taking a turn, he was pointedly ignored by Minnarden when the musicians changed round.
His leg went to sleep twice under the table; and when Kasia had to leave briefly to use a facility, she limped the first few steps from cramp. Brashia and Merelan went with her, reassuring Robinton -who couldn't bear her out of his sight – that she'd be fine with them.
As soon as the meal had been served to the main guests and the Lord Holders, those who wished to pay for their meal took places at the tables. Many dispersed to wander about the booths and enjoy the fine weather.
The singing continued in a less formal fashion, as background entertainment.
'Restless, love?' Kasia murmured when she caught Rob's fingers drumming the rhythm.
'Oh, no, no, just habit,' he said. 'Nothing can make me leave your side. Not today or ever.'
'We will dance later though, won't we?' she asked, making her eyes wide and innocent.
'Of course. All night ...'
'Not all night,' she murmured back, a sensual smile curving her lips. And then she giggled at his expression.
Dance they did, and Robinton was only going to allow Lord Melongel, her father and Groghe to partner her. He was furious with F'lon's teasing.
'Don't be annoyed with him,' Kasia said, serious for a moment.
'He is so fond of you, and I suspect all that foolery of his covers a far more serious problem he can't – won't – talk about.' She grinned. 'The way he sighs, I'd say he might be in love.'
'F'lon?' Robinton was surprised. The idea put a different complexion on F'lon's behaviour and Robinton regretted that he hadn't been more sympathetic. He had seen F'lon looking very thoughtful and worried between his bouts of nonsense. Today was not the day for him to enquire what bothered his friend, but he'd find time tomorrow. Then he reminded himself that he and Kasia weren't likely to encounter F'lon on the morrow.
So he permitted the bronze rider to dance with Kasia and while he watched them dance, he spoke to Simanith.
What is troubling my friend F'lon, Simanith?
There was silence for so long that Robinton wondered if the dragon had heard him at all.
I hear. I do not know. Sometimes he doesn't tell me everything.
Simanith's tone, so like his rider's, sounded wistful and anxious.
He thinks a lot about Larna and he's not happy.
Larua? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it took Robinton
most of the dance to remember: Larua had been an annoying little child, the old Weyrwoman's daughter. F'lon had got into trouble with Carola, and his Weyr, over the way he treated the little girl.
But little girls grow up. Robinton liked to think that this Larua had grown up into so pretty a girl that F'lon had lost his heart to her.
But then, lovers always wanted others to be in love, too.
Robinton sighed, and went off to claim Kasia for himself for the rest of the evening.
They managed to steal away unnoticed during one of the popular slow dances, and made it unencumbered out of the glow-lit dancing square and to the extraordinarily quiet Hold. For a Gather, even the old aunties and uncles were out enjoying themselves, and all the kitcheners and drudges with them.
'Look!' Kasia pointed to the heights, where twin globes of lightly whirling green showed them that Simanith was on watch.
She waved, and was startled when the bronze dragon blinked.
'Make no mistake, the dragon can see everything that's going on,' Robinton said. He waved too, and laughed when Simanith blinked again.
'Does he know what's troubling F'lon?' Kasia asked.
'He should, if anyone does,' he replied. 'But he doesn't.'
Then they were inside the Hold, most of the glowbaskets thriftily shut, just enough half-open to show them the way to the stairs.
'You must take Clostan with you the next time you buy clothes,' she told him as they hurried up the stairs to their level.
'When I've you to help me choose now?' He snorted at the very prospect of having anyone else.
They had to save their breath for the stairs and arrived, panting and gasping, at the top, Kasia giggling as Robinton handed her into their room, then firmly closed and locked the door. Not even F'lon would have the nerve to bother them here.
Dawn saw them sneaking out of the Hold, carrying their sailing gear and running, hand in hand, down to the wharf where the sloop was awaiting them. They could see bundles of sleeping folk
sprawled across chairs or tables, and some under as well. Banners flapped lightly over the few booths still left in the Gather square.
As they were stowing their gear, laughing, whispering and evading any notice, Robinton glanced up at the Hold heights. No dragon was indolently sprawled there.
Robinton couldn't remember if he'd said goodbye to his mother. He thought he must have, for he knew he had remembered to express his gratitude to Kasia's parents.
While Kasia went aft to take her place at the tiller, he untied the painter as Captain Gostol had shown him, jumped lightly to the bow and pushed the sloop away from the thick piles. Then he went to hoist the sail, which immediately began to fill. Kasia trimmed the sheet until the sail was nicely taut against the wind, and he made his way astern to sit beside her in the cockpit.
A fishman, coming up from the cabin of a larger ship, waved lazily at them as they made their way across the wide harbour and out into Tillek waters. He was the last person they saw for eight days and nights.
Their world became the sloop and the water and the sky which, for the first three days, was brilliantly blue as only autumnal skies could be in that latitude. Not that it mattered to them what the weather was like: they were with each other. Among other things, they both loved freshly caught and instantly fried fish. Sometimes Robinton caught while Kasia cooked; other times she did the fishing and he the frying.
Then the weather deteriorated and, in the teeth of a gale which came up with ferocious speed, Kasia yelled for him to lower the sail and tie it tightly and secure the boom. Finishing with that task despite the lashing rain and the mounting seas, he went below and got out their bad-weather gear, dressing quickly in his so that he could hold the tiller while she put hers on. When he came on deck again, he dropped his load and rushed to help her with the tiller. It was some time before she could release it and don her bad-weather gear, her face pinched with the cold of the rain which battered at them as they dipped and rose with the high seas. The waves broke over them time and again and at Kasia's bawled order, Robinton managed to reach a long arm for the bailing bucket.
More water poured in to take the place of what he had thrown overboard but he kept bailing with one hand while with the other
he assisted her hold on the tiller. The little sloop rode to the frothy height of immense waves and then slammed down into the troughs, shaking them to the bones. He knew his teeth were chattering with the cold and could see through the driving rain that she had her jaw clamped shut, lips pulled back, giving the appearance of snarling into the storm. She lay half across the tiller, fighting to keep the sloop's bow headed into the waves. He knew without her having to tell him that one broadside would capsize the ship and spill them into the cold, cold sea. They didn't seem to have much chance of surviving this storm; they'd certainly be better off if they could remain in the ship and afloat.
Somehow, sometime, when the lowering skies had lightened, the wind dropped and the pressure on the rudder eased. They flopped limply across each other and the tiller bar, gasping in the air.
'Quickly,' she said, pointing at the mast. 'We're in the eye of this storm and must take advantage of that. Hoist the sail halfway up the mast. There's the coastline, and we should find somewhere to shelter for the rest of the storm. There's got to be a cove, an inlet, somewhere to anchor.'
Her urgency lent him the burst of energy to do as she bid. Then he helped her hold even that little bit of sail against the force of the wind and keep the rudder headed towards the black bulk ahead of them.
They almost missed the entrance to the cove even with the prow of the ship pointed at it. Kasia let out a whoop of triumph, grinning with disbelief as the sloop passed the mouth of the inlet and left the fury of the sea behind them. Sheltered by the stony arm, the sloop rolled less wildly as the waves carried it towards the indistinct mass of cliff.
