Dragon's Kin

by Anne McCaffrey

  Kindan smothered a puzzled look. He’d heard Natalon tell Master Zist that eight apprentices had been sent—not seven.

  “We’ll be glad to have them,” Master Zist said cheerfully, waving to the group. Under his breath he said to Kindan, “Where are we going to put them?”

  Kindan whispered back, “They’ll have to go where there’s the most room.”

  Master Zist’s eyes widened in a combination of alarm and glee. “That’d be Tarik’s place, wouldn’t it?”

  Kindan gave an imperceptible nod.

  “Master Zist, would you know where the coal drays go?” Tarri asked. From her expression, Kindan guessed that she expected the Harper wouldn’t.

  “If you follow the fork in the road back there, you’ll come right to the depot,” Master Zist answered calmly.

  Tarri nodded thanks and turned to the other traders, issuing orders. In a moment she turned back to the Harper.

  “I imagine Miner Natalon will be wanting to talk about supplies and the price for his coal,” she said.

  “Miner Natalon’s on shift at the moment and has asked me to show you the courtesy of his hold,” the Harper replied, bowing and gesturing toward Natalon’s hold with one hand. “If you’ll follow me, I’m sure you’re parched from the journey and wouldn’t mind a bit of refreshment.”

  The young trader nodded agreeably and strode on to the hold, side by side with Zist.

  “Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” a boy scarcely older than Kindan asked of the remaining crowd before Kindan could follow the Harper.

  “He’d be just the lad,” Milla told him, pointing at Kindan. “Why don’t you get the apprentices settled, Kindan, while I go serve the traders?”

  Kindan suppressed his disappointment at not being able to stay around to learn the latest gossip but admitted, with a nod, that he was outmaneuvered and outranked by the baker.

  “I’m Kindan,” he said to the gathering apprentices. “I’m sure we can get you settled in. If you’ll follow me.”

  In the end, Kindan managed to foist four of the apprentices, two older and two younger, onto Tarik’s Dara—mostly through fast-talking that alluded to how much esteem she’d gain in fostering the lion’s share of the new apprentices. Dara’s eyes, at first wary, grew quite appreciative as she imagined breaking the news to Tarik. Kindan, who thought Tarik would hold his privacy in higher regard, was not so sure of the miner’s reaction.

  Toldur’s wife, Alarra, was glad to take in two—the older Menar and young Gulegar—while Norla happily took young Regellan when Kindan hinted broadly that he’d be on the opposite shift from Zenor, giving her a constant chance of someone who spoke “adult words” nearby.

  With the apprentices all settled, Kindan went back to the Harper’s cothold to spruce up, change, and get his drums. Inside he was surprised to hear the soft sounds of someone crying in Master Zist’s study.

  It was Nuella. The glows in the room were dim; Kindan realized that no one had had a chance to change them.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked as he caught sight of her sitting in one of the large chairs. Nuella looked up at the sound of his voice.

  “I—I—Master Zist was supposed to teach me,” Nuella said shakily. “I thought maybe I’d gotten it wrong so I went back to the hold only—only I heard him talking to someone else. So I came back here.”

  “Oh, things got all mixed up because the caravan’s come in,” Kindan said.

  “I didn’t hear the drums,” Nuella protested.

  “Well, that’s because there’s no one at the relay yet, I expect,” Kindan said, referring to the drum relay midway between Crom Hold and Camp Natalon. “I spotted them and then got awfully busy between Master Zist and your father.”

  “But it was a girl’s voice I heard talking to Master Zist,” Nuella said.

  “That’s Tarri, the Trader,” Kindan told her.

  “A girl can be a trader?” Nuella sounded surprised.

  Kindan shrugged. “Why not? Although I think Tarri is older than that. She’s a journeyman, by her shoulder knots.”

  Nuella sniffed. “I heard Milla say that a girl could be a baker or a mother, but that was all a girl was good for. She was complaining to Mother about it.”

  “I can’t understand why Milla would complain,” Kindan said without thinking. “She’s a pretty good baker.”

  “Mother wants to name the baby Larissa,” Nuella said in an abrupt change of topic. “She’s all worried whether the baby can see. She doesn’t want—”

  Kindan realized that Nuella was telling him her secret.

