There were twenty-six in his class, quartered in three long rooms: he was lucky enough to be in the six-man one, so there was a trifle more space. By evening, he'd met them all, and they had been vetted by the older apprentices. He kept a suitable expression on his face when the head apprentice, a tall well-built lad from Keroon named Shonagar, rattled off what was expected of first-Turn apprentices, how they were the "lowest' of the "lowly' in the Hall, and the traditions of their new status. He also told them about the necessity of spending a night alone in the Weyr to prove their bravery.
"Harpers run into all kinds of problems and difficulties. This isn't just singing songs to folks in a hold in the evenings. It can be a dangerous life," he said, thoroughly solemn, "and you have to prove, now, that you can take it."
"But the Weyr's been empty for hundreds of Turns," exclaimed the skinniest of the new boys, Grodon, his eyes wide with anxiety. He gulped hard.
"We've all done it, lad. You will, too," Shonagar said firmly. He glanced over at Robinton, raising his eyebrows as he recognized the new apprentice. "All of you."
Robinton had rehearsed with Shonagar many times – Shonagar was a good second tenor More important, he was fair-minded and really did keep good order in the apprentice dormitories. Though his position as head apprentice was not an official rank, Master Gennell encouraged his leadership. Shonagar would allow no bullying or improper behaviour in the dorms.
Robinton hadn't mentioned his Hall background when the others were jabbering away about their homes, but it would soon become obvious. He hoped he could make friends in spite of having Masters as parents. He knew how apprentices could behave.
Fortunately, his innate modesty and amiability stood him in good stead as he settled in with the others. Grodon was terribly homesick the first seven-day, and Rob wheedled bedtime snacks from Lorra to ease his pain. Falawny, with sun-bleached hair and tanned skin, came from Igen; Shelline was a Neratian, also tanned; Lear was from Tillek, and delighted not to have to become a fisher like the rest of his kin. Jerint was a dark-complexioned lad from southern Keroon who spent a lot of his time softly playing his pipes. He was good at it, too, Robinton quickly realized.
Robie put himself forward ten days later when Shonagar entered their quarters after lights out.
"Right, now, who'll be first to spend the night at the Weyr?" the head apprentice demanded, eyeing his victims sternly as they lay in their beds.
All save Robinton scrunched down further under their sleeping furs, trying to disappear.
"I guess I wouldn't mind getting it all over with," Robinton said, throwing back his covers.
"Good for you, Robie," Shonagar said, nodding encouragingly.
Robinton dressed in the warmest of his clothes and, grabbing his jacket, prepared to go.
Shonagar and his two deputies waiting out in the corridor led him down the back stairs and out of the side door on the Hold side of the Hall. There were five runner beasts waiting there, held by a fourth apprentice. Robinton had always wondered how the round trip to the Weyr was managed in the one night without all the Masters knowing of the unscheduled excursion. He was glad he didn't have to hike up the long hill road that led to the Weyr. That would be scarier than being in it alone all night. Too many tunnel snakes across mountain roads at night... and other things.
They walked quietly across the huge Fort Hold square, up past the beastholds and cots, and then Shonagar led them through the tunnel which had been bored in the Fort Cliffside, one of the minor wonders of the world that their ancestors had made, and through to the next valley. Across it – at a good pace now that the noise the runners made wouldn't be heard – and up the winding road that led to Fort Weyr. Again another tunnel had been bored by the amazing equipment the Ancients had once possessed, and through this they went. For Robinton, that was the scariest part, even though Shonagar opened the glowbasket he had brought. Then they were out into the night, on the floor of the Weyr itself. Robinton could just about make out the openings to the Lower Caverns and a few of the individual weyrs in the weak light of a half-moon.
"You can build a fire if you want in the Cavern," Shonagar said, pointing and gesturing for Robinton to dismount.
One of the other lads laughed. "If you can find any firing, that is."
"Leave it," Shonagar said sternly. "We'll be back for you an hour before dawn. Have a good night."
With that he led the others, and Robinton's mount, away and Rob stumbled towards the black maw of the living quarters which had once teemed with weyrfolk.
His footsteps echoed slightly in the still night and he hugged his jacket closer around him. Well, it wasn't as cold as between. He did wish he'd had some warning so he could have saved a bit of his supper. Eating always made him feel better.
Once under the vaulting roof of Fort's Lower Cavern, he could see little but the hearths along its outer edge.
"If you can find any firing, indeed," he said with a snort. "And nothing to light it with." He thought he'd best get some matches and hand them out to the other lads so that they could start a fire on their turns. Maybe see that there was some tinder for them to smuggle along. A glowbasket, even the smallest of them, couldn't be hidden under a jacket. Even the smallest blaze would be better than this deep black darkness. Not as dark, though, as between.
But there was light outside, so Robinton went exploring. He'd taken the precaution of looking at the plans of Fort Weyr in the Archives. He'd told his room-mates to do so, as well, when they
had a chance during their script lessons. So he found the steps leading to the rank of junior queen weyrs. They'd be warmer since they got their heat, as Fort Hold and the Harper Hall did, from deep inside the earth. No one now knew how that had been done, but it was why they didn't all freeze in the bleaker months of full winter.
He was somewhat glad that this ordeal occurred in the early autumn.
He stumbled twice going up the stairs: the steps were slightly uneven, though wide enough to accommodate his whole foot. He found the entrance to the first weyr by almost falling into it – he'd been guiding himself along the ledge with one hand on the stone wall on his right.
Entering, still one hand on the wall, he once again almost fell inside when he reached the outer room, where the queen dragon had slept. As he moved cautiously into the room, he could smell the odd spicy odour that was so "dragony'.
Where had the weyrfolk gone to? There were so many notions about that: including the one which had all the dragonriders and weyrfolk returning to where the Ancients had come from. If they had, then why had no one else come to Pern? Surely there would be interest in the dragons of Pern!
He barked his shin on the dragon's couch and let out an exclamation, rubbing his leg. In the ensuing silence he heard the faint rustle of tunnel snakes making their way out (he hoped) of the weyr. He decided he'd gone far enough into the darkness, and sat down on the raised stone. Unexpectedly, he sat in a shallow declivity and felt around in it. Obviously, large and heavy dragon bodies had formed depressions in the stone, and he ran daring fingers in the dust, as if he could conjure the creatures which had made the hollows. That, more than anything else, reassured him. He grinned and rearranged his body, swinging his legs round so that he was facing the faint light coming down the hall, the wallow accommodating his still slight frame while he could pillow his head on his arms on the outer edge. He must remember to thank Falloner for taking him around Benden Weyr. Fort might be empty of its people and creatures, but it was still a Weyr and one of the safest places on his world. He could smell dragon, and dust, but mostly dragon. He went to sleep listening to the faint rustlings of tunnel snakes, but he doubted they would dare venture where dragons had lain.