"Back are you?" the serving woman asked sourly. "Make sure there's no trouble at this table. You hear me?"
"As ever, Milla," he replied with an innocent smile.
"Rangul, go fetch the tubers," she added.
"I had to peel "em," he protested.
"All the more reason to serve the product of your labours. Go!
Jesken, you get the salad."
Grumbling under his breath, Rangul pushed back his chair and with no good grace collected the large, steaming bowl. Jesken was back before him with the basket of salad.
Falloner had by then served two big slices to Rob and himself, before passing the platter on. He gestured for Rangul to bring him the tubers. The lad complied, but sullenly: Falloner was clearly not one Rangul cared to antagonize.
"You're a guest," Jesken said, offering Robinton the salad.
"And he'll be singing later, too. Good voice, good music." And Falloner winked at Robinton, who was then rather nervous about anyone finding out who had written the songs which Merelan had told him were to be the Wbe taught some manners ... but you only get in trouble. Who's minding her now?" He looked around again, and his eyes paused at a table on the other side of the room which was occupied by young girls. "Oh, Manora would be stuck with her." He turned back to the other boys. "Didn't anything interesting happen since I left?"
The report that followed didn't mean much to Robinton, who didn't know the weyrfolk named. But shortly a platter of sliced roast was shoved at Falloner, ending the discussion.
"Back are you?" the serving woman asked sourly. "Make sure there's no trouble at this table. You hear me?"
"As ever, Milla," he replied with an innocent smile.
"Rangul, go fetch the tubers," she added.
"I had to peel "em," he protested.
"All the more reason to serve the product of your labours. Go!
Jesken, you get the salad."
Grumbling under his breath, Rangul pushed back his chair and
with no good grace collected the large, steaming bowl. Jesken was back before him with the basket of salad.
Falloner had by then served two big slices to Rob and himself, before passing the platter on. He gestured for Rangul to bring him the tubers. The lad complied, but sullenly: Falloner was clearly not one Rangul cared to antagonize.
"You're a guest," Jesken said, offering Robinton the salad.
"And he'll be singing later, too. Good voice, good music." And Falloner winked at Robinton, who was then rather nervous about anyone finding out who had written the songs which Merelan had told him were to be the Weyr's evening entertainment.
"I suppose we'll have to listen to you, too," Rangul said nastily to Falloner, his expression a mixture of both irritation and envy.
"I'm the one who can carry a tune," Falloner said, grinning snidely across the table.
"Those who can't sing play instruments at the Harper Hall," Robinton said, sensing this sort of teasing could easily turn nasty.
Weyr lads were really no different from Harper Hall apprentices.
"Hey, this roast is really good," he added, hoping to divert the conversation.
"Yeah, it is," Falloner agreed, chewing. "Not that we don't eat well here ..."
"Most of the time," Jesken put in, his mouth so full that he had to push the gravy back in with one finger, which he then licked.
"Real good tonight. Must have been younger than we usually get."
"We've got Robinton at the table, after all," Falloner said, grinning.
"You staying up here a while?" Sellel asked, glancing from Falloner to Robinton.
"Tonight for sure," Falloner said. He nudged Robinton in the ribs. "They'll have you singing "til dawn, you know."
"Then you'll be singing right with us," Robinton said, and put another forkful of the tender roast into his mouth. He sort of regretted that he'd have to eat lightly, but he couldn't sing properly with a full gut.
Sing he did, with Falloner, with his mother and as a soloist. First, of course, they did the Duty Song, in which the entire audience joined, singing both chorus and verses once Robinton had sung the opening verse. There was applause for him through the first chorus.
He rather liked that and took it for the compliment it was.
Then his mother mouthed "Question Song" at him. It was not next on the programme, but as she was conducting the concert he sang it – to a hushed and very thoughtful audience. S'loner was beaming with delight at the weyrfolk's surprise and attention.
Robinton and Falloner did several of his songs, without saying who the composer was, and these were well received. The Weyr might not have a highly trained harper, but there were a lot of good voices and folk who picked up quickly on tune and chorus. This was a totally different audience from any Robinton had ever sung for – and quite possibly the best. His mother was responding to it, too, because her voice was joyous again, even in the more nostalgic melodies. They had established an unusual rapport with this audience, a new depth of "listening'.
We listen, too, you know, harper boy, a voice said in his head, almost throwing him off his harmony.
That explained much to Robinton, but he didn't have time then to think it all through: he had to keep singing so as not to disappoint.
There were calls for old favourites from the gathering, and it wasn't until Robinton's voice cracked with fatigue that Merelan called a reluctant halt to the evening's entertainment.
"We've imposed outrageously on you, Merelan and young Robinton," S'loner said, rising to his feet and scissoring his hands at the requests still being shouted from the tables. "It's late, even for a Weyr gathering, and you've been more than generous with your time and repertoire."
"The Harper Hall's tithe to the Weyr," she replied, dipping her knees in her elegant bow and spreading her left hand to include the entire audience. "It is a pleasure to sing for you."
"Our dragons have enjoyed it almost as much as we have," the Weyrleader said, and looked from her to Robinton, winking.
Suddenly the elation which had sustained him through a very long performance seemed to drain out of Robinton, and he wavered on his feet.
"Falloner, take young Robinton to bed," S'loner said arbitrarily, pointing towards the dormitory area.
"I'm near as tired as he is," Falloner said and, throwing an arm about his friend's shoulders, he led him off.
"As for you, my dear Merelan, Carola will escort you to our guest weyr, one that should be occupied by a queen dragon. Well, soon enough, soon enough ..." S'loner was saying as the two boys left for the Lower Cavern.
The next day, S'loner himself took them back to Benden Hold, Robinton and his mother quite conscious of the honour even if they were both still fatigued by their exertions. Even Falloner was not his usual self, silent in his father's presence.
"I shall sleep all week," Merelan said as they waved farewell to the bronze rider and Chendith. "But what a splendid evening, Robie.
That was a glorious performance. I know I've never sung so well before, and you were fabulous. I only hope that you keep that treble a while longer." She sighed and ruffled his hair as they climbed the steps into the Hold. "And have a mature voice too, of course."
Lady Hayara arrived, waddling awkwardly since she was nearly at the end of this pregnancy. "I was sure they would keep you overnight when you didn't arrive at a decent hour," she said as she accompanied them into the Hold and towards the main stairs. "You look exhausted ... did it go well? You have a glow about you, you know. Do you need anything? I won't go up the stairs with you today, I think." She gave a breathy sigh and fanned her face with her hand. "I had hoped to be delivered on time this time ..."
Commiserating with the Lady and assuring her that they were all right, Merelan led her son up to their quarters, her shoulders sagging only when they were out of Hayara's sight.