Masterharper of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page B

allowed young Robie into her classes before his fourth Turn began.
    “He’s well advanced as far as
wanting
to learn, Merelan,” the woman said. “I could wish half my class were at the same level, but I’ll give him little extra musical type things to do while the others are catching up.”
    Then there was a morning when Kubisa brought a bloody-nosed, sobbing Robinton back to his mother for aid and comfort.
    “Oh, Robie,” Merelan said, folding her weeping child in her arms while Kubisa busied herself getting a wet cloth to clean his face.
    “They wuz hurtin’ him,” Robie sobbed.
    “Hurting who?” Merelan asked, more of Kubisa than her son.
    “I’ll say this for Robie, he may be young and small, but he knows who needs his protection.”
    “Who needs it?” his mother asked, carefully mopping away the blood.
    “The watch-wher,” Kubisa said.
    Merelan paused, surprised and beginning to feel more pride than concern. The apprentices were not above sticking bright glows into the Harper Hall watch-wher’s lair to make the light-sensitive creature cry. Or throwing him noxious things, knowing the creature would eat just about anything that came within the range of its chain. Rob would always run and tell an adult if he saw such antics.
    “Were they being mean to the poor beast again?”
    Sniffling, he nodded his head up and down. “I made ’em stop, but one of ’em busted me one.”
    “So I see,” his mother murmured.
    “Some of the beastholder children who really ought to know better,” Kubisa said. “I’ll have a word with their parents, now that I’ve delivered Rob to you.” She patted his head. “I’d pick on someone my size, next time. Or better still, have your father teach you how to duck.”
    Grinning, she left the apartment.
    “I can teach you how to duck, my brave lad,” Merelan said, hugging him again, knowing that such training did not fall in Petiron’s scope of paternal duties. “I used to be able to beat some of my big brothers and cousins when I got going.”
    “You?” Robie’s eyes widened at the very notion of his mother beating anything, much less big brothers and cousins.
    So she gave him his first lesson in hand-to-hand combat, and showed him how best to head-butt an assailant. “It keeps you from having bloody noses, too, if you use your head in a fight.”
     
    That daily respite of his hours with Kubisa gave Merelan a rest from constantly being alert to intervene between her son and his father. The subterfuge she had to practice was wearing on her nerves. However, she—and Kubisa—could at least honestly report Robie’s excellent conduct and progress in school.
    “And you’re learning all the Teaching Ballads?” Petiron asked absently.
    “Yes, and I can prove it.” Robinton wanted so desperately to please his father, but he never seemed able to, despite how hard he tried to be good, obedient, courteous, and, most of all, quiet.
    Somewhat surprised at his son’s tone of voice, Petiron leaned back in his chair. With an indolent and supercilious wave of his hand, he indicated that Robie should perform.
    Merelan held her breath, unable to think of a single thing to say to postpone Petiron’s discovery of his son’s talent.
    Robie took a breath—properly, not gasping air into his lungs as so many novices did—and then launched into a note-perfect rendition of the Duty Song. Petiron did look a trifle surprised at the firmness of tone the boy projected in his treble voice. Petiron beat the time with one finger on the armrest but he listened with a much less disdainful expression on his face.
    “That was well done, Robinton,” he said. “Now don’t think that learning one song is all you have to do. There’s a significant number, even for children, to be learned, word- and note-perfect. Continue as you have begun.”
    Robinton beamed with pleasure, turning to his mother to see if she also agreed.
    Merelan could barely keep from sobbing with relief as she came