Author's Note: Thanks again to Voodoo Weasel, and paisley is a kind of pattern, and also to ginalee, and true-gold dragonstar for the reviews to chapter two. It makes me happy. :-D

Chapter Three: It's Not Easy, Being (Harper) Blue

Only a Sevenday after the end of The White Dragon

Masterharper Robinton brooded in his harper-blue chair, the one that his numerous friends and well-wishers had provided him with when they'd first constructed the magnificent Cove Hold.

He brooded, because the very name "Cove Hold" reminded him of things that he wasn't sure he wanted to remember. Glancing out the window, he took in the beautiful beach, the groves of fruit-bearing trees, the mountains, and the overall grandeur of the scenery, and he grimaced.

He'd discovered this place, a long time ago, and it was only right that it had been chosen as the spot for his convalescence. IT had been so different then, when he'd been vigorous and still mightily respected throughout Pern. He and Menolly had made the journey to this cove at the suggestion of F'lar of Benden in order to scout out the Southern Continent, and to explore those reaches of the place that Toric and his holders would never have a chance to. Upon leaving the cove on that occasion, Robinton remembered worrying wistfully that he might never see the place again. Indeed, when Brekke and Master Idarolan had brought him here, only one, or maybe two sevendays ago, he'd been delighted, intensely grateful, and thrilled with the opportunity to revisit the site that had haunted his dreams for so long.

But now that the entirety of Pern had taken off, and every member of the Weyrs and Holds were no longer visiting him and checking up on his every movement, Robinton had many moments to himself. He spent these moments wishing that he'd returned to Cove Hold in the same state that he had left it, all that time ago. He couldn't so much as move without some sort of supervision, after what he liked to call the "incident" at the goldflight, and though he felt vastly improved and much stronger than he'd been, it was next to impossible to keep up his spirits and sense of dignity in the face of being constantly coddled. His precious and yet dreaded moments of privacy all came when he was stationary, quiet, or somehow resting. He therefore spent a great deal of time just sitting in his chair, watching the swaying of the trees, the lapping of the waves, concocting songs in his head, just to assure himself that he could still think like a mature and capable Masterharper. What he wouldn't' give to be the powerful, virulent man that he had been…well, there was no use in wishing.

"Master?" Menolly was standing hesitantly in the doorway, her gitar in one hand. The other hand was trying to disentangle Beauty from her hair. The firelizard queen seemed to do nothing but scold, squawk and flit about lately, and had become a real nuisance,at certain times, both to Robinton, and Menolly. Menolly never spoke about the strange behavior, and Robinton worried that perhaps Beauty objected to the climate and to the other queens living on the Southern Continent. If Beauty made a fuss for long enough, Menolly would leave, and then he really would spend far too much of his time entirely alone with his thoughts…except when someone wanted to force-feed him, or apply some nasty ointment somewhere or other.

"Yes, Menolly? You may come in, I'm obviously not busy," He made a distracted hand gesture, beckoning her in to the room. "May I help you?"

He heard Menolly hesitate on the threshold, and cursed himself silently for being peevish with the girl. "I just…wanted to see how you were," she started. Brandishing the instrument, she added "I thought maybe we could play. I've been so busy with the visitors, with Jaxom and Sharra, and Piemur…I feel like I've had no time, and I was so hoping…" she trailed off, as if suddenly unsure of what she had been so hoping.

Robinton turned around in his chair, and rewarded Menolly with what he hoped was his usual winning smile. "Nothing would please me better than some music right now," he insisted, reaching out to take her hand and pull her farther towards him. "The sounds of the ocean are pretty, but too lulling for my mood at the moment."

Menolly took a seat at the foot of his chair, curling her legs up underneath her as she began to tune the strings of the gitar. Belatedly, Robinton realized that in order to play music, he must have a musical instrument, and he rose from his chair to go seek out his own gitar. Menolly rose in the same instant, holding out her hands in front of her to stay him. "I'll get it, Master," she started. "Where've you left it?"

Robinton took a deep, patient breath. "Thank you, but I am perfectly capable of getting my own instrument. You stay right there and finish tuning." Before she could protest, he strode across the room and pulled the gitar down from a high shelf, too high, he noted, with some relief, for Menolly to reach. "I am not, my dear child, exerting myself," he continued, anticipating her complaints. "And if I rest any more, or use my limbs and wits any less, I might as well go between, for all the good I would do myself or Pern."

Menolly drew in a sharp breath, and Robinton instantly regretted his words. The look on his journeyman's face said very plainly that she had been frightened enough that he would die from a heart attack, without needing to hear him talk about going between. "Let's have that new song of yours," Robinton tried again, more gently. "I heard you playing it after dinner, two nights ago, but you've yet to present it to me properly, and I am, I must admit, slightly resentful of the oversight."

