Sev's eldest son the chance to ride his mount, and consequently he found all the Ritecamp men more genial towards him. He even enjoyed the nightly music sessions, for almost everyone in the thirty wagons of the train played some instrument and could carry intricate parts.
Many had good voices, and he found himself conducting four– and five-part harmonies to some of their favourite ballads and airs, as well as teaching them the newer songs.
'They're nearly as good as fourth-year apprentices,' he said with some surprise to Merelan at the end of the third evening's session.
'They do it for fun,' she said, gently.
'There's no reason they cannot do it better and have fun too,' he said, not at all pleased at her subtle rebuke over his attempt to improve the harmonies.
'Now, hold still while I put the salve on your face,' she went on, holding his chin firmly while she pasted his cheeks and nose with the remedy for the windburn he'd acquired.
With Merelan that close to him, he could see she had more colour in her pale cheeks, though she still coughed so hard it made him wince to think what damage she might be doing her vocal cords. But she didn't seem quite as strained about the eyes and mouth as she had been.
'Are you all right, Mere?' he asked, holding her by the arms.
'Of course I'm all right. Why, it's an answer to one of my childhood dreams: going adventuring in a trader's van.'
When she favoured him with the wide smile that put dimples in both cheeks, she was more his Merelan than she had been since before her pregnancy. He folded her into his arms, hugging her -remembering to be gentle, as he felt how thin she still was in his embrace. That reminded him what he might not have, and he was about to put her firmly away from him when she clung tightly.
'It's safe enough,' she murmured, and he clasped her with a passion that he had been aching to express but had sternly repressed. He didn't even have to worry about an inopportune interruption from the baby sleeping in the spare crib in Dalma's wagon. So he loved Merelan with a single-minded urgency which had been denied him far too long. Nor was there any reluctance in her response to him.
The slow trip south was really a very good idea.
At some point during that ambling three-week journey to the southern tip of South Boll, Petiron realized that he had been nearly as strung out, emotionally and physically, as Merelan. Being in the Harper Hall, with music, musicians and instruments constantly heard, caused one to think only of music to write for instruments and voices to perform. On the road, he was not compelled by the tacit competition rampant in the Harper Hall to produce yet more complex and glorious sounds. For the first time since he had started his apprentice years, he had an opportunity to realize the richness – as well as the simplicity – of life all around him. He'd come from Telgar Hold, one of the largest, so he had never really been short of the necessities of day-to-day existence. Living in the Harper Hall had been a continuation of his childhood's conditions.
He took so many things for granted that it was a lesson to him to be denied easy access to, say, the well- tanned hides for musical compositions which he was accustomed to coveting with quick, large notations. Now he learned to write economically, using small marks which allowed him to fit more than one work on a single hide.
Eating was another thing he had never given much thought to.
Food arrived in the Hall with no indication to those who dined of its acquisition or preparation. Now he learned to hunt and fish with the other men of the caravan, even as the women gathered firewood and nuts and, as they continued to the warmer areas, early greens, fruits and berries.
Petiron could stride along with the other traders all day long now, and Merelan too put on weight and became weather-tanned and fit. She walked part of each day with Dalma and the other young mothers, at a pace slow enough for the youngest toddler to keep up. Her cough disappeared and she was once again vivid with the beauty which had stopped Petiron's heart five turns earlier.
And he began to realize just how restrictive he had been in the Harper Hall; so immersed had he become in composition and practice that he had forgotten that other things existed: a normal life.
The caravan camped for three days by one of the Runner Stations and, as usual, the Station Master sent out his runners in all directions to alert those who lived far off the southern road.
'Some of these people are very shy,' the Station Master told his guests. 'You might even find them ... well, a bit ... odd.'
'You mean, from living off in the hills?' Merelan asked.
The man scratched his head. 'They got odd notions, you might say.'
Merelan knew there was something that he was not saying, and she couldn't understand his sudden reticence.
