The Master Harper of Pern

"I owe that woman a great deal," she said. "Almost as much as I owed your mother, Master Robinton." She gave him an odd glance out of the corner of her eye. "In spite of what a nasty child I was then, it was those two who finally stuffed some sense in my conceited head. May I sing for her, with you? And for Merelan? I've always kept my voice going, you know."

"I didn't know, but I'm glad you have. My mother would be pleased," Robinton replied and he meant it.

So Hala

"Can't you find us some, Robinton, in your travels?" Master Ge

"You may be sure I'll look," Robinton replied fervently.

Anything to bring back the twinkle in his Master's eyes.

And he did look, listening to many hopeful girls as well as boys and trying to interest the better voices in coming to the Harper Hall to be trained.

Robinton attained his Mastery the following Turn and continued to be sent by Master Ge

F'lon had two worries. The first, and more important, was that the lazy Nemorth would never get off her couch in the queen's weyr for another mating flight so that he could become Weyrleader in place of the four-man leadership of C'vrel, C'rob, M'ridin and M'odon. The second was that no one would take him seriously about the threat posed by the "upstart Lord Holder Fax'.

Jora seemed to favour C'vrel, which further infuriated F'lon.

"Ever since S'loner took Lord Maidir between, C'vrel's been afraid to "a

"It is his duty," Robinton said mildly.

F'lon scowled. "Well, we'll teach him his duty when I've flown Nemorth." Now his grimace was darker. "I dread it, I do, Rob. Jora's a fat slug. We oversee what Nemorth eats so she'll be able to climb to a decent height for her flight... but she has to be bullied into the air. Jora!" He raised his hands skyward in disgust and frustration.

"Imagine having a Weyrwoman who's afraid of heights!"

"I've often wondered how that happened," Robinton murmured.

F'lon snorted. "My father fancied her over the other candidates. There were only four, so low has the Weyr sunk in the estimation of the people of Pern it is pledged to protect."

That made Robinton sit up. "The Red Star's returning ..."

"No." F'lon pushed that notion away with one hand. "Not yet. For which I am grateful. Not for another three decades, by my reckoning."

"You'll be an old rider by then."

"I'll have two sons to take over for me, should I happen to fail..." F'lon showed his white teeth in a challenging grin. Then his expression turned grim again. "They'll know what the Weyr stands for. They'll know – from me-' he declared, prodding his chest, "what dragonriders are meant to do."

"What's the latest on Fax?" Robinton would never dignify the man with his assumed title. As it was, there never had been a Council of Lord Holders, CraftMasters and the Weyr to confirm his holding at High Reaches, usurping Bargen, if the young Lord Holder still lived.

"Oh, he's busy." F'lon's grin turned wickedly malicious. "Still can't get any male issue, and he's ploughing any pretty girl he can find. Isn't safe to be female in High Reaches any longer. And his duelling? Ha!" He raised both hands again. "He's got a grand way to rid himself of any who'd oppose him. He insults a man to the point of a fight... and he always wins. Then he puts those oafs and dimwits of his in any prosperous hold... and continues to encroach whenever he can."

"I'd heard."

Robinton had spied Ge

"Call me Nip, if my lack of name offends you," the ru

Master Ge

"I know," the young MasterHarper had replied.

But he also heard reports of Nip's forays.

"What had you heard, Rob?" F'lon asked.

"I know he's nibbling away on the borders of Crom and Nabol.

He daren't try his tricks in Tillek or Telgar. Both Melongel and Tarathel have mounted border guards with hill beacons to spread an alarm."

"Good, good," F'lon said, nodding approval. "But tell me when the rest of our languid Lords are going to take action against him.

They will have to, you know."

Robinton had had arguments with both Lord Grogellan of Fort and Lord Ashmichel of Ruatha. Groghe, fortunately, was more concerned than his father was. The Ruathan heir, Kale, had not been present when Robinton had sounded out Ashmichel. That Lord Holder had discounted Robinton's apprehensions, which worried him still more, since Ruatha not only bordered Nabol but was one of the most prosperous Holds, due to the fine ru

They would be a fine prize for Fax when he turned his covetous eyes to the grasslands of Telgar and Keroon. "It's foreign to the nature of Lord Holders to distrust one of their number," Robinton said flatly.

"And to ignore what they don't wish to admit."

"True. I'm doing my best to worry them."

"Did you know that he's espoused a Ruathan Blood?"

"No, I didn't." Robinton leaned forward intently. "Who?"

"Gemma." And when Robinton frowned, unable to place her, F'lon identified her: "She may be only a third cousin, but she's got Ruathan Blood if Fax wanted to use that as a pretext to Hold there. A come-down from being nephew or espousing a daughter."

"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 ru