  “I’m sure the baby is fine,” Kindan said, sounding far more like Master Zist than himself. Nuella heard it too and frowned at him.

  “Mother says that you can’t tell when they’re first born,” Nuella went on. “Sometimes it’s years before they lose their sight.” She paused and bit her lip nervously before continuing in a rush: “I could see just fine all the way until I was three. And then . . . things just started to go blurry and dim. Now everything is just splotches . . .”

  With a look of determination she stood up, steadying herself against the wall for a moment with an outstretched hand, and walked over to the door where Kindan stood. “Master Zist keeps the furniture in the same place,” she said appreciatively.

  “I know,” Kindan replied. “He keeps yelling at me when I move it.”

  “Father’s afraid of what the others will say if they find out,” Nuella said. “That’s why he was so glad to get Tarik to move out. Cristov almost found out once, you know.”

  “Why is your father so worried?” Kindan blurted.

  Nuella scowled, and shook her head angrily. “He’s afraid that we’ll be shunned,” she said bitterly.

  “Shunned? But you’ve done nothing wrong,” Kindan said, wondering why the ultimate punishment—expulsion from society—could even be considered.

  “Not like that,” Nuella corrected him. “His mother was blind, too. There aren’t that many blind people, you know.”

  Kindan nodded, then said, “I know.”

  “Well,” Nuella went on, “I heard him and Mother talking about it several times. Arguing, really. My father’s afraid that people will wonder what’s wrong with him, if his children are blind. And they won’t trust him. And he’s afraid that no one will marry Dalor.” With a catch in her voice, she added, “He doesn’t think I’ll ever get married.”

  “So he wants to keep you a secret?” Kindan asked. Nuella nodded. “I don’t see how. Master Zist knows, I know, and Zenor knows. It was a wonder others didn’t figure it out the other day.”

  Nuella snorted. “Some people who have perfectly good eyes only see what they want,” she said. “I usually wear clothes to match Dalor’s. Once Milla brushed right by me without even noticing.”

  “And what a choice bit of gossip she’d make of you,” Kindan replied.

  “She would, indeed,” Nuella agreed, adding bitterly, “And then Uncle Tarik would spread the gossip throughout the camp. ‘If he can’t make decent children, what sort of miner can he be?’ ”

  Kindan considered her words carefully. He could see Tarik saying such spiteful things, and he could imagine there would be some who would listen. Certainly Tarik’s cronies would. And they’d repeat the gossip. And, if anything went wrong, like the bad air in the hold, there’d always be some who would start believing the gossip.

  “All the same, you’re going to be found out sometime,” Kindan said.

  Nuella nodded. “I’ve been telling Father that ever since we came up here. And I want to get out. But he keeps telling me to wait until the right time. He had hopes—before the cave-in . . .”

  Kindan felt his throat tighten as he remembered all that had been lost in that cave-in. Master Zist had kept him so busy that it was only in his sleep—his nightmares—that he remembered the past, and his family.

  “There’s a Gather tonight,” Kindan said. “I’ve got to get over there.”

 
“I won’t hear it if I stay here,” Nuella said, downcast. She held up her fingers, which were dotted with tiny pinpricks. “Mother says that everyone does this. I’m not sure—”

  “Oh, they do!” Kindan said reassuringly. “I saw Zenor with the same pinpricks—diaper pins, right?—with his sisters.”

  Kindan could tell that his words had relieved Nuella’s fears. One thing bothered him, though. “How long has Zenor known?”

  “Oh, since the first sevenday we moved here,” Nuella said with a grin. “He fell off the fence when he was trying to get away from Cristov and hurt himself pretty badly.” She made a face. “I heard him crying. I couldn’t just leave him there for Cristov to find and probably kick, so I bundled him up to my room and bandaged him up and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  Kindan made a rueful face. “Well, your secret’s safe with him, that’s for sure. I’m his best friend and he never told me.”

  “Good,” Nuella said firmly, causing Kindan to glance up at her. “He wouldn’t be much of a friend if he couldn’t even keep a secret from you, would he?”

  “Well . . .”

