every bone in his hands. They also mangled his throat so badly I'd be surprised if he ever sings again.'
'Does he know who did it?' Robinton demanded once he had calmed down the vengeful mutterings of his companions: hard to do with rage consuming him, but he knew that retaliation – however satisfying that might be – would achieve nothing helpful for the Harper Hall.
Germathen shrugged. 'I think he does, but he won't say – and talking is painful enough for him. I've set all the bones I could, but
I'd wish for someone more adept than I to check my settings.' 'Can he travel?'
Robinton noticed the Station Master's interest in the answer.
'If you take it by slow stages,' Germathen replied. 'In fact, I think Evenek will not feel safe until he is back in the Harper Hall.' 'If any of us are safe there ...' one of the apprentices muttered.
'Fort and Ruatha would protect the Harper Hall to the last man,' Robinton said firmly. 'May I see Ev now?'
The wounded man had been installed in the last, and safest, of the connecting dormitory rooms in the Station. Three older runners were seated outside his door, while the Station Master's spouse sat inside, sewing quietly. She rose, one hand reaching for a stout cudgel, when the harpers entered.
Evenek was asleep, his hands swathed in bulky bandages and cushioned by pillows. His face was a mass of bruises, and his neck was covered in bandages as far down as his chest. Robinton was sick to his stomach, and one of the other harpers abruptly retreated from the room. As Robinton stood there, a bitterness welled up in him of a strength he had not imagined himself capable of feeling -far deeper and more primitive even than that which had assailed him after Kasia's death. He thought briefly of asking for F'lon's help to transport Evenek, but with such injuries the cold of between was inadvisable.
The joy and relief in Evenek's eyes, his broken attempts to thank them, had an even more profound effect on those who had come to his aid. He managed to indicate that he would endure any discomfort which travelling might cause him.
'Home ... the Hall ...' he kept repeating.
Germathen and the healer journeyman had a quiet professional discussion and told Robinton that they could start back the next morning. If those in the Runner Station looked relieved, they had succoured Evenek when he most needed their help and Robinton made certain that the Harper Hall stood in their debt.
'To do that to a harper, Robinton, is something I never thought to see,' the Station Master said, shaking his head. 'I don't know what the world is coming to, I don't.'
After dinner, the harpers – quietly – entertained those at the Station. They brought Evenek safely back to the Harper Hall, where his condition reduced Master Gennell to tears. Later MasterHealer Ginia and her assistant, Oldive, having had a chance to assess his injuries, announced that while they thought they could give him back the use of his hands, he might not be as adept on some instruments as before. About his voice, they could not yet give any reassurance: the trachea had been badly damaged.
It was some time before the shock of Evenek's injuries was absorbed by the Hall. But Lord Grogellan, with his sons, made a formal visit to Master Gennell, assuring Harper Hall of their firm and unequivocal support, and protection, of the Hall and any harpers wherever they might need assistance.
While such brutality seemed to be an isolated incident, harpers everywhere were warned to be on their guard and to travel with traders or other known-to-be-friendly groups.
Master Gennell, who suffered badly now from joint-ail, continued to send Robinton as his representative – and as another set of 'eyes and ears'. This morning, when Gennell sent an apprentice to ask Robinton to join him in his office, Robinton registered a mild and humorous complaint.
'So where can you send me this time, Master? I do believe that I've met every Lord Holder, most of the minor ones, and been in every Crafthold on the continent. What place can I have missed on my travels for you?'
'Oh, I've found one,' Gennell replied with a smile, gesturing for Robinton to be seated. 'Not that you haven't been at Telgar often enough, but there's to be a big Gather and Lord Tarathel has invited Fax.'
'What?'
'I thought that would get your attention. Tarathel means to have a chat with the man. He's annoyed over certain problems on his borders with Fax.'
'I shouldn't wonder.'
'Nip tells me that Fax is planning something. He can't figure out what, but Fax is far too eager to attend and has been drilling his men...
'In what?'
'Parades. And wrestling. With daggers.'
'How are you with a dagger, Rob?'
'I've pinned Shonagar with my blade at his throat,' the young Master said.
'Oh, really?' Gennell's eyebrows raised high in surprise. 'That's good. But ... you're to keep your dagger in its sheath. I've more use for you than being pincushion to one of Fax's louts.'
'Oh?'
Gennell shifted in his chair, clasping his stiff, knotted fingers across his increasing paunch. He tilted his head to one side, observing Robinton for such a long moment that, in spite of himself, Robinton shifted at such scrutiny.
'I've had a purpose in sending you here and there, to every major Hold and Hall on pern.'
'Really!' With great difficulty, Robinton kept curiosity out of his response. But it was hard.
'Yes, I'm growing old, Rob, and I've to look for a replacement. Of course all the MasterHarpers vote as their conscience dictates, but I've made my wish clear. You!'
Robinton stared at his old friend. He hadn't expected that.
'You'll be around a long time yet, Gennell,' he said with a laugh which died when he saw the expression on Gennell's face.
'No, I think not,' the MasterHarper said. 'What with this joint-ail and no Betrice to fuss' – Gennell smiled fondly at the thought of his spouse – 'the heart's gone out of me. I may call for the
election and spend my remaining time on a warm beach in Ista.' 'Now, wait a minute, Gennell, I'm much too young ...
'The Hall must have someone young and vigorous as MasterHarper, Rob.' Gennell's manner turned resolute, as well as anxious. 'Now more than ever before. I can't leave the CraftHall without someone who appreciates the threat Fax poses to the entire world. I must know that other holds will not suffer the same future that High Reaches and now Crom are facing: illiteracy and oppression.' Watching intently, Robinton could see clearly how age and infirmity were hampering the once brisk and energetic MasterHarper. 'And someone,' Gennell continued, pointing a gnarled forefinger at the seated harper, 'who believes, as I do, that Thread will return to menace the land.' He wearily brushed back
thinning hair. 'I don't know what the Weyr is going to do, but it is our beholden duty as harpers to support Benden in any way we can.
Your going there as a child, and as a journeyman, has given you an admirable contact in F'lon. He's making himself a shade unpopular with some of the Lord Holders. If you could give him some advice ...'
'Which F'lon's not likely to take from anyone. Including me,' Robinton said sourly.
'I think you underestimate your influence on him, Rob,' Gennell said; he sank heavily into his chair again, grimacing at the pain.
'And I think you've more influence throughout the land now than you may realize. Are you still able to talk to dragons?'
Robinton nodded. 'Simanith, at any rate. I suspect that's only because of F'lon. Not that our conversations are anything to write ballads about.'
Gennell waggled a finger at him. 'It's more than most non-weyrfolk ever have.'
'That's true enough.'
Gennell smiled briefly. 'Nip reports that of all the harpers, you're one that even the Hall's worst critics will accept.'
'Except in the High Reaches.'
'Fax will overstep himself. That sort of man always does. There've been others like him before; there will be more like him in the future. When we live by the Charter, everyone prospers. When it is abrogated, the whole continent suffers.'
