Masterharper of Pern (33 page)

The admission did him no harm with Bourdon, who leaned forward and began to explain the foibles of small ships. That kept the conversation going amiably until F’lon carried in Kasia’s harp, handling it with the reverence he would ordinarily give only to his Simanith. As he passed it to Robinton, he murmured, “Beautiful piece.” Then both Bourdon and Brashia came over to examine the carving, the inlay, and the strings; then, of course, they asked him to play so they could hear its tone.

Playing brought Robinton to complete balance. And seeing that, Juvana made her excuses and left for other duties.

Never had there been such a brilliant Gather Day as this one, when Robinton took Kasia’s hand in his in front of the Court Hall, where the Lord and Lady Holders stood with Master Minnarden and the other craftmasters available for this happy duty. That they were the first of six other couples didn’t impinge on his consciousness then. He had eyes only for his Kasia. Behind them were their witnesses: his mother, radiant in blue, standing between F’lon and Groghe, who had said he was here in his official capacity as a Fort Holder. Kasia’s parents stood on her side: her mother flushed and excited, and her father doing very well at looking proud and dignified.

Never had Robinton had to speak his own words in front of such a huge crowd. Singing words was another matter entirely, but speaking his whole heart in words was something else again. He had to clear his throat, but then, taking a deep breath, he announced his intentions to be a loving, kind, considerate spouse, caring for her all his life, nurturing their children, and providing for the family.

Holding hands, he looked into Kasia’s eyes, which were no longer shadowed with an old grief but radiant with joy, as she—who also had to clear her throat before she spoke—declared her intentions in a loud voice. She grinned more broadly when she got to the part about children and winked at him.

“We have heard your promises, Robinton and Kasia,” Melongel said, stern in his capacity as Lord Holder.

“And have witnessed them,” Master Minnarden said while the other craftmasters murmured their traditional response. The observers cried congratulations and shouted, “Good luck!”

Melongel’s face relaxed in a smile as he shook their hands before moving to the next expectant couple. “Brother,” he murmured slyly to Robinton.

“So kiss her!” F’lon cried. When neither Robinton nor Kasia moved, he took them by the shoulders and pushed them together.

The lightning that passed from lip to lip seemed to encompass Robinton’s entire body—and hers, as well, leaning so trustingly against him. He was almost annoyed when F’lon’s hands pulled them apart.

“I’m so happy, my dear daughter,” Merelan was saying as she embraced a bemused Kasia. There were tears in his mother’s eyes, but she had always been able to cry and remain beautiful. She changed places with Brashia, who hugged her daughter tightly, weeping so profusely that she couldn’t speak at all. Bourdon was shaking Robinton’s hand fit to render it useless for any playing. F’lon was insisting that he definitely had the right to kiss Kasia—just this once, to show her what she’d missed. Then Merelan was hugging Robinton so tightly that he had to seize her arms to be released.

“Be as happy as I have been with your father,” Merelan whispered for his ear alone, and when he tensed, she held him slightly away, giving him a hard, long look. “For we have been happy . . . together” And he realized that she spoke the truth: that it had always been he who had been the problem with his father. “
You’ve
the heart big enough to love an entire world,” she added. Then she released him.

Groghe, rather shyly, kissed Kasia on the cheek and told her she’d be very welcome whenever she came to Fort Hold. Which he hoped would be often.

By then, three more couples had had their vows witnessed to choruses of cheers.

“I need a drink,” F’lon announced and began herding them all out of the crowd and toward the Gather tables set around the dance square. There were two tables set upon platforms on either side of the players’ dais. The right-hand one was for the newly espoused, and it was there that F’lon led his little group.

A beaming wineman met them halfway, his tray of glasses clinking against each other.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I’m serving the Benden wine, which the dragonrider said I must give you,” he said, leaning forward to murmur this treachery to them. He beamed warmly at Kasia and held the tray out to her. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling, even as she sipped the deliciously cold, crisp Benden white.

They were all served and then took their places at the table as kitcheners rushed forward to serve them.

