Энн Маккефри - Dragon’s Kin

Natalon looked at Kindan and noted the set of his jaw and the slump in his shoulders. It was obvious to him that Kindan had really thought through all the implications of his mistake and would not repeat it.

“Good,” Natalon said firmly. “So how much to fill a sixth dray, eh?” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If we worked three shifts, maybe two or three days.” He sighed. “But we can’t work three shifts. I’ve no one trained to be a shift leader for the third shift.”

“So it’d take four days with two shifts?” Kindan guessed. Natalon agreed. “But how long will it take to fill the drays?”

“Usually we take the working shift and have them fill the drays,” Natalon said. “With ten men in two shifts, we can fill the drays in a day or two.”

“So, what if we could form a third shift to fill the drays while the other two kept on mining?” Kindan wondered. “They’d fill the drays in about three days, wouldn’t they?”

Natalon considered the question and finally nodded. “Yes.”

“So all we have to do is convince the trader to stay on an extra day,” Kindan said.

“Maybe,” Natalon allowed. Then he shook his head. “But traders don’t make profits sitting around. They’re just as likely to decide to go to another Camp for their coal.”

“They’d lose time with that, too.” Kindan shook his head. “Why don’t I ask the Harper to help out? I’m sure he’ll enjoy the challenge.”

Natalon chuckled. “You’ve used that phrase twice now, lad,” he noted. “Is it one dear to the Harper?”

“Yes,” Kindan agreed, suppressing a grin. They had arrived at the mine shaft. “Let Master Zist take care of it, please. He managed the birthing—I’m sure this will be nothing for him.”

Natalon laughed aloud at the comparison. “All right, Kindan, you may tell Master Zist that I leave it all in his capable hands.”

“I will,” Kindan said, tugging on the lift ropes to signal his ascent.

Master Zist was amused at Kindan’s creative solutions to his challenge but not at all amused that Kindan had managed to dump Natalon’s problems squarely in his lap.

“Well,” he said when he’d digested all the news, “if I’m to play the Holder while Natalon’s resting and Tarik’s working his shift, you’ll have to play the Harper.” He ignored Kindan’s horrified expression and continued blithely, “I’m sure that Swanee has got his lists together and can talk all that’s necessary about supplies and payments, but he strikes me as an honest man, and that’s not the best sort of person to deal with traders.”

Kindan stoutly declaimed Swanee’s honesty. “Well then,” the Harper said, “there you go. Traders are honest in their own way, too: They’ll always give you what you pay for, but they don’t go out of their way to be sure to give you their best price. That takes bargaining. Traders love to bargain.”

From the glint in Master Zist’s eyes, Kindan got the impression that the Harper enjoyed bargaining himself.

“Bargaining,” the Harper continued, “takes lots of talk. And talk is what a Harper does best.” He wagged a warning finger at Kindan and added, “Although you’d never find a Trader willing to admit that a Harper could out-bargain him., “So,” he concluded, “it’ll be up to you to provide the entertainment while I provide the bargaining.”

“But I only really know how to drum!” Kindan protested.

Master Zist snorted. “And what were you doing at the wedding?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to sing,” Kindan said.

“Except when I tell you to, or there’s no choice,” Master Zist corrected. “And I’m telling you and there’s no choice.”

“Oh.” Kindan’s forehead puckered in thought.

“Something else is troubling you,” Master Zist noted.

“Well...” Kindan began slowly, considering his words carefully. “I’ve always been taught not to lie, and yet it seems that I’ve told an awful lot of lies recently ... I’ve always found that lies tend to come back to me.”

Master Zist nodded. “When have you lied?”

“Well, I said that you’d asked for the things to be set up for the Gather tonight.”

“And did I not send you on that task?” Master Zist asked. Kindan nodded slowly. “So you said what you said in order to do what I asked you to do, isn’t that so?” Kindan nodded. “That’s not a lie, Kindan. That’s being a good subordinate.”

“A subordinate?” Kindan repeated, unfamiliar with the word.

“Like Swanee is responsible for the supplies but works for Natalon,” Master Zist said, giving an example. “Or a shift leader working for the head miner. A subordinate is someone who has been given a task by his leader and sometimes uses the authority of that leader to accomplish it.

“If you had said, ‘Master Zist asks you to make me some bubbly-pies’ when I never did, that would be a misuse of a subordinate’s powers,” the Harper added. “A subordinate does walk a tender line between lie and truth. A subordinate is supposed to guess what his leader wants and guess correctly.” He wagged a finger at Kindan, eyebrows crunched tightly together in warning. “You don’t want to be wrong when you’re my subordinate.”

Kindan shrugged in wary acceptance. “But what about at the birthing? You didn’t ask me to see to it that Nuella was present, and we fooled Margit and Milla. If that’s not a lie, it’s certainly stretching the truth.”

“That was a difficult situation,” the Harper agreed. “You did well, by the way. Lies and secrets are related, Kindan. Secrets breed lies. Because Natalon wants to keep Nuella a secret, for reasons that I’m not allowed to tell you, you had to create some deceptions.”

“But if secrets are so bad, why do so many people have them?” Kindan asked.

“Because sometimes they are the only thing some people can truly call their own,” Master Zist answered with a sigh.

“Well, I can’t see how long Nuella will remain a secret,” Kindan said. “Both Zenor and I know about her, and we’ve been in the Camp less than a year.”

Master Zist nodded. “I have pointed out the same to Natalon,” he said. “But he has his reasons.”

“Because she’s a girl, or because she’s blind?” Kindan asked. Kindan had guessed she was blind the day he’d found Natalon’s hold full of bad air—but he wasn’t certain if that was Natalon’s reason for keeping her concealed.

Master Zist smiled at the youngster. “That was a good try—offering me a choice in hopes of getting me to reveal the secret,” he said, “but I’ve been a Harper longer than you’ve lived.

“And it was perceptive of you to notice Nuella’s condition,” the Master continued. “Perhaps from that, you can make some conjectures”—he held up a hand when Kindan opened his mouth—“which, as my apprentice, you’ll keep to yourself.”

“I would have figured it out sooner if I’d seen her any other time but when the traders were here,” Kindan remarked. “I thought she was one of them.”

Master Zist nodded in understanding.

“In such a tight community as this Camp, everyone knows everyone else and most everyone has the same things,” he continued. “Oh, there are a few special trinkets or family heirlooms, but mostly no one has more than another. So some people have secrets all their own. Or they have secrets because they’re afraid how others would react if the secret were ever known.”

Master Zist gave Kindan a wry grin and added conspiratorially, “Most of the time, other people wouldn’t care a bit for another person’s secret. But, as I said, a secret makes a person who’s got nothing else feel special. Which is why Harpers are instructed”—and Kindan heard the special emphasis on the word “instructed” as an instruction to him—“to respect the secrets of others.”