But it was still a shock when Robinton heard the unmistakable music of his sonata pouring out of the open windows of the rehearsal hall.
How dared they? How had they got the music? He had kept his copy, but he had never ... Then he remembered that he had given his mother a copy when she'd come for their espousal. But surely she wouldn't ...
He tore out of his room, pounding down the stairs to the rehearsal hall, trying with the noise of his boots to drown out the music he had so lovingly created for his Kasia. He flung open the door, startling the instrumentalists, his mother and Petiron.
'How dare you play that?' And he advanced on his mother as if he would rip the harp from her lap.
'How dare you?' Petiron demanded, infuriated by the interruption.
'It's my music. No one plays it without my permission.'
'Robie ...' his mother began, rising to her feet and starting to come towards him. She stopped abruptly when he recoiled, holding his hands out in protest as much against the sympathy and pity in her face as against any contact. He almost hated her. How could she have let Petiron see his music, the sonata he had composed for Kasia, only for her? 'I loved Kasia, too, Robinton. I'm playing it for her. Every time the Kasia Sonata is played, her memory will be invoked. She lives on in this beautiful music; she will be remembered with it. You must allow her that! You need to allow yourself that.'
He just looked at her, feeling the anger drain away under her stern gaze. The other players remained so motionless that he scarcely noted their presence.
Then his father cleared his throat. 'The sonata is the best thing you've ever written,' Petiron said, without a trace of condescension in his voice.
Robinton turned slowly to look at the MasterComposer.
'It is,' he said, and, turning on his heel, he left the room.
He put wadding in his ears when he went back to his room so that he wouldn't have to hear the music. But some of it penetrated and towards the end of the rehearsal – which was almost a straight run-through, given the quality of the musicians performing – he took the wadding out. Listening to the rondo and the finale, he let the tears run unheeded down his face.
Yes, it was the best piece of music he had written. And listening to it, somehow he found he could think of Kasia without the terrible sense of loss and the constriction around his heart. As the final chords died away, he sighed and went back to his studying.
He tried to absent himself from the Hall whenever he knew they were practising the sonata – even if its chords sometimes seemed to follow him no matter how far away he took himself.
When it was performed at the Autumn Gather, he did not go to the performance. Instead, he saddled his Ruathan runner and took a long ride, camping out overnight. But his dreams were laden with memories of Kasia and he woke sweating, to lie awake until dawn, still remembering what he had loved about her: her laugh, the crinkling of her eyes, the lilt in her voice, the way she would swing her hips, deliberately enticing him.
Winter was just settling over Fort Hold with an early snowshower when Master Gennell came looking for him.
'Ah, Rob,' he said, coming towards him. Placing a fatherly arm across Robinton's shoulders, he guided the younger harper into his office. 'We've an emergency. Recall Karenchok, thin, dark-skinned journeyman in the same group as Shonagar?'
'Oh, yes, I do.'
'Well, he's broken his leg badly and will be unable to complete his rounds. Would you be willing to take over for him down in South Boll? Until he's able to travel again?'
Robinton was delighted to do so and hastily organized his packs for a noontime departure. He paused only long enough to tell his mother where he was going and why. She listened, nodding her head and giving him an encouraging little smile. As she walked him to the door, she reached up to caress his cheek.
'The sonata received a tremendous ovation, Rob,' she said softly.
He nodded, took her hand, kissed it, and left.
Karenchok's home base was a cluster of seaside holds on the eastern shore of South Boll. It was hot and steamy when Robinton arrived, and the SeaHolder greeted him enthusiastically.
'We've all been worried about him, Journeyman. He's very popular here, and so we've kept someone with him to help.'
'You're very kind, Holder Matsen. Master Gennell asked me to thank you for your care.'
'We've a very good healer, local woman but trained properly in the Hall. She's been overseeing his care, but she's busy too.'
The Holder was a short man, stockily built in the barrel, with thin legs that didn't look strong enough to hold up the weight he carried. But he moved quickly as he led the way to the cot set back from the little harbour. There was a long chair out in front, made by attaching a flat-topped stool to a padded chair. Vines had been trained over a lattice to shield the front from the morning sun.
'Ho, Karenchok, brought you a guest,' Matsen bellowed, giving advance warning.
A woman appeared in the door, giving the loose, long skirt she wore a final twitch. Her smile was guileless as she greeted harper and Holder
'Ah, Laela, that's where you got to,' said Matsen in a slightly strained voice.
Laela's smile turned on Robinton, and her eyes widened slightly. Then her manner became subtly seductive and her smile warmer.
'This is Journeyman Harper Robinton,' Matsen said stiffly.
'Laela helps Healer Saretta with hold-bound patients.'
'I do my part,' she said in a sultry voice, and Robinton felt his lips twitching. He could not deny her sensuality – or that it was affecting him. It was the first time in the nearly nine months since Kasia's death that he had felt this way. He didn't know if this was a good thing or not, but there was no missing the invitation in Laela's voice and eyes as she slid past him. 'Karenchok is in good spirits,' she said, her laughter trailing her departure.
In spite of himself, Robinton turned to see where she went.
'Karenchok is here,' Matsen said, prompting his attention.
'Sorry.'
Matsen cleared his throat and led the way into the cot.
Karenchok was sitting by the table, his splinted leg straight out in front of him and a pair of wooden crotches handily slanted against another chair. Robinton did recognize him: one of Shonagar's wrestling partners. Seeing Robinton, Karenchok waved a friendly hand.
'I remember you, Robinton,' he said in greeting. 'Very good of Gennell to send me help so quickly. Come, sit. Matsen, can you find the wine-skin for me?'
Matsen did, but not without a glance which told Robinton that Karenchok had been drinking rather more than might be good for him. A curious peek at the label on the skin disclosed the fact that this was a Tillek red, which was likely harsh. Well, it was wine and would go down as well as best Benden.
By late evening he had learned all about Karenchok's accident and admired the man for the grit it must have taken to crawl, with a leg broken in three places, to a path where someone would find him. He'd been riding back to his cot when his runner – 'one of the stupidest ever bred' – had been frightened by a tunnel snake and thrown him down into the gully. Once over its scare, the runner had been in no hurry to return to its home, so it was late night before a search party went out to find him. When Robinton remarked on his fortitude, Karenchok shrugged.
'Well, the misbegotten runner got me into the ditch; it was up to me to get out.'
The phrases caught Robinton's attention: 'Got into, get out!' Notes began once more to spin in his head.
He didn't get the rest of the tune until much later, but it was a start, and he was grateful to be able to think music again.
Although he had spent some time with his mother's family on the west coast, this part of eastern South Boll was quite different, with land sloping down into fine beaches and piers thrust far out to where the water was deep enough to accommodate the fishing boats. He even forced himself to go out to sea in Matsen's sloop, though it was five times the size of the sloop he and Kasia had sailed. But he made another step forward out of grief by doing so.
Tactful questioning of Karenchok elicited the information that Laela was her own person, beholding to none. She gave her favours where she would, and Karenchok was grateful for her generosity.