Robinton never remembered the rest of the table filling up. It was all a blur of happiness: Kasia was his and he was hers and his mother was here. Her parents were quite nice folk, and he no longer felt uneasy with them, listening to the snippets of advice Bourdon was giving him about sailing. But if F’lon didn’t stop teasing him, he’d land him one in the jaw very soon, although Kasia laughed as hard at his witticisms as her parents and his mother.

The Mastersinger led off the singing with one of the love songs Robinton had written for Kasia, though his mother kindly did not mention that. She was accompanied by Minnarden, Ifor, Mumolon, and several local instrumentalists. It was received with rapturous applause and determined shouts for more. Brashia looked stunned as the truly lovely voice rose in joyous phrase and shook her head, murmuring, “She’s every bit as good as they said, every bit!”

“Proud of your mother, aren’t you?” Bourdon said, leaning across the table, his face flushed with pleasure and the good Benden wine. “Every reason to be.”

“And she of him,” Kasia said proudly, clasping both hands around Robinton’s arm and resting her face against it for a moment.

Their legs were twined under the table so tightly that Robinton hoped no one could see under the cloth—and that he wouldn’t be asked to stand. Fortunately, he wasn’t. Prepared as he was for the necessity of taking a turn, he was pointedly ignored by Minnarden when the musicians changed round.

His leg went to sleep twice under the table, and when Kasia had to leave briefly to use a facility, she limped the first few steps from cramp. Brashia and Merelan went with her, reassuring Robinton, who couldn’t bear her out of his sight, that she’d be fine with them.

As soon as the meal had been served to the main guests and the Lord Holders, those who wished to pay for their meal took places at the tables. Many dispersed to wander about the booths and enjoy the fine weather.

The singing continued in a less formal fashion, as background entertainment.

“Restless, love?” Kasia murmured when she caught his fingers drumming the rhythm.

“Oh, no, no, just habit,” he said. “Nothing can make me leave your side. Not today or ever.”

“We will dance later though, won’t we?” she asked, making her eyes wide and innocent.

“Of course. All night . . .”

“Not
all
night,” she murmured back, a sensual smile curving her lips. And then she giggled at his expression.

Dance they did, and Robinton was only going to allow Lord Melongel, her father, and Groghe to partner her. He was furious with F’lon’s teasing.

“Don’t be annoyed with him,” Kasia said, serious for a moment. “He is so fond of you, and I suspect all that foolery of his covers a far more serious problem he can’t—won’t—talk about.” She grinned. “The way he sighs, I’d say he might be in love.”

“F’lon?” Robinton was surprised. The idea put a different complexion on F’lon’s behavior and Robinton regretted that he hadn’t been more sympathetic. He had seen F’lon looking very thoughtful and worried in between his bouts of nonsense. Today was not the day for him to inquire what bothered his friend but he’d find time tomorrow. Then he reminded himself that he and Kasia weren’t likely to encounter F’lon on the morrow.

So he permitted the bronze rider to dance with Kasia, and while he watched them dance, he spoke to Simanith.

What is troubling my friend F’lon, Simanith?

There was silence for so long that Robinton wondered if the dragon had heard him at all.

I hear. I do not know. Sometimes he doesn’t tell me everything.
Simanith’s tone, so like his rider’s, sounded wistful and anxious.
He thinks a lot about Larna and he’s not happy.

Larna? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it took Robinton most of the dance to remember: Larna had been a nuisancey little child, the old weyrwoman’s daughter. F’lon had got into trouble with Carola, and his Weyr, over the way he treated the little girl. But little girls grow up. Robinton liked to think that this Larna had grown up into so pretty a girl that F’lon had lost his heart to her. But then, lovers always wanted others to be in love, too. Robinton sighed, and went off to claim Kasia for himself for the rest of the evening.

They managed to steal away unnoticed during one of the popular slow dances, and made it unencumbered out of the glow-lit dancing square and to the extraordinarily quiet Hold. For a Gather, even the old aunties and uncles were out enjoying themselves, and all the kitcheners and drudges with them.

“Look!” Kasia pointed to the heights, where twin globes of lightly whirling green showed them that Simanith was on watch. She waved, and was startled when the bronze dragon blinked.

“Make no mistake, the dragon can see everything that’s going on,” Robinton said. He waved, too, and laughed when Simanith blinked again.

