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It was Petiron who objected to his spouse fostering the children of others. He found it hard enough to share her with their son, and he didn't believe other fathers and mothers when they informed him that young Robinton – for that was what they had named him, in memory of Merelan's father, Roblyn – was a good child and very undemanding.
"I always thought Petiron a generous man," Betrice told her spouse, MasterHarper Ge
"Why have you changed your mind?" Ge
She paused, pursing her lips – she was not much of a tattler. "I'd
say he was jealous of the time Merelan spends with Robie." "Really?"
"Not that it's much, for I think she's aware of his resentment and does her best to ease it all. But young Mardy's had another child for all I warned her not to, with her third not yet a full Turn old' -Betrice sighed with exasperation – "and Merelan could help ... if
Petiron weren't so set against it."
"Young Robinton's what?"
"A full Turn next Third Day and already walking, stout as you please. Tending one in a cradle during the day to give Mardy a hand wouldn't be troublesome. Robie's no trouble and as sweet as his mother." Betrice beamed with an almost maternal pride.
"Leave it for now, Betrice," Ge
"I can't say I like her working so hard at it, though, Gen, and that's the truth, for she isn't fully recovered from such a difficult birth ..."
Ge
"Unless it's himself doing it, you mean."
"There's more than one way to accomplish the same purpose, you know." He caught and held her eyes and smiled.
"At it again, are you?" Betrice said with no heat and some affection.
Ge
"No," he replied cheerfully, "but I'll get at it on this matter now that you've been good enough to point it out to me. Petiron's a good sort, you know. And he really does love the boy."
Betrice firmed her lips together. "Loves him, does he?"
"You doubt it?"
She regarded her spouse critically. "I do." She curled her hand around his arm. "But then I have you as an example. You were as eager to tend the first of our five as the last, and they have certainly turned out well. Oh, Petiron looks in the cot now and then, or at the child when he's toddling in the yard, but only if you remind him that he's fathered a son."
Ge
"Them! Well, let's hope he doesn't wear Merelan out beforehand."
"That I can oversee," Ge
Merelan sang the difficult role of Moreta in the TurnOver cantata which her spouse had written for her, dealing with the cadenzas as easily as if they had been mere vocalizes. The warmth of her voice and her effortless performance held the audience – and Petiron -enthralled.
Even those resident in the Hall who had heard her practising and were well aware of her vocal abilities were on their feet, awed by her skill. Merelan not only had superb breath control to support her coloratura voice, she could also imbue such emotion in her tone that there were many tears in their eyes when her voice trailed off as Moreta and her dragon jumped between on their last, fatal transfer. Fort's Lord and Lady Holder were so enthusiastic that they led the rush up to the stage, to be sure she heard their compliments.
Petiron beamed as she modestly accepted praise, subtly reminding people that the music her spouse had written was a joy to perform.
He didn't seem to notice how pale she was. But Betrice did, and she gave the singer a potent restorative drink in the brief interval during which those in the chores not required for the next part of the programme filed out of the stands. Merelan would be singing – less demandingly – in the second part of the evening's entertainment, but she was off-stage during the male chores which came next.
Betrice watched the singer all through that and saw her colour gradually return. And when she rose to sing a descant to the final selection, she did not appear as faint as she had earlier.
When the evening's programme was over and the Hall cleared for the dancing, Fort's Lady, Winalla, sought out Betrice.
"Is MasterSinger Merelan all right, Betrice? She was trembling so much when Grogellan and I were speaking to her that I feared to let go of her hand."
"I had a restorative drink ready for her," Betrice said at her most noncommittal. It was kind of Lady Winalla to be concerned, but this was a Harper Hall affair, not the business of the Hold. "She puts so much into her singing, doesn't she?"
"Hmmm, yes, she certainly does," Winalla said, tacitly accepting the rebuff and moving on to speak to other guests.
If it surprised Petiron when Merelan caught a chill and developed a feverish cough, he was the only one.
"Sometimes I think that man is only interested in her for her voice," Betrice said waspishly to Ge
"That may well be a good part of her importance to our resident composer," Ge
In fact, well before we realized what a superb natural voice she had." He looked off into the darkness beyond the glowbasket by the bed, remembering the first time he had heard her effortless scales.
The entire Hall had stopped all work just to listen.
Betrice chuckled as she slid under the new furs, a gift from all the journeymen of the Hall this TurnOver. The pelts had been sewn together in the most beautiful pattern. She let her hand linger on the soft fur of the edging. "Never seen a man more smitten in my life.
He just stared. And she couldn't take her eyes off him. Mind you, he's attractive enough even if he isn't often a merry person. Just as well Agust was her vocal teacher, or she'd never have progressed past vocalizes."
"So remember how Petiron would hang about in the courtyard just listening to them as if he'd nothing better to do with his time," Ge
Just when Ge
He thought longingly of the times, now several hundred Turns back, when the six Weyrs of pern had assisted the major Halls with dragon transport. Those on the east coast still had Benden Weyr, so Lord Maidir could boast of dragon rides to distant Holds and Gathers whenever he needed them. But Fort Weyr had been empty over four centuries, and no one really knew why.