“Of course,” Nerra replied, racing away. “Shall I use the emergency signal two or three times?”
“Three,” Fenner called after her. Without pausing, Nerra acknowledged him with a wave of her hand and was gone.
“Thank you,” Moran said with feeling. The emergency signal was repeated three times only in a Pern-wide emergency.
“We’ll see if you still feel that way later,” Fenner said. He gave Moran a sour look. “Your name came up not too long ago, as I recall.”
Moran raised an eyebrow. “My lord?”
“Yes, a poor man named Nikal swore a complaint on you,” Fenner said. “Said he’d paid you for a month’s Cromcoal and never got it.” Fenner paused, watching Moran’s face carefully. “When he told me that you’d claimed to be one of my harpers, I felt obliged to fill his lack.”
“I had hoped—” Moran began but Fenner cut him off with a raised hand.
“The issue will be between you and the Masterharper,” Fenner told him. “For which you should be grateful; I’ve Shunned men for stealing.”
“It was for the children,” Moran explained.
“You should have come to me,” Fenner replied.
Moran shook his head, confused, and momentarily lost for words. He licked his lips and winced. “They were Shunned.”
Marta came back at that moment with a wet washcloth. Fenner smiled at the child and directed her toward Moran. She handed him the washcloth and darted away, an action that spoke of no great affection for the harper. Fenner’s frown was unseen by Moran, who was busy wiping the blood off his face.
When Moran had finished cleaning himself up, Lord Fenner said, “I think there will be some time before we get a response. Why don’t you rest for a while?”
“Thank you, lord,” Moran said, rising slowly to his feet. Upright, he was surprised to find himself swaying with shock and fatigue. “I could use it.”
“Kindan, Kindan,” a voice shouted urgently in his ear. “They’re calling for you.”
Blearily Kindan opened his eyes to find Kelsa hovering over him, shaking him into wakefulness.
“Didn’t you hear the drums?” Kelsa continued.
Kindan shook his head. He had been up through the night and well into the next day before he and Kelsa had been dismissed by an ecstatic Zist to catch what sleep they could. Judging by the light from Kelsa’s glow, it was still dark out.
“News from Crom,” Kelsa told him. “A triple emergency, help for Master Aleesa.”
Kindan was on his feet so fast that Kelsa had to jerk her head back.
“Master Aleesa?” he cried. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s ill.”
“They’ll want me,” Kindan said, fumbling for the door.
On his second attempt, Kelsa pushed him aside. “Let me,” she said. As he stumbled out the door, she grabbed him, saying, “Maybe I’d better come along.”
Kindan nodded a quick thanks. It was moments before the thought struck him that Kelsa usually did everything she could to avoid the attention of the Masterharper.
When they arrived at the Masterharper’s quarters, Kelsa reverted to form and thrust Kindan inside before she could be noticed.
Kindan was not surprised to see that Master Zist was already there, but he was surprised to see another older person in the room.
If Zist was old, and Murenny older, this man was ancient.
His hair was completely white and thinning. Bright, light blue eyes stared out of a face that was lined with creases: crow’s feet at the edges of the eyes, and pain lines around the mouth.
“Mikal?” Kindan guessed, surprised that the Harper Hall’s famous recluse had deigned to emerge from his crystal cave. Mikal, once dragonrider M’kal, had made a place for himself in a cavern, shunning the more boisterous atmosphere of the Harper Hall itself. The ex-dragonrider had devoted himself to the study of healing and had become a master in his own right, developing his own brand of healing arts, which relied mostly on crystals, physical exercises, and meditation. His techniques were unique to the Harper Hall. Many otherwise incurable injuries had been overcome with his practices.
“Yes.”
“You’re late,” Master Zist said, motioning for Kindan to grab a seat. “I was expecting you minutes ago.”
Kindan took the indicated seat and apologized. “I was tired.”
“Hmph! Tired while we old men keep longer hours than you?” Murenny snorted.
“He knows this Aleesa?” Mikal asked, gesturing to Kindan.