“Does he
know
what’s troubling F’lon?”

“He should, if anyone does,” he replied. “But he doesn’t.”

Then they were inside the Hold, most of the glowbaskets thriftily shut, just enough half-open to show them the way to the stairs.

“You must take Clostan with you the next time you buy clothes,” she told him as they hurried up the stairs to their level.

“When I’ve you to help me choose now?” He snorted at the very prospect of having anyone else.

They had to save their breath for the stairs and arrived, panting and gasping, at the top, Kasia giggling as Robinton handed her into their room, then firmly closed and locked the door. Not even F’lon would have the nerve to bother them here.

Dawn saw them sneaking out of the Hold, carrying their sailing gear and running, hand in hand, down to the wharf where the sloop was awaiting them. They could see bundles of sleeping folk, sprawled across chairs or tables, and some under, as well. Banners flapped lightly over the few booths still left in the Gather square. As they were stowing their gear, laughing and giggling at evading any notice, Robinton glanced up at the Hold heights. No dragon was indolently sprawled there.

Robinton couldn’t remember if he’d said good-bye to his mother. He thought he must have, for he knew he had remembered to express his gratitude to Kasia’s parents.

While Kasia went aft to take her place at the tiller, he untied the painter as Captain Gostol had shown him, jumped lightly to the bow, and pushed the sloop away from the thick piles. Then he went to hoist the sail, which immediately began to fill. Kasia trimmed the sheet until the sail was nicely taut against the wind, and he made his way astern to sit beside her in the cockpit.

A fisherman, coming up from the cabin of one of the larger ships, waved lazily at them as they made their way across the wide harbor and out into Tillek waters. He was the last person they saw for eight days and nights.

Their world became the sloop and the water and the sky, which, for the first three days, was brilliantly blue as only autumnal skies could be in that latitude. Not that it mattered to them what the weather was like: they were with each other. Among other things, they both loved freshly caught and instantly fried fish. Sometimes Robinton caught while Kasia cooked; other times she did the fishing and he the frying.

Then the weather deteriorated, and in the teeth of a gale that came up with ferocious speed, Kasia yelled for him to lower the sail and tie it tightly and secure the boom. Finishing with that task despite the lashing rain and the mounting seas, he went below and got out their heavy-weather gear, dressing quickly in his so he could hold the tiller while she put hers on. When he came on deck again, he dropped his load and dove to help her with the tiller. It was some time before she could release it and don her weather gear, her face pinched with the cold of the rain that battered at them as they dipped and rose with the high seas. The waves broke over them time and again, and at Kasia’s bawled order, Robinton managed to reach a long arm for the bailing bucket.

More water poured in to take the place of what he had thrown overboard, but he kept bailing with one hand, while with the other he assisted her hold on the tiller. The little sloop rode to the frothy height of immense waves and then slammed down into the troughs, shaking them to the bones. He knew his teeth were chattering with the cold and could see through the driving rain that she had her jaw clamped shut, lips pulled back, giving the appearance of snarling into the storm. She lay half across the tiller, fighting to keep the sloop’s bow headed into the waves. He knew without her having to tell him that one broadside would capsize the ship and spill them into the cold, cold sea. They didn’t seem to have much chance of surviving this storm; they’d certainly be better off if they could remain in the ship and afloat.

Somehow, sometime, when the lowering skies had lightened, the wind dropped and the pressure on the rudder eased. They flopped limply across each other and the tiller bar, gasping in the air.

“Quickly,” she said, pointing at the mast. “We’re in the eye of this storm and must take advantage of that. Hoist the sail halfway up the mast. There’s the coastline, and we should find somewhere to shelter for the rest of the storm. There’s got to be a cove, an inlet, somewhere to anchor.”

Her urgency lent him the burst of energy to do as she bid. Then he helped her hold even that little bit of sail against the force of the wind and keep the rudder headed toward the black bulk ahead of them.

They almost missed the entrance to the cove even with the prow of the ship pointed at it. Then Kasia let out a whoop of triumph, grinning with disbelief as the sloop passed the mouth of the inlet and left the fury of the sea behind them. Sheltered by the stony arm, the sloop rolled less wildly as the waves carried it toward the indistinct mass of cliff.