Chapter 10 Tyrin Grows Up – in More Ways than One
Tyrin heard by the drums that the renegades had been rounded up. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the Holder at Hold Gar must be a reasonable man, for he had not over-reacted and had tempered justice with mercy. Horgey, paralysed from the waist down, was adjudged to have suffered enough; the rest were sentenced to work for the community to pay off their debt for trying to cheat people with lies. Part of what they would earn would also go towards the upkeep of Horgey in the Healer Hall.
hHhHh
Tyrin went to see the Masterharper, with some trepidation. Robinton smiled down at his serious face and asked,
"What can I do for you, young Tyrin?"
"Sir, can't you re-instate Horgey as an apprentice? He can't hurt anyone now, but he can still play and sing."
Robinton blinked.
"Tyrin, he is not of the calibre to be a Harper. He has even sunk to allying himself with renegades." He explained. Tyrin nodded quickly to show he understood, but said,
"Sir, I know that. But the impression I got when we were in that cave was that he had known nothing but rejection and violence. He was scared of being killed by Rees, but – well, it seemed as though he accepted the casual cruelty as normal, like he'd grown up with it. I guess that's why he so wanted a firelizard – and I even took that from him. I meant it for Sorill, sir, by the way, I didn't mean to Impress Prism – though I'm glad I did!" he ended a little defiantly.
The Masterharper laughed, not unkindly.
"Your compassion does you credit." He said. "And I do see your point. But see mine! Maybe if I re-instate Horgey, he'll behave himself out of gratitude – and maybe he'll feel resentful at being pitied and make more trouble. I can't take the risk. However, if you want to take him some practice instruments for him to play on, that's up to you."
"Thank you sir." Tyrin could see what the Masterharper meant; Horgey had been very bitter at having to owe his life to Tyrin. But if T'lan could get L'rilly acting reasonably, maybe he, Tyrin could help Horgey. It was time he grew up – and Tyrin had noticed that this was often a sudden transition linked to a change in circumstances, such as Impression or making Journeyman. Perhaps with time to contemplate, Horgey would come to terms with life. More than likely, he'd just hate Tyrin worse for causing his paralysis; but perhaps he'd accept that Tyrin did want to help make the ordeal more bearable.
hHhHh
Horgey was not pleased to see Tyrin as a visitor to his sick room.
"Come to gloat, have you?" He growled.
Tyrin shook his head.
"I never meant to break your back." He said. "I was just fighting back. Like it was you pushing me broke the lizard egg. I Impressed the other – I guess you'll resent that, too, though she is a sport."
He called Prism and she popped out from Between and snuggled on his shoulder, crooning. Absently he rubbed her head knob. Horgey stared.
"White – like the runt dragon! She should have been mine, though!" he added resentfully. "I wish you'd killed me when you had the chance. This is worse than being dead – it's like being a baby!"
"You wanted to live out there on the cliff. You were afraid Rees would kill you!"
"I didn't know just how much you'd done to me you son of a wher!"
"My sister's crippled." Said Tyrin. "I know she can move her legs some, but she had to have help with… hygiene. I had to take care of her from when I was nine turns, so I do know something of what it's like. At least you don't bleed like girls do."
"Whadd'ya mean?" Horgey asked suspiciously.
"Every month, girls bleed down there for several days. It's something to do with having babies I think." Said Tyrin vaguely. "It's all very messy and horrible, and it makes them bad tempered."
"You're putting me on."
"No – honest! I couldn't make up anything that daft-sounding, could I now!" asseverated Tyrin. Horgey snorted.
"I don't care about your sister anyway. It's your fault I'm here. It's your fault I joined that lot, too – I'd nowhere else to go!"
"Shards, man, it's not my fault you chose to try to beat me up – and decided to pick on Kit too!" exclaimed Tyrin, exasperated. Horgey gave a crow.
"So she is something to you!"
"Yes – now. I got to know her after you attacked her. At the time I'd only been helping her out of the ditch. She'd fallen in and her worthless sister had left her there."
"Quite the little goody helpful, aren't you?" Horgey sounded quite poisonous. Tyrin shrugged.
"I work on the principle that if you are nice to people, they'll mostly be nice back. I had to learn that when I had Sharilla to care for. I could be slung out of places on my own account and not care, but I couldn't let them throw her out. Anyway, I brought you some music and some instruments. It's something to do. I'll take you out in a wheeled chair when it's fine – but not because I feel guilty. I don't. I feel sorry that you had a rotten childhood and grew up hating everybody because I guess that's more uncomfortable than not being able to walk. But I don't have to take the dung you're flinging at me. Good day to you!" And with that, Tyrin walked out.
hHhHh
Ferry and the others could not see why Tyrin was wasting his time being nice to Horgey; and they told him so. Tyrin said,
"How can I hold a grudge against a man that's been crippled – and through my action, no matter how unintentional? It would be childish. Besides, he'll be around the place. We have to accept that we'll see him from time to time. It would be better for all concerned if we could manage to be at least civil to each other."
