Энн Маккефри - Dragon’s Kin

Kindan tried not to look embarrassed as he took his clothes from the other boy and slid into them under his cloak but Master Zist must finally have noticed his discomfort for he charitably asked, “So, Kindan, what did you think of your first look at a dragon?”

The other boy gave Kindan a look of awe, but it was Master Zist who was surprised by Kindan’s offhand answer: “Oh, they’re pretty enough, but you’d never fit one in a mine.”

Someone shook Kindan awake and he jumped up with a start, aware that he had fallen asleep on watch. It was deep night. The beacon burned bright, still fueled by the last logs Kindan had piled on it earlier, so he figured he couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour, two at most.

The person who shook him was dressed in leather—a dragonrider.

“My Lord,” Kindan said, sketching a quick bow. Behind him he heard a gentle snort from way up high. Turning, he saw the dim outline of a dragon, its great eyes peering down at him with interest. “I am Kindan. Master Zist asked me to keep watch—”

The dragonrider smiled. He was nearly as old as Master Zist, Kindan judged. His hair sparkled with silver strands in the night. His eyes were amber, and he was all that Kindan had ever imagined a dragonrider to be—except, perhaps, older.

“Well, Kindan, please tell Master Zist that M’tal has responded to his request,” the dragonrider said.

“No need,” a voice called from the darkness, startling Kindan. “And do stop jumping, Kindan, you’ll wear yourself out.”

“He seemed quite worn out already,” M’tal remarked.

Master Zist stepped into the light. “I’d noticed,” he said lightly, “which is why I decided to keep him company for a bit.”

“You were here, too?” Kindan asked in aggrieved tones.

The two men laughed.

“It’s a habit of leadership, youngster,” M’tal remarked. “It’s always a good idea to check up on a sentry from time to time.”

With a frown, the dragonrider turned his attention to Zist. “When I got your summons, I had expected to find you at the Harper Hall. I was sorry to hear of your loss.”

“Thank you,” Master Zist replied gravely. With a flick of his hand, he changed the subject. “Thank you for coming here. I was hoping to ask a favor of you.”

M’tal’s eyebrows creased in curiosity. “This—” He stopped with an inquiring wave around the campsite.

“Camp,” Zist supplied helpfully.

M’tal nodded. “This Camp looks to Telgar, does it not?” He looked at Kindan.

“It does, my Lord,” Kindan said.

“Weyrleader D’gan did not consider our request a good use of his resources,” Master Zist explained.

M’tal lips thinned as he considered Master Zist’s response. “Ah, and what was your request?”

“Miner Natalon requested transport for himself, me, and Kindan here to meet with Aleesa the WherMaster,” Zist replied.

“Kindan?” M’tal repeated, surprised.

“Miner Natalon has promised a winter’s supply of coal to the WherMaster if she will give Kindan the chance of a watch-wher’s egg,” Zist said. Seeing the dragonrider’s interested look, he added, “Kindan’s father was the camp’s previous wherhandler.”

“I see,” M’tal replied. “And when is this meeting to take place?”

Master Zist’s reply was an angry mutter. “Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Natalon repeated in astonishment later in the morning, banging his fists down hard on the table in the camp’s main dining hall. “Yesterday? I’ve pledged a whole winter’s supply to someone for a deal that ended yesterday?”

M’tal had lifted his mug of klah from the table at Natalon’s first word, but Kindan and Master Zist were not as prescient—klah spilled from their mugs onto their tunics and ran to the floor below. At a wave from Master Zist, Kindan rushed off and found a couple of rags with which to wipe up the spill.

“There are certain Harper songs—” Master Zist began, only to splutter to a stop at the sight of Miner Natalon’s face.

“My miners say they won’t work if we can’t get a watch-wher for them,” Natalon said in dejected tones. “We’ve had two more near-disasters in the mines. Tunnel snakes have raided our stores. And I’ve promised a winter’s supply of coal for—”

“For a chance at a watch-wher,” M’tal broke in. “And you shall have that chance.”

“How?” Natalon asked in disbelief.

“There are some old Harper songs,” Master Zist began again.

Kindan’s eyes danced, remembering their conversation several nights back.

“Which I hope will be quietly retired,” M’tal said with a pointed glance at the old Harper.

Master Zist bowed his head. “I am sure, Weyrleader M’tal, that my old head is already having quite a hard time remembering them.”

“Good,” M’tal replied with a twinkle in his eye. “I shall return at noon, so that your lad can have some time to rest.”

“I’m not tired, my Lord,” Kindan lied stoutly.

Minutes after lying down in a shuttered room, Kindan was fast asleep. He awoke to the sound of voices talking softly outside his room.

“They’re not really like dragons, you know,” M’tal was saying.

“So I gathered,” Zist replied. “But they’re not like fire-lizards either. There’s not much lore about them, aside from a simple song or two.”

“Perhaps you could learn more from Master Aleesa,” M’tal suggested.

Zist snorted. “I’m sure I could, if Natalon would let me.”

“I can’t see why he’d stop a Harper.”

“Aye, he probably wouldn’t,” Zist agreed. “But he’d be mighty curious—probably too curious—as to why I have to ask Master Aleesa when I’m supposed to have an expert sleeping in the room next door.”

“The boy?” M’tal’s voice was full of surprise.

“His father was the last wherhandler here,” Master Zist reminded him. “Natalon’s desperate, and he’s convinced himself that Danil taught Kindan everything about watch-whers. Says that Danil let the boy wash the watch-wher, and on the basis of that, he decided that Kindan must be special.”

M’tal snorted. “Well, oiling a dragon is a big part of my job, so I could see that a wherhandler would spend a lot of his time washing his watch-wher—which might explain your miner’s confusion.” He shook his head as he caught Master Zist’s somber expression.

“He’d be far too young to Impress a dragon, you know,” the Weyrleader said soberly. “If the watch-whers are more like dragons or even like fire-lizards, I doubt he’ll attach one.”

Zist sighed. “He must. If he doesn’t, then Camp Natalon will fail and he’ll be blamed.”

“That’s an awful lot for one youngster to handle,” M’tal noted.

“Well, he’s got broad shoulders,” Zist said. “They might bear the load.”

To himself, Kindan swore that he would bear the load.

Between only lasts as long as it takes to cough three times,” M’tal told the others as he helped them up onto bronze Gaminth’s back.

“Cough three times?” Natalon repeated. He coughed experimentally three times. “Like that?”

Kindan was glad to hear the Miner ask the question; he had been too afraid to ask it himself.

“Just like that,” M’tal reassured him.

“It won’t take any longer this time?” Master Zist asked with a strange look in his eyes.

M’tal shook his head warily. “No, not longer. We’ll be there in time.”

“I don’t see how,” Natalon said sourly.