“Not well, my lord,” Kindan answered quickly. “I met her once, Turns back, when I got my watch-wher egg.”
“I have just been informed about the watch-whers,” Mikal said, shaking his head. A strange, pained look flashed across his face as he added, “I hadn’t really thought about them much.”
“According to Moran’s message, Aleesa’s queen is the last of the gold watch-whers,” Zist said. His tone suggested that he was continuing a discussion that had begun before Kindan’s arrival. “If she dies—”
Mikal ignored him, turning to Kindan. “Zist tells me that you broke bonds with your watch-wher.”
Kindan took a moment to process the ex-dragonrider’s words before he nodded. “It was an emergency. Unless she let Nuella bond with her, the miners would have died.”
Mikal nodded as he absorbed Kindan’s response. “So, wouldn’t it be possible for the queen to bond with someone else?”
Kindan shrugged. “Maybe.”
“So you’re saying you won’t go?” Murenny pressed. “Because the queen might re-bond?”
“No, I’ll go,” Mikal replied. He nodded to Kindan, “He comes, too.”
It took the cold of between to rouse Kindan out of his fatigue-induced haze, but what really woke him up was the dragon’s dizzying descent in full darkness.
“I’ll wait here,” the dragonrider told them after they alighted. Kindan guessed that the rider’s behavior was more in deference to Mikal than for any concern for the wherholders. “The watch-wher knows you’re coming,” he added with a hint of humor in his voice.
“Why the laugh?” Mikal asked.
“The watch-wher was surprised that a dragon could make a night flight,” the rider replied, chuckling.
“They see in the dark,” Kindan said.
“So do dragons,” the rider replied with pride in his voice.
“Well, I don’t see well,” Mikal said, grabbing Kindan’s shoulder. “I hope you see better, miner’s son.”
“The last time I was here was in daylight,” Kindan said defensively.
He need not have worried, for his night vision was good and he quickly found a way into the wherhold.
“Which one of you is the healer?” The woman’s voice startled them.
“I have some understanding of the art,” Mikal replied. “The lad carries supplies.”
A man’s voice spoke out from a different location—behind them. “Where’s Moran?”
“Crom,” Kindan replied. “He was intercepted by a Telgar rider and brought before Lord Fenner for judgment.”
“He sent word to the Harper Hall,” Mikal added, “and Master Murenny asked me to come.”
“What about the boy?” the man asked suspiciously.
“I was once bonded to a watch-wher,” Kindan said.
“Once?” the woman snorted derisively. “How’d you lose it?”
“Kisk bonded with Nuella and is now Nuelsk,” Kindan replied, surprised at the anger in his response.
No words were spoken but Kindan felt the atmosphere change from dangerous suspicion to cautious respect.
“If you don’t want us here, we’ll leave,” Mikal said, turning around.
“Wait!” the woman called desperately. A dim light suddenly emerged in front of them. “Follow the glow.”
In short order they found themselves being led through a set of canvas doors into a room lit dimly by red coals. The woman holding the glows handed them off to another woman.
/> “I’m Arella,” the woman said. “Aleesa is my mother.”
The rustle of canvas behind them caused them to turn; a hard-faced man entered, his hand on the pommel of his dirk. Mikal stared at him for a long moment before the man removed his hand from his weapon and, instead, held it out in greeting. “I’m Jaythen.”
Mikal shook it quickly, then turned back to Arella. “Where’s your mother?” he asked, gesturing with a hand for Kindan to give him the pack of supplies.
“In there,” Arella said. Her eyes roved over the older man’s face seeking some sign of his skill. “You arrived quickly enough,” she said. “Moran said she’d be all right for a number of days.”
“He might be right,” Mikal said noncommittally. Gesturing politely for Arella to proceed him, he followed her into another chamber, muttering, “This is nice rock; I can feel the crystals in it.”
Kindan, relieved of his pack, turned slowly around the room, spotted a familiar crevice, and asked Jaythen, “Is that where Aleesk lives?”
Jaythen’s eyes narrowed in an instant of surprise, which he covered immediately with a derisive snort. “You don’t know much about watch-whers if you don’t know she’s out hunting; it’s night.”