Ferry stared at him.
"Jays, Tyrin, when did you suddenly become a master?" He asked in dismay. "You sound like a grown-up."
The others assented, and Tyrin felt them distancing themselves slightly. He hid the hurt and answered quietly.
"I guess that it must be because I'm almost a man. It lacks but half a turn until I'm Turned fifteen, you know – and I think this thing with Horgey has just changed me a little. Sorry!"
They disclaimed; but there was doubt in their voices. Tyrin tried not to be disappointed. He was, after all, growing away from his comrades. He had been able to tell them something about his mission; but it was Harper business, and not for general broadcast. All he had said was that he had been asked to accompany Sorill and use his ears, and had been so unfortunate as to meet Horgey. They had been truly envious of his Impression of Prism, and had loyally declared that her unusual colour showed that her owner was special! Tyrin had laughed but been pleased. Now he sighed inwardly, but reached out a hand.
"I'm not changed, inside, you know." He added. "You know how moody I can be – I just got scared because I might have accidentally killed him. Somewhere along the line, I got pretty strong – and he's not that much taller than me now. Be nice – I need someone to be!" he pulled a comical face, and he felt the mood relax.
"We understand." Anslas told him. Bless, him, thought Tyrin, Anslas would say that even if he didn't – the boy's quiet loyalty was always a comfort.
Kit sniffed.
"You're too nice." She opined. "But what you say goes, I guess. Right, fellas?"
The others nodded..
"No good will come of it though." Duthi said predictably.
"It's no good borrowing trouble." Shoris told him, a little sharply. "Tyrin is right, though I hate to admit it. We have to see things in perspective. I guess I learned that early at the seahold – you have to grow up quick when you're putting your life on the line every day at sea. Like weyrlings, huh, Tyrin?"
Tyrin nodded.
"Impressed ones, anyway." He modified.
hHhHh
Life, on the whole, settled back to normal. Tyrin got used to feeling slightly aloof from the younger boys, and applied himself to his work with vigour. He worked assiduously on his harp in every spare moment, thrilling to see and feel it take shape under his tools. He had chosen to hollow the sounding box from solid wood in order to carve the shape of a dragon's body from it, and had sacrificed the marks he had earned by making simple instruments for the Winter Fair to buy exactly the wood he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted to do; the base and sounding box would be the body of a dragon, with a gracefully curved neck and head rising from it. This, plus a spar to represent the leading edge of the wing would form the long support, the long ears acting as a brace. Neither neck nor wing edge spar would be strong enough alone; but forming a triangle would make it so. The wing spar would continue as the top and would take the wires; and would curve down towards the tail that would join it back to the body. Tyrin had done all the calculations of the stresses involved as well as the pitch of each wire, and was quite satisfied with the result. He was enjoying working with the rich bronzey wood, and reflected that he might do well to see what tips he could pick up from H'llon next time he visited High Reaches. Melth would be growing well by now, and H'llon would have sorted himself into a routine. Tyrin sniffed hard, suddenly. He did miss everybody still – maybe he was not as grown up as he had thought! Still, there was soft little Prism who loved him unreservedly and demanded attention as often as possible. Tyrin loved to rub her head knob when she butted against him and feel her soft head snuggle up against his cheek as she settled down to sleep beside him at night. No one could have a dearer little friend than this!
hHhHh
Master Jerint professed himself to be satisfied by Tyrin's efforts, and adjured the boy not to get impatient over the finishing.
"Remember to smooth and polish everything." He said. "Don't spoil it for want of effort – though I hardly have to tell you that, do I?"
Tyrin shook his head.
"No, sir. I want to use this harp. I'll put everything I can into it!"
The Master Instrumentcrafter laughed and patted the boy kindly on the shoulder. Tyrin's enthusiasm was encouraging amongst so many who only wanted to be able to turn out instruments for marks or just good enough to play on.
hHhHh
Master Jerint was not the only master to be pleased with Tyrin. Domick was pleased with the way the boy worked his tunes over and over until he was satisfied – it had been a long time since Tyrin had turned in a tune that had needed a lot of work on it. Once he had learned the principles behind tunecrafting, there had been no stopping him. His enthusiasm carried him on where many others would have flagged; and his stubbornness enabled him to push through the frustration barrier when everything seemed to be going wrong. Domick appreciated hard work; but it was nice that Tyrin had the talent to back it up too.
