For fear of being ridiculed, he didn't tell anyone about his thwarted desire.He did ask a few questions of his Masters, in case they knew how Searches were conducted, but the answers he got did nothing to assuage his anxiety or hopes."That's always up to the Weyr, lad," or "Who knows what's in dragon minds?" "Sometimes the dragons don't Search.Don't need to.Didn't you tell me there were lots of lads your age at Benden Weyr?" Which was true enough, but it still didn't keep him from searching the skies for a dragon, in case he could get one to speak to him. His distraction was noticed in class, and he was given extra duties to encourage him to "pay proper attention to your lessons and stop daydreaming'.He had time, while sweeping down the main court, to see the folly of his disappointment.
He was on Drum Tower duty again when the news of the Hatching came in.Swallowing the final vestige of his own disappointment, Robinton just had to find out if Falloner had been Impressed.After all, Falloner had a real right to be Impressed.
Greatly daring, he asked permission of the journeyman in charge of the tower to find out.
"You see, I met a couple of the possible candidates.Falloner, he's the weyrling who was at the Hold for Mother to teach." Robinton was not above using what he needed to get to do something as important as this, and he knew that the journeyman liked his mother."I know she'd like to know if Falloner Impressed…" He let his voice trail off.
"Oh, go ahead," the journeyman said with a smile."Only keep it short."
Robinton worked out the message and the non-urgent coding, got approval, and beat it out himself.He hoped he'd hear back before his duty ended.But he didn't.
That evening, however, the journeyman sought him out at dinner and gave him a slip of hide and a wink.
Robinton could barely restrain his hurrah!Falloner had Impressed a bronze.So had Rangul and Sellel, though that draconic choice surprised Robinton - and six others whose names he recognized from his visits to the Weyr.The WeaverCraftHall lad from High Reaches, Lytonal, was now L'tol and rode brown Larth.
He caught his mother on her way to evening rehearsal and told her.
"I suspected that young rascal would make bronze," she said.
"And Rangul.Nine bronzes is a good clutch.A queen egg is even better.It may well be that S'loner is right, after all." She hurried away then without explaining her last cryptic remark.
Robinton wondered if Falloner, now F'lon, would remember his promise to him, that he'd come to the Harper Hall on his bronze so that Robinton could meet him. Wouldn't his dorm-mates be amazed!It was a fun thing to think about, but Robinton ratherthought that F'lom now being above a mere Harper Hall apprentice, might not consider he had to honour that promise.Anyway, it took a while for a dragonet to learn to fly.
He did his lessons in the Archives with everyone else, but mostly he copied special files for Master Ogolly, since he was the fastest and most accurate of them all.He had already made some instruments that had received the Harper mark, which allowed his work to be sold at Gathers.Now he learned how to repair broken frets and stems, and drum frames, and to string harps and gitars and do fine marquetry.He was content in a way he had never known before, away from the tension which had become so stressful in his parents' rooms.His mother, too, smiled more frequently at the head tables or during her lessons with him.So his departure had indeed made life easier for her.
His treble voice lasted until the growth spurt in his thirteenth summer when his body, as well as his throat and speaking equipment, altered dramatically.He and his mother were rehearsing a Solstice duet when suddenly his voice made a dramatic octave drop.
"Well now, that's that, I guess, dear," she said, resting her arm on the crook of her gitar."Now, love, it isn't really the end of the world, though I daresay your father will be annoyed to have to make changes in the soloist so close to Solstice.Your voice won't last until then."
"But who'll…' and in his dismay, Robie's voice broke again "… sing it with you?"
"Recall that delicate-looking blond lad from Tillek who auditioned last week?" Merelan raised her eyebrows in a droll fashion.
"He's not the musician you are, and I'll have to work him hard, but he has the range, if not your skill and experience."
"What's Father going to say?" Robinton asked fretfully.He really didn't want to be around to hear.
Merelan chuckled."He'll consider that you did this on purpose, of course, to disarrange his concert.He'll rant a bit about you letting him down at a critical time, and then require me to take the lad on for special sessions." She regarded her son with a tilt to her head and an affectionate smile."You'll probably end up a baritone, you know.You've the right facial structure.And your father's a baritone."
"I've never heard him sing," Robie protested.
Merelan chuckled."Oh, he can.He just doesn't feel he sings well enough." She gave a little chuckle."But, if you listen closely, you'll hear him joining the baritone line in the choral parts.He had a very good natural voice when he first came to the Hall.He just didn't think it was solo quality." She made a little grimace, followed by a light sigh."He has to be perfect in anything he does."
"Mother," Robie began, because the problem was becoming more and more pressing, "what will I do when Father takes me for composition as a journeyman?" His unreliable voice cracked on the second syllable.
"Walk the tables first, love, and don't worry.Though I must be truthful and say that I wonder how we're going to keep from upsetting him over that.You already know as much as he does about theory, composition, and even orchestration.Fortunately, I think your particular forte is with vocal rather than instrumental music, so you won't be in direct competition with him.He may not see it in the same light, but neither of us can help that, can we?Let's go and have some klah, shall we?" She put her gitar carefully back in the case and reached up to caress his cheek."I still can't get accustomed to the sudden height of you.I wonder how tall you'll be.All the men in my family are certainly tall."
"I remember Rantou." Robie grinned, because he would never forget how upset his father had been at Rantou's preference for working as a lumberman, when he had the voice and musicality to be a harper.At least Robinton was not the only one whom his father expected to be perfect.
When his voice finally settled into the baritone range, he was nearly the tallest of the second-Turn apprentices.His father relegated him to the back row of the chorus, where Robinton was quite happy to be.His mother, however, beginning to instruct him in his new voice, was delighted with its flexibility and depth.
"It's a lovely voice, Robie." She flicked her fingers in an excess of delight, smiling at him."Velvety and rich.Now, we won't force it but I think it's solo quality."
"Even if my father's isn't?"
Merelan made a face."Yours has a totally different timbre, and a better range.We can work it into something special."
"Something appropriate for simple songs?"
Her grimace darkened and she slapped his arm."Simple songs that everyone loves to hear, play and sing!Don't you dare belittle what you do so very well.Far better than he ever could.The only real music he ever wrote? ' She stopped, pursing her lips in irritation.
"Was the music he wrote while we were at Benden." Robinton finished the sentence for her."And you're right.Speaking quite objectively as a harper, my father's compositions are technically perfect and demanding, brilliant for instrumentalists and vocal dexterity, but scarcely for the average holder and craftsman."