“My watch-wher was a green; one of Aleesk’s,” Kindan said. He made a cheerful sound of greeting toward the crevice, so reminiscent of the noise he’d made over four Turns ago that he felt a moment of regretful memories.
Aleesk’s response from the crevice was no shock to Kindan, who merely turned back to Jaythen, saying, “I’d like to see her—she sounds worried.”
Jaythen looked at the young man with renewed interest mingled with respect. Kindan turned back toward the crevice. Jaythen’s hand on his shoulder startled him. The man spoke softly in his ear, saying, “Do you know what will happen if Aleesa dies?”
Kindan turned his head back to meet Jaythen’s eyes. “I do,” he said. “It’s hoped that I could bond with her.”
Jaythen nodded slowly. “Maybe you could,” he said after a moment. His expression softened and he added, “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“So do I,” Kindan agreed fervently. “This is something I think Nuella would be much better at.”
He turned his head back, squared his shoulders, and walked into the watch-wher’s lair.
Much later, Kindan was awoken by steps and a voice calling in awe, “She’s a real queen.”
It was Mikal. Kindan looked up from where he lay near the queen watch-wher and felt tentatively with his thoughts—had Aleesa passed on in the night? Was Aleesk now bonded to him?
“She is all right,” Mikal assured Kindan. “Moran was right to send for feverfew and wiser to ask for help. He didn’t understand some of the subtler issues.”
Kindan nodded. Until the other day, he’d known nothing of Zist’s missing journeyman but he knew much of Mikal and the ex-dragonrider’s renowned abilities as a healer.
Mikal looked around the dimly lit chamber with interest, turning this way and that, reverently feeling the rock walls.
“There is good rock here,” he announced. He turned back to Kindan. “I will stay here. The rock is good, and the watch-whers are pleasant company.”
Kindan was startled; he’d thought that Mikal would always be a fixture of the Harper Hall. But Mikal was lured by rocks and crystals and—
“Do you know of a different firestone?” he blurted suddenly.
“A different firestone?” Mikal repeated blankly. “Why do you think there is a different firestone?”
“Because the records speak of fire-lizards chewing it on the shore of the Southern Continent,” Kindan told him. He wondered why neither he, nor Master Zist, nor even the Masterharper himself hadn’t thought of asking the ex-dragonrider.
In an instant he knew why.
Mikal sank against the floor, his legs suddenly weak. Kindan moved to help but the old man waved him away. Feebly, he explained, “My dragon died from a firestone explosion.” He searched Kindan’s face. “Are you saying that there is a safer firestone?”
“Maybe it was all used up,” Kindan said in a vain effort to ease the pain so evident in Mikal’s eyes. He had heard of the bond between dragon and rider, but he’d never thought it was so strong that tens of Turns later the loss would still cause so great a pain. This was nothing like the feeling he’d had when his watch-wher had bonded with Nuella.
Mikal’s look demanded more.
“The Records said that fire-lizards ate firestone on the shore,” Kindan said again.
Mikal shook his head in disbelief. “The sea air alone would destroy the firestone, to say nothing of sea spray and the tide.”
“That was my thought,” Kindan said. “But why were they called fire-lizards? They won’t eat firestone.”
“They won’t?” Mikal repeated faintly in surprise. His brow knotted in thought. “If there was a different firestone, then you’d know because a fire-lizard would eat it. Look for the stones that fire-lizards eat.”
“Fire-lizards are hard to find,” Kindan said. “There are a few at the Harper Hall. Fort’s Lord has a new clutch.”
“Pellar had a fire-lizard,” Mikal said. “Send for him.”
“Pellar?” Kindan said. He shook his head. “We don’t know where he is.”
Mikal shook his head. “Finding fire-lizards is easy enough, it’s finding this firestone of yours that will be hard, if it exists.”
“Maybe they couldn’t find it in the north,” Kindan suggested.
“Maybe,” Mikal agreed dubiously. Then he brightened. “But you know where it was, so you could go there.”