Even the irascible Master Morshall professed himself 'not displeased' with Tyrin, almost a first for the Master who had been soured from years of teaching basics to often unreceptive and always scatterbrained small boys; and Master Olodkey was well satisfied with the boy's progress on the drums as reported by journeyman Rokayas. Master Arnor, in records, had no fault to find with Tyrin – the boy was quite happy to make his own reed writing sheets, or accept H'llon's rejects and did not trouble the short sighted, short tempered master. Indeed, because the boy had learned to value his own writing materials, he was more careful with the Hall's than most other apprentices! Also, as Tyrin wanted to note down his own tunes in the most efficient way possible, he took note of the comments the master made. He did not agree with everything he was taught; for Master Arnor was almost paranoid about small writing, to the extent that it became almost illegible. However, the Master passed Tyrin's hand as acceptable – the work he had done previously for R'gar had helped with that. And Tyrin genuinely enjoyed the challenge of trying to decipher ancient writings – which Master Arnor grudgingly let the boy help with when he found out that he was willing and very capable gave him more responsibility with the warning that if he abused it, he, Arnor, would see that extra hide was to be had from Tyrin's own skin. Tyrin had grinned and accepted the admonition cheerfully; and as yet the crusty master had had no cause for complaint.
hHhHh
Tyrin was oblivious to the fact that he was one of the more approved of senior apprentices. He knew that he worked hard; but as he enjoyed it, gave little more thought to it. He cheerfully helped the younger boys, not just his own friends but newer intakes; and journeyman Sorill said laughingly that soon he'd be out of a job because of Tyrin taking on the teaching duties.
Tyrin laughed. The shared danger had made a friend of Sorill; and the boy replied,
"So long as I get the extra marks too! Seriously, Sorill, I enjoy helping – and the youngsters are less in awe of me than of a fully fledged Journeyman, so they learn their lessons instead of being nervous about minding their manners."
"You keep a good distance, though."
Tyrin shrugged.
"One day I'll make journeyman, I hope. I may be teaching some of these lads for real if I make it within the next couple of years – and I'd rather not have to have them learn a totally new way of treating me. I can be informal now – but I guess I have to accept this too as training."
Sorill shook his head.
"Stop thinking so fardling much and enjoy yourself!" He chuckled. "There's the Spring Gather due – and I bet you've managed a few saleable items as well as that fardling harp of yours. I'll introduce you to a nice girl who'll take your mind off work for an hour or two!"
Tyrin blushed. He was not unaware that he had been the subject of admiring glances from some of the support staff; he was a nice looking lad who was starting to fill out well into a man's shape. His voice had descended to a lower pitch almost overnight after the adventure at Hold Gar and Master Shonagar had been muttering comments that there might well be a definite improvement once it had settled down.
"I know lots of nice girls." He hedged.
"Yes, I notice you doing a lot about it." Scoffed Sorill.
Kister, who happened to be there, nodded.
"Yes, it's 'bout time you discovered girls, Tyrin." He agreed.
Tyrin burned!
"What for?" he demanded. He could not in honesty say that he had not been attracted to plenty of girls so far – he'd just been too shy to do anything about it. He just felt belligerent about the idea of having his love life sorted out by his friends!
Kister looked at him; and Tyrin looked away.
"I can manage my own affairs." He muttered. Sorill laughed.
"Sure – but most of us need a little help to get started!" he said. "That's why I want to introduce you to Traysa – as your apprenticeship, if you like. She's a specialist in teaching, er, techniques!"
Tyrin looked outraged.
"I'm not going to pay to be mauled by some ageing harridan!" he cried. Sorill caught Kister's eye; and they both roared with laughter.
"Come and meet her." Sorill suggested, wiping tears from his eyes. "She'll take the experience on account if I vouch for you. We really can't leave this any longer – your pomposity factor is getting too pronounced, and we need to excise it!"
hHhHh
Tyrin was dragged off, protesting weakly, to a cot set outside the Hold compound toward the Beasthold cavern. The door was answered by a stunningly lovely young woman somewhere in her mid twenties. Tyrin had never seen anyone lovelier and his mouth fell open. Her long, lustrous chestnut hair fell unconfined to her waist and her eyes were a deep warm blue. Even her voice was lovely, though untrained.
"Good afternoon." She said. "Rather a lot of you for just poor little me!"
Sorill grinned.
"We're just delivering Tyrin, Traysa." He said. "He's a little shy and needs to be educated. He'll be able to pay after the fair."
Tyrin tried to protest that he didn't want to go through with this at all, but somehow his voice failed him. Kister and Sorill slipped away as Traysa ushered him into her cot.
hHhHh
"I'm happy to meet you, Tyrin." She said in her deep, thrilling voice. "Aren't you the one who writes tune with Master Domick?"
