Энн Маккефри - Dragon’s Kin

“Oh,” M’tal replied airily, grinning at Master Zist, “dragons are faster than you think.”

When they were all settled on Gaminth’s neck, M’tal made one last check of his passengers and called out to his dragon, “Let’s fly, Gaminth.”

The great bronze jumped into the air, swooped down toward the Camp, and with one beat of his wings soared high.

The dragon slowly flew higher. Master Zist knew that Gaminth was capable of much quicker ascents—in their youth, M’tal had been proud to illustrate his dragon’s capabilities to those who were properly appreciative—so he guessed that the bronze rider was making this slow climb only to avoid upsetting his more nervous passengers. A quick glance assured him that Kindan, who was wide-eyed with an ear-to-ear grin, would never be considered a nervous passenger. Natalon, however, was quite pale.

M’tal turned back to them again. “We’re ready to go between. Are you ready?”

“I still don’t see how we can get there in time, my Lord,” Natalon said, with only the slightest hint of nervousness.

M’tal grinned at him. “Trust me, we’ll be on time,” he answered. “You might find the effects a bit more draining than you’d think, but that’s the price of the journey, as it were.”

Natalon swallowed hard and nodded uncertainly.

M’tal took this for acceptance. “Good,” he said. He turned to Zist and Kindan. “All ready?” When they nodded, he instructed them, “Take three deep breaths and hold the third one. Ready? One ... two ... three...”

And suddenly it was all darkness around them. Kindan felt a thrill of terror and excitement as he realized he could feel nothing but the press of the men before and behind him and the neck of the dragon beneath him.

M’tal’s words came back to him: Between only lasts as long as it takes to cough three times. Kindan started coughing. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He started to get worried.

We are almost there, a soundless voice said to him. Kindan was so surprised that he didn’t react at all.

And then there was light. Or rather, lights. It was dark outside, as compared to the midday sun they’d left. Kindan could see a few twinkles spiraling toward them and realized with a start that they must be gliding steeply down to the ground. Unable to contain himself, he let out a whoop of pure joy. They had arrived—the day before they’d left.

“That’s the spirit!” Master Zist shouted back over his shoulder.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Natalon moaned, his eyes squeezed firmly shut.

“Do you understand what you’re to do?” Aleesa asked Kindan.

“I think so,” Kindan replied. His body felt tired and stretched—he wondered if that was from going back in time or because he was so nervous—but he was too excited to tell anyone.

Aleesa raised an eyebrow. “Thinking won’t do, little one.” The WherMaster was much taller than Kindan. She was a lithe, slender person who spoke little. Kindan could tell by Natalon’s manner that the miner was also awed by the WherMaster.

Kindan took a deep, calming breath. “I’m to bow to the queen and make my way toward the clutch. If she lets me, I’m to choose an egg and take it, bowing again and walking backward.”

“She’d better let you,” Natalon added in a hard voice. “There’s a winter’s coal gone either way.”

Kindan gulped.

“Don’t dawdle,” Master Zist warned him.

“When you go in the cave,” Master Aleesa said, pointing to a crevice in the side of the cliff, “bear right.”

The crevice was wide enough for a watch-wher, and tall enough for Kindan—but just barely. It was also, Kindan discovered as he followed the way up and down, left and right, awfully twisty, like a tunnel snake’s wiggle.

Kindan was amazed that Master Aleesa, who looked as if she had joint-ail, could possibly manage and then realized that she would have many to help her do her daily wher-caring. Still, as he entered the dark space, he knew her standards must be high because the place smelled very clean. He cleared his throat and murmured the soft chirps that his father had always used when entering Dask’s lair.

Behind him he heard a surprised remark from Aleesa. “Well, at least the lad knows what to say to her.”

Eyes opened up ahead of him, and in that light and the pale glow of light that filtered through from the crawlway, he could see the watch-wher, but not her eggs. Aleesa had said there were twelve, and he must make his own plea to the queen. She had refused two prospective handlers already. Kindan increased the intensity of his chirping, trying to sound kindly, as well as eager. He had to prove to Natalon that he was worth a whole winter’s fuel coal—and some left over to keep the hatchling warm until its second, tougher coat came in. Remembering that, Kindan felt more confident. He knew more than he thought he did. Maybe blood would tell. Which reminded him of something else he had to do.

When he was close enough to the queen, he held out his right hand. There was not much of a scar left from where his father had slit his thumb pad to blood him to old Dask. He altered his sound to a reassuring tongue trill and showed her his palm. She ran her tongue over it. It was a nice, dry tongue. Sometimes Dask’s had been slimy and not at all something you wanted licking you. He increased his trill to what he thought was a glad “Thank you.”

She responded with a click of her own, and Kindan knew that he had performed an appropriate greeting. What should he do now? “May I please have one of your eggs?” His father had never had to ask such a thing, so he didn’t know if there was a sound that was appropriate. He responded with a quizzical brr. He had been teased by his siblings because he could roll his r’s and l’s better than they did.

Although their family had done well by housing the mine’s watch-wher, none of his brothers had aspired to their father’s calling.

Well, he could be a sort of hero for the Camp, if he did get a watch-wher egg.

The men had been talking in fits and starts while they coasted a-dragonback down to the cliffside where Master Aleesa’s hold was, reinforcing how important it was to rear a healthy specimen and maybe even breed a few themselves, if this new one met the Master’s standards. Dask had been chosen to sire two clutches in his youth. Maybe that had been part of Aleesa’s willingness to give Danil’s family a chance, Kindan thought. He increased the intensity of his trill, making more complex noises, sinking into them his earnest entreaty. The watch-wher had opened her eyes wide at him now. Unable to control himself, Kindan yawned—he was still tired from all the recent early-morning rising.

“Excuse me,” he said, deathly afraid that he had insulted her. “I’m tired. We went back in time to get here and—well, I’m afraid.”

He bowed to her and formed the image in his mind of Gaminth and their journey back in time from tomorrow.

The queen gave a surprised chirp, and Kindan got the impression that she’d picked up the image from his mind. Her eyes intent on him, she twitched aside her wing. He gasped in astonishment at the pile of dimly glowing eggshells.

“Oh, how beautiful they are!” he exclaimed, leaning toward her hidden treasure and only recalling at the last moment that the queen would not permit just anyone to touch her eggs. He grabbed his hands back.

They were certainly not dragon eggs—at least according to all the Teaching Ballads Kindan had learned—being half the size and sort of rumpled, as if the layers of shell had been badly applied and the skin had wrinkled in forming. In fact, one egg had a distinct ring on one end, raised above the rest of the shell, like a necklace. But he had never seen anything like them. “How amazing they are!”