"S'loner?" Robinton couldn't help gawking at his friend. He knew how weyrfolk named children – generally using some part of the father's as well as the mother's name. "Your father's the Weyrleader?"
"Yeah." Falloner gave an indifferent shrug. Then he grinned at Robinton's startled expression. "That's one reason why I'm sure to Impress a bronze, and why I'll get the chance to stand on the Hatching Ground as long as there're eggs clutched. There've been a lot of Weyrleaders in my lineage." He straightened up proudly.
"And I'm here because I'm supposed to learn more than I'd get taught at the Weyr since we don't have a Hall-trained harper. If I'm going to lead the Weyr in the next Fall, I've got to know more than the average bronze rider, haven't I?"
"I guess you have," Robinton murmured, still trying to cope with the status of his friend.
"Ah, don't go looking at me like that, will ya, Robie?" And Falloner gave his shoulder a friendly buffet.
When they were in their own quarters, Robinton had to tell his mother.
"I knew that, dear, and it's one reason I encourage your friendship with him. Falloner's a good-hearted lad and intelligent enough to want to learn. I feel that it's very important for you to have this chance to get to know something about how the Weyr operates.
Especially as we only have the one now." She looked off into the middle distance for a long moment.
"Isn't that what the Question Song is about?"
"I didn't know you knew about that one," she said almost sharply, staring at him. "How did you come across it?"
"Oh, when I was copying out some of the worm-eaten music in the Archives. Master Ogolly says I write with a good, neat hand, you know." He preened slightly.
"Yes, I do know, love." She finger-stroked a parting into his thick dark hair. "Do you know the music?"
"Of course I do, Mother," he said, mildly indignant. She, of all people, should know that he memorized music after one hearing or one reading.
"Yes, you would, wouldn't you, dear." She gave a final pat to his hair. "Well, run over it in your mind. It might be suitable for tonight. And a treble voice would make it more poignant, I think. Yes, rehearse it, Robie."
Falloner was not at the head table as Robinton had thought he might be, since S'loner was his father. Carola was not his mother and, as Falloner took his usual place next to Robinton, he muttered something about her disliking S'loner's weyrlings.
"Aren't weyrlings small dragons?"
"Yes," Falloner said with a little snort. "Applied to us," he explained, sticking his thumb into his chest, "it's not a compliment.
All she can get is girls... when she has anything."
Robinton nodded and decided maybe now wasn't the time to ask more questions about the Weyr. Besides, the special dinner was being served: special even for those at the lower table, since Nerat had sent up fresh red-fruits and other delicacies, transported a-dragonback.
Robinton watched with awe as the great beasts, having deposited riders and burdens in the courtyard, rose to the top of Benden's cliff, spacing themselves along the fire heights. The golden queen, Feyrith, settled in the exact centre, the other ten dragons, including her weyrmate, settled on either side of her, like guardians. Which was silly, because there wasn't anything on the entire planet that would attack a queen, much less eleven dragons.
Robinton thought they were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen as they peered down at the courtyard, their beautiful faceted eyes gleaming in the late spring evening. He hadn't thought "bronze' could come in so many different shadings.
Cortath ? Kilminth ? Spakinth ? he thought daringly.
No one answered his tentative query. Well, maybe none of the bronzes he had spoken to before were on the heights. He could scarcely pick out individual features from this distance. Or maybe because they were guarding the queen, they couldn't talk to a little boy.
The evening entertainment was almost more splendid than the meal which had preceded it. Not only were there acrobats, but a man who made things disappear – and reappear from behind Raid's ear or Maizella's sleeve – or produced the world's smallest canine from his cloak or a tiny tunnel snake from under the cap on his head.
When everyone had settled down again after that diversion, Merelan signalled for the group of singers and players she had been practising with to take their places. Robinton hurried to join them.
The Duty Song, which was one of the first Teaching Ballads taught by any harper to a class, should be sung in honour of any drug-onrider guests: Robinton had heard it practised prior to every Gather. From the quick look he shot at the Weyrleaders, they were expecting it, but they hadn't foreseen a proper instrumental accompaniment.
Nor the quality of the soloists. Robinton waited for his mother's signal and sang the first verse, noting the surprise on S'loner's face. So Robinton sang the words with all his heart for this special audience.
S'loner kept right on smiling and tapped out the rhythm as the chorus came to "from those dangers that are by the dragons braved'. The applause was suitably enthusiastic, his loud clapping leading the others.
Then Maizella stepped forward from her place in the chorus.
Robinton heard the rustle: dismay or annoyance. They were in for a surprise too, now that his mother had taken the girl in hand.
Instead of planting herself in a defiant way, as if to indicate that she was going to sing and everyone had better listen to her, she came to the front in a quiet and professional manner and then looked to Merelan, who was accompanying her on the gitar.
Robinton couldn't miss Weyrwoman Carola's expression – total dismay – until Maizella started singing. Even S'loner regarded the girl with a pleased look and murmured something to Maidir, who nodded and smiled back.
Maizella sang harmony to the chorus of the song, which had three more verses. The hearty applause was certainly as much an improvement as her performance, and there was a nice rumble of remarks as she stepped back.
Merelan beckoned for the rest of the chorus to attend her signal, and they sang a ballad which was new in the Harper Hall and had such a beat to it that, before long, everyone was stamping or clapping to the rhythm.
The band played new music and although Robinton caught a few sour notes, he knew how hard they'd worked. A few more rehearsals and performances and they'd be as good as any Gather band. But he was glad he'd be singing with just his mother to accompany him. And he was next: at her gesture he came to her side. Flute in one hand, she put her other arm around his shoulders as she made her introductory remarks.
"This song is very old and, although it's supposed to be in every harper's repertoire, it has lately been sadly neglected. I don't find it even in the very comprehensive Benden Library, so it's about time I reintroduced it to you all." She smiled at the audience. "You children will be learning it next week, so listen closely." With that she put the mouthpiece to her lips and nodded to her son.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the weyrfolk fled?
Where have dragons gone together?
Leaving Weyrs to wind and weather?
Setting herd-beasts free of tether?
Gone, our safeguards, gone but whither?
Have they flown to some new Weyr
When cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh, why, the empty Weyr ?
There was a stunned silence when Robinton let the last note die away and his mother lowered the flute. Almost an embarrassing silence, and yet he knew he had sung it well. Everyone looked at the pair of them as if they couldn't believe their ears.
Then there was the noise of a chair scraping and S'loner rose to his feet, his expression almost severe.
"I thank you, MasterSinger, for the beautiful rendition of the classic Question Song." And he inclined his body to them both with the greatest respect. "It has haunted every Benden Weydeader for generations. I learned it as a weyrling, but I haven't heard it in ...