Tyrin nodded.
"I need to write." He managed. "It just sort of comes.!"
Traysa laughed. It was a happy, warm sound, and Tyrin blushed at his own thoughts.
"We all must do what our talents lead us to do." She said. "Klah?"
"Please." Tyrin nodded. "Can I fetch water for you?"
She laughed again. She seemed to find everything amusing – but Tyrin knew somehow that she was not laughing at him.
"What a nice boy you are." She said. "Thank you, I've plenty of water for now."
Tyrin sat sipping his klah, and under Traysa's skilled questioning found himself telling her all about himself. He flushed.
"How rude I'm being!" he exclaimed. "Babbling about myself! Tell me about you!"
"Oh, there's little enough to tell." She said. "I was born in the Hold here, and grew up hearing the music. They didn't take female apprentices then – only Menolly because she's special." She sighed, then laughed. "Don't think I resent her," she said. "I rejoice for her for her good fortune. But she came a little late for me. I wanted to be near the music – and as I have other talents – " she smiled wickedly at him, and Tyrin found himself grinning back "- I found I had a niche for myself. I share this cot with my mentor, and now I can keep her to repay her for all she taught me. That's about it!" She laughed again, and her dancing eyes held Tyrin's. He felt himself grow hot as she smiled and started to undo her long blue gown.
hHhHh
Much later Tyrin sighed with happy lassitude. Kister and Sorill had been right – he felt more relaxed than he had done in a long time.
hHhHh
Tyrin's studies suffered for a while after his introduction to Traysa; however, a limited supply of marks and the odd disapproving comments from Master Domick brought him to his senses. Traysa was truly intoxicating, but there was his harp to finish. And if he thought of her rich tresses as he smoothed wood much the same colour it was only briefly. After all, she had taught him what to do; and if Feena in the kitchen lacked Traysa's beauty and skill, she was more comforting in that she thought Tyrin to be wonderful. Tyrin felt mildly guilty about this; but he knew he was not Feena's first particular friend, and would be unlikely to be her last. And she was even more relaxing than Traysa, for she never objected to rubbing his shoulders before they loved. She was also free – a strong consideration for a purse-pinched apprentice!
hHhHh
Tyrin did well out of the Spring fair with a number of small instruments for sale – pipes and drums for the most part, and his second harp. He scrupulously paid Traysa what he owed her, and thanked her for the credit, then fled before her beauty made him ask to spend more on time with her. She made his blood race so! Kister declared him boring for acknowledging that it was lust, not love that made him feel so – but Tyrin had seen love between his parents and his foster parents. Regretfully he realised that love was a two way process; and he was part of Traysa's bread and butter. Besides, his infatuation with her was causing trouble between him and Kit. She had been making some very pointed comments – and Tyrin liked her far too well to risk losing her friendship, even over something so trivial. He told her so, and was treated to a diatribe worthy of Y'lara over what might be considered trivial. He was glad she'd not found out about Feena too!
Kit, however seemed to have forgiven him by the Gather, and she and the others persuaded Tyrin to enter the dancing competition. Tyrin was proud of his stamina, and felt he had done well to be the penultimate dancer to drop out from exhaustion. His friends cheered wildly and the winner, a fosterling from the Hold jigged for a few moments more, then collapsed beside him in convivial tiredness. All in all it had been a good day.
hHhHh
What Tyrin did not know was that the best of the day was yet to come. He trooped in with the others to supper, almost too tired to eat; to find that postings were to be made. He summoned the energy to cheer when Kister was announced as a new journeyman; and wondered why as Kister walked the tables, Sorill left his place and came to stand beside Tyrin. Dimly he heard the Masterharper's voice announcing his own name, saying that he would remain at present in a teaching capacity at the Harper Hall; and Sorill was grinning at him.
"Walk, Tyrin Walk! Walk, Tyrin, walk!" his friends were chanting in amazed happiness, clapping to the rhythm of the traditional chant. Tyrin got shakily to his feet.
"But – I'm barely Turned fifteen!" he blurted.
"You've worked hard enough!" Sorill declared. "C'mon – walk!"
And Tyrin walked.
A/N I have answered a review about promotion to Journeyman that queried Tyrin's musical ability and stated that Genius is rare. It is; though of course Harpers come from all over and sometimes genius may be found in many people at the same time and may be stimulated by the genius of others - the musical flowering of the late eighteenth century on Earth for example. I do not however claim that Tyrin is in any respect a genius; he's very good but he's not a genius. He is however very good at teaching and understanding the problems of others; it is for THAT he is being asked to walk; just to make it clear. Harpers serve in more ways than one.