Meilizath lay with his rider seated between his forelegs, watching and listening to Ca’trell’s sure fingers dance lightly across the three rows of strings. The Harper looked far better now, his scars faded to silver-pink lines, like runes written on his skin. His silver-shot hair fell in crisp curls over his collar, framing his distinctive face with sienna and gray. The bandages were gone, replaced by a dark scarf that hid the unpleasant sight of his empty sockets.
The light blue cocked his head. <<You play beautifully,>> he thrummed, <<but I want a story, Ca’trell. Tell me about your family. You said you had a daughter?>>
The Harper smiled wistfully. “My dear Meilizath, I had five daughters, and eight sons.”
<<Had?>>
Ca’trell turned his head toward his lifemate, that same bittersweet smile on his face. “I lost three sons, a daughter, and my wife to the floods up North.”
<<Oh.>> The light blue’s voice was very soft when he asked, <<What was she like? Your wife, I mean.>>
“Her name was Tamaret,” the blind rider said slowly. “She was a weyrbrat, daughter of riders who were weyrbrats. She could sing like an angel, that’s why she’d been sent to Harper Hall, but Tamaret didn’t want to be a Harper. Tam never had the patience for lessons. She wanted to do something physical, like the Hold Guard, but they wouldn’t let her in. I met her when she was arguing with a Search dragon. They wanted to take her back to the Weyr to Stand for some clutch or other, but Tam would have none of it. I fell in love with her the day we met. In seven weeks, Journeyman Cantrell and Tamaret were married.”
The old harper sighed. “How about we talk of the children? Tamaret has been dead these long Turns, and it distresses me, my Meilizath, that I cannot remember more of her.”
<<Which children do you remember?>> Meilizath asked, unhappy because Ca’trell was unhappy.
“All of them, of course.”
<<Tell me about the ones who lived.>>
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