So was Robinton, although he winced when she boldly claimed that she would lift the sadness from his eyes. It annoyed her that she couldn't – though she tried often enough during his winter stay at the SeaHold.
Just after turn's End at the SeaHold, a dragon was spotted in the skies. The children Robinton was teaching at that moment could not contain their excitement: it wasn't often that dragons came this far south. As Robinton shielded his eyes from the brightness of the morning sun on the water, he tentatively spoke the name.
'Simanith? Is that you?'
It is, and there was such a note of joyfulness in the dragon's voice – so like F'lon's – that Robinton grinned.
'What is it? What brings you so far away from Benden?' Robinton asked.
You. We've been to the Hall. They told us you were here.
F'lon was half-off Simanith's neck before the big bronze had touched the sand of the beach.
'I'm a father, Rob, I'm a father!' F'lon shouted, waving one arm and charging up the strand to thump the harper soundly on the back. He had a wine-skin thrown over the other shoulder. 'A son!
Lama gave me a son!'
'Lama? So you did get her!' Robinton had to dismiss the pang in his heart. Kasia had been alive when he'd first learned about F'lon's interest in the grown-up Lama, who had been such a plaguey nuisance to Falloner, the boy.
'Dismiss your class, Rob,' F'lon ordered. 'Off you go, children! Class again tomorrow.'
Robinton had to laugh at the dragonrider's high-handed way, but F'lon's exultation brought smiles to the fishmen mending nets on the strand. Robinton hurriedly introduced F'lon to Matsen and the others, and then led his old friend to the cot he shared with Karenchok.
'A fine strong lad, just like his sire,' F'lon boasted, splashing wine into the cups Karenchok hastily set out.
'Don't waste this,' Robinton said, having had a taste of the white wine that was being so liberally poured. 'It's Benden, isn't it?'
'What else would I provide to toast the health of my first son?' F'lon demanded, and he quaffed his glass dry.
It was a merry time, though all too short because F'lon was anxious to return to Benden and his child.
'I gather Lama did forgive you for pushing her into the midden, then?' Robinton remarked after listening to F'lon's ravings.
The dragonrider gave him a startled look. 'I never pushed her into the midden. That was Rangul. R'gul, I should say. That isn't where he'd've liked to push her, but I' – and he slapped his chest proudly – 'got her as weyrmate, not R'gul.'
'I'm sure she'll be happier with you,' Robinton said, remembering what a stuffy child Rangul had been.
'Of course she will,' F'lon replied. Finishing his third, or maybe fourth, glass of wine, he decided he had best return to the Weyr,
Lama and his son. 'I've named him Fallamon.'
'A fine choice for a dragonrider-to-be.'
'Bronze, of course,' F'lon added as he waved a cheerful goodbye to Karenchok.
'He came all the way from Benden Weyr to tell you that?' Karenchok asked, hobbling to the doorway to watch the drug-onrider depart.
'We're old friends.'
'Good friends.' Karenchok lifted his wineglass appreciatively.
'You don't get good Benden often in South Boll.'
Nine days later a runner brought Robinton a short message from F'lon: Larna had died two days after Fallarnon's birth. Robinton sent back a message by the same runner, expressing his condolences.
In his heart, though, Robinton envied F'lon, who had a son to remember his love by.
When Karenchok was finally walking soundly and able to ride again, Robinton reluctantly bequeathed him the Ruathan runner – a much sounder and smarter animal than the weedy elderly runt which had thrown him. He rode Karenchok's back to the Hall, having no other, and it was indeed the most uncomfortable of runner-beasts.
The first thing he did when he got back to the Harper Hall was to tell the beastholder to get rid of this bag of bones and find him a new riding animal. His second action was to find his mother. He didn't like what he saw and taxed her with questions about her health.
'I'm fine, I'm fine, love, really. Just a little tired. It's been a busy winter, you know.'
Robinton was not so easily put off and cornered the MasterHealer the next morning.
'She does seem fine, Rob,' Ginia replied slowly, 'but I know, as you do, that she's not. She's losing weight, yet I see her eating well at table. I've my eye on her, never fear. She and Betrice.'
'Betrice?' Robinton realized that he hadn't seen the MasterHarper's spouse, who was usually busy about the Hall somewhere. 'What's wrong with Betrice?' Was his whole world crumbling about him? Were all the people he loved and admired suddenly showing their mortality?
Ginia laid a hand on his arm, her expressive eyes sad. 'There is so much we don't know and can't help.' She paused and then sighed. 'Sometimes people just wear out. But I promise you I'm watching your mother carefully.'
'And Betrice?'
'And Betrice,' Ginia said with a nod.
At dinner that evening, Robinton sat next to Betrice, noting the slight wobble in her hand as she ate and trying not to see it. So he regaled her with the funniest incidents he could remember, and her laughter was as ready as even Once their eyes met and locked, and she gave him a funny little smile and patted his hand.
'Don't worry., Rob,' she said in a low voice, turning her head away from her spouse who was involved in a lengthy exploration of some legal point with a journeyman whom Robinton remembered as another of Shonagar's voice students.
'Just you take good care of yourself, too, Betrice,' Robinton said with as much love as he could put in his low tone.
'Oh, I do. I do.'
Robinton had to be content with such reassurances, and the following morning he accepted the next assignment Master Gennell had for him: this time in Keroon.
'You haven't been to the plains yet, have you? Good experience, Rob, good experience. Again it's a short contract.' Gennell passed Robinton a piece of hide. 'These are the holds you do not go to.'
'Do not ...?' Robinton was surprised and scanned the nine names listed.
'Yes,' the MasterHarper said. 'I'm sorry to say, harpers are not always regarded with the respect they formerly were, as I think you've discovered a time or two.'
Robinton grimaced. 'But why? We're only trying to help. We don't tell people lies ...'
Gennell cocked his head, a sad smile turning down the corner of his expressive mouth. 'There are many who feel that the Duty Song is lies.'
'Honouring the dragonriders?'
Gennell nodded. 'That's one so-called lie. You have realized that, even in the larger holds, some feel that the Weyr and its riders are relics of a past danger we no longer need to consider.'
'But, Master Gennell ...'
The MasterHarper held up his hand and gave a brief smile. 'You have had a long association with the one remaining Weyr. Many nowadays have never even seen a dragon in the sky, much less met a dragonrider. Sometimes Search is misinterpreted, too, although there have been few enough of them lately.' He sighed and gestured to the list. 'Just save yourself grief and avoid those holds. We can't force people to learn when they've no wish to listen.'
As Robinton was on his way out of the courtyard on the new young Ruathan runner-beast he had used his savings to purchase, a runner came trotting in: a man who was very familiar to him.
'Ah, you, wait a minute ...' And Robinton reined his mount about. The runner had dutifully halted and turned to face him. 'I thought it was you.'
The man smiled briefly. 'I've fooled many.'
'Ah, but I'm a harper and as trained to notice details as you are.
Did you find Mallan?' he asked.