“Go to the Southern Continent?” Kindan asked warily. Everyone knew that the Southern Continent was unsafe: That was why the colonists had moved to the northern continent nearly five hundred Turns ago. He mulled over the thought. “Perhaps we could go just to find a sample.”
“Wouldn’t the Masterminer be able to tell you where to find this firestone here, once you had a sample for him?” Mikal asked.
“I don’t know,” Kindan said, then shrugged in apology for contradicting the old man. “It’s just that the records seem to show that firestone mining has been dangerous for several hundred Turns. If there was a safer firestone, we’d be mining it.”
“Unless the only ones who could tell had died,” Mikal said.
“It would have been an accident, most likely,” Kindan said. “Perhaps they discovered a vein of our firestone and it blew up before they realized their mistake.”
Mikal mulled the suggestion over. “Perhaps.”
Kindan was intrigued with the notion. “If they didn’t know about our type of firestone, they’d never know their peril.”
“And if the fire-lizards’ firestone was impervious to water, they might have dowsed the new firestone with water without realizing the danger,” Mikal said.
Kindan had a horrific image of miners using water to clean a wall of rock only to have it explode in a sheet of flame, extinguishing them in a terrifying instant.
“But why wouldn’t the next miners have simply gotten a new sample from one of the Weyrs?” Kindan wondered.
Mikal shook his head. “We’ll never know.
“And we’ll never know if there is such a firestone until someone gets a sample from the Southern Continent.” He pushed himself upright and turned determinedly toward the entrance. “We must talk with the dragonrider.”
CHAPTER II
In your Hold you are secure
from perils that the dragons endure.
’Tis your duty, ’tis their due
You give to them, they shelter you.
HIGH REACHES WEYR, AL 495.8
Cristov had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He was in a meeting with the Weyrleader of High Reaches Weyr and all his wingleaders: the Masterharper of Pern; Master Zist; a grizzled old healer named Mikal who was treated with awe by the dragonriders; Toldur’s widow, Alarra; and Kindan. The grouping of so many august personages had been so
frightening that Sonia had avoided it, which only increased Cristov’s own sense of alarm.
Of all them, Kindan made him feel most uncomfortable. However he tried, Kindan could not quite keep his eyes from Cristov’s injuries. If he hadn’t been so obviously understanding and sympathetic, Cristov might have hit him.
If Kindan had just looked a bit smug, Cristov probably would have. But Kindan looked even more apprehensive than Cristov felt.
“So you want us to go to the Southern Continent, from which our ancestors fled, to search for a firestone that fire-lizards will chew?” B’ralar asked, summarizing Kindan’s report.
Kindan flushed and nodded. “Yes, sir—I mean, my lord,” he said in a small voice.
“I think he’s right,” Mikal said. “For myself, I shudder to think how many have suffered needlessly if this is so.”
“But what if this firestone is only good for fire-lizards?” one of the wingleaders protested. “What then?”
“The only way to know is for a dragon to test it,” another observed.
“I’ll do it,” D’vin declared. “Hurth is willing.”
B’ralar pursed his lips. “We don’t have that many bronzes.”
D’vin pointed at Cristov. “And we’ve even fewer miners.”
B’ralar glanced at Cristov and Alarra sitting beside him, sighed, and nodded in agreement. “Very well,” he said. “I approve this journey.”
“You know,” Murenny said thoughtfully, “even if we find this new firestone here in the north, who’s going to mine it?”
“I’ll mine it,” Cristov declared.
B’ralar gave him a troubled look. “There’s a Hatching soon; you should stay here.”
For a moment Cristov’s eyes lit with joy. The Weyrleader was offering him a chance to Impress a dragon!
“I’ll go,” Alarra said. “I owe it to Toldur’s memory.”
Cristov nodded. “I’ll go,” he said. He met the Weyrleader’s startled look. “I owe it to Toldur, and I owe it for my father.”
“Even that won’t be enough, just the two of you,” Kindan objected, somewhat surprised by his own jealous reaction to B’ralar’s implied offer to Cristov. “You need a shift of ten to do any serious work.”
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