Robinton nodded in complete agreement, though the prospect of trying to ensure that the Charter was obeyed was daunting. Especially in the face of Fax's active aggression.
'So, Master Robinton, I have named you my choice of successor.'
Robinton demurred, muttering about his youth and the fact that there were plenty of men who would be more logical choices.
'None of them wants the job,' Gennell said with grim humour.
'Minnarden strongly urged me to consider you, as did Evarel, and certainly I've had support from all the resident Masters.'
'Including ... Petiron?' Robinton asked, grinning.
'Oddly enough, yes. Oh, I doubt he would have suggested you, but he did not oppose the selection.'
That did surprise Robinton.
'I admit that I got the position more by default than ambition,' Gennell said with a hearty chuckle. 'I have served the Hall to the best of my ability ...' Robinton concurred: Gennell was exceedingly popular as MasterHarper. The old Master went on: 'I shouldn't care to take on the responsibilities of dealing with Fax, much less Thread.'
'You're too kind,' Robinton murmured ironically.
'I've had you marked as my successor from the moment I saw you talking to the dragons. Do you remember that day?'
Robinton nodded; that had been one of the high points of his childhood. Once F'lon had mentioned that dragons were whimsical about talking to non-weyrfolk. Sometimes they would. More often they would not. F'lon had added with one of his mischievous smiles, 'The dragons do like you, Rob.' But Robinton had thought that was a secret between himself, the dragons and their riders.
'I didn't realize that anyone was watching.'
Gennell grinned. 'I've watched you from the moment your mother told me you were piping variations on a theme.'
'Have I ever thanked you, Gennell, for all you've done for me?' There was no irony in Robinton's voice now.
'Pssst.' Gennell dismissed the matter with a flick of his fingers.
'I was your MasterHarper then, as I am now. Be a good Master to all within this Hall and I am doubly repaid. Do not let a tyrant like Fax still the voices of any more harpers.'
To that Robinton swore purpose and loyalty.
'Did you hear the drum message this morning?' Gennell asked in a complete change of subject.
'Yes.' Robinton smiled. 'A new baby at Ruatha Hold. A girl, small but healthy.'
Two days later, both Robinton and Gennell were called to Fort Hold. Lord Grogellan had refused the advice of MasterHealer Ginia, her very capable young journeyman Oldive, and the Hold's healer. He would not allow them to attempt surgery.
'Talk some sense into him, can you, Gennell?' Ginia said, her face red with frustration. 'I've done this operation – so has Oldive – and it takes but minutes. If we can't remove the inflamed appendix, he will die from a poisoning of his system.'
'You can't cut into him,' Lady Winalia said, weeping. 'You can't. That's barbaric.'
Ginia shook her head. 'It is not. It's as simple as removing infected tonsils from a throat, and you permitted me to do that for your children.'
'Lord Grogellan will not have his body violated, mutilated ...' Lady Winalia shuddered with repugnance, her expression stubborn. 'His person cannot be carved like an animal!'
'Mother, if it's a question of his life ...' said Groghe, trying to reason with his parent. 'I saw it done at Tillek, didn't I, Rob?'
Robinton nodded. 'Clostan performed it on a seaman taken with terrible belly pain. He was back on his ship the next week.'
Lady Winalia kept shaking her head, her lips pressed together.
'We will not permit it,' she repeated, pressing her handkerchief to her lips as she opened the door to her spouse's room. Grogellan's moans could be heard. 'Oh, he must be in such pain, Ginia. More fellis, please. How can you let him suffer so?'
'He wouldn't if he would permit me to...'
'No, no, never. How can you even suggest such a thing?'
'He didn't object when I sewed up that shin wound ... it's much the same thing,' Ginia said urgently.
'But that was a natural wound,' Lady Winalla protested. 'Oh, listen to him. Surely you can give him more fellis?'
'Yes, I can give him more fellis,' Ginia said through gritted teeth. 'I can fellis him right into death!'
'Oh, no, don't say that, Ginia. Please don't say he'll die.'
'I can't say anything else and be honest, Winalla. If I do not operate...'
Winalia clamped her hands to her ears and, with a little shriek of protest, half-ran to her spouse, where he twisted and writhed in bed.
He died later that day, in a terrible agony which not even the massive doses of fellis or the application of numbweed on his abdomen could dull.
'No violation, no mutilation, just death,' Ginia murmured as she wearily stumbled away from the tragedy. 'Once we knew so much more ...' She shook a little and leaned on Oldive.
So the Telgar Gather was cancelled and, instead, the Lord Holders came to Fort Hold to confirm Groghe as the new Lord Holder. Fax was conspicuous by his absence.
'But then, he wasn't invited,' Gennell said grimly, 'because he has not followed the established procedure of taking formal Hold.'
'I doubt that bothers him,' Robinton remarked. 'I wish I knew what he had planned at Telgar.'
That question was answered, in part or in whole, when Lady Relna of Crom and her two youngest children begged sanctuary from Lord Ashmichel and Lady Adessa at Ruatha Hold. Neither her spouse nor their two oldest boys had survived Fax's forcible entry into their Hold.
Groghe began to drill every man in Fort between the ages of sixteen and fifty. Tarathel and Melongel grimly followed his example and doubled their border patrols.
The following winter, another bitterly cold one, MasterHarper Gennell died of a failing heart. Ogolly, Washell, and Gorazde -frail though he was – drummed messages about the country. They had known that Master Robinton was the named successor, but it would be spring before the requisite number of Masters could return to the Hall for a formal election. No one wished the Harper Hall to be leaderless at such a time. Robinton could hear the messages coming in and going out. He found that their import was muffled down in the kitchen of the Harper Hall – where Silvina, Lorra's capable daughter, kept him company and poured out the numerous cups of clah he drank during the long wait.
Her mother had retired to her family home in South Boll three turns before and Silvina, as dark-haired and energetic as her mother had been, was headwoman in the Hall. Robinton liked her matter-of-fact attitude towards the duties and the disasters of the Hall – and the fact that she had been quite willing to bed him whenever he stopped there long enough to renew their friendship. She had more sense than to mention any sadness in his eyes, though she knew the memory of Kasia had not dimmed in the ten turns since her death. Vina accepted him as he was and made no demands, and gave him considerable relief and kindness. He was grateful, and that seemed to be enough for her. She was as big-hearted as her mother.
'The drums have stopped,' she said suddenly, about to pour him yet another cup of klah.
'So they have,' he said, realizing that he could no longer feel the vibrations through the stone walls of the Hall. He swallowed and she grinned at his discomfort.
'You could have stayed above and kept count.'
'What if--' He stopped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. At least two people were approaching.
Silvina reached out a hand and gripped his.
A grinning Ogolly and Jerint appeared, a sheaf of small square hides in hand.
'Master Robinton, would you be willing to assume the responsibility of the Master of the Hall and Craft?' Ogolly asked formally, his tone belied by his wide grin and happy eyes.
