Beside him, the Lady Holder cleared her throat loudly. Lord Bemin glanced quickly at her.
“Ah…yes,” Lord Bemin said suddenly. “And there is one other thing, if you could.”
“I am at your service,” Master Murenny replied.
“Would it be possible to get a list of those holders and crafters who have bronze fire-lizards?”
“Father!” Koriana shouted in protest.
Lord Bemin held up his hand consolingly, shaking his head at his eldest daughter. “Now dear, we’ve discussed this already and you know that it makes sense.”
“Really, you must at least know what the possibilities are,” Lady Bemin added.
Kindan glanced nervously around the room, wishing he were elsewhere.
“I am not sure we have that information either,” Masterharper Murenny confessed to the Lord Holder. “However,” he said with a glance toward Kindan, “I feel certain that we can add that to our list of inquiries.”
Lord Bemin nodded, but the glance that he cast at Kindan was not a happy one.
Master Murenny realized that the conversation was over and stood up. “If there’s any other way that I can help you, my Lord Holder, please let me know immediately.” He gestured them toward the door.
At the entrance, however, he turned to Koriana and said, “Perhaps you would like to begin your studies today?”
Koriana looked inquiringly between her two parents. Lord and Lady Bemin exchanged looks, and finally Lady Bemin nodded.
“Of course, dear,” said Fort’s Lady Holder. “When shall we expect you back?”
By now, the toddler, whom Lady Sannora had been shifting from hip to hip, had grown impatient and was starting to make irritated noises.
“I should probably be back in time for lunch,” Koriana said, looking at Kindan and Masterharper Murenny for approval.
“Of course,” the Master said, “you could always eat with us.”
“Oh, no!” Lady Sannora said hastily. “You really must come back and eat with us, Koriana.”
Koriana fought successfully to keep a triumphant grin from her face as she nodded in acquiescence to her mother; she had succeeded in maneuvering her parents into letting her stay till lunchtime without them even realizing.
Masterharper Murenny looked back at Vaxoram, who was following the rear of the party. “Vaxoram, would you please lead Lady Koriana down to Master Archivist Resler?”
Vaxoram nodded and gestured for Koriana to precede him.
“Kindan,” Murenny said, “please remain here, while I escort the Lord and Lady Holder.”
Kindan nodded, somewhat perplexed. He raised his hand in a partial wave toward Koriana but dropped it again quickly as he noticed Fort’s Lady Holder glaring at him. Waiting in the room by himself, he walked to the large windows and looked down to see Master Murenny guiding the Lord and Lady Holders through the archway of the Harper Hall.
If things hadn’t seemed so odd, Kindan would have thought that this was the best day of his life. However, the undercurrents of the conversation between the Masterharper and the Lord and Lady Holder disturbed Kindan. Did the Holders really not trust their own harper?
Could it be that Lord Holder Bemin did not trust harpers at all?
Kindan’s stomach grumbled. Kindan looked around the Masterharper’s quarters and noticed the tray of dainties that had been brought up—probably, he guessed, for the Lord and Lady of Fort Hold. They won’t miss this, he thought as he helped himself to a dainty. He quickly gulped it down and helped himself to another, listening carefully for the sound of returning footsteps.
They came after Kindan’s third dainty. The door opened and Masterharper Murenny stepped inside, glancing over at Kindan as he did so.
“Well, what did you think of that?” Murenny asked Kindan. He glanced at the tray of dainties and smiled. “Ah, I see that you have used your time profitably!”
Kindan felt his cheeks reddening, but could only nod.
“Have another,” the Masterharper said.
Gratefully, Kindan obeyed, then glanced nervously at the Masterharper, remembering that he had been asked his opinion and feeling torn between filling his stomach and answering the Master. Murenny smiled and waved him on.
“No, no! Eat first,” the Master told him firmly. “It’s always important to think on a full stomach.” He leaned across and helped himself to a dainty. “I think I shall take my own advice.”
Chewing, he reached over to the pitcher of klah and poured two cups. He passed one to Kindan courteously and then drank deeply from the other. For several moments they ate together, in a slightly awkward but companionable silence.
“Now,” the Masterharper said as he finished the last of his klah. “Are you ready to tell me your thoughts?”
Kindan could only shrug.
“Well then, just tell me your impressions.”
Kindan thought for a moment, then blurted out, “Does he not trust the Fort harper?”
