Masterharper of Pern Read Free

Benden’s being the only remaining Weyr.
    Many theories had been put forth. A favorite claimed that a mysterious disease had spread through the five Weyrs, killing both dragons and riders. But that didn’t account for the missing weyrfolk or the absence of every stick and stitch belonging to them. Benden Weyr had even sent a wing, with reliable Hold and Hall passengers, to scan the Southern Continent in case all five Weyrs had—for some unknown reason—decided to resettle south, despite the hazards of that country.
    The matter was under discussion, often heated, for Turns afterward and no one the wiser for all the talk.
    Then Creline performed a new work, which he called the Question Song, and which was to be included in the compulsory Teaching Ballads. Gennell had made a mental note to return the song to that category since someone—he wouldn’t like to point a finger—had let it drop out some time before he became MasterHarper. Such things happened: but they shouldn’t, considering the importance with which Creline had treated the work. Odd song. Haunting melody. Yes, worth reviving.
    Another fifty-five Turns remained before Threadfall was due again. That is, Gennell amended to himself, if it
was
going to Fall again. Many believed Thread was gone forever. A common theory claimed that the Weyrs had been bound by some bizarre suicide pact, leaving only Benden to carry on the draconic traditions. That made no sense whatever to a thinking man. But at least he was unlikely to have to contend with
that
in his term as MasterHarper. With a sigh of relief, he firmly turned his mind toward sleep.
     
    Merelan’s cough developed into a chest cold shortly after Turnover. Sniffles and coughs were prevalent during the beginning of any new Turn when the weather remained cold and snowy, and young Robinton and Petiron both suffered from colds, but they threw off the worst of the infection quickly. But Merelan’s cough seemed determined to linger, and she could rarely get through a vocal exercise without having to break off in a spasm. For the first time, Petiron became seriously worried about her health.
    So did Betrice and Ginia, for the singer had quickly lost what weight she had gained after the baby’s birth—and more.
    “You’ve really nothing big coming up in the way of rehearsals, have you?” Ginia asked Petiron privately after delivering another bottle of cough mixture for Merelan. With a certain degree of reluctance, he shook his head; had he not been sick, he most assuredly would have started composing something extravagant for the Spring Gathers.
    “Well, then,” Ginia continued, “I happen to know the MasterHarper is looking for someone to provide basic instruction at a hold in South Boll. Not far from where Merelan was born. So why don’t you ask him to allow you to take the post? I believe the accommodations would be adequate for a small family like yours. The Ritecamp traders just arrived here, and their route takes you close by Pierie Hold.”
    Before Petiron could produce a good reason why he couldn’t leave the Harper Hall at that time, he and his small family were on their way south, their baggage loaded on pack animals that Master Gennell ordered. He sent along two good Ruathan-bred mounts, as well. Master Sev Ritecamp was only too happy to oblige the Harper Hall and had agreed to take them to the very door of Pierie Hold.
    “If Master Petiron wouldn’t mind taking some time of an evening to learn some of our youngsters their Teaching Ballads. They’re in dire need of some educating,” Sev had suggested very politely. “And maybe give us a new song or two in the evening around our fire.”
    “That would be only fair,” Merelan said when Petiron was not as prompt as he could have been in agreeing. Then she winked at her spouse, knowing very well that he hated doing “basics” with beginners, while she enjoyed teaching the very young. So long as the children were taught, it really didn’t