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"And you've no more welcome than that for your son, Petiron?" Merelan asked in such a tense voice that Robie was startled.
"It's all right, Mother. Good night, Father," he said and left, almost ru
"Petiron, how could you?"
Robie shut the door on whatever reply his father made, glad that
he couldn't hear anything through the thick wooden panels. He flung himself on his bed and wished he was back at Benden Hold.
Even Lord Maidir was nicer to him than his father was. Why couldn't he please his own father? What had he done wrong?
Why couldn't he do something right? He probably shouldn't have said that he could take Londik's place. But he could. He knew he could. His mother had said that his voice was every bit as good as Londik's, and he was the better musician. And she didn't just say things like that to make you feel good – not about professional matters.
He muffled the sobs he could not control in his pillow. And when he heard some shouting later, he pulled the pillow over his head and pushed it tight against his ears so that he couldn't hear anything except his own pulse.
He had to audition for the position of solo treble singer in front of all the Masters, which made him a little nervous. The requirement had made his mother furious.
"Are you doubting my professional opinion, Petiron?" she asked when she heard what was proposed. All the windows were open, making it impossible for Robinton to avoid hearing.
"Any singer who is to be a soloist for the Harper Hall has to be auditioned," his father had answered.
"Only if he hasn't been heard by all the Masters before," Merelan had said, tight-voiced.
"I do not wish anyone to think that I am pushing my son into a place that another also qualifies for."
"There is no other treble as qualified! And everyone but you knows very well that Robinton has a splendid treble."
"Then there is no problem in following protocol, is there?"
"Protocol! Protocol? For your own son?"
"Of course. For him more than any other. Surely you can see that, MerelanT
"I wish, Petiron, I do sincerely wish that I could."
Robie had flinched when he heard the outer door slam. He felt his throat tighten, and then reminded himself sternly that he had no time for that right now. He was harper-trained and he'd prove -especially to his father – that he was well trained.
Because he was, of course, facing his auditors, he caught the little reassuring gestures they made, and his mother's encouraging expression as she played the introduction to the music they had decided he should present first. He was to sing two songs, showing off his abilities, an optional piece and then a score he had not seen before.
"That," his mother had said in an odd voice, "is going to be very difficult because he knows all the music."
"There will be one he doesn't know," his father had said, giving his head the one final nod which indicated this subject was closed.
So he sang the Question Song, and that made all the Masters sit up, including his father. But the song suited his range and showed good phrasing as well as voice control, as he let the final note die away without breaking it off.
"Odd choice," was his father's comment after the warm applause had died. Petiron handed him a double sheet. "This would have been Londik's next solo. Not even he has seen it. You may have a few minutes to look through it." He held out his hand to take Merelan's gitar from her and sat on the stool, prepared to accompany his son himself.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Robinton turned his eyes down to his father's bold notations. But by the time he had to turn the page, he felt a surge of relief. If his father thought this would show up his unsuitability, he might even get a pleasant surprise.
"I'm ready," Robie said, turning the music back to the first page.
"You should take more time than that," his father told him.
"I've read it through, Father," Robinton replied. His father didn't know how quickly he memorized music, even the complex tempo Petiron liked to use and the odd intervals he was fond of putting in: "To jar the audience awake," one of the journeymen had said in Robie's hearing.
"Let's not make the lad nervous, Petiron," Master Ge
"I'll play the first measure, then go back to the top," Petiron said, as if conferring a special favour.
Robinton saw his mother's warning finger go up, so he said nothing. But he was spot perfect coming in at the top. He didn't need to, but he kept the score in front of his eyes, not wanting to look in his father's direction. He had no trouble singing the unusual intervals, or keeping an accurate tempo, even when it changed almost every other measure. There was one run, which would have suited Londik's flexible voice too, and a trill which Rob had no trouble with either, his mother having used him to show Maizella how to deal with that sort of vocal embellishment.
"I do believe we have a more than adequate replacement for Londik," Master Ge
Petiron was looking at his son, his mouth slightly open, his right hand silencing the strings of the gitar.
"I do believe, Petiron, that you've forgotten that Robie turned ten while we were in Benden," Merelan said briskly.
"Yes, I had." Petiron rose slowly, putting the gitar carefully back in its case. "But you must read the dynamics of a new piece more carefully, Son. In the fourth measure--"
"Petiron, I don't believe you," Master Ge
"If he is to take Londik's place, he must be accurate in all particulars," Petiron said. "And he will be. From now on, I shall oversee his musical education. There's a lot to be done ..."
"Ah, but you're in error there, my good Petiron," Master Ge
Robinton heard a stifled noise and looked round at his mother, who gave him the oddest smile.
"Robinton is not old enough to be an apprentice, though as our lead treble he is now definitely under Hall jurisdiction. But," Ge
Robinton blinked when Ge
"Thank you, MasterHarper, I'll do my best not to disappoint," Robie said in the silence that fell.
Then everyone began to clear throats or shift feet or stand up. His mother moved to his side, hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly to indicate her approval.