  Nuella nodded. “I see, you think that because he’s your friend he should tell you all his secrets, is that it?”

  Kindan’s frown grew more thoughtful. “Well . . .”

  “But now you know that anything you’ve ever told him he’s kept secret—even from me,” Nuella pointed out.

  That thought cheered Kindan up. “Wait a minute! It was you who threw those rocks when we were cleaning Dask! You warned us. But how did you know . . .”

  “There’s a difference between keeping a secret and keeping out of sight,” Nuella said primly. She giggled. “Or out of hearing. I may not see, but I can hear better than anyone in the camp. And I can smell better, too.”

  Kindan didn’t say anything so Nuella continued, “I heard you and Zenor talking. I heard what you were talking about. I wanted to help you, but I hadn’t been invited and I wasn’t supposed to let anyone know about me so—”

  “You hid out and listened in,” Kindan finished. He flashed a smile at Nuella that faded as he realized she couldn’t see it, but her hand reached out toward his face, found his lips, and traced lightly over them.

  “People think that you can’t hear someone smiling,” she said, her fingers still on Kindan’s lips. “Maybe it’s not really hearing, either, but I can feel it somehow.” She drew her fingers back. “I always thought you’d have a nice smile,” she said. “I was right.”

  “Thanks,” Kindan said, feeling a bit awkward. He found himself touching his own lips, as though feeling them for the first time. “But I’ve got to get over to the Gather. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

  In the end, they used the Harper’s clothes basket. A brightly colored robe and a hat made Nuella look like she might as easily be a trader or a miner. At Nuella’s urging, Kindan applied a bit of makeup to darken her skin color.

  “Make sure you bring some pipes,” she said as they headed out the door.

  “I don’t play pipes,” Kindan protested.

  “I do,” Nuella replied with a grin.

  They arrived just as the great hall was being set up. Master Zist and Trader Tarri were parked in a corner with a plate of Milla’s best dainties and a jug of good klah close at hand. Master Zist’s eyes widened as he saw Kindan’s companion. Kindan gave him a don’t-worry look, to which the Harper replied with an I’d-better-not-have-to grimace.

  Kindan helped Nuella up onto the table where he’d performed the evening before, settled her on a stool somewhat behind him, and set up his own drums.

  “I’d like to hear your pipes, Nuella,” Kindan said.

  Nuella obligingly started into a lively little song. Master Zist looked up, caught sight of Nuella on the pipes, and gave Kindan another probing look. As the song came to the end, Kindan said to her, “That was great. How many more do you know?”

  “I’m best at that one,” Nuella admitted. “But Master Zist has had me practice on four others.”

  Kindan nodded to himself. “Well then, I’ll make you earn your keep. I’ll start with the drums and when I’m tired, I’ll ask you to do a song. I won’t ask you to do more than one song for my three, can you do that?”

  “I can,” Nuella said. “But I’ve never had to play for very long.”

  “You’ll find that if you get enough rest in between sets you can play as long as they’ll let you,” Kindan assured her. Nuella smiled and Kindan was struck by how much she looked like her brother—only prettier. Her sharp blue eyes really lit up when her cheeks curved in a smile.

  Kindan bent closer to her and said for her ears alone, “Sometimes I’ll want to leave you for a bit so that I can hear what people are saying. There are things they’d say when they don’t know anyone’s listening that they’d never share with the Harper.”

  Nuella nodded. “It’s a pity the place will be so crowded,” she said. “I can hear much better than you.”

  “I’ll bet you can,” Kindan agreed. “And if you listen in when I’m playing and tell me what you hear later, I’d be grateful.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  The first hour went marvelously. Every time Kindan caught sight of Master Zist’s eyes, it was only to get a cheerful wave or nod. Nuella’s piping was a great relief for Kindan, who mingled with the crowd—mostly women and younger folk—and caught tidbits of gossip as he did.

  He was pleased to discover that everyone thought Dara lucky to have four apprentices put up in her place. A sour note was Dara herself who, as Kindan had expected, had discovered that Tarik was not thrilled to see his privacy so eroded. Kindan suppressed a smile at the thought of Tarik’s displeasure.

  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.”