Энн Маккефри - Dragon’s Kin

“And you say she sees in the dark?” M’tal mused now. “Dragons can’t, you know.”

“Yes, she’s—” Kindan stopped, not wanting to break Nuella’s secret about the passageways. “I think she’s almost ready to go in the mines,” he added hastily.

M’tal patted Kisk gently and rubbed his hands over her body.

“Not quite a dragon in miniature,” he commented. “She’s got more muscles—at least that I can feel. She feels well grown. And you say her skin never itched or cracked?”

Both Kindan and Master Zist shook their heads and said in unison, “Never a bit.”

M’tal sighed feelingly. “I wish I could say the same with Gaminth.”

“What we were wondering, old friend,” Master Zist said to the dragonrider, “is whether there is any lore gathered in the Weyrs that might help us in training Kisk, here.”

M’tal stroked his chin thoughtfully. Then he grimaced. “Not at Benden, as far as I know. What about the Harper Hall?”

Master Zist shook his head ruefully. “My request to the Harper Hall for any information on watch-whers crossed their request for all the information I had on watch-whers.”

“Apparently watch-whers have become forgotten on Pern.” M’tal frowned. “I don’t like that. They were clearly bred from the same source as dragons, so there must have been a need for them. We shouldn’t have lost that lore.” Gently he extended Kisk’s vestigial wings. “I can’t imagine how she could fly with these.”

“My father once flew Dask,” Kindan reported.

M’tal looked up. “Really? How?”

“It was late at night,” Kindan replied. “I don’t think they went up too high,” he added. “I think my father was afraid of heights.”

“They fly at night?” M’tal mused. He continued thoughtfully. “And they see in the dark, don’t they? Perhaps they were bred for night.”

“So it would seem,” Master Zist agreed. “Kisk is much more active during the night—definitely nocturnal and not just light sensitive.”

“She’s certainly smarter than a fire-lizard,” M’tal noted. “I wonder...” He trailed off, frowning.

Suddenly, Kisk’s body jerked, and she gave a questioning chirp.

M’tal patted her soothingly. “That’s just Gaminth, my dragon,” he reassured her. He turned to the others, eyes alight with excitement. “Gaminth can speak to her!”

“Really?” Master Zist said.

“Wow!” Kindan exclaimed, glancing at Kisk admiringly. Then he asked her, “Can you talk to Gaminth, too?”

M’tal’s eyes widened with the possibilities. “That is certainly worth exploring, Kindan.”

“If watch-whers could talk to dragons, send messages...” Master Zist murmured, imagining all the ways in which such communication could benefit people, dragons, and watch-whers.

“I must think about this,” the Weyrleader said, still lost in thought. He slapped his hand against his thigh decisively. “Zist, if you don’t mind—and you, too, Kindan—I’d like to mention this to some acquaintances of mine. Perhaps we can help each other in learning more about watch-whers.”

“Sure.”

“Certainly.”

M’tal nodded his thanks. “In that case, I must be off. I shall return as soon as I can, maybe in company.” And with that, he departed.

“And you didn’t even tell me!” Nuella shrieked at Kindan the next morning. Kindan was still groggy from the late night—Kisk had remained excited for most of the evening and it was only when the first light of dawn could be seen that she became even remotely tired.

“It was all so sudden,” he protested. “Lord M’tal arrived and came straight into the shed, examined Kisk, and then—he was gone.”

“Hmmph!” Nuella was not in the least comforted. “And now you want me to help you into the mines? Why should I?”

“Because you offered,” he replied, wishing that somehow Nuella would retreat from her anger.

Kindan’s wish was granted. The head miner’s daughter drummed her fingers on her leg for a moment, flared her nostrils in one last spat of anger, and sighed. “All right,” she agreed. “But only because Kisk needs the training. And only if you tell me everything that dragonrider M’tal said last night.”

Kindan did so, his narration interrupted constantly by Nuella’s questions. Kindan realized as he answered her that Nuella was very good at illuminating every detail of a conversation. Her questions reminded him of things he’d forgotten and brought nuances of the conversation to light for him that he otherwise wouldn’t have seen.

“All right,” she said at last, standing up and dusting herself off determinedly. “Meet me at the hold this evening after my classes with Master Zist.”

“This evening?” Kindan was surprised. Nuella, despite her eagerness, had had to postpone their sojourn the past three nights.

“Yes,” she said. “Dalor will meet you and bring you upstairs.”

“Ah, so you convinced him, eh?” Kindan muttered.

“Not so much convinced as blackmailed,” she admitted. “I happen to know who he’s sweet on, you see.”

Kindan’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed again thoughtfully. Dalor was growing steadily and thickening out into a strong-muscled young man. Kindan himself was in that awkward stage of adolescence where his voice was neither fish nor fowl. In some ways it was a relief that he had Kisk to train; he would have hated the disappointment his breaking voice would doubtless have given Master Zist.

“And he’s gotten taller than me,” Nuella added in an aggrieved tone. “I can’t use him as a double anymore.”

“You’ve changed, too,” Kindan countered. “You couldn’t pass as Dalor even if he hadn’t gotten taller.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nuella demanded. “Oh, I suppose his voice is different, but if he kept silent, no one could tell.”

“Nuella, we’re all growing up,” Kindan responded. “I’ve noticed it, you’ve noticed it, and I’m sure Zenor’s noticed it.”

“Oh.” Nuella paused. “Do you think so?” she asked, her tone wistful.

“Yes,” he replied firmly, relieved that he’d managed not to burst out laughing at her response. It seemed he knew who Nuella was sweet on, too!

“Don’t you dare tell him,” she warned him icily.

This time, Nuella made a point of letting Kindan lead the way through the secret passageway from the hold to the mine. He had to reassure Kisk that he would be right back before the watch-wher would let him leave them. Quickly he scouted out the area around the pumps, making certain that it was possible to get from the secret door to the lifts. Then he came back for Nuella and Kisk.

He led them to the lifts without alarm, although his heart raced as they clambered onto the platform and he began to lower them down. The mine lifts were built to operate in parallel: When one was lowered, the other was raised, so that there was always a lift at the top and the bottom of the mine shaft. Kindan was sure that the noise of the lifts would be heard throughout the mine on such a still night.

As soon as they reached the bottom, he hustled them off the lift and over into a spot unlit by glows. When his pulse had slowed enough for him to think, he peered around to see the lay of the land.

“Come on,” Nuella said impatiently, pushing past Kindan and turning to the left.

“We’re heading south,” Kindan observed quietly.

“I know,” Nuella replied testily. “South is where Father’s shift is digging the new street.”

Natalon had adopted the convention of calling tunnels dug through the length of the coal seam “streets,” and the tunnels dug through the width of the coal seam were called “avenues.” In Natalon’s mine, “streets” ran east-west, while “avenues” ran north-south.