Menolly began to play, and Robinton returned to perch himself on the edge of his chair. The girl had quick fingers, and even when she flubbed a note, she moved on so nimbly that it was hard to take notice of the mistake. She was also humbly talented, neither too proud nor overly boastful, so that it was nothing short of a pleasure to listen to her play, and to see her succeed. There were so few people like Menolly on Pern today, he realized, so few who were both good at what they did, and pleasant to be with. Master Fandarel came to mind, and Wansor, the starsmith. Those two were real craftsman, living for their craft and for the fruits of their labor, much as Menolly did. Recently, the Harper thought regretfully, the girl had spent more time nursing him than enjoying her music. That would have to change. He would not allow himself to be an obstruction to her career, and after all, no matter how much she cared for him, every person had only so much time on this planet…

The Masterharper took up his own gitar, and began, softly at first, to pluck out an improvised harmony to Menolly's tune. "Sing, Menolly," he murmured, "sing the verses. I want to hear the words, too." He kept playing, even as Menolly frowned, shaking her head. "Please," he asked again, inclining his head respectfully to her. "Sing it for me." Robinton put an emphasis on the final two words, knowing that she couldn't refuse. Expelling a breath, Menolly hesitated, and then sang.

She sang a song about fear; a song about the dizzying feeling of near-loss, of the knowledge that one is insufficient to meet the needs of one's loved ones. Her voice was so clear, so plaintive and so full of the ring of truth, that it took Robinton several enthralled moments before he realized that the song was about him. He started in his chair, and stared at her afresh, torn between a most uncharacteristic blush of shame, and a thrill in his heart that he didn't care to identify.

She stopped singing when she saw the alarm on his face, and looked away from him, continuing to play, but apparently unable to meet his eyes. Robinton's fingers slackened, and he let the gitar fall gently to the floor, keenly feeling all too familiar pangs of regret.

"You did ask me to sing for you," Menolly was saying, her eyes still downcast. "You told me you wanted to hear it." There was a note in her voice that implied that Robinton should have known what the song would be about, should have known what it was that was so close to her heart at this moment. The Harper realized that she was right, that, after the understanding which the two of them had shared about Idarolan's ship, he should have known. Menolly was a transparent girl, one could read her like one of Wansor's carefully drawn-charts, and see exactly where her heart lay, if only one cared to look.

"It's a beautiful song," he began, trying to let only gratitude and admiration into his voice. "My thanks."

"I'm glad you like it," she replied, and Robinton heard, in the silence that followed her words, that she had wanted to say that she'd written it for him.

At that moment, Zair flitted into the room, and, with a pleased sort of chirrup, alighted on Menolly's shoulder. Beauty warbled with some vexation at having to share her favorite perch, but, to Robinton's surprise, Beauty gave in quickly enough, flipped her wings to her back, and regarded Zair with eyes whirling a resignedly contended blue.

"This is silly," muttered Menolly. Robinton said nothing, but bent to retrieve his gitar from the g round. Almost automatically, Menolly reached down and picked it up for him, handing it to him without looking in his direction. "It's silly," she repeated, "Because we're not hiding anything, any longer." She meant, Robinton knew, that they weren't hiding these turbulent emotions from each other any longer, but he was all too sure that, were they to voice them out loud ever again, it would only lead to ruin.

"What were those words in the third verse?" HE asked, trying not to notice the look of disappointment on the journeyman's face. "I didn't quite catch them." He played the verse through on his instrument, and then looked at her expectantly, hoping that she'd provide him the lyrics, and therefore a new subject for conversation.

He had, it seemed, picked a rather unfortunate verse to use as a distraction. Menolly played it, and sang, as she did so.

"And if the truth is never known

I promise I will take you home

As long as you might live to see

The love that thus sustains me."

She looked at him, and Robinton swallowed hard, working to control his thoughts. He'd developed a headache, or, more accurately, a mind ache, and the only thing in the room that didn't' seem to be spinning was Menolly herself, whom he could still see, clear and vibrant, waiting for his response to her words.

"And if the truth is never known, I promise I will take you home," he murmured, echoing the song. "That's…lovely. Just…lovely." He couldn't' say more than that, as he was having trouble getting the words out of his mouth, a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. There was silence in the room for a few moments, as Robinton searched for the words that normally came so glibly to him, and Menolly waited, hoping for something, anything, that would calm her confusion.

After a while, the girl grew tired of the silence, and, dejectedly, she slung her gitar over her shoulder, and stood. "You must be tired," she said firmly, although she spoke only to fill the void. "I shouldn't be asking you to play-!"
"It was a pleasure," Robinton murmured. "Never apologize for giving me that pleasure. Perhaps a duet, now? I haven't heard the firelizard song in so very long, and you and I both know that it's Beauty and Zair's favorite."

Zair crooned, and Robinton hoped that he was responding to his owner's choice of song, rather than to the emotion in Menolly's eyes. Without further preamble, Menolly sat down again, and played the song. She played it once through, and then Robinton joined her. They still played well together, and when they'd finished the third repetition of the song, Menolly looked calmer, and more at ease.

Robinton himself felt nothing of the kind.

"We'll play next sevenday," he told her, "when everyone's gathered here again. They say we're going to have a feast to celebrate Oldive's giving me permission to fly again. At least, I hope we will. That can only happen, of course, if the old Killjoy actually grants me that."

"You'll fly again," Menolly replied, collecting her gitar. "And we'll play at the feast."

She wouldn't play her new song, though, Robinton knew. That song had been for his ears only, and it probably always would be.