The Masterharper motioned for him to continue.
“Well…,” Kindan said consideringly, “it seemed rather odd that he would ask to have someone else trained in the drum codes.”
“Ah, you thought so, too,” Murenny said.
“And why would he want to know about bronze fire-lizards?”
“Why do you think, Kindan?” the Masterharper asked softly.
Kindan frowned sourly. He was afraid he knew exactly why. He remembered with a mixture of fondness and anger the Impression of Valla and Koriss nearly half a Turn back.
He remembered the looks of outrage and horror when Koriana’s newly hatched Koriss frightened away the two last hatchlings—both males—that her brothers would have Impressed, as though the little queen had not wanted to mate with bronzes owned by her own owner’s brothers. Kindan was amazed by the fire-lizard’s actions, but not entirely surprised at her reasoning: The intense emotions of fire-lizards mating were shared by their human partners just as dragons shared their mating lust with their riders.
Kindan’s own reaction to the beautiful Koriana had been enough to cause him many sleepless nights. Even now he sometimes woke with the smell of her hair or shards of her half-wistful, half-joking smile lingering from his dreams.
“Is Lord Bemin afraid that Koriss might mate with Valla?” Kindan asked anxiously.
“Koriana is of an age to be married,” Murenny agreed indirectly. “It would not do for there to be any indiscretions on her part.”
“That’s not fair!” Kindan shouted. “I fought Vaxoram because it’s wrong for a woman to be judged—”
“Kindan,” Murenny’s voice was so soft it demanded Kindan’s instant attention. “Consider her choices.”
“She could do anything,” Kindan said. “She’s good at making beads, she made a harness for Koriss and one for Valla here,” he said, pointing to Valla’s brilliant bead harness marking him as belonging to an apprentice of the Harper Hall. He’d been thrilled and a little apprehensive when she’d presented the pretty harness to him during their fire-lizard training together—he hoped he would fulfill her expectations of him. Everyone had assumed that Kindan would know all about fire-lizard training, seeing as he’d had a watch-wher.
“Do you think that she would be content, who has known servants and finery, to exist on the income of a simple harper?” Murenny asked him seriously.
Kindan sat in silence, mulling over the question. Finally he asked in despair, “Are you saying that she has no choice?”
Murenny shook his head. “No, not at all. I am merely pointing out that for her some choices will be easier than others.”
“Don’t her parents want her to be happy?”
“I think they do,” Murenny said. “And I think that she would be happiest living the life to which she has grown accustomed.”
“A broodmare for Holders?” Kindan snapped, shaking his head and all the while wondering at his outraged words to the Masterharper. He’d never felt so angry and so out of control before.
“But there has to be more for a woman!” Kindan protested.
“Perhaps you are mistaken about what you believe a mother should be,” Murenny replied. “I think that being a parent is the greatest challenge and greatest joy of all occupations.”
“I—” Kindan cut himself off, thinking. Wasn’t he something of a big brother to Kelsa and Nonala? And even Verilan. Their well-being meant a lot to him. He could never imagine himself as a father, that prospect was Turns away and more, but perhaps he could see…
“It just seems so unfair,” Kindan ended lamely.
“I understand,” the Masterharper said. Kindan glanced up at him sharply. Was the rumor true? Had the Master once been in love with Sannora?
“Why doesn’t Lord Bemin trust harpers?” Kindan asked, feeling emboldened.
Murenny took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “Let us just say that Lord Bemin wishes he had more control over the Harper Hall and leave it at that.”
Kindan nodded, not feeling any more enlightened than he’d been before he asked his question.
“Now,” Murenny said, changing the subject, “what I need you to do is keep an eye on young Conar; teach Koriana the drum codes without”—he wagged a finger at Kindan and raised a bushy eyebrow warningly—“upsetting her mother; and help her with her writing.”
Kindan nodded. Fortunately, Koriss and Valla were probably still too young for a mating flight; that would certainly qualify as “upsetting her mother.” Then a thought struck him, sparked by Master Murenny’s mention of writing. “What would make it difficult for people to read in dim light?”
Murenny cocked his head thoughtfully and frowned for a moment before responding, “There are several things that could do that. The person could have poor eyesight—not as bad as your friend Nuella’s, obviously, but poor all the same.” Kindan nodded in understanding. “Or the person could have difficulty in reading altogether,” Murenny continued. He glanced up at Kindan. “Do you know this person well?”
