The injured hand, the deep voice, the tanned, weathered and faintly familiar face of the man combined with the heavy boots he wore gave Robinton a clue.
"RantouT he exclaimed.
"Aye." A huge grin split the man's face. "Rantou from the woods. Fancy you remembering my name after all these turns."
Robinton shook the offered hand vigorously and urged the two to take seats, gesturing to Silvina to bring refreshment.
"Why, it's been ... turns!" Robinton said. "I do remember that summer, and swimming in the sea and all the cousins I didn't know I had ..."
"Heard Merelan had died a while back," Rantou said, his expression sober. "Heard her sing at South Boll Gathers now and then."
"You had a fine voice, or so she often said."
"Did she?" The old man's face lit up. The boy wriggled in his chair, uncomfortable and not certain what to do or how to act.
"She did," Robinton said warmly, turning kindly to include the boy in the conversation.
Rantou cleared his throat and sat forward on the chair. "Well, that's what I'm here for."
"Oh?"
"Yes." Rantou gripped the boy by the shoulder. "This is my grandson, Sebell. He can sing. I want him to be a harper, if he's good enough."
"Why, that's wonderful, Rantou."
"He's better off here, much better than in the woods. I never forgot your father, you know." Rantou grinned slyly. "He didn't think much of us."
"Oh, now ..."
"Don't mix the truth up, lad – ! mean, MasterHarper." Rantou suddenly realized that he had no right to reprimand such an important person.
Robinton laughed. "He hated to lose any promising musical talent."
"I want Sebell to have the chance," Rantou said. "He's smart, he already plays pipes he's made, and our old gitar. Knows all his Teaching Songs and Ballads. We don't have a regular harper down there – too small – but I've seen that Sebell learned as much as we could teach him."
Robinton turned to the very nervous boy, who jerked his chin up almost defensively at such scrutiny. He was as tanned as his grandfather, with a shock of sun-bleached hair and wide-set dark eyes which had been surreptitiously noting everything in the room, from the instruments on the walls to the musical notations on the sand table. He was ten or eleven turns, Robinton thought, more bone than flesh, but with the suggestion of height and strength in his frame ... and bony wrists and ankles which protruded from pants legs that were too short.
"I started on pipes too, you know," he said gently, and pointed to them on the wall.
The boy looked surprised.
"Did you bring yours with you?" Robinton asked.
"He's never without them," his grandfather said proudly and nodded to Sebell.
The boy reached behind him and produced multiple pipes which he had tucked into his waistband, hidden from view under his shirt.
Robinton rose and got his own boyhood pipes. He grinned at Sebell as he tried to make his adult fingers fit the stops which had been made for much smaller hands. Then he did a quick scale and glanced at Sebell. The boy's grin was slightly amused as he repeated the scale, quickly and well.
"How about this one?" And Robinton essayed a more complex arpeggio.
The boy's grin broadened as he set his lips to the pipes and immediately brought forth the same run.
"Which is your favourite Teaching Ballad?" Robinton asked.
The boy began the Duty Song, which was not the simplest of the Ballads, and Robinton joined by piping a descant around the melody. Sebell's eyes twinkled at the challenge, and the two pipers ended the song with quite a flourish, for Sebell had variations of his own.
Robinton chuckled. "Can you sing it for me too, while I accompany you?"
The boy's treble voice was not the least bit breathy, so someone had taught him a few vocal tricks. It was a good voice, too, and he had a good sense of rhythm and pitch and imbued the words with appropriate feeling. Shonagar would be overjoyed to have a new student.
"He's your kin, Rantou."
"And kin of yourself as well, Master Robinton."
"Why, so he is!" Robinton quickly suppressed a wish that this had been his son, rather than poor retarded Camo. "Why, so he is," he repeated more firmly and held out his hand to the boy. "The Harper Hall will be pleased to have you join us. Very pleased."
"He won't expect any favours, kin or not."
"I do him none by giving any," Robinton said, and then smiled encouragingly at Sebell.
A tap on the door and Silvina entered with a tray of refreshments, including newly baked cakes which brought an eager expression to the boy's face.
"Silvina, meet Sebell, grandson of Rantou, and by way of being a relative of mine from my mother's hold," Robinton said.
Having settled the tray on the long table, Silvina held out her hand to Sebell, who jumped to his feet and gave her a shy bow before accepting her clasp.
"A new apprentice?" she asked, smiling kindly.
"And a new treble for Shonagar to train. Pipes well, too," Robinton said with pride. He couldn't resist ruffling the lad's hair in his pleasure at his coming. "I met Rantou when I was much younger than Sebell ..."
"You are related to MasterSinger Merelan?" Silvina asked as she poured klah and passed around the sweetener.
"We were very proud of her, we were, Silvina," Rantou replied proudly.
"We all were," Silvina said and her warm smile included the newest recruit to the Harper Hall, who grinned shyly back at her as she passed him the plate of cakes.
Sebell settled in, a quiet lad but endlessly curious about things musical. He kept appearing to ask if Robinton needed anything, until everyone took it for granted that he was Robinton's shadow.
Sebell also began to play with Camo, trying to get him to hold a drumstick and use it properly on the little drum Robinton had made for him. Seeing the two together caused Robinton some heartache, but he could no more ask Sebell to leave his son alone than be could ignore Sebell's deft and discreet services.
"The lad's so kind to Camo," Silvina remarked one evening to him. "He's not like the other apprentices, helter-skelter and rough, and he seems so genuinely fond of Camo' She broke off and regarded Robinton closely. "You know, you've a true son of your heart in Sebell, Rob. In fact," she added, cocking her head, "Sebell's not the only apprentice who adores you, Rob. Don't hesitate to give them the love which Camo cannot return. They deserve it, each in their own way, so you're taking nothing from Camo."
"I wish I could give the child something," Robinton said wistfully.
"Oh, you do. He always smiles when he hears your voice."
On reflection he realized that Silvina's remark about concentrating on his many "sons' was sound advice. So he stopped yearning for what Camo could never do and, as his mother did, accepted the boy's cheerful smile and praised him for what progress he made: learning to walk, learning to feed himself, learning to do simple tasks. Sebell, as often as not, helping him.
Robinton had occasional visits from F'lon, especially after Nemorth deposited a very good clutch on the Hatching Ground sands. Not triple her last clutch, but a respectable twenty-four.
Sometimes when he asked for conveyance a-dragonback, F'lon would send the Weyrsinger, C'gan, but Robinton was just as glad to see the young-faced Weyrsinger. C'gan's infallible good nature was a tonic in itself. In fact, it was C'gan who came to collect the MasterHarper for his first official attendance at a Benden Weyr Hatching. Such an event happened all too infrequently. Harper Records spoke of many more in former times – before the five Weyrs disappeared.
"The older lad's well grown but, frankly, I think Manora's son's a bit young," C'gan informed the MasterHarper as they hurried to blue Tagath, waiting impatiently in the courtyard. The blue rider had given the MasterHarper only moments to change into appropriate finery, and now he half-boosted him to Tagath's back. "But F'lon was not going to risk not having both sons dragonriders. No, he wasn't. And it's true we don't have as many clutches. Nor as many eggs in "em as we should do. That Nemorth's too fat to fly.