Chapter 5
Kister thanked his luck that he proved a good sailor. Felimmy took some chaff for turning queasy, but Kister actually enjoyed the experience. He explained regretfully to Aleseder that he dared not damage his hands with too much rope work.
"It is my livelihood" he said "As you could not afford to risk catching the wasting ailment that cripples the legs; I could lose the use of my legs and still function. Different jobs require different things."
"Got to keep your pretty hands soft, eh?" sneered the fisherman.
Kister shrugged.
"Only the palms. My finger tips now…." He flicked the tips of his digits across the Holder's nose to demonstrate the hard callouses from harp and gitar playing; and smiled brightly at the man's outrage. "Purely in the spirit of demonstration!" he said, innocently.
Aleseder stared speechless; then gave a grim smile.
"You're a cheeky little bastard!" it was almost a compliment. Kister grinned at him.
"I do try to oblige!" he returned.
Although keeping up the banter before these grim faced fishermen left Kister feeling sick to the stomach with the effort, he dared not let down his cheerful care-not attitude. That flippancy came naturally to him helped; and as an inveterate practical joker he laughed with the men when he was caught in a booby trap of stinking fish heads. His good humoured acceptance did him no harm; especially as he guessed correctly who had been responsible and fixed a revenge trap involving fine fishing line as a trip and a pile of discarded and pungent numbweed greens.
Some of the Fish-hold children, infected by the attitudes of their elders tried insolence; and refused to learn. Kister stuck their dumb insolence for three days. Then he possessed himself of the keys to the teaching room; and locked himself and the children in. He had emptied the room of scrolls and even chairs; and had chalked up the duty song on the walls. The room had its own necessary with water from a spring for drinking; and Kister had plenty of fish and meat rolls for himself.
He told them that he intended to stay there until they all learned the Duty Song. They could lark about; or ignore him; but not only would it get boring, they would also eventually get hungry.
"And personally, I don't care how uncomfortable you choose to make yourselves" he said.
The bigger boys started to shout abuse; and one of the little girls started to cry. Kister picked her up.
"Shall we start learning so you can go to have dinner while those great idiots go hungry?" he asked her conspiratorially.
She nodded tearfully. Kister ignored the ones who were determined not to learn; and when the smaller ones had learned what he deemed was sufficient he waited until the older children were distracted to quickly send them out.
The big boys howled in outrage; and some of them tried to grab the key. Kister dodged, laughing.
"Aren't you bored enough – or hungry enough – to learn yet?" he asked. "Or are you too stupid? I've borrowed a scroll of the parts of a boat – and I wager I can learn that before you dullards learn the Duty Song!" he took the scroll from his jacket, turned his back on them, and began studying it.
There was baffled muttering; and one of Felimmy's new friends muttered,
"That Felimmy's no sissy and he can learn things. I ain't having no fardling outsider call me stupid."
Kister had no need to award any corporal punishment to the most stubborn; Felimmy's friends did it for him, in support of the one that spoke out: and the song was learned. Kister commented merely,
"And if you don't waste so much time in future you can start to learn the interesting stuff."
"What sort of interesting stuff?" asked one boy, grudgingly.
"Well, for example, how to care for a firelizard if you should happen on a wild clutch and Impress" suggested the crafty Kister. "The best pupils who progress the furthest get to have practical lessons bathing and oiling Piper."
A Ruathan runner trader had once told him that recalcitrant pack runnerbeasts could be herded with a mixture of a stick at the rear and a carrot at the front. The principle seemed to work!
HHH
Meanwhile, back at High Reaches, the next incident had catapulted itself on the weyr with the arrival of D're's family and their tale of woe and ill usage at the hands of Lord Aven. The volatile and unwillingly pregnant Kaili had created something of a stir, even though the dragonriders had taken the matter to Lord Bargen and had been granted compensation to Kaili and her uncle. From there, however, things went downhill.
That T'rin's beloved but crippled sister Sh'rilla was pregnant was enough cause for concern. That her fosterling Deela was desperately ill was pulling her down too. The terrible winter ended with the death of the child; and although T'rin had never felt that the little girl had had long it was still a blow. T'rin worried about the effect upon his sister's health, and how it would affect her baby; and the long labour she endured had him pacing the floor half demented.