Kindan nodded. Murenny glanced at him for a moment longer, giving Kindan a chance to supply him with a name, but when it was not forthcoming, the Masterharper continued, “One way to check on this is to see if the person has trouble distinguishing between b’s and d’s or u’s and n’s, m’s and w’s. Another way is to see if the person has difficulty with the same word on a different Record.
“Such a difficulty is not uncommon and often indicates a great degree of intelligence and ability,” the Masterharper said. “People who have difficulty reading often find it difficult to remember tables of multiplication and addition but find it easy to remember songs, particularly those with catchy tunes, no matter how difficult the words.” He pursed his lips as he trolled his memory, then brightened as he recalled, “Some of these people are great song-writers or artists.”
“Conar brought some colored pencils with him,” Kindan offered suddenly.
“Did he?” Murenny replied. “Perhaps we should encourage him in drawing.”
“But I thought harpers were supposed to sing, teach, and write,” Kindan protested.
“‘Harpers master many instruments,’” Murenny reminded him with another wagging finger. “We are not above adding more to our cache. Who knows when a drawing might prove vital to the safety of Pern.”
Kindan gave the harper a look of incredulity, quickly erased as he recalled to whom he was speaking—if anyone could, the Masterharper would be the one to dictate what was acceptable in a harper.
“But most of all, Kindan,” the harper said, returning to the original topic, “you must discover what you can in the Records.”
Kindan nodded emphatically in agreement, then frowned. Murenny gestured for him to speak. “What about my classes?”
“I think we can safely excuse you from song and instrument making for the moment,” the Masterharper said with a slight grin. Kindan looked crestfallen and Murenny held up a hand. “Not forever, mind you! Sometimes a change is all that’s needed for a fresh perspective.”
Murenny’s words must have provoked some new thought, for the Masterharper frowned for a moment before continuing.
“Indeed, I think I’ll ask that you spend time with Healer Lenner as well.” Before Kindan could protest, Murenny continued, “I know you’ve learned a lot from Mikal and I think it wouldn’t hurt at your level of experience to learn some more traditional lore.”
“I don’t want to be a healer,” Kindan said.
“And you don’t have to be,” Murenny replied. “But all harpers know a bit of healing and you already know more than most. It would be foolish not to add to your store, especially as it may aid you in your search of the Records.”
“Yes, Master,” Kindan agreed, accepting the Masterharper’s points. “And what if this flu spreads?”
“That’s why your search of the Records is vital,” Murenny replied. “We must know what to expect.”
CHAPTER 7
When sickness comes to craft and hold
It is the healer, oh so bold
Who spends his hours in endless toil
Working for illness and death to foil.
HARPER HALL
It’s just a lot of useless old Records!” Conar complained, sniffling mightily as he flounced around in the small room designated as their work area. “Honestly, Kindan, I’ll fall asleep going over them.”
“Don’t,” Kindan told him. “Master Resler has a quick hand for those he finds slouching.”
“He does,” Vaxoram agreed, stretching in his chair and bending back to his Record. Kindan noticed that once again, Vaxoram’s eyes hadn’t moved from the top of the Record. He made it a point every day to surreptitiously check on the older apprentice’s work, not having figured out yet what to do with his knowledge of Vaxoram’s problem. But that was for later, Kindan reminded himself.
Kindan bent more closely over his Record, ignoring the older boy. Resler had already berated him twice for slackness and Kindan could think of no way to tell the Master that he had been working, particularly when half his time had been spent either listening to Conar moan or cajoling the older Vaxoram to work.
“You’ll want to take slices from each of the various Hold Records,” Verilan had told him when they’d started. Verilan had stayed only long enough to get them properly started before Resler had put him onto the task of recopying the Records that had been so inauspiciously destroyed by Kindan’s earlier accident.
The Archive Room was a huge cavern dug into the base of the cliff that overlooked the Harper Hall, crammed full of Records. Glows provided light for the room, although it seemed to Kindan that there were never enough to clear out the darkest shadows. Even as huge as the room was, Kindan had been surprised that the Harper Hall had so many of the Holds’ Records.
“Of course we do!” Verilan had snorted in surprise when Kindan had mentioned it. “Harpers usually make copies and send them to us as a matