for the Hold required an experienced healer and Clostan had worked hard to adapt treatment to the needs of a fishing community. 'By the Egg, man, you do yourself no favours. You've broad shoulders ...' Clostan flicked fingers at them. 'You've a trim waist' – he couldn't pinch much there – 'and long shanks ... Show them off.' Clostan's trousers tended to cling to his strong, muscular legs, just missing a tension that might be considered lewd. 'Especially during your espousal ... show all the girls what a fine one they missed out on.
And allow Kasia to be proud of you.'
'Because I show off?.' Robinton had demanded, almost indignant.
'I can't imagine you ever showing off, Rob,' Clostan had said, shaking his head in mock despair. He grinned, a smile which showed his excellent white teeth and echoed in his dark eyes. He turned serious then and grabbed up the swatch of materials the tailor had on hand. He held them up to Robinton's face to see how they looked against the weather-tan the harper had acquired over the summer. 'Hmmm, yes. I know what Kasia's wearing, so we must also consider her colours. Can't clash. Hmmm. I think this rich resset shade of the brocade ...'
'Brocade?' Robinton was aghast. He was prudent with his marks, and he had brought the sum he felt adequate with him. But brocade ...
'Well, you can hardly appear in something shabby for your espousal, can you?' Clostan remarked in disgust. 'Look at it this way,' he said, mastering his impatience, 'you'll be able to wear this to Gathers for turns before it frays.' He robbed the sample roughly between his fingers, and then pulled both ends of the swatch to show its strength. 'You'd have to spend far more to match it for quality over the same period of turns. Good clothing is an investment.'
'And you make many,' Robinton said, stung to retort.
Clostan gave him a slightly malicious grin. 'I may, but they have all been wise choices, and I can change to fit the mood of the day and the weather of the season. Besides, it heartens my patients to see me well-dressed.'
Dispassionately, and because it was his espousal to Kasia, Robinton fingered the swatch and then held it against his face, noting that the rich russet shade did enhance his skin colour.
'Tailored correctly,' – Clostan gestured for the tailor to take measurements – 'you'll be glad you took the time and effort. And you might consider a few new shirts too,' he added, waving another set of colours. 'You've only three.'
Robinton, extending his arms for their measure, was half-tempted to clout Clostan for his manners. Then he started to laugh.
At himself.
'And a new pair of pants. The ones you came with are all but threadbare – in embarrassing spots – since you rode out of here,' Clostan added, peering down at Robinton's backside.
Since the harper had that very morning realized that Clostan's observation was all too true, he also ordered shirts and pants, including one of leather which would take the harder wear. He had secretly coveted the leather pants he had seen Ifor and Mumolon wearing.
When he returned for the fitting, he had been very pleased with the result and admired himself in the tailor's long mirror.
Furthermore, they all fitted so comfortably that he wondered why he had never thought of having tailor-made clothing before. But it had been as easy to find something in a Gather stall that was reasonably priced and fitted – more or less.
He was grateful to Clostan and brought him a skin of good Benden wine.
'Well, you do me proud,' Clostan said, gratefully accepting the skin. 'The one drawback with this Hold is its wretched wine.' With which sentiment Robinton totally agreed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Smiling over that episode, he opened the glowbasket over the new worktop which he and Kasia had had such fun finding and setting up in their room. He snagged the sonata from where his mother had left it on the music stand and, taking pen and a new square of hide – Kasia had said she was going to make sure he always had good, fresh writing materials – he began to make a copy of the sonata for his mother to take back to the Harper Hall. Maybe Petiron would even see it and find few faults, since it was written in a classic style. He grinned ruefully even as his fingers flew across the sheet: Robinton could not really see his father approving of anything his son wrote.
He looked back over the score, to be sure he had annotated it properly, and mused over Kasia's possible reactions to it when she heard it the first time. If she was even half as pleased as his mother...
He paced back and forth, paused to pour himself a glass of wine, and then went back to the table and proceeded to copy out his Kasia songs. His mother would like them too. She might even want to sing a few as encores to recitals. He finished those, drinking as he worked, and rolled up the music with a neat ribbon tying the packet, ready to give to his mother. He had a final glass of wine and then, realizing that dawn was not far away, took himself back to bed and willed himself to sleep.
Despite his late-night activities, Robinton was up at dawn: he'd forgotten to close the curtains over the small round windows, and the sun was shining in his eyes. But he felt rested enough and sprang from his bed. The day was so clear that he fancied he could see the High Reaches shore across the wide bay ... which reminded him that he hadn't heard whether Lord Faroguy had accepted Lord Melongel's invitation to come to his espousal day. Not that it was his alone, he corrected himself, for others would be taking vows at this Gather as well. As he dressed, he groaned as he thought of having to waste this morning at the Gather Court, but at least it would keep him too occupied to worry about anything else.
He joined Clostan at the table for breakfast, and the healer inspected him critically in his new clothing.
'Yes, I did you a favour, old thing,' Clostan said, sniffing a little as he turned back to his bread and cheese.
'You're looking splendid yourself,' Robinton replied, now able to recognize good tailoring when he saw it.
Clostan glanced down at himself, as if he couldn't remember what he had put on that morning. 'Oh, well enough. I may change for the dancing. That is,' he added, nudging Robinton in the ribs and rolling his eyes slyly, 'if I'm allowed to dance with the fair spouse Kasia.'
'Since it's you and I owe you a favour, I'll let you dance with Kasia when I have to play.'
'What?' Clostan affected great horror and surprise. 'They make you do a set on your espousal day?'
Robinton hushed him. 'I'm a harper. I take my turn. You wouldn't turn away a sick person today, would you?'
'Well, I'd change my clothes first,' Clostan replied, flicking an errant crumb off his sleeve. 'I'll hold you to that dance,' he said, rising. 'I do have rounds to make now.' And he was off.
Lord Melongel, looking austere in dark brown with just a piping of gold at the neck and sleeves, entered the dining hall. An approving smile appeared on his face as he noted Robinton's new clothes.
'You are looking the part, that's certain,' he said. 'Oh, a message was drummed in yesterday from High Reaches. Lord Faroguy regrets.'
'Well, I didn't think he'd be able. Is he well?'
Melongel frowned slightly, rubbing at his chin. 'Now that's the oddity. I've known Faroguy a long time. Had many messages from him, and he always enquires after Juvana. She spent a Turn with Lady Evelene, you know. Odd that he didn't this time.'
Robinton felt a surge of concern. 'If he is ill, could the message have come from someone else?'
'Farevene would have asked, too.' Melongel frowned. 'Well, we've enough to do today without adding other problems. I see you've finished your meal, so we'd best adjourn to the Court Hall.
We've a full morning.'
Robinton rose, suppressing a sigh. Unlike some of the larger Holds, Tillek used a stone building closer to the centre of the Holding for such proceedings – right in the middle of the Gather, which was already in full swing. Both official CraftHall and independent booths were doing a good business. The entire fishing fleet was moored in the harbour or alongside the wharves, and distant sails indicated that the home crowd would swell even more with the passengers coming in from up the coast. Melongel and Robinton had to slow their steps to the crowd's pace, with people either smiling a greeting or nodding courteously as Lord Holder and harper passed.
Robinton felt a tug on his sleeve and was surprised to see Pessia at his side, and, beyond her, the gaggle of Sucho, Tortole, Valrol and Klada, who peered out from behind the protective bulk of her father until Robinton's eyes fell on her, and she ducked away.
'Good Gather day to you, Lord Melongel,' Pessia said with a polite jerk of her head, and then she looked right
