Энн Маккефри - Dragon’s Kin

He heard the soft padding of Kisk’s feet as she made her way over to him. In his mind’s eye, he saw the shape get closer, saw the head become more resolved—not a face, but a sort of smudged oval-shaped rainbow—and then become obscured as bright jets, the orangeish-yellow color of flame, came streaking over it. He felt Kisk’s warm breath blow gently through the straw over his face, seeming to perfectly match the flame he was imagining.

Kisk bleeked happily.

Laughing, he opened his eyes and burst from under the straw to wrap his arms around the watch-wher’s head. “You found me!” he said. He hugged her tightly. “You great girl, you!”

“Describe it again,” Nuella demanded the next evening. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

“I can’t, really,” Kindan replied. “It was like everything was the color of flames—”

“What’s that mean?”

Kindan pursed his lips, trying to think. “Did you ever look at something really bright—um, when you were little?”

“Like what?” Nuella asked, making a face at his question.

“Like the sun,” he said with sudden inspiration. “Or a flame.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, I’ve done that,” he went on. “And afterward, I’ve closed my eyes and I still have the image in them. It starts out as bright white and then slowly fades to yellow, orange, red, green, blue ... and out.”

“Go on.”

“Well, it was like that except that all the colors were there with the white bit being the smallest, in the center, and surrounded by different rings of color from yellow to blue.”

Nuella suddenly looked wistful. “Do you—do you suppose I could see Kisk’s images?”

“We can try,” Kindan said. “How about it, Kisk? Can you show Nuella your image when you find me?”

Kisk looked from one to the other and chirped a cheerful assent.

“Could you?” Nuella asked in a voice full of wonder. She closed her eyes tentatively, then squeezed them shut firmly.

“I’ll hide,” Kindan said. Kisk dutifully turned away from them. Shortly after Kindan threw his stone against the curtain, he heard Nuella gasp.

“Kindan, put your arm over your face,” she said. Kindan complied, casting aside his cover of straw as he did so. “Oh! Now the other one.”

Kindan obeyed, then impishly raised both arms over his head, clasped together.

“You put your arms up!” Nuella exclaimed. “You’re grabbing your hands—by the Egg of Faranth, I can see you!”

Kindan sat up and stared at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks from her closed eyes.

The next day, he and Nuella started teaching Kisk how to find people buried under rubble. At Nuella’s suggestion, they started with having Kisk simply find individual people. Kisk loved this game and found Nuella, Kindan, Zenor, Dalor, and Master Zist—even though Dalor and Master Zist were in their respective cot-holds, and Dalor was tired from his shift work.

“Dalor doesn’t get into the mine any more than I do,” Zenor grumbled before heading off to sleep. “We’re both on pumps.”

“I’ll bet Tarik would let you come into the mine,” Nuella said.

Kindan gave her a startled look.

“Maybe you could ask to change shifts,” she went on.

“Tarik?” Zenor repeated, shaking his head. “I don’t know...”

“Well, suit yourself,” she said. “Either stop grumbling, or switch to Tarik’s shift.”

“What was that all about?” Kindan asked after Zenor had left.

“Remember how worried you were about the supports on Tarik’s street?” Nuella asked. When Kindan nodded, she explained, “Well, we can’t say anything about it to my father, because then we’d have to admit that we’ve been down in the mine. But if Zenor goes down with Tarik, then he can see the shoddy supports that Tarik’s been putting up and warn Father.”

Kindan and Nuella were pleased when Zenor announced joyfully that he’d switch shifts. “Best of all,” he’d said, rubbing his hands gleefully, “I won’t have to do the morning feeding! Regellan even thinks he’s getting the best of the deal, can you imagine?”

“There, that’s sorted then,” she said complacently to Kindan when she entered Kisk’s shed that evening. Kindan looked beyond her to the curtains, which had rustled closed behind her.

“Didn’t Master Zist bring you down?” he asked.

Nuella brushed aside the comment. “No, I came down on my own.”

Kindan’s eyebrows rose. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if someone saw you?”

“Well, they’d either say something or ignore me,” she said impatiently. “Seeing as no one said anything, I suppose they ignored me.” She patted her cloak and pulled off her hood. “It’s not like everyone isn’t dressed this way in this weather.”

Nuella was right: So far the winter had been particularly bitter and cold, and they were only just in the middle of it.

“Spring will be here soon,” Kindan said by way of consolation.

“Soon! And what good are we doing?”

Kindan was taken aback by her vehemence.

“We’ve been waiting here over a month and haven’t heard anything—and spring is coming,” she went on. “What about all those people? The ones Lord M’tal was worried about? The ones that might be flooded in the spring thaw?” She checked her anger with some effort. “I thought maybe I could help, you see.”

Then she frowned. “But nothing’s happened. And I’m no help at all.”

“You’ve helped me,” Kindan told her softly. Kisk gave her a reassuring chirp and walked over to butt Nuella’s shoulder with her head. “And Kisk. We wouldn’t know half what we know if it hadn’t been for you. Soon we’ll be ready to go into the mine and—”

Nuella’s derisive snort cut him off. “Sure, you’ll go into the mine and then what? What will I do then? ‘Thank you, Nuella, you’ve been a big help, now you can go back to your room. And don’t get caught!’” Her voice choked on the last word and she buried her head between her knees.

Kindan didn’t know what to say and the silence between them stretched out interminably. Finally he opened his mouth to speak, only to see that Nuella had held up a hand and cocked her head in the direction of the curtains at the doorway to the shed.

“You may as well come in,” she said out loud. “You’ve heard too much already and I just don’t care anymore.”

After a moment the curtains rustled and a small figure could be seen in the dim glow light.

“You look just like Dalor,” the figure exclaimed. It was Renna.

Nuella sniffed, breathing in the scent of the newcomer, and nodded her head in comprehension. “You must be Zenor’s sister,” she answered. “He has some of the same smells.”

“It’s Renna,” Kindan confirmed. He looked back and forth between the two. “Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”

“Yes,” Renna said, “but Jori owes me.” She looked at Nuella. “I saw someone coming clown from the hold and—”

“You followed me because you thought I was Dalor, didn’t your Renna’s blush showed that Nuella’s guess had hit the mark. Kindan remembered that Nuella had once blackmailed Dalor into helping them get into the mines because, as she’d said, “I happen to know who he’s sweet on.” From Renna’s blush, Kindan guessed that the feeling was mutual.

Suddenly Kisk raised her head, chirped, and butted Kindan. He closed his eyes in concentration, accustomed now to passing images with Kisk.

“It’s J’lantir and Lolanth,” he said a moment later. Kisk chirped at Kindan again. Obligingly, he closed his eyes once more, concentrating on the images the watch-wher was trying to form. The images were a quick series: a heat-rainbow shape being pulled backward by an arm, the same heat-rainbow shape running so fast that the legs were a blur, the same shape banging its head repeatedly, bowing low, and, finally, running again. With a smile, he told the others, “He says he’s sorry he’s late. He’ll be here as quick as he can.”