Masterharper of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online

boy has learned to pipe?”
    Merelan shook her head.
    “Right now, of course,” he went on, “he’s up to his inky fingers with Turnover music to write and the rehearsals and then the Spring Gathers, and I shall have a word with Gennell myself about this. If you permit?”
    She nodded.
    “Why, I do believe the entire Hall could be in on the secret education of our burgeoning young genius . . .”
    “Genius?” Merelan’s hand went to her throat.
    “Of course, Robinton’s a musical genius. Though I’ve never encountered one before in my decades here, I can certainly recognize one when I get the chance. Petiron’s
good,
but he is not quite in the same class as his son.”
    “Oh!” The little exclamation she let slip before she guarded her mouth with her hand was far more eloquent than she intended.
    “A child who can tootle that ridiculous little pipe into the sweetest tone and then produce rather sophisticated variations on a simple theme at three Turns
is,
unquestionably, a genius. And we must all protect him.”
    “Oh! Protect him? Petiron’s not a monster, Washell . . .” She shook her head vigorously.
    “No, of course, he isn’t, but he does have rather strong views about his competence and achievements. On the other hand, what else could he expect of a child from such a fine musical background, who is being raised in the Harper Hall with music all around him.”
    “Not all the Hall children are musical by virtue of their environment,” Merelan said in a droll tone.
    “But when one is, as your Robinton, there couldn’t be a better environment, and we shall see that the matter is handled as diplomatically and . . . kindly as possible. I give you my hand on that, Mastersinger Merelan.” He held it out and she took it gladly, the relief—and even her guilt at the promised subterfuge—easily read by Master Washell. “We’ll do no more than what the lad is able, and willing, to absorb. Ease him gently”—his thick fingers rippled descriptively—“into the discipline so that when”—and he clapped his hands together—“we suddenly discover that this five . . . maybe six-Turn-old lad is so musically inclined, why we can be as surprised and delighted as Petiron will be.”
    “But won’t Petiron be at all suspicious when he discovers how much Robie already knows?”
    Washell raised his arm in a broad gesture. “Why, the boy absorbed it from his parents, of course. Why would he not, with two such talented musicians?”
    “Oh, come now, Washell. Petiron is scarcely stupid . . .”
    “With musical scores and instruments all around . . . you’ll doubtless mention that you’ve heard him humming tunes now and then . . . on key. That you gave him the little pipe, and a drum, since he begged for them. Bosler will say he only thought to amuse the lad one afternoon while you were busy with rehearsing and taught him how to place his fingers on the gitar strings . . . It won’t be hard to get our Master Archivist to connive to teach the boy more than his letters . . . And we’ll all be so amazed that Petiron will have such a student to bring on. He’s always better with the quicker students, you know. They don’t try his patience the way the younger or slower ones do.” Thoroughly pleased with the plot he was spinning, Washell once more patted Merelan’s hands reassuringly. Then abruptly, he pulled the quartet sheet between them. “Beat it out one more time, Merelan, as I sing the bass line. You should—”
    The door opened, and there were Petiron and Robinton.
    “I really do think, Petiron, that you write some passages just to tease me,” she said. “And did you get the plate and pitcher safely down to Lorra, dear?”
    “I did, Mother.”
    “Well, then, off with you, Rob,” his father said, giving his son a slight push toward the other room. “That you should have any trouble with the tempi surprises me, Merri.”
    “Because your scribbling is almost