T'rin's clutchmates rallied around to see to Renpeth's needs while he devoted himself to his sister's needs; and feeling Renpeth's love and sympathy helped. He was delighted that his sister birthed a healthy son, whom the little family called Shadeel, picking the name to reflect Deela's name but without too much heart wrenching immediacy as 'Deelan' might have, as first had been suggested. The lessons at the little Harper Hall as well as for the general Weyrchildren were truncated though T'rin tried not to shirk his duties overmuch.
Naturally, T'rin had a lot less trouble with his pupils than Kister! All were keen to learn and eager to progress. True, Mira became somewhat preoccupied as Impression drew near; but such was only to be expected, and T'rin made allowances!
"If you Impress, I'm afraid you'll fall behind for a while" he told her.
She shrugged.
"I'll make it up, sometime."
It sounded insolent; but T'rin had learned that Mira had studied the art of the offhand. Her family could not understand her interest in music and her two older brothers teased her unmercifully. If she enacted offhand it was then no fun to steal and hide her flute or gum it up with something sticky – both of which tricks had been played on her before. As her parents' attitude to her flute was that it was 'only a toy' left them unlikely to remonstrate with her siblings she grew an outer skin. T'rin picked this up in snatches; such as when Mira commented on how T'lan took quite seriously the treatment of the possessions of all of her children and fosterlings by each other, toys or no. The young Harper sometimes wondered – with B'lova another example – if loving, well meaning but dim parents were not as much a handicap as disapproving ones!
The disturbing note to T'rin's lessons was that T'arla had taken to dropping in from time to time; she sat in the back corner with a mocking smile on her face only he could see, rolling her eyes at the ceiling if he insisted on a point of convention. T'rin liked her as a fellow logicator and rider, but she did put him off rather and he had to work hard to ignore her. he only hoped that some of what he was teaching might rub off on her – though her casual pose, leaning back and relaxed was not really one for serious study.
As T'arla had made it clear soon after they had Impressed that she wanted friendship only, it had not occurred to T'rin that she was trying to put him off by making him notice the soft curves of her slender body by taking a pose that made them as prominent as possible. It was a contrary thing to do; and T'arla knew how she irritated T'rin. But he had stuck to his word of being friendly only – and perversely she resented it!
T'arla confronted T'rin one day when his pupils had left.
"Don't you think I'm pretty?" she pouted.
T'rin was more worldly than H'llon.
He got the point almost at once.
"Very" he grinned; and whipped out the lacing of her short tunic.
It was a short, violent, passionate interlude; the big desk in the teaching cavern came in very handy, and T'rin enjoyed himself. So did T'arla, as she let him know.
He grinned at her as they got dressed.
"Still friends too?"
She grinned back.
"You bet, Harper-boy!"
T'rin was quite happy to have an affair with T'arla. She knew the rules, and it did not interfere with their camaraderie. Love did not come into it; it was lust, pure and simple. And T'rin was well aware that she would not worry when Frith rose for the first time if the little green should be flown by Renpeth or by any other dragon. T'rin was considering letting Renpeth fly Linith; he knew that Rillith would be happily accommodated by Luruth, who would easily outfly smaller dragons, being a Bronze; but B'lova had no weyrmate. He quite liked her really, and it seemed a shame for her to be lumbered with T'chal whose Breeneth might be said to have an advantage for T'chal having been briefly a lover of B'lova when she was Bellova. Besides, T'rin thought a flight might help to take his own mind off the terrible winter and its assorted traumas.
T'arla finished dressing as he cogitated and asked,
"That Bronze Rider H'llon – is he all there?"
"He's damned intelligent!" T'rin came rapidly and indignantly to the defence of his friend.
She smiled at him; and it made of her eyes an invitation. T'rin dismissed H'llom from his mind and took off his shirt again.
"You take my point so quickly" T'arla said approvingly, wriggling out of her own tunic again. "H'llon didn't seem to understand me at all" she added a discontented pout before winking at T'rin.
T'rin chuckled as he started exploring.
"Our H'llon's innocent about women. You leave him be; he's been barked down by Zaira in any case – and I wager she'll preserve his virginity to their first flight if she can. And she'd take you down without breaking stride, my dear."
T'arla snorted over the last comment; but further comment was smothered by T'rin's mouth. Besides she could not be bothered to argue; T'rin had been well educated by Trayse and T'arla appreciated it and had no intention of not giving her whole attention to his adroit loving!
