"How many has he espoused now?" Robinton demanded, having heard of far too large a number for any sane man to contend with.
"As many as he now has holdings, I suspect," F'lon said, and added with a lascivious leer, "The man's insatiable, and not just for land."
"Surely there's a limit ..."
"Let us hope so," agreed F'lon.
The Turn after the birth of Famanoran, Nemorth rose in a mating flight and it was Simanith who flew her. F'lon became Weyrleader at last. M'odon, the oldest of his riders, died quietly in his sleep.
This, too, was a bitter winter. Twenty-four dragonriders fell ill of a fever, and the Weyr echoed with the sounds of keening dragons.
Nemorth produced nineteen dragons in her second clutch – not enough to make up the losses.
The dissatisfaction with the Harper Hall was insidiously spreading.
There had been several cases of harpers being waylaid on their routes and beaten. The worst incident occurred in Crom where the young tenor, Evenek, had been specifically employed by the Lord Holder, Lesselden, to entertain. Evenek had had to audition for Lesselden and his Lady, Relna, who wished to have someone who could instruct instrumentalists to accompany her and to help put on the little evening plays she was fond of writing. Evenek sent back a runner message that he had accepted the position since Lady Relna had a good voice, was pleasant enough and he felt confident he could satisfy her requirement to train players. He added that he felt he would stick to the music and the musical training, since Lord Lesselden had made it quite clear that the contract did not require him to teach the "usual harper nonsense'. Master Gennell had mentioned some concern for Evenek, but he and the other Masters agreed that the tenor would be clever enough to manage -especially since the terms of the contract had been so specific.
The runner – not Nip this time – came directly to Master Gennell, not even stopping at the Fort Runner Station as the messengers usually did. Immediately, Master Gennell called Robinton.
"Evenek's been severely beaten and thrown out of the Hold. In fact, if a runner hadn't found him he'd probably be dead by now. Go get a healer, and pick five of the biggest, strongest apprentices to go with you. The runners got him over the Crom border into Nabol to Station 193. D'you know its location?"
Robinton did, since he had often studied the disposition of Runner Stations. He gathered up the group, including the sturdiest healer out of the journeymen presently in the Healer Hall, and mounted them on the best of the runner-beasts available. They made it to the Station, riding hard and changing mounts at Ruatha.
Evenek had been very kindly attended by the Station Master, who had brought in the nearest healer he could reach.
"I've done what I can." Germathen, the healer, shook his head clearly distressed by the incident. "They broke every bone in his hands. They also mangled his throat so badly I'd be surprised if he ever sings again."
"Does he know who did it?" Robinton demanded once he had calmed down the vengeful mutterings of his companions: hard to do with rage consuming him, but he knew that retaliation – however satisfying that might be – would achieve nothing helpful for the Harper Hall.
Germathen shrugged. "I think he does, but he won't say – and talking is painful enough for him. I've set all the bones I could, but
I'd wish for someone more adept than I to check my settings." "Can he travel?"
Robinton noticed the Station Master's interest in the answer.
"If you take it by slow stages," Germathen replied. "In fact, I think Evenek will not feel safe until he is back in the Harper Hall." "If any of us are safe there ..." one of the apprentices muttered.
"Fort and Ruatha would protect the Harper Hall to the last man," Robinton said firmly. "May I see Ev now?"
The wounded man had been installed in the last, and safest, of the connecting dormitory rooms in the Station. Three older runners were seated outside his door, while the Station Master's spouse sat inside, sewing quietly. She rose, one hand reaching for a stout cudgel, when the harpers entered.
Evenek was asleep, his hands swathed in bulky bandages and cushioned by pillows. His face was a mass of bruises, and his neck was covered in bandages as far down as his chest. Robinton was sick to his stomach, and one of the other harpers abruptly retreated from the room. As Robinton stood there, a bitterness welled up in him of a strength he had not imagined himself capable of feeling -far deeper and more primitive even than that which had assailed him after Kasia's death. He thought briefly of asking for F'lon's help to transport Evenek, but with such injuries the cold of between was inadvisable.
The joy and relief in Evenek's eyes, his broken attempts to thank them, had an even more profound effect on those who had come to his aid. He managed to indicate that he would endure any discomfort which travelling might cause him.
"Home ... the Hall ..." he kept repeating.
Germathen and the healer journeyman had a quiet professional discussion and told Robinton that they could start back the next morning. If those in the Runner Station looked relieved, they had succoured Evenek when he most needed their help and Robinton made certain that the Harper Hall stood in their debt.
"To do that to a harper, Robinton, is something I never thought to see," the Station Master said, shaking his head. "I don't know what the world is coming to, I don't."
After dinner, the harpers – quietly – entertained those at the Station. They brought Evenek safely back to the Harper Hall, where his condition reduced Master Gennell to tears. Later MasterHealer Ginia and her assistant, Oldive, having had a chance to assess his injuries, announced that while they thought they could give him back the use of his hands, he might not be as adept on some instruments as before. About his voice, they could not yet give any reassurance: the trachea had been badly damaged.
It was some time before the shock of Evenek's injuries was absorbed by the Hall. But Lord Grogellan, with his sons, made a formal visit to Master Gennell, assuring Harper Hall of their firm and unequivocal support, and protection, of the Hall and any harpers wherever they might need assistance.
While such brutality seemed to be an isolated incident, harpers everywhere were warned to be on their guard and to travel with traders or other known-to-be-friendly groups.
Master Gennell, who suffered badly now from joint-ail, continued to send Robinton as his representative – and as another set of "eyes and ears'. This morning, when Gennell sent an apprentice to ask Robinton to join him in his office, Robinton registered a mild and humorous complaint.
"So where can you send me this time, Master? I do believe that I've met every Lord Holder, most of the minor ones, and been in every Crafthold on the continent. What place can I have missed on my travels for you?"
"Oh, I've found one," Gennell replied with a smile, gesturing for Robinton to be seated. "Not that you haven't been at Telgar often enough, but there's to be a big Gather and Lord Tarathel has invited Fax."
"What?"
"I thought that would get your attention. Tarathel means to have a chat with the man. He's annoyed over certain problems on his borders with Fax."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"Nip tells me that Fax is planning something. He can't figure out what, but Fax is far too eager to attend and has been drilling his men...
"In what?"
"Parades. And wrestling. With daggers."
"How are you with a dagger, Rob?"
"I've pinned Shonagar with my blade at his throat," the young Master said.
"Oh, really?" Gennell's eyebrows raised high in surprise. "That's good. But ... you're to keep your dagger in its sheath. I've more use for you than being pincushion to one of Fax's louts."