Энн Маккефри - Dragon’s Kin

Having acquired a generous tray of dainties and a jug of cool water from an appreciative Milla—“And who’s that lovely lass playing with you?”—“I think she’s a trader.”—Kindan returned to start another set. Just as he’d begun a new, gentle drum set, he felt Nuella stiffen behind him. He glanced back her way quickly in time to see her strain her nostrils meaningfully. A blast of cold air mingled with the warmer air of the room; Natalon had returned from his shift.

A hand on his shoulder warned Kindan that Nuella had crept beside him. “He’s gone to change, first,” she said. Then her tone brightened. “Zenor’s here!”

Indeed, at that very moment, Zenor entered the room. His face was newly scrubbed and he arrived with his mother and young sisters all in tow. He gave Kindan a jaunty salute and turned toward the banquet laid out on the far wall, only to turn back again with a start.

“He’s seen me, hasn’t he?” Nuella whispered. Kindan could only nod, which he realized a moment later would do Nuella no good, but apparently she had felt his movement through her hand, because he felt it leave his shoulder and heard the faint sounds of her regaining her chair.

It was going to be a very interesting evening, indeed, he thought to himself.

“Have you lost your mind?” Zenor hissed at Kindan as soon as he could break away from his mother. As Nuella was doing another of her pipe solos, Kindan had found himself back among the now much larger crowd filling the great hall. “Or has she?”

“Aside from you, Zenor, who will know?” Kindan asked. “We darkened her face, hid her hair, and she pretty much stays up there. The traders will think she’s one of us, while the rest of the miners will think she’s one of them.”

“Well, her father and mother will know differently, won’t they?” Zenor said, lips pursed tightly. “And if Tarik finds out—”

“Well, he’ll never hear it from me,” Kindan assured him. He had been surprised to hear, from his rounds of the Gather, how little regard the rest of the miners had for Tarik. In fact, Kindan got the distinct impression that they were all only putting up with him as a favor to Natalon. Oh, there were a few—two, to be exact—who thought highly of Tarik, but Kerdal and Panit were old cronies of Tarik’s and even the talk from their wives led Kindan to believe that their loyalty was due to hopes of high rewards from Tarik rather than any actual camraderie they felt toward him.

“But what about her parents?” Zenor persisted. Before Kindan could make any reply, Zenor’s jaw dropped. He grabbed Kindan’s arm and turned him around. “Too late.”

Kindan saw Natalon and Jenella enter the room. The new baby was in Jenella’s arms. Behind them, Kindan saw a wide-eyed Dalor looking all around the crowded room. Kindan leapt forward to greet them.

“My Lord, my Lady,” Kindan said to Natalon and Jenella, executing the sweeping bow that Master Zist had drilled into him over the past several sevendays. “Master Zist extends his welcome. He is there,” Kindan pointed, “in conversation with Trader Tarri.”

Kindan waved toward the table on which the musical instruments had been placed, from which Nuella was playing a lively pipe ditty. “I am lucky to have someone who chose to accompany me tonight,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve never met her before. I was given to believe that she is one of the trader’s group who wanted to sit in on the festivities. I hope you don’t mind.”

Natalon listened to all of Kindan’s speech with an abstracted air until his wife grabbed his arm urgently and turned him toward Nuella. Jenella gave Kindan a piercing look.

“If I’ve done wrong, my Lady,” Kindan said, “I am sure I could ask the lady to step down.”

Natalon glared for a moment at Kindan, then at Nuella. Jenella tightened her grasp on his arm and shook her head. “I have always wanted to hear the pipes played,” Natalon said after a moment’s thought.

Dalor, who had been behind his mother and father and not quite concentrating on their conversation, suddenly stiffened as he noticed Nuella and then relaxed again as he digested the conversation in front of him.

“She plays very sweetly,” he declared. He gave Kindan a look that was part thanks, part warning. Kindan nodded in acknowledgment.

“Well, I must get back to my duties.” Kindan inclined his head toward Natalon and Jenella and strode quickly back to the musicians’ table.

As Nuella’s song came to an end, Kindan whispered to her, “That went well.”

“Not from what I heard,” Nuella whispered back. Kindan blushed at the thought of her hearing what he’d said—not so much for the words but for his ham-fisted way of saying them.

Chagrined, he turned back to the crowd. People were growing restless, waiting for a new song. Instead of reaching for the drum, Kindan opened his mouth and sang the first song to come to his mind. It was “The Morning Dragon Song.”

Partway through the first verse, a haunting counterpoint joined in. It was Nuella on the pipes. Kindan nearly stopped singing, he was so surprised by the beauty of her melody. Instead, he raised his voice slightly and let her weave her pipes through the song.

As the last words faded away, Nuella’s piping chirped a last response and faded, into a silence that Kindan hadn’t heard all evening long. Then there was a thunderous applause. Kindan was thrilled to see Master Zist on his feet clapping as loudly as the others. Even more astonishing was Nuella’s voice in his ear: “Can we do another?”

In the end, they did six more duets before the night was over. Zenor even managed, with Kindan’s connivance, to sneak a dance with Nuella.

“She’ll follow your lead,” Kindan told him. When Zenor looked balky about dancing, Kindan said, “It’s either her or one of your sisters, you know that.”

Nuella was radiant as Kindan handed her down from the table into Zenor’s arms. Kindan suppressed a smile as he saw Nuella school her expression before Zenor could see it. With matched let’s-humor-Kindan looks they took their places on the floor.

Master Zist joined Kindan on the musician’s table with his fiddle for a rollicking song that challenged the dancers to keep up. Kindan smiled as he watched Nuella and Zenor navigate their way through the song—with the occasional squeak over a squashed toe.

“They’re too young to match, and you’re too young to be matchmaker,” Master Zist whispered in Kindan’s ear when the song was over.

“They’re friends,” Kindan replied. “And at a Gather the only thing they can do together is dance.”

When Nuella returned to the table, she was tired but exhilarated.

Master Zist waved Kindan off with a meaningful look. “You take a break, lad. This young one and I will see what a fiddle and a pipe can do.”

Kindan nodded back and walked over to the banquet table. There were none of Milla’s dainties left and scant else to eat, but there was good clear water, mulled wine, and klah for the taking. Kindan’s stomach grumbled as he wolfed down a few vegetables, but he really wanted the water more and it was a while before his thirst was slaked enough to let him wander the room.

He was pleased at all the praise he got from trader and miner alike for his singing. However, he knew that Master Zist was expecting him to do more than bask in praise, so he made himself small and wandered toward the knots of people he’d noticed from the musician’s table.

“So the watch-wher didn’t come?” Kindan heard a voice say. “What of it? Can’t recall much good ever coming from one.” The voice belonged to Panit, one of Tarik’s men.

The other men in the crowd weren’t so sure, it seemed. Several wondered why the apprentice with the watch-wher had decided not to come. Kindan heard an undertone of worry in their voices.