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try to understand the dispute from both sides.
"Of course." F'lon actually ground his teeth. "Neither of them will listen to
S'loner or me. And it's not as if we were the only riders of that opinion.
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M'odon is adamant that we'll see Thread within the next three decades. And
I've checked his figuring time and again. He might be out a Turn or two, but
not by more than that."
He glanced about irritably, as if hoping to find something he could at least
kick. A stone lay across his path, and he kicked that across the Bowl so that
both of them heard it connect with the cliff and shatter. F'lon grunted at
his success. Then, in one of his abrupt changes, he pointed to a table not
far from the entrance to the
Lower Caverns. "Let's take that one before anyone else can settle."
Robinton decided to wait for a more propitious opening to obtain further
details. F'lon was not the most tactful of riders - nor, for that matter, was
his father - but perhaps, in the aftermath of the
Hatching, he could make some progress in healing the breach.
Most of the invited guests were still on their feet, wineglasses or klah mugs
in their hands, while the aromas of the upcoming feast wafted in tantalizing
waves from the busy kitchen. In the distance, by the weyrling barracks,
Robinton caught sight of the newly
Impressed riders feeding their dragonets, who raised squeaky but imperious
voices protesting the slowness of the service. Once sufficiently full, the
dragonets would be bedded down, and then the new riders would join their
parents for the festivities, elated with
pride at their success. Robinton had noted that a Benden holder lad had
Impressed a bronze - a talking point with Maidir. There was such an air of
rejoicing, of gladness, of accomplishment, that
Robinton had trouble restraining himself from grabbing up his gitar and making
appropriate triumphant music. His turn would come soon enough, and meanwhile
here was C'gan, his oddly boyish face smiling, making his way towards them
carrying a tray of glasses, a skin of wine looped over his shoulder.
F'lon waved for C'gan to hurry. Robinton had had a chance on his arrival to
quiz C'gan on how many musicians he would have to supply music, and what
special songs might be requested. He had brought some new songs, as well:
three of his own and four from the Harper Hall. He had learned that he didn't
need to tell anyone who had composed them. If the songs were good, they were
sung again and again, and those that failed to catch on he could simply
forget. There were few of his in the latter category. A march from Petiron's
pen was included in those from the Hall, and
Robinton deemed it a new departure for the MasterComposer:
rhythmic and solemn, but stirring.
Eventually those at the head table took their places, a signal for the
weyrfolk to serve their guests, green riders helping to cater to the extra
numbers. Bronze and brown riders were not required to serve guests, so R'gul,
S'lel, L'tol and R'yar - the lad who had been Searched from his first
apprentice turn at the Harper Hall -joined
Robinton's table.
Robinton was close enough to the head table to get his first good look at the
young new Weyrwoman. She was not at all as attractive or sensual as Caroh had
been. But that was not relevant - no matter what her looks or personality
were like, S'loner's bronze had to fly her queen to keep him in the
Weyrleader's position. From the scowl on S'loner's face, he wasn't too
pleased with his new
Weyrwoman. He was, in fact, leaning away from her, idly robbing his left
shoulder and arm, and not directing much conversation in
Jora's direction. She was pretty enough, in a sort of overblown way, but was
already getting more plump than was healthy for a rider, not to mention for a
young woman. She was flushed with the success of her queen, Nemorth, and
making what appeared to be giddy confessions to Lady Hayara, who merely
listened with a polite smile plastered on her face. Lord Maidir exchanged a
few comments with S'loner, but for the most part concentrated on the excellent
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food served and the fine Benden wines.
Robinton considered that wine one of the fringe benefits of being a
Benden-based harper: they had the best vineyards on the continent, and the
main Vintners' Hall was in the next valley over from the Hold itself. The
whites were crisp and light, sometimes with a citrus tang, sometimes an almost
floral taste. He had been used to the foxy sauternes of Tillek, the other
large wine-producing
Hold, and the variety produced by Benden fascinated him. The reds, especially
the clarets and the burgundies, were full and wonderful to hold in the nose
and savour through the mouth.
Robinton had discovered that he could drink the whites all night long and
generally rise up from his bed the next morning without a heavy head or sick [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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