As he made his way to the front staircase, Robinton stopped by Hayon. I'll be in my quarters if I'm needed. I've been advised to keep F'lon and Fax separated.'
'Oh, F'lon's in your rooms?' Hayon heaved a sigh of relief.
'We've all been wondering. Especially that Fax. I don't like that man.'
'Perceptive of you, Hayon.'
I'll cover for you. There're enough harpers here, as well as Master Gennell.'
Robinton wished he could have been in two places at once, but it was far more important for him to keep F'lon asleep until the Council had departed. He wondered just what had transpired between the two. F'lon was known to be a clever fighter ... but no rider should put his life – and that of his dragon – in jeopardy.
Which was why it had been irresponsible of S'loner to fly when he was unwell. Robinton knew that a man's heart could stop from one second to another. Chendith would have known in that instant that his rider had died, and the presence of a passenger would not have deterred the dragon from suicide. And the grievously tragic death of Lord Maidin
F'lon was asleep, sprawled out on the bed. Carefully, Robinton laid a blanket over him lest a chill wake him prematurely. The sun was well west by now, and the room was cooling down. He locked his door, pocketed the key and, taking a light fur from the closet, laid himself down on the little bed in the room he'd occupied as a child.
He was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes ...
'All right, where's the key?' a voice said in his ear as a hand shook him roughly.
The little room was dark, and only one glowbasket was open in the outer chamber, but the long boots on the figure by his bed told him that F'lon was up and anxious to leave.
'Oh, sorry, F'lon.'
F'lon snapped his fingers for the key as Robinton fumbled for it in his pants. 'If I find that the High Reaches contingent took another dragon back, I shall be quite annoyed.'
'If one hasn't,' Robinton replied, 'I shall be.'
He gave the key over and lay back, wishing he'd been allowed to sleep round the clock as he heard F'lon stride noisily across the outer room, fumble the key into the lock, and swing the door open so roughly that it crashed into the wall.
'I'd better go after him,' he murmured to himself, but he consoled himself with the thought that C'vrel would have whisked the High Reaches trio off long before now.
He was right. F'lon must have just received that information from Hayon when Robinton reached the top of the stairs, for the bronze rider glared fiercely over his shoulder at him. Then, in one of his lightning changes of mood, F'lon smiled and waved a hand.
The tension drained out of his face, and he sauntered over to see what he could find on the depleted refreshment table. Hayon and his younger sisters and brothers formed a disconsolate group to one side of the hearth; on the other, Lady Hayara sat with her sisters and brothers who had come to bear her company.
Robinton made his way down the stairs and stopped one of the drudges. 'Would you know if the MasterHarper is still here?'
She pointed to the hallway and then crooked her finger to the left to indicate the small dining room.
He found Master Gennell with Lord Grogellan and the MasterHealer.
'F'lon is up,' he told them, 'and I gather the High Reaches folk are long gone.'
Master Gennell grinned; Grogellan chuckled and asked, 'Master Ginia, did you get a chance to assess Lord Faroguy's condition?'
She nodded. 'His son will see that he has the best of care for however much longer he is with us,' she said solemnly. 'It is a condition of the blood for which there is no cure for a man his age.' 'Does Fax know this?' Robinton asked bluntly.
Grogellan snorted and Master Gennell looked about to reproach his journeyman, but Ginia raised her hand.
'That young man knows a great deal too much about too many matters that are not actually the concern of a small' – and she stressed the adjective – 'holder.'
'Who might not remain small,' Robinton said. 'That's a very ambitious and greedy person.'
'You had a run-in with him at High Reaches?' Gennell asked.
'Not a run-in, Master, but, as I felt obliged to tell you when I returned from that contract, he does not permit harpers to teach his holders basic skills.'
Grogellan raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to Gennell. 'Is that true?'
'Yes, I fear it is.'
'But surely someone as thorough as Faroguy would have insisted.'
'Faroguy is old, tired and sick,' Robinton went on, 'and remarks that the Charter allows autonomy within a hold.'
'Which begs the question of whether the hold in question allows the Charter in,' Master Ginia said, catching the point. At Robinton's nod, she went on, 'Frankly, I don't like such an attitude. Intolerant and high-handed.'
'An educated cotholder is far more useful and productive,' Grogellan said.
'From what I understood, Fax's cotholders had better produce as much as he expects them to,' Robinton said, 'and no excuses allowed.'
'I shall give the problem considerable thought,' said Gennell.
'As will I,' Lord Grogellan said. He glanced over at the door and rose. 'I see our rider has come. Will you be back at the Hall soon, Robinton?'
'I'm contracted here, Lord Grogellan, but it's nice of you to enquire.'
'Keep me informed, Rob,' Gennell said, not needing to make specific what information he wanted.
Master Ginia, however, startled the journeyman by standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. 'I promised your mother I would,' she said, and then left him gawping after her.
As he felt his cheeks reddening, he could only hope that no one else had seen her salutation. That wasn't his mother's style, but he smiled as Ginia disappeared down the hall.
Raid took hold with no faltering and no hesitation. He called all his Craftsmen to a meeting the next day and asked if there was any business that he needed to go over with any of them. Then he announced that his sister, Maizella, would exchange her espousal promises after the usual period of mourning, and that Lady Hayara would remain in the Hold until he could find a spouse of his own. He naturally would arrange suitable employment for his numerous half-brothers and half-sisters.
If the speech was stuffy and stilted, there was no question that Raid would not honour his commitments. But Robinton quietly seethed at the awkward way the young man went about it. There were so many ways in which a bitter pill could be sweetened, but Raid seemed to know none of them, with all his blunt speaking and total disregard for the feelings of others. Only Maizella could rebuke him. Lady Hayara merely regarded him with filling eyes and numbly accepted his orders. Fortunately, she was a capable woman and the ordering of the Hold had long been hers, so there was no friction on that score. Even Raid knew her value to him. He didn't even begin looking about for an appropriate girl until his father had been gone three full months.
But something had noticeably gone out of the Hold which Maidir had managed so capably and ... circumspectly. Holders with problems did not discuss them with Lord Raid: he told them what they had to do and that was that. Robinton did what he could to soften the Lord Holder's unequivocal statements, obliquely suggesting that Raid was still numbed by his father's tragic demise; and that, while he was well trained and competent, he still lacked the touch which only experience would give him.
One day, after Robinton had been nearly two turns at Benden Hold, Raid called him to his office.
'I hear a few things about you, Journeyman, that I do not like,' he said, coming to the point immediately. 'I am Lord Holder, and what I say is how things will be. I do not need you soothing down disgruntled holders or denigrating my efforts behind my back. You may leave.'
'Leave?' Robinton felt as numb as he had suggested Raid was.
'Leave. I hereby release you from your contract.' Raid tossed a pouch of marks across the table to Robinton. 'I shall request a replacement from the MasterHarper. Without prejudice, of course, since you have discharged your duties with efficiency and energy.' 'Efficiency' and 'energy' were two of Raid's favourite words.
'But I ...'
'You may drum that bronze rider friend of yours to convey you back. Give this' – he fielded a little roll of hide to join the pouch to Master Gennell. 'You do not suit me as the Hold harper.' Then he rose to his feet, to indicate the
