border. He stayed four days, teaching the children, who were at first very shy with him but warmed as he taught them the ballads and sang them the humorous songs with which he had relaxed many a nervous student. On his final night Chochol, the holder, had taken him – and a skin of the rough white Tillek wine – to see the two moons rise, and then unburdened his mind to the harper.
'Once, twice, maybe, Harper,' Chochol said in his rough voice, pitched low so that not even the herd-beasts grazing near by could hear what he said, 'I would not worry. Anyone can come to a disagreement with his Holder. But there have been eight lots and they arrive scared of their shadows. Wounded, and the pretty ones have been badly handled.' He paused, indicating with a nod what he wouldn't say about their condition. 'Badly handled.' He emphasized the repetition with a second sharp nod. Then he pointed down the hillside, which was grassland with a few stunted trees. 'Twice' – he held up two thick, work-callused fingers – 'the women were sure that Lord Faroguy must be dead for such things to happen in High Reaches.
Scared my spouse, that did. But we see anything coming up here and I tell her we're in Tillek, holding with Lord Melongel, who's a fair Holder if ever there was one, and the time hasn't come when one Lord'll run over what another has owned since his Blood took hold.' The phrase 'run over what another has owned' sent a shudder of fear through Robinton right down to his guts.
'So's to reassure her, we've another cot,' Chochol said, waving his hand vaguely over his shoulder, 'where we could go did we see someone coming who ought not. I don't like it, Harper, I don't like it one bit.'
'Nor I, Chochol, and you may be sure I will tell Lord Melongel of your worries.'
Robinton did no composing that night, for music had gone out of his head. He had asked Chochol if the women had mentioned names, or where they were going in Tillek, but Chochol replied that he didn't know because he hadn't asked. He had seen them safely to the fiver track to the sea, and given them what they could spare of provisions.
Most nights, though, Robinton would drain glowbaskets of their last glimmer, penning his sonata. He also wrote other music for his Kasia, composing love songs on the long stretches between holds – though sometimes the notes on the hide showed the roughness of his travel and had to be corrected. These were only for Kasia, written for her to play for herself on her harp.
He finished the sonata before he got back to Tillek Hold, before the Autumn Gather and their espousal.
Kasia welcomed him so warmly that their reunion lasted all night long, which delighted a travel-weary young man who had desperately missed the object of his affections.
They spent almost as much time talking as making love. They discussed their future at length. Now and then, he related the amusing incidents that he hadn't written to her – since most of his letters had been intensely loverly, as she described them. She would treasure them for ever. Of course, the wall incident had been meat for runners all across Tillek Hold.
'I'll probably never live it down,' he told her, stroking her thick hair, rolling a tress on his finger.
'Why would you want to, Rob?' She giggled. 'I think it's a marvellous comment on your abilities.'
'I had to live up to expectations,' he said.
'Which, to judge by Melongel's remarks, you certainly did.'
'I'm not so sure of that,' he said, worried.
'I know you did,' she said loyally, poking his nose gently.
He groaned. 'I hope I did. Every hold seemed to have some sort of long-term dispute that only I' – he thumbed his chest – 'could settle.'
'Which I'm sure you did.'
'How can you be so sure?'
'Because I know my Rob. Who sees with clear eyes,' she said, touching them one by one, which interrupted him when he was about to tell her about the sonata, 'great perception' – and she touched his temples – 'and the clever tongue to speak truth and to the point.' She kissed him and that ended their conversation for some while.
If he went about his duties at the Hold yawning and only half there, knowing and kindly smiles absolved him.
During his verbal report to Melongel, he mentioned what Chochol had told him. 'Hill holding, well kept. The holder's named Chochol,' he said, leading up to the distressing news.
Melongel glanced up at the map and nodded as he identified the place.
'He's given hospitality to holdless fleeing from the High
Reaches.'
'Oh?'
Robinton shifted uneasily, trying not to alarm unnecessarily and yet to state his fears and reservations candidly. 'I was three Turns at High Reaches, you know, and I have great respect for Lord Faroguy, but the last time I saw him – at Benden Hold, for Lord Raid's confirmation – he looked very ill.'
Melongel nodded, confirming that opinion. 'Hmm. I noticed.'
'Well, it seems that Lord Faroguy may be dead and we simply haven't been told.'
Melongel regarded him with shock. 'How could that be?'
'I don't know, but Chochol thought it possible because he has sheltered several holdless folk – women and children mostly, returning to their relatives' holdings here in Tillek.'
Melongel frowned. 'I know of several holders who have asked for dispensation on their tithes because of increases in dependants.' He shuffled through some hides. 'I didn't know the women had been made homeless. Or that they'd come from High Reaches.'
Robinton cleared his throat, coming to the most dubious part of what Chochol had told him. 'The women said that they had been driven out of holds. Chochol said that some of the younger ones had been badly handled. That they thought Lord Faroguy must be dead for such things to happen.'
Melongel scowled, fixing Robinton with a glance which many would have been unable to meet.
'You believe Chochol?'
'I do, because I know there is a very ambitious man in High Reaches who will try to claim succession for himself... when Lord Faroguy dies.'
'Does this ambitious man have a name?'
Something in Melongel's eyes suggested to Robinton that the Lord Holder knew to whom he was referring.
'Fax.'
'That nephew of Faroguy?' Melongel looked away from Robinton for a long moment. 'I think I shall ask Faroguy to join us for the Gather. As you have served him, he might wish to come.'
That suggestion was more than Robinton had hoped for. But Chochol's tale had revived suspicions he had once thought groundless.
'Ah, here,' Melongel said, tweaking a hide from the pile and glancing down at the text. 'I'll just see what I can find out. Two of these enlarged holders live near by.' He folded his hands across his chest, looking down at a point on the floor. Then he looked up again, giving Robinton a little smile. 'Good report, Robinton. Well done. I've met that nephew and, quite frankly, I tagged him as ambitious, too. Would you say that Farevene is able for him?'
Robinton cleared his throat, struggling with being honest without being derogatory. 'Let me say that I wouldn't back Farevene in a wrestling match with Fax.'
'Frankly, nor would I, but I know Farevene has been well trained to succeed his father, and I would certainly not confirm Fax in his place.'
Robinton let out a relieved breath through his lips and said nothing more.
Melongel grinned more broadly now. 'Go on, lad. I know you're eager to spend time with Kasia after being so long away. One more thing: you'll be on the panel of the Gather Day Court with Minnarden and myself.'
Inwardly, Robinton groaned – once more the wall incident was raising its head, even if he was appreciative of the honour just accorded him. Minnarden had been very pleased with his application to the study of the Charter and his understanding of the principles of mediation and adjudication. This would be his first time to sit on a Hold Court panel. Kasia would be pleased, even if he wasn't.
'I doubt it will be a long session, Rob, and certainly won't cut into your espousal in the afternoon.'
With a clap on the shoulder, Melongel finally dismissed him.
'At the Gather Court? Oh, Rob, that is an honour,' Kasia exclaimed when he told her, her eyes wide. Then she giggled. 'Melongel really likes you.'
