"That was well done, Robinton," he said. "Now don't think that learning one song is all you have to do. There's a significant number, even for children, to be learned, word and note perfect. Continue as you have begun."
Robinton beamed with pleasure, turning to his mother to see if she also agreed.
Merelan could barely keep from sobbing with relief as she came forward and tousled his hair. "You have done very well indeed, my love. I'm proud of you, too. Just as your father is." She turned to Petiron for his reassurance, but he had already turned back to the apprentice scores he was correcting, oblivious to son and spouse.
Merelan had to clench her hands to her sides to keep from roaring at him for such a curt dismissal. There was so much more Petiron could have said. He could have mentioned that the boy was on pitch throughout, with good breath support, and that his voice was actually very good. But she controlled her anger and took Robie – who couldn't quite understand why he hadn't pleased his father more – by the hand.
"We'll just see," she said in a firm, loud voice, "what Lorra might have as a reward for knowing all the verses and the tempo perfectly !"
When she slammed the door behind her, Petiron glanced over his shoulder, then went back to marking a very poorly executed apprentice lesson.
"Really, I wanted to ..." Merelan's fists were clenched as she paced about the small floor space in Lorra's little office-sitting room off the main Hall kitchens. "I wanted to kick him."
"Really?" Lorra recoiled slightly from her friend's vehemence.
She had taken one look at Merelan's expression when she stalked into the kitchen and immediately assigned the two scullery girls to feed Robinton some of the freshly baked bubbly pies while she took the MasterSinger into her office. Lorra knew that Betrice was away from the Hall on a confinement, and she was rather complimented that Merelan would turn to her at all.
"I mean, I've heard third-year apprentices who couldn't sing the Duty Song as well," Merelan said, venting both anger and frustration as she pounded around the room. "Not a note wrong, not even a poorly timed breath. Why, the performance was excellent."
"Petiron said that much, didn't he?" Lorra asked, hoping to soothe the singer.
"Yes, but there was so much more he could have said. Robie sang splendidly, better than a lad of fourteen, and he's barely four Turns! And Petiron acted as if it was no more than he expected of his son."
"Ah!" Lorra pointed a finger at her distraught visitor. "You've said it. He expected such excellence from his own son! If Robie hadn't been as accurate and correct as Petiron expected, then you'd've heard all about it, now wouldn't you?"
Merelan paused in her pacing and stared at the headwoman. Then, with a rueful laugh, her anger dissipating, she sat herself down in the other comfortable chair, chuckling.
"You're right, of course. If Robie hadn't been note-perfect, he would have had to repeat the Duty Song until he was. Oh, by the first Egg, what am I to do? The boy so much needs, and wants, his father's approval. He's never, never going to get it."
"Shouldn't wonder, since Petiron's shyer about giving credit where it's due than any other harper in the Hall. But," Lorra pointed out, "now you don't have to fret so much about when Petiron finds
out his own son is lengths ahead of him musically."
Merelan shot Lorra a stunned look.
"Oh, c'mon, Merelan," Lorra returned, "you know it yourself. The boy's already more of a musician than apprentices three times his age. I shouldn't wonder but that he makes journeyman by the time he's sixteen."
"A journeyman has to be eighteen ..." Merelan began in a feeble denial.
"Well, by the time he's sixteen, we'll see. Meanwhile, I'd say that after today, you won't have to watch Robie around his father so carefully. It'll be easier for Rob, too. It's obvious to me that Petiron won't notice much until Robie's voice breaks and he realizes his "infant" son is nearly a man."
"Really?" Merelan asked pensively, considering Lorra's facetious words seriously.
"Wouldn't surprise me in the least," Lorra replied with a flick of her fingers. "Now you stop fretting so much. The strain's coming out in your voice – I'm sorry to mention that to you, but I don't think anyone else would. Except Petiron, and it's as well he hasn't noticed. Or am I overstepping the line?"
"No, you're not, Lorra. Never." Merelan hastily laid her hand on Lorra's plump forearm. "I just didn't think anyone would notice. I've just been vocalizing and tried to go easy on my voice ..."
"Not easy when you're in between a rock and a hard place with those two men in your life." Lorra leaned forward and patted Merelan's nervously drumming fingers. "I'm not a healer, but a glass of wine would not go amiss right now. For both of us." She rose and went to the cabinet, taking down a wine-skin and two glasses. Merelan waved away the courtesy, but Lorra insisted.
"There're a lot of things Petiron won't notice, including wine on your breath, if that's what you're worried about. And right now you need to relax, which is what my herbal cordial will help you do." Merelan glanced out of the office at Robie, who was making the girls giggle, his round, happy face smeared with deep purplish berry juice. She settled back, accepting the glass.
"Has Master Gennell told you about the new girl yet?" Lorra asked.
"Halanna?" When Lorra nodded, Merelan went on, "Yes, I'd a letter from Ista Hold's harper, Maxilant. He's done as much as he can with her vocal training and says she's too good to be messed up by an amateur like himself." She smiled over Maxilant's modesty.
"Petiron would be happy to have a good contralto on hand too," Lorra said. She sang in that range, though never as a soloist. "Odd, isn't life? You never really know how things'll turn out until they do, do you?"
"No, you don't." As Merelan sipped, she could feel the cordial seeping down her veins and the knot of tension in her belly beginning to ease.
"She's of an age with the Hold daughters here, so I've placed her with them in the cottage," Lorra said. "They may be here only until TurnOver, but they'll help her ease into the routine here. It can take a bit of getting used to, can't it?"
Merelan couldn't help smiling at Lorra's use of the word "routine' in connection with the Harper Hall. No two days were ever alike in the fascinating, and sometimes frantic, atmosphere within this rectangle. She did very vividly remember her own first days there, and would help young Halanna as much as she could to become accustomed to the requisite study and practice. In fact, if Lorra was correct about Petiron, and she rather suspected the head-woman was, Merelan herself would welcome having a female student to bring on. She'd have less time to fret herself into stress over all the confrontations she imagined between son and spouse.
CHAPTER THREE
Halanna arrived, and created an instant impression on all who met her of an overly self-confident seventeen-Turn-old young woman who found fault with everything at the Harper Hall, and especially the cottage where she was lodged. She was accustomed to a room of her own, she informed Isla, who acted as foster-mother to her charges: she'd never be able to sleep, sharing a room. Why was there so little fresh food to be had when she was used to plenty of fruit? The weather was dreadful and she hadn't the right clothing, though the three large bundles laboriously taken up by carrier beast from the ship which had delivered her at Fort Hold Harbour contained an immense quantity of clothing. Nor had she sufficient space to arrange half her things in the tiny room she had to share!