Dragonquest

CHAPTER X

Early Morning in Harpercrafthall at

Fort Hold

Afternoon at Telgar Hold

Robinton, Masterharper of Pern, adjusted his tunic, the rich green pile of the fabric pleasing to the touch as well as the eye. He turned sideways, to check the fit of the tunic across his shoulders. Masterweaver Zurg had compensated for his tendency to slouch, so the hem did not hike up. The gilded belt and the knife were just the proper dress accouterments.

Robinton grimaced at his reflection. “Belt knives!” He smoothed his hair behind his ears, then stepped back to check the pants. Masterta

Green! Robinton gri

He glanced out of his window, checking the sun’s position. It was above the Fort range now. That meant mid-afternoon at Telgar Hold and the guests would be gathering. He’d been promised transport. T’ron of Fort Weyr had grudgingly acceded to that request, though it was a tradition of long standing that the Harper could request aid from any Weyr.

A dragon appeared in the northwest sky.

Robinton grabbed up his overcloak – the dress tunic would never keep out the full cold of between – his gloves and felted case that contained the best gitar. He’d hesitated about bringing it. Chad had a fine instrument at Telgar Hold, but fine wood and gut would not be chilled by those cold seconds of between as mere flesh would.

When he passed the window, he noticed a second dragon winging down, and was mildly surprised.

By the time he reached the small court of the Harpercrafthall, he gave a snort of amusement. A third dragon had appeared from due east.

Never around when you want ‘em, though. Robinton sighed, for it seemed the problems of the day had already begun, instead of waiting dutifully for him (as what trouble does?) at Telgar Hold, where he’d expected it.

Green, blue – and ah-ha – bronze dragon wings in the early morning sun.

“Sebell, Talmor, Brudegan, Tagetarl, into your fine rags. Hurry or I’ll skin you and use your lazy i

Two heads popped out of an upper window of the apprentice barracks, two more at the journeyman’s Hold.

“Aye, sir.” “Coming, sir.” “In a moment!”

Yes, with four harpers of his own, and the three at Telgar Hold – Sebell played the best bass line, not to mention Chad the Telgar Harper improvising in the treble – they’d have a grand loud group. Robinton tossed his overcloak to his shoulder, forgetting that the pile of the green tunic might crush, and gri

He should pick the Telgar Weyr blue on the grounds that he appeared first. However, the green dragon came from Fort Weyr, to whom his Craft was weyrbound. Yet Benden Weyr did the honor of sending a bronze. Perhaps I should take the first to land, though they’re all taking their time about it, he thought.

He stepped out of the Court quadrangle to the fields beyond, since it was obvious that’s where the beasts were landing.

The bronze landed last, which canceled that method of impartial choice. The three riders met mid-field, some few dragonlengths from the disputed passenger. Each man began arguing his claim at once. When the bronze rider became the target of the other two, Robinton felt obliged to intervene.

“He’s weyrbound to Fort Weyr. We have the right,” said the green rider indignantly.

“He’s guest of Telgar Hold. Lord Holder Larad himself requested . . .”

The bronze rider (Robinton recognized him as N’ton, one of the first non-weyrbred to Impress a dragon at Benden Weyr Turns ago) appeared neither angry nor disconcerted.

“The good Masterharper will know the right of it,” and N’ton bowed graciously to Robinton.

The others gave him scarcely a glance but renewed their quarrel.

“Why, there’s no problem at all,” Robinton said in the firm, decisive tone he rarely employed and which was never contradicted.

The two wranglers fell silent and faced him, the one sullen, the other indignant.

“Still, it does the Craft honor that you vye to serve it,” and Robinton accorded the two dissidents an ironic bow. “Fortunately, I have need of three beasts. I’ve four more harpers to transport to Telgar Hold to grace the happy occasion.” He emphasized the adjective, noticing the glares that passed between blue and green riders. Young N’ton, though not weyrbred, had excellent ma

“I was told to take you,” the Fort Weyr man said in a sour voice.

“And took such joy of the assignment, it has made my morning merry,” Robinton replied crisply. He saw the smug look on the blue rider’s face. “And while I appreciate Weyrleader R’mart’s thoughtfulness in spite of his recent – ah – problems at Telgar Hold, I shall ride the Benden Weyr dragon. For they do not grudge the Masterharper the prerogative.”

His craftsmen came racing out of the Hall, riding cloaks askew on their shoulders, fitting their instruments in felt wrappings as they came. Robinton gave each a cursory glance as they came to a ragged line in front of him, breathless, flushed and, thank the Shell, happy. He nodded toward Sebell’s pants, indicated that Talmor should adjust his twisted belt, approved Brudegan’s immaculate appearance, and murmured that Tagetarl was to smooth his wild hair.

“We’re ready, sirs,” Robinton a

“I’ve half a mind – ” the green rider began.

“Obviously,” Robinton cut in, his voice as cold as between and as menacing as Thread. “Brudegan, Tagetarl, ride with him. Sebell, Talmor, on the green.”

Robinton watched as Brudegan, with no expression on his face, gestured politely to the shorter, green rider to precede them. Of all men on Pern, harpers feared few. Any one deliberately antagonizing them for no cause found himself the butt of a satirical tune which would be played around the land.

There were no further protests. And Robinton was rather pleased to notice that N’ton gave no indication that there’d been any display of ill nature.

Robinton on N’ton’s bronze arrived in the air, facing the cliff-palisade that was Telgar Hold. The swift river that had its source in the great striding eastern range of mountains had cut through the softer stone and made a deep incision that gradually widened until a series of high palisades flanked the green, wide Telgar valley. Telgar Hold was situated in one such soaring palisade, at the apex of a slightly triangular section of the cliffs. It faced south, with sides east and west and its hundred or so windows, on five distinct levels, must make pleasant and well lit rooms. All had the heavy bronze shutters which marked Telgar Hold for a wealthy one.

Today the three cliff faces of Telgar Hold were brilliant with the pe