HHHH
Back in the Fish Hold, Kister started getting cooperation from the seabred children when little brown Piper became part of the lessons in Dragonlore; as well as the telling to them long stories between making them learn the relevant songs. A lad named Eseledur asked,
"Why do we have to learn the songs? I can't hold a tune in a net. Why can't we just learn facts?"
Kister thought fast.
"Partly it's because most people find it easier to learn things in rhymes – one bit follows the next and the previous bit prompts it. Singing them is just to make it more fun; and if you'd rather chant them than sing them, Eseledur. I certainly don't mind. But I think there's another reason too."
"What?" demanded Eseledur, meaning no rudeness, Kister was sure: and besides, he was too pleased to get spontaneous questions to care about the propriety of the phrasing of them. He said,
"Until Master Bendarek invented his leaves for writing, we were wholly dependant on hides. But leather is also vital for other things, not least clothing. So only one or two copies of histories got written down" he pulled a face. "In the Harper Hall, Master Arnor gets cross as spiderclaws if people waste his hides. He writes so small it makes it difficult to read, and that makes it harder. So, things have to be learned by heart to make passing them on easier. But if you tell a story, often it changes as you tell it – because you forget a bit, or one bit is of more interest to you so you put more emphasis on the telling of that bit" he looked around "Like the tale of the epidemic that Moreta combated in her famous Ride. You youngsters would be more interested in the boat that sailed to the Southern Continent than the diseased animal it brought back for example. Beastcrafters would care less about the boat but would describe the creature fully."
They all nodded solemnly, seeing his point. Kister went on,
"Have you ever played Lemos whispers? No? Then we'll play it now and you'll soon see what I mean about things changing even unintentionally. Get in a circle and I'll whisper a sentence to little Keefa next to me; she whispers to her neighbour and so on all round."
Giggling the children hurried into a circle to play a game in lesson time!
The message that came back to Kister was 'there's a gold egg in Southern'.
Kister grinned.
"What I started with was 'the firelizard eggs from the south are too cold'" he told them. "Even in a short time with but a few people a message can get garbled; and the telling of history is no different. Songs are harder to garble because they have to fit the tune and rhythm and rhyme properly."
Eseleder grinned.
"I understand now, Harper! Thank you for explaining. I always thought it was just because harpers sang so much they couldn't think in ordinary!"
Kister laughed.
"Well" he twinkled "Some of the senior Journeymen now…"
He dismissed them early; but with set work to do; to think about the ballad of Moreta's Ride and to decide what part of it they found most interesting and why. There should be a goodly number of different viewpoints which would also illustrate his point about bias in telling stories.
Eseleder hung around after the others had gone.
"Can I ask you a question, Harper?" he asked.
Kister nodded.
"I'll do my best to answer any question that you may have; though I don't know everything!"
The boy bit his lip.
"My cousin Lyseder disappeared; and a Green Dragon came with a Dragonwoman, and Grandfather didn't half shout! They had an awful row – you might have heard it at Benden – and I heard that Lyseder is at High Reaches Weyr" he scuffed his toe. "Lyseder's a bit of a wimp in some ways, but he's game and I kinda like him – is there any way of you finding out? I mean, if he's alright? No-one will talk about him here."
"I hardly think" said Kister, dryly, "That it can in any respect be described as wimpish to stow away in a basket of fish to go Between. From what I've heard, your cousin is a brave lad. I have heard about him, yes. He's a candidate but he's also studying to be a harper because he's right too, and musical besides."
"Grandfather didn't like him fiddling about tuning."
"So I gather. Also he had trouble with his mother's husband I understand" added Kister dryly.
The boy shrugged.
"Gordron's a brute. He's given me what for before now, only I can take it better. 'Course, if you ask me, not feeding somebody by way of punishment ain't likely to make 'em strong enough to work properly and then punishing them for being weak is plain stupid."
"Indeed" Kister felt quite sick. "Does Lyseder have any brothers or sisters?"
"Naw. Not now. He had a sister but she kep' cryin' so Gordron shook her 'til she stopped and then she died."
Kister swallowed hard. It was the matter of fact acceptance that mad it harder to hear such terrible things!
"The Weyr doesn't think much of Gordron" he said. "The idea of trying to cripple a potential harper doesn't impress them much!"
Eseledur shrugged again.
"Well, if you ask me" he said conspiratorially "It was a harper sired Lyseder, 'cos what I've heard, Gordron ain't his real father like you suggested back then, calling him his mother's husband. And I THINK we used to have a harper right along afore he was born. 'Course I was only a babe of some four turns or so" he added.
"And how old are you now?" Kister asked.
"Thirteen turns, sir."
So the boy Lyseder was well under age as T'rin had suspected! It could be a difficult legal point if Aleseder wanted to make anything of it – and he, Kister, would have to represent the old curmudgeon against all his better judgement and inclinations! However, that it seemed that no-one even mentioned Lyseder, the boy had effectively ceased to exist for his kin, which suggested that there might be no problem in that quarter. Kister assured Eseledur that he would do his best to pass the boy's good wishes to his cousin; and left it at that.
As Y'lara was – most unusually – ill, it was V'gion that turned up with news that hatching was imminent and bringing Lyseder's existence back to the Holder's mind; the Bronze Rider approached Aleseder to ask if any of the boy's relations wanted to be present as was due to them by custom.
"I know no Lyseder" said Aleseder flatly.
Kister, on due consideration had recommended that V'gion make his announcement in public.
Something snapped in the young boy's cowed mother. She pushed back her chair.
"I wish to watch my son on the Impression Ground" she announced clearly.
Her husband backhanded her casually. She fell; but resolutely got up. Gordron scowled, and said,
"Sit down and shut up, woman."
"I will not. I wish to see my son" she said firmly.
Gordron made to strike her again; and found his wrist caught in one of V'gion's steely hands.
"It is her Right" the dragonrider reminded the man. Gordron flashed him a look of hatred; but even he dared not attack a Bronze Rider.
"If the woman leaves, she ceases to be our kin; and she may never return" ruled Aleseder coldly.
"So be it, you cold hearted, wicked old man!" Alessa spit years of hatred at him. "How it can surprise you that those shown no affection should seek even a surrogate elsewhere I do not know! I hope you rot!" she limped over to stand by V'gion.
"I'm coming too"
The assembled company swung round in surprise at the strong young voice of Eseledur.
"If you go, I disown you" roared Aleseder.
"And if you think I want to be kin to someone who conceals what happened to my kid cousin, think again!" Eseledur's voice warbled shrilly, angry but frightened at his own temerity. "I want the freedom to know truth, not your lies by silence!"
"How DARE you? You young whelp, I'll…."
Eseledur promptly darted behind V'gion; and Aleseder turned on Kister.
"This is YOUR fault! You've upset the running of my Hold with your teaching and stories, you…you…." He spat. "Take that whelp of yours and get out!"
"Gladly" said Kister, coldly. "I have done no more than my prescribed duty. You evidently do not understand the word – as I shall make quite plain in my report to Lord Oterel. Eseleder, Alessa, get your things. Felimmy, get ours."
"NO! You go now and with nothing!" roared Aleseder.
"Attempted robbery with threat of violence witnessed by a Bronze Rider as well as an accredited Harper" said V'gion calmly. "Do you really want to compound your crimes, Seaholder?"
"Crimes? Your friends here are the criminals!" the man was beside himself.
"You delude yourself. I think you must be unwell. It is the only reasonable explanation for your irrational behaviour" V'gion was holding his own seabred temper in check with great difficulty. "If any hamper these people from collecting their belongings he will reckon with me."
The fishermen stood back sullenly and unhappily to let the four collect their belongings. They did not like to see their own Holder called down; but some of the older boys at least were muttering about being treated like cattle if one of them could not visit his own cousin without being disowned.
Alessa's bundle was pitifully small; Eseledur's hardly bigger. The harpers, of course, had the instruments of their trade as well as their clothing.
"Robinton'll have a job finding someone for him" said Felimmy.
"The MASTER Harper" Kister emphasised the title reproachfully "Will consult with Lord Oterel. My report will recommend the entire Hold disbanded and its people scattered to other, more stable, holds."
"Can he do that?" wondered the apprentice, then answered his own question. "Yes, of course, because, T'rin threatened it to the folk of Sunnyvale."
"Too fardling right he can" confirmed Kister, grimly "And will too. They have learned NOTHING from the combined withdrawing of good will and from the attempts we have made to show why harpers are needed. Attitudes come from the top; and when the top is rotten so too will be the whole. I hope we made a difference to some of the youngsters; that they at least will have some idea of decent behaviour and not get bullied for being ignorant wherever they fetch up."
Felimmy nodded in sympathy for the children!