One of the most nostalgic ballads – about the Crossing – could indeed be turned into an instrumental piece, starting with the basic melody, haunting enough, and then embellishments added. To transcribe this, Petiron acquired enough of the reed-based writing material which was a local product. It had a tendency to absorb so much ink that his scores were a bit blotchy, but he could amend that when he got back to the Harper Hall. He had always prided himself on his musical memory.
They reached Pietie Hold halfway through the morning of the twenty-first day of travel, even with a full two-day halt at Merelan's home hold. She had a chance to see her family, to exchange news and see all the new babies and congratulate the recent pairings – and to show off Robinton.
Petiron was warmly received by the aunt and uncle who had reared Merelan when her own parents died in one of the fierce autumnal storms which battered the western coastline. He was truly amazed at the number of really fine, if untrained, voices that her hold had produced.
"Not one of them that can't carry a tune," he told her after the first evening. "Which aunt did you say gave you your first training?" "Segoina," she said, smiling at his astonishment.
"That contralto?"
She nodded, and he whistled appreciatively.
"She insisted that I be sent to the Harper Hall," Merelan said with considerable humility. "She ought to have gone, but she'd already espoused Dugall and wouldn't leave him."
"And wasted that glorious voice on a hold ..." Petiron rather contemptuously indicated the sprawling redstone dwellings which comprised the hold.
"Segoina has never wasted her talent," Merelan said somewhat stiffly.
"I didn't mean it that way, Mere, and you know it," Petiron replied hastily. He had seen the genuine respect and love that existed between the two women. "But she'd have been a MasterSinger ..."
"Not everyone would find that as productive as we do, Petiron," she said gently, but so firmly that Petiron saw he would offend her with further comment. Indeed, she thought wryly, remembering Rochers, the woodsie, not every Pernese approved of harpers.
When they were settling into Pierie Hold, his misgivings about this assignment returned. There were only three rooms for their quarters: the baby would have to sleep in with them, at the foot of the bed which took up nearly all the room, though there were storage compartments cut into the rear wall of the cliff. The larger room was clearly for daily affairs including kitchen work, with an outer wall hearth. The third was more of a cubicle than a room and served the purpose of toilet and bath, though merelan said gaily that most everyone bathed in the sea. Petiron gazed askance at the long flight of steps which led down to a sandy crescent of a beach where some of the hold's fishing sloops were moored.
He was soon to learn that people here were more accustomed to doing everything outside, either in the wide-open patio where various work stations were situated, or under the shade of a vine-covered arbour which was larger than all the individual accommodations put together. There were even two sections fenced off for toddlers and the slightly older children, complete with a little pond where they could safely wade, sand to play in, and a rather extensive collection of toys. Already, Robinton was tottering about carrying one of the stuffed toys.
"That can't be a dragon he's been playing with, is it?" Petiron asked Merelan. Dragons were never toys: it would have been blasphemy to play with one.
"No, silly. It's supposed' – Merelan grinned reassuringly up at her astonished spouse – "to be a fire-lizard."
"A fire-lizard? But they died out centuries ago."
"No, not entirely. My father saw one, and Uncle Patry said he'd seen one this past year."
"He's sure?" Petiron had a pragmatic streak that required proof.
"Indeed he is. And we've empty shells gathered from flotsam to prove that they exist, even if they aren't much in evidence."
"Well, if they've shells ..." And Petiron was mollified. Merelan turned her head away so that he wouldn't see her smile.
She was quite aware of Petiron's opinions about everything here in Pierie Hold, but there was no sense in arguing with him about his misconceptions. In general he was a fair man, and she was sure he'd come round. He might even get to like living here, away from all the bustle and over-stimulation of the Harper Hall. She had been so pleased with his thanks to Sev, Dalma and the other traders.
He'd meant every word he'd said to them, about learning so much on the route and how he had enjoyed the evenings and the teaching.
He'd learned to feel comfortable on a runner-beast, so she knew she could talk him into taking trips to the other nearby holds where her brothers and sisters lived. Especially as she would have to leave Robinton behind so as not to irritate Petiron by his son's constant presence. Not only was he weaned now, but Segoina was almost panting to have a chance to tend him. If only Petiron could learn to like his son a little for his own sake, and Robinton's, rather than see him as a rival for her attention ...
Teaching came first, and Petiron divided up the forty-two prospective students into five groups. The beginners, novices, middle and advanced were of mixed ages, since some had had a little more training from a parent than others; the final group was made up of the five who were much too old to be included in the regular classes. Those he'd teach in the evenings by themselves – not that anyone was embarrassed.
"Living up in the mountains, never had the chance to learn nothing," Rantou said, unabashed. The stocky timberman had glanced over at his young spouse who was visibly pregnant. "That is, until I met Carral here." Then he blushed. "Really like music, even if I doan know much. But I gotta learn so the baby won't have no stupid for a father."
Despite having had no formal training at all, Rantou could produce the most amazing sounds out of a multiple reed-pipe, although he waved aside Petiron's earnest desire to teach him to read music.
"You just play it all out for me oncet, and that'll do me."
When Petiron paced about that evening in the privacy of their little home, terribly upset that an innate musician of considerable talent was risking talented fingers with saw, ax and adze on a daily basis, Merelan had to calm him.
"Not everyone sees the Harper Hall as the most preferential occupation, love."
"But he's--"
"He's doing very well for a young man with a family on the way," she said, "and he'll always love music, even if it is not his life the way it has always been yours."
"But he's a natural. You know how hard I had to work at theory and composition, to get complicated tempo – and he manages cadenzas after one hearing that it would take you, good as you are, days to command. And Segoina told me he makes ... makes the guitars, the flutes, the drums, all the instruments in use here..." He raised both hands high in exasperation and frustration.
"When I think how hard I had to work to walk the tables for journeyman for what he just picked up listening to me, I ...
I'm speechless."
"Rantou doesn't want to be a musician, love. He wants to do what he does do, manage forestry. Even the instruments he makes are just a hobby with him."