something to say that would ease his loss. There was nothing.
'Oh, go on, Rob. You're safer with C'gan anyway. At least right now.'
'Keep me posted how things are here, will you, F'lon? I know you can drum.'
He gripped the bronze rider's arm in what he hoped expressed his sympathy and regret and then, picking up his carisaks, made his way out of the brightly lit area to the blackness of the Bowl – the silhouetted shape of C'gan's blue Tagath, and the glimmering shine of sad dragon eyes, dotting the wall of the Weyr.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
His first act on returning to Benden was to search for Maizella and find out how Lady Hayara was doing. The girl looked almost as haggard as her stepmother had.
'She's had a healer's draught and will sleep her grief out,' she said. 'And I'm about to take one myself. I still can't believe what's happened. Couldn't there still be a chance they'll emerge from between?'
Robinton shook his head. 'The dragons would know. And they know that Chendith is no more. I'm so sorry, Maizelie.'
'I know you are, Rob,' she said, touching his arm. 'And Raid's taking charge,' she added with a touch of bitterness. 'Could he not have waited until morning? Oh, he wants you on the Drum Tower...'
That was Robinton's second act, sending out the sad report of the double tragedy. Raid had already composed the message and thrust it abruptly at Robinton the moment the harper reached the top of the Tower. As he got his wind back, Robinton read it.
Different temperaments responded to tragedy in different ways, he reflected. He did not, as Maizella evidently did, think that Raid was heartless and unaffected. Rather he was proceeding with what he had been trained to do: take over the Hold and do whatever that new responsibility required of him.
The Lord Holders of Fort, South Boll, Tillek and High Reaches, where it was only early evening, immediately drummed requests for dragons. There were messages later that long night from Telgar, Ista, Igen and Nerat as men were roused with the tragic news.
By morning, all the major Holds knew and had responded. And by morning, a stream of Benden holders started arriving, some with wine or food. The women went either to the kitchens to help or upstairs to the family, to express their grief. The harpers from the outlying holds arrived to relieve Robinton at the drums: his hands were swollen from constant use of the sticks and he could barely concentrate on incoming messages, much less reply confidently.
With the Tower manned, he collapsed for a few hours' needed sleep and was roused when F'lon, looking pale and exhausted, woke him with klah and slabs of bread.
'I brought Faroguy in, with two of his family,' the bronze rider said. 'They didn't know I was S'loner's son.' He gave a snort as he collapsed on the foot of the bed, slumping against the wall and nursing the hot klah on his chest. 'You learn a lot more that way.'
'What more?' Robinton struggled to a sitting position. 'Who came with Faroguy?' he asked, the mere fumes of the strong klah sparking his instincts.
'Oh, that nephew and the son.'
'Fax?'
F'lon frowned. 'I think that was the name he said.'
Robinton swore under his breath. 'Watch that one.'
'Oh, I intend to,' F'lon said, cocking his head, his expression fierce. 'He doesn't think much of dragonriders, and he doesn't think much of harpers, for that matter.'
'I know. I would have thought he'd abstain.'
'Shards no! He was grinning from ear to ear. Although ...' And now F'lon paused, knotting his brows. 'I think that his coming was a last-minute addition. There were just Faroguy and his oldest waiting for me. Then Fax came rushing out. He was up on to Simanith before I could speak.'
Robinton continued to swear under his breath. He had no desire to confront Fax. He wondered how – and why – Fax had inserted himself into the group from High Reaches. He wasn't a member of the Council of Lord Holders and Masters. He couldn't vote on the matter of Raid's suitability.
'Oh, I also picked up MasterHarper Gennell and Lord Grogellan from Fort. Gennell's asking for you.'
'Yes, he would be.' Robinton drew his knees up so that he could throw the covers off his legs. He had not bothered to strip off his clothing, and now he could scarcely appear in such wrinkled garments.
'Take your time. Have a quick bath. You need it.' F'lon's ever whimsical sense of humour prompted him to hold his nose in demonstration.
'Yes, I do, don't I?' Robinton was aware of the reek of wine and sweat about his person.
'Gennell didn't seem in a hurry. Just asked where you were.
Hayon said you were catching some rest.'
'How's Hayon taking his father's death?'
'He's been marvellous with Lady Hayara and the others, but I can't think he likes having Raid in charge now. Don't think I would either,' F'lon said bluntly and left the room.
Robinton stripped off the dirty clothing, grabbed clean garments from his chest and strode to the bath, grateful that he didn't have to vie with others to use the common one down the hall. The hot water was stimulating, and he felt much better as he pulled on trousers and wriggled his arms into the clean shirt. He took his shoulder cords from the old shirt and attached them, making certain they were properly hung. Then he rough-dried his hair before he gathered it back with a thong. He really should have it trimmed. Later...
F'lon wandered in just then, having filled Robinton's ldah mug.
'Now you look respectable, as befits the Hold harper.'
'Why don't you get some sleep?' Robinton suggested, pointing to his empty bed.
F'lon looked in that direction and sighed. 'That's the best idea you've had so far. Call me if you need me,' he said, gulping down the last of his klah and beginning to roll down the tops of his flying boots.
Robinton heard the thud of the first one as he was closing his door.
The Hold was teeming with quiet people, talking in the corridors or in small groups in the hall as Robinton descended the front stairs.
Trestle tables had been set up and were loaded with plates of bread and bowls of fruit and slices of meat which had been rolled up for easy eating. He spotted Master Gennell talking to other Masters, flown in from their Halls to attend to the sad duty of succession.
Gennell saw him and waved for him to join them.
As Robinton obediently wove his way through the assembly, he looked about for Fax, or at least Faroguy and whichever son had accompanied him. He assumed the Lord Holders must be convening somewhere else, but he did spot Farevene standing in the entrance hall, looking around uneasily. Then Naprila came up to the young Holder and Robinton had reached the Masters.
Gennell introduced him to the Masters surrounding him: Smith, Weaver, Fishman, Farmer and Miner. He already knew MasterHealer Ginia, and she nodded soberly in greeting. More Masters would assemble for the Council meeting; these were but the first arrivals.
'Give us your account of what happened last night, Robinton,' the MasterHarper said, and Robinton did, pleased that his wits had been aided by the klah and the bath so that he was able to make his report concise.
'Dreadful thing!'
'Terrible tragedy to lose both a Lord Holder and the Weyrleader.'
'And at such a time – right after a Hatching!'
'Who will take over at the Weyr?'
They all looked at Robinton.
'I believe that will be decided in the traditional way when the queen mates again,' the young harper replied.
'But the Weyr can't be without leadership for several turns,' the MasterFishman protested.
'There are older riders: C'vrel, C'rob and M'ridin,' Robinton said. 'They were taking charge last night.'
'It's not as if there were Threadfall to worry about,' the MasterMiner said.
The MasterWeaver snorted. 'All too true, not that that S'loner wasn't drumming up alarms. Didn't take any serious notice of that, I can tell you.'
Robinton forbore to speak up in such company, but he did notice that all the other Masters but his own seemed
