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"No, they'll stay with us in a decent cot--' Tortole replied.
"No!" Robinton's well-trained bellow silenced them both. "Since
Groghe is Fort, he will stay with his holder. And I, not being beholden to
either Fort or Tillek, will stay with Tortole. However, if this evening
anyone will care for a song or two, I will sit on that post -' he pointed to
the one still standing, where a gate of sorts must once have been, allowing
access from one holding to the other "- and sing for both families. Since a
harper is obliged to be impartial."
Then, before the astonished men could argue further, he swung up on the
Ruathan runner and urged it forward, finding a narrow place where the animal
could hop easily over the scattered stones.
"Will it be possible to have a wash before dinner?" he asked his appointed
host as he paused by him.
Groghe was drawing Sucho with him towards the cot, where several more figures
had appeared in the doorway. Groghe was initiating pleasantries, and Robinton
heard the grumbles of answers.
"I do hope that we will not put you out for our dinner. We have our own
provisions," Robinton said. "A nice plump wherry that I
took off its branch this morning." He patted the carcass, which he had
fastened to the back of his saddle.
"How'd you get it?" one of the sons asked, peering at the beheaded avian.
"Knife throw," Robinton said indifferently. It wouldn't hurt to suggest that
he was proficient with a blade. He was, but it bore repeating with these
rough-living folk. Tortole was taller than he, and massive. His sons, while
younger, were no less substantial. It amused him that the herders looked
equally able to take care of themselves, which probably contributed to the
stand-off.
"And you a harper?" The son sounded surprised.
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"Oh, I have to travel long distances on my own," Robinton said as they reached
the forester's cot. He nodded pleasantly to the three women who came out,
their curiosity getting the better of their shyness.
"Hunting's necessary from time to time." He gave a courteous bow to the oldest
of the women, dressed in rough skin pants and clearly embarrassed to have a
visitor. "I have begged shelter from your spouse. And bring this to add to
the supper pot." He bowed again as he handed over the wherry.
She opened and closed her mouth several times without getting a sound out.
One of the others took it from her, examining it with a knowledgeable eye, and
managed a grin. "Young and fresh. Thanks, Harper." She nudged the other, who
was too surprised to respond to his smiles in any way. "It'll do just fine.
If these louts would do more hunting instead of herding, we'd not take yours
from you."
She gave the men a withering smile and then, grabbing the old woman by the arm
and prodding the other with the wherry carcass in her hand, she propelled them
all into the cot.
"I'll get the loft ready for you, Harper," one of the lads said, remembering
the duties of hosting.
"I'll do your mount. Ruathan, isn't it?" the other said, taking the reins
from Robinton's hand and casting an approving eye over the runner.
"I'll just ... take my things," Robinton said, slipping open the knot which
tied the saddlebags and grabbing them and his gitar.
"You'll play for us this evening?" the first lad asked, eyes glinting with
hope.
"I said I will. And I will. On the post so both -' and he paused
for emphasis - "can enjoy."
The cot, while somewhat primitive, was larger inside than it looked from
outside. The main room was obviously where most interior work was done, but
it was separated into sections: one for the women's tasks, another for the
men's, with an eating area and well-made chairs set near the good-sized
fireplace. There were rooms off each end, and off the long wall that the
hearth dominated;
ladders led to lofts on both sides. If he were to be accommodated above,
Robinton decided, he'd best remember to keep his head down.
But he was escorted to one of the side rooms, which contained one large bed.
The son cleared clothing from the two stools and one chest, where he gestured
for Robinton to place his bags.
"Who am I displacing?" the journeyman asked.
"My father and mother." The son gave a chuckle. "The honour is theirs, and
ours, to have a harper as guest. I'm Valrol. My brother is Torlin. My
mother's name is Saday; the girl who took the wherry is my spouse, Pessia,
from Tillek FishCraftHall. My sister is Klada.
She would like to spouse Sucho's son, but my parents won't let her because of
the wall. But, if she spouses him, then Pessia and I will have a room to
ourselves."
alrol spoke in a low voice and quickly, trying to give Robinton all the
necessary information before an extended absence brought his father to see
what was delaying them.
I'll show you where the bath is," he said, and Robinton murmured thanks,
rummaging in his pack for his towel, soap and a clean shirt.
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