With the first big snowstorm, his travelling came to a halt. In fact he was trapped for three days in Murfy Hold, which was cramped at best, and worse when the fifteen members of the hold were confined day and night.
Murfytwen, the twentieth man to hold there, broke trail for Robinton when the storm had died. He had an urgent need to collect supplies which he hoped were awaiting him at High Reaches, a trip he had delayed far too long.
"Easier to haul it all back on snow, though," Murfytwen said cheerfully as he lashed the supplies to the sled which had been loaned him for the trip. "See ya when I see ya, Harper. Thanks for them new tunes. We'll learn "em good. An' Twenone will know his times tables by the time you're back again. Promise!"
With his gloved thumb up in a final gesture, Murfytwen started trudging back the way he had come.
High Reaches, set on its bluffs like the broadside of a fishing ship, had weathered many storms, and its thick walls kept all but the most shrieking winds from being heard. But living in this Hold was quite different from living in the Hall or even in Benden Hold. As every Hold should be, it was self-contained, with journeymen in all skills and a MasterMiner, Furlo, as well as his gangers who mainly worked for copper, which was always in demand. Master Furlo had a double quartet among his miners who sang most evenings – at the drop of a hat, as Mallan put it, grinning. Furlo was good on the gitar, having had to accompany his chorus since he was familiar with their repertoire, but Robinton offered to take over and Furlo was only too happy to accede. High Reaches Hold had enough instrumentalists, thanks to Master Lobira's efforts, to mount a considerable orchestra. The worst of the winter evenings would go by quite happily, with Lord Holder Faroguy and his Lady, Evelene, joining in from the head table. Three of their twelve children either played or sang creditably.
The evenings were not restricted to musical activities, but also featured wrestling and other such physical exercises. Robinton joined in the Hall and Step runs with enthusiasm. His long legs and the lung capacity singing had developed in him gave him an advantage.
He hadn't ever heard of Hall running – at Fort, even in the worst winters, one could get outside for exercise. But here, where the holders were confined by weather and terrain, the long Halls were put to use as sprinting alleys or for long-distance running. The stairs were also utilized to see who could get to the top and back fastest – preferably without breaking a leg. Sprained ankles were common, as were strained shoulders from grabbing banisters in the effort to prevent more serious falls.
Robinton did well enough in the running, but he eschewed the physical duels. Harpers tended to be pacifists – with a few notable exceptions: Shonagar had been champion wrestler in his home hold and at the Harper Hall, besting the holder of the mediumweight title at Fort Hold on three occasions. But harpers usually would not risk injuring their hands, and Robinton used that as a legitimate -and, to most, acceptable – excuse. That did not keep him from the censure of the acknowledged wrestling and duelling champion, a young man in his mid-twenties named Fax.
Even on his first encounter with the young holder – a question of who took the steps first at a landing where several Halls met -Robinton felt uneasy in the man's presence. Fax was aggressive, impatient and condescending. A nephew of Lord Faroguy, he had recently taken Hold of one of the Valley properties which he ran with a heavy hand, demanding perfection of all beholden to him.
Some craftsmen had asked for transfers to other holdings.
Robinton heard unsettling rumours about Fax's methods, but it wasn't for a harper to criticize – nor to take precedence over a holder – so he had courteously allowed Fax to go first. All he got for his deference was a sneer, and he noted that Fax, who had been striding with urgency to get somewhere, now slowed his pace deliberately. What that proved escaped Robinton completely, but it did give some of the rumours more credibility than he had originally thought.
One evening Fax went out of his way to get Robinton on the wrestling mats: not with himself but with one of his younger holders.
"An even match, I'd say, pound for pound and inch for inch," Fax said, his expression bland but his eyes challenging.
"I fear I'd be no match at all," Robinton said. "As a harper, I've only the usual training in body sports. Now, if your holder sings, then I'll accept a contest."
Fax regarded him a long moment and then, with a sneer, swung towards Lobira. "One phase of training that is so often ignored, Master Lobira."
Lobira was able to give back as well as take, and he did so with a matching contempt. "Many a man has rued the day he tried to best a harper, young Fax, for song and story last longer than mere physical prowess," he replied. "Or is your lad still complaining that my long-legged lad has bested him in the Hall runs every time they've competed?"
Robinton was surprised that his Master was aware that Robinton had won so many of those races, and frankly amazed that his wins had disgruntled Fax. At the time, the runner-up had taken his losing in good part.
Fax awarded Master Lobira a sustained and disturbing look, gave Robinton a final contemptuous glance, and left. Robinton breathed a sigh of relief.
"Watch him! He really wanted an opportunity to humiliate you in front of the entire Hold," Lobira said. "I can't have that. Ruins discipline in the class. But if you wanted to do some work-outs with Mallan on the defensive moves you were taught at the Hall, it wouldn't be a bad idea. For you both. And the apprentices."
"I think I will, Master," Robinton replied soberly. There was little doubt that Fax had a personal grudge against him. Or maybe it was against all harpers. In any event, Fax did not request a harper for his holding. That was his decision and his folk would be stinted by the lack, but only Lord Faroguy could require his holders to provide education. Since Fax's holding appeared to be so much more profitable under his management, Lord Faroguy had little reason to question his methods. Somehow Fax managed to keep from his uncle the fact that his profits were obtained by whippings and threats of eviction.
Mallan and Robinton went through the drills on mats and, if Robinton was able to floor Mallan occasionally, the other journeyman was just as deft. At least they were each capable of quick, reflexive action.
With the pass shut by massive drifts, communication was now limited to the drums and an eight-hour evening watch was one of Robinton's less agreeable duties as a journeyman. Even a blazing fire in the hearth did not keep the Drum Tower warm enough for comfort. The pacing of every drum-watchkeeper since the Hold had been carved out of solid rock had worn a trough around the perimeter of the Tower. One had to be careful not to stumble. One good thing, though – the Tower could be reached from within the Hold itself. Some of the Southern Holds had outside stairways to their drum heights.
Manning the Drum Tower was no sinecure and required close attention. Snowfall sometimes muffled incoming messages, and outgoing ones could cause minor avalanches, heard as distant thunders in the night and made eerier by the darkness. On clear evenings, when both Belior and Timor were full, Robinton could sometimes see the seven spires of the abandoned High Reaches Weyr. He wondered how it varied from the other two he had seen. Probably not by much, but maybe he'd see if he could get in that one too, simply for comparison's sake.