He argued off and on, especially when he caught her being sick in the mornings, but she was adamant. She supported her argument with instances from Betrice's life with Gennell.
'You love the Harper Hall more than you could possibly love ... another woman. It might have been different if Kasia had lived, but I think not,' Silvina said in her down-to-earth manner. 'My mother loved harpers, all harpers. I think I have inherited this fatal tendency. I do care for you, Rob ...'
'As you've often shown.' He grinned affectionately at her, finally beginning to see what she meant by her insistence on independence.
'As you know, but I'd rather not be tied. I don't really think I'm cut out for sexual loyalty.' She gave him a very wicked grin. 'There are so many of you to love!'
That he knew of no others with whom she had formed any sort of relationship was immaterial.
So he made sure everyone in the Hall and Hold knew that he acknowledged the unborn child and that Silvina had his affection and support. And, as often as he could manage in his myriad duties, he spent time with her.
When he told F'lon, the Weyrleader was delighted, and asked how many lullabies he had composed. Kasia was not mentioned and, for once tactful, F'lon asked if there would be an espousal, too?
'No.' Robinton made a rueful face. 'I asked and she refused.' F'lon regarded him for a long, thoughtful moment. 'I give her full marks for her wisdom. You'll make a loving father but a terrible spouse. Think of all the... ah...friendships you'd have to forgo!'
Robinton managed a creditable laugh. There was no sense in denying the fact to F'lon that Robinton was enthusiastically welcomed by many holder girls for the pleasure he gave above and beyond the music he played.
Robinton tried to stay in the Hall as much as he could towards the end of Silvina's pregnancy. The winter was a stormy one and so there were few calls on him to mediate. He taught more classes than he had for many months and was pleased with the way the boys would work for him. The elaborate music of his father had to be put aside since there were no coloraturas available, though he managed to get Halanna to come and sing at Turn's End, reworking a ballad so he could sing with her. Once again he tried to entice her back to the Hall, even offering her a Mastery, but she turned him down.
'What? Live in this cold all the time? I think not, Rob, though it's kind of you to offer me the post and the honours.'
'The Harper Hall will get the reputation that girls, and women, are not wanted here,' he said, continuing his argument.
She only smiled. 'If my daughter is at all musically inclined, I'll send her to you, I promise.'
'Even if she isn't?' Robinton asked, pleading.
'You!' and Halanna left him with that ambiguous remark.
In the middle of a blizzard Silvina was delivered of a fine big boy in due course, and Robinton was besotted with the infant at first sight of him. If Silvina seemed unusually subdued, he at first put it down to the rigours of the final month of pregnancy and the delivery. Then he began to realize that this infant was unusually quiet, sleeping and eating fitfully, and only occasionally wailing in a thin, petulant way.
All right, Silvina, what's wrong with him?' Robinton asked, as the baby briefly waved his fat arms and then sank into unwinking silence.
She gave a long, sad sigh. 'The cord was around his neck when he was born. Ginia said he didn't get enough air to breathe normally.'
Robinton stared at her, disbelief foremost even as he admitted to himself the hideous fact that this child of his was obviously not normal.
'And?' he asked quietly, slowly sinking to the nearest chair, seeing once again his pleasant dreams turning to ashes.
'He will be ... slow,' she said. 'I've seen the same sort of thing before. There've been two cot babes the same way. But they are sweet. And docile.'
'Sweet? And docile?'
Robinton tried hard to absorb what that would mean in terms of his child. He buried his head in his hands and tried not to think of what could have been. How ironical! That his first – and only -child would be sweet and docile instead of the curious, interested, clever, tall, fine straight child he had yearned for!
'Oh, Robie, you cannot know how sorry I am.' Silvina's fingers twined in his hair. 'Please, don't hate me. I so wanted to give you a ... fine child.'
'How can I hate you, Vina?' He glanced sideways at the baby.
'Or him. I'll care for you both ...'
'I know you will, Rob.'
There was little more he could say, just then. Over the months of Camo's first Turn, he kept looking for signs that his condition might have been exaggerated and the bright intelligence which should have been his legacy might somehow blossom. He was even somewhat encouraged when Camo first smiled at him.
'He knows your voice, Rob,' Silvina said sadly. 'He knows you bring him something good to eat ...' She ignored the little drum which Robinton had made with his own hands to amuse his son.
The child had regarded it with the vacant eyes he turned on anything that was offered him.
'He has a very sweet smile,' Robinton remarked, and then he had to leave the room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A very weary Nip appeared late one night in the second month of the new Turn.
'He's at it again,' he said, dropping a tattered hide coat to the floor and pouring himself a drink, swallowing it before he spoke.
'I can get you soup,' Robinton suggested when he saw how blue Nip was about the lips. He rose from his comfortable chair. Nip shook his head, poured himself a second glass and came over to the fire. 'What's he at?'
'His tricks,' Nip said, sinking gratefully into the chair Robinton had vacated. 'How he plans his invasion of holds, large and small.'
'Really?' Robinton poured wine for himself and, hooking his foot around a stool, slid it to the hearth and made himself comfortable to listen. 'Do tell.'
'Oh, you'll get chapter and verse from me.'
'If you don't fall asleep first.'
'I won't. My subject matter will keep me wide awake,' Nip said bitterly. He downed the second glass of wine. 'Pity to waste it like that, Rob, I know, when it's good Benden, but it goes to a good purpose.'
'I'm listening,' Robinton said patiently, and filled Nip's glass a third time. The harper sipped this one slowly.
'He visits his intended victim, all smiles and reassurances, compliments the man on his fine holding. Buys whatever the hold produces, pays over the mark for what he calls the best quality. He asks how such yields are achieved on such poor, good, medium, excellent soil... under such trying, hot, cold, dry conditions... In short...'
'He makes himself a friend of the hold,' Robinton said, nodding roofully.
'Then he sends down a man to learn from the holder. Or he starts buying the produce, at higher prices, and brings others to see how well this holder is doing with his land. I mean, how can they be taken in so easily?'
'Some of those upland holds are isolated. Often they don't get to but one Gather a Turn.'
'True,' Nip sighed. 'Now, he's very canny about how he insults the Harper Hall, especially if the hold in question has a harper, or is on a well-travelled route. He's careful with his slanders,' and Nip pantomimed a dagger being inserted gently in and then slowly twisted. 'He gives examples of harper lies and exaggerations. So he plants the seeds of doubt. Then he invites the man and his family to come to his next Gather, and sometimes, if the gullible fool believes him, he offers to send men to tend the herd-beasts or the
fields, or whatever, while the holder and his family are away.'
'So that his men become familiar with the place.'
'Exactly.' And Nip took a sip. 'One man and his family never did get back from that Gather and so Fax has acquired Keogh Hold recently.'
'That makes...'
'Four.'
'I see. Let me take those boots off for you, Nip. They look soaked.' Actually, Robinton had caught sight of the
