Petiron weren't so set against it."
"Young Robinton's what?"
"A full Turn next Third Day and already walking, stout as you please. Tending one in a cradle during the day to give Mardy a hand wouldn't be troublesome. Robie's no trouble and as sweet as his mother." Betrice beamed with an almost maternal pride.
"Leave it for now, Betrice," Gennell said. "There's all this excitement over Petiron's new Moreta Cantata at TurnOver, with Merelan as the major soloist."
"I can't say I like her working so hard at it, though, Gen, and that's the truth, for she isn't fully recovered from such a difficult birth ..."
Gennell patted his spouse's capable hand. "Petiron wrote the music for her, and there isn't another soprano with her range in all Pern. I can quite understand how he'd be jealous of anyone taking up too much of her time."
"Unless it's himself doing it, you mean."
"There's more than one way to accomplish the same purpose, you know." He caught and held her eyes and smiled.
"At it again, are you?" Betrice said with no heat and some affection.
Gennell was not MasterHarper of Pern just for his expertise on every instrument in the Hall.
"No," he replied cheerfully, "but I'll get at it on this matter now that you've been good enough to point it out to me. Petiron's a good sort, you know. And he really does love the boy."
Betrice firmed her lips together. "Loves him, does he?"
"You doubt it?"
She regarded her spouse critically. "I do." She curled her hand around his arm. "But then I have you as an example. You were as eager to tend the first of our five as the last, and they have certainly turned out well. Oh, Petiron looks in the cot now and then, or at the child when he's toddling in the yard, but only if you remind him that he's fathered a son."
Gennell picked at his lower lip and began to nod. "Yes, I believe I see what you mean. But I don't think loading Merelan with Mardy's latest is going to remedy a fatherly absentmindedness -especially as Petiron's so involved in the TurnOver rehearsals."
"Them! Well, let's hope he doesn't wear Merelan out beforehand."
"That I can oversee," Gennell said briskly, "and will. Now, off with you." As she turned away, he managed an affectionate slap on her backside as he resumed his task of assigning newly promoted journeymen to the many holds and halls which required such services.
Merelan sang the difficult role of Moreta in the TurnOver cantata which her spouse had written for her, dealing with the cadenzas as easily as if they had been mere vocalizes. The warmth of her voice and her effortless performance held the audience – and Petiron -enthralled.
Even those resident in the Hall who had heard her practising and were well aware of her vocal abilities were on their feet, awed by her skill. Merelan not only had superb breath control to support her coloratura voice, she could also imbue such emotion in her tone that there were many tears in their eyes when her voice trailed off as Moreta and her dragon jumped between on their last, fatal transfer. Fort's Lord and Lady Holder were so enthusiastic that they led the rush up to the stage, to be sure she heard their compliments.
Petiron beamed as she modestly accepted praise, subtly reminding people that the music her spouse had written was a joy to perform.
He didn't seem to notice how pale she was. But Betrice did, and she gave the singer a potent restorative drink in the brief interval during which those in the chores not required for the next part of the programme filed out of the stands. Merelan would be singing – less demandingly – in the second part of the evening's entertainment, but she was off-stage during the male chores which came next.
Betrice watched the singer all through that and saw her colour gradually return. And when she rose to sing a descant to the final selection, she did not appear as faint as she had earlier.
When the evening's programme was over and the Hall cleared for the dancing, Fort's Lady, Winalla, sought out Betrice.
"Is MasterSinger Merelan all right, Betrice? She was trembling so much when Grogellan and I were speaking to her that I feared to let go of her hand."
"I had a restorative drink ready for her," Betrice said at her most noncommittal. It was kind of Lady Winalla to be concerned, but this was a Harper Hall affair, not the business of the Hold. "She puts so much into her singing, doesn't she?"
"Hmmm, yes, she certainly does," Winalla said, tacitly accepting the rebuff and moving on to speak to other guests.
If it surprised Petiron when Merelan caught a chill and developed a feverish cough, he was the only one.
"Sometimes I think that man is only interested in her for her voice," Betrice said waspishly to Gennell as she returned to their apartment after a shift of nursing the singer.
"That may well be a good part of her importance to our resident composer," Gennell said. "No one else could manage either the range or the difficulty of the vocal scores he creates, but that isn't all he sees in her." He cleared his throat. "He was besotted with her beauty from the moment she came to us from South Boll for training.
In fact, well before we realized what a superb natural voice she had." He looked off into the darkness beyond the glowbasket by the bed, remembering the first time he had heard her effortless scales.
The entire Hall had stopped all work just to listen.
Betrice chuckled as she slid under the new furs, a gift from all the journeymen of the Hall this TurnOver. The pelts had been sewn together in the most beautiful pattern. She let her hand linger on the soft fur of the edging. "Never seen a man more smitten in my life.
He just stared. And she couldn't take her eyes off him. Mind you, he's attractive enough even if he isn't often a merry person. Just as well Agust was her vocal teacher, or she'd never have progressed past vocalizes."
"So remember how Petiron would hang about in the courtyard just listening to them as if he'd nothing better to do with his time," Gennell said, reaching out to close over the glowbasket. Absently he patted Betrice's shoulder and then punched the pillow for a spot to lay his head.
Just when Gennell thought he'd settled the question of which journeyman should take which assignment, more holders applied for trained personnel he did not have. With a hard winter, it was impossible to ask journeymen to tour from one hold to another, spreading their services by spending four seven-days in one place and then moving on. Every family had the right to learning, to be instructed in the Teaching Ballads, so there was no misunderstanding about what was due to whom and when.
He thought longingly of the times, now several hundred Turns back, when the six Weyrs of pern had assisted the major Halls with dragon transport. Those on the east coast still had Benden Weyr, so Lord Maidir could boast of dragon rides to distant Holds and Gathers whenever he needed them. But Fort Weyr had been empty over four centuries, and no one really knew why.
Gennell had once looked at the Records kept in the archives of both the Harper Hall and Fort Hold, and there was only the one entry: shortly after the end of the last Pass.
"The MasterHarper was asked to Fort Weyr this fifth day of the ninth month, first Turn after Pass End." That was it: short and cryptic. In other similar instances when the MasterHarper was called to the Weyr, a more fulsome explanation was given.
The next entry was by the then MasterHarper, Creline, with a date a full two months later when Fort Hold's tithe train duly arrived with supplies and found the Weyr abandoned, and nothing but broken pottery on the top of the midden heap. Other Holders had noticed that their flags requesting dragon assistance had gone unanswered and, while annoyed by the discourtesy, people were far too involved in relaxing after fifty turns of ground-crew duty to wonder much about the absence of dragons from the skies. It was enough that Thread was gone.