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F'lon had mentioned that dragons were whimsical about talking to non-weyrfolk.
Sometimes they would. More often they would not. F'lon had added with one of
his mischievous smiles, "The dragons do like you, Rob." But Robinton had
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thought that was a secret between himself, the dragons and their riders.
"I didn't realize that anyone was watching."
Gennell grinned. "I've watched you from the moment your mother told me you
were piping variations on a theme."
"Have I ever thanked you, Gennell, for all you've done for me?"
There was no irony in Robinton's voice now.
"Pssst." Gennell dismissed the matter with a flick of his fingers.
"I was your MasterHarper then, as I am now. Be a good Master to all within
this Hall and I am doubly repaid. Do not let a tyrant like
Fax still the voices of any more harpers."
To that Robinton swore purpose and loyalty.
"Did you hear the drum message this morning?" Gennell asked in a complete
change of subject.
"Yes." Robinton smiled. "A new baby at Ruatha Hold. A girl, small but
healthy."
Two days later, both Robinton and Gennell were called to Fort
Hold. Lord Grogellan had refused the advice of MasterHealer
Ginia, her very capable young journeyman Oldive, and the Hold's healer. He
would not allow them to attempt surgery.
"Talk some sense into him, can you, Gennell?" Ginia said, her
face red with frustration. "I've done this operation - so has Oldive
- and it takes but minutes. If we can't remove the inflamed appendix, he will
die from a poisoning of his system."
"You can't cut into him," Lady Winalia said, weeping. "You can't. That's
barbaric."
Ginia shook her head. "It is not. It's as simple as removing infected
tonsils from a throat, and you permitted me to do that for your children."
"Lord Grogellan will not have his body violated, mutilated ..."
Lady Winalia shuddered with repugnance, her expression stubborn.
"His person cannot be carved like an animal!"
"Mother, if it's a question of his life ..." said Groghe, trying to reason
with his parent. "I saw it done at Tillek, didn't I, Rob?"
Robinton nodded. "Clostan performed it on a seaman taken with terrible belly
pain. He was back on his ship the next week."
Lady Winalia kept shaking her head, her lips pressed together.
"We will not permit it," she repeated, pressing her handkerchief to her lips
as she opened the door to her spouse's room. Grogellan's moans could be
heard. "Oh, he must be in such pain, Ginia. More fellis, please. How can
you let him suffer so?"
"He wouldn't if he would permit me to"
"No, no, never. How can you even suggest such a thing?"
"He didn't object when I sewed up that shin wound ... it's much the same
thing," Ginia said urgently.
"But that was a natural wound," Lady Winalla protested. "Oh, listen to him.
Surely you can give him more fellis?"
"Yes, I can give him more fellis," Ginia said through gritted teeth. "I can
fellis him right into death!"
"Oh, no, don't say that, Ginia. Please don't say he'll die."
"I can't say anything else and be honest, Winalla. If I do not operate..."
Winalia clamped her hands to her ears and, with a little shriek of protest,
half-ran to her spouse, where he twisted and writhed in bed.
He died later that day, in a terrible agony which not even the massive doses
of fellis or the application of numbweed on his abdomen could dull.
"No violation, no mutilation, just death," Ginia murmured as she wearily
stumbled away from the tragedy. "Once we knew so much more ..." She shook a
little and leaned on Oldive.
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So the Telgar Gather was cancelled and, instead, the Lord Holders came to Fort
Hold to confirm Groghe as the new Lord Holder. Fax was conspicuous by his
absence.
"But then, he wasn't invited," Gennell said grimly, "because he has not
followed the established procedure of taking formal Hold."
"I doubt that bothers him," Robinton remarked. "I wish I knew what he had
planned at Telgar."
That question was answered, in part or in whole, when Lady
Relna of Crom and her two youngest children begged sanctuary from Lord
Ashmichel and Lady Adessa at Ruatha Hold. Neither her spouse nor their two
oldest boys had survived Fax's forcible entry into their Hold.
Groghe began to drill every man in Fort between the ages of sixteen and fifty.
Tarathel and Melongel grimly followed his example and doubled their border
patrols.
The following winter, another bitterly cold one, MasterHarper
Gennell died of a failing heart. Ogolly, Washell, and Gorazde -frail though
he was - drummed messages about the country. They had known that Master
Robinton was the named successor, but it would be spring before the requisite
number of Masters could return to the Hall for a formal election. No one
wished the Harper
Hall to be leaderless at such a time. Robinton could hear the messages coming
in and going out. He found that their import was muffled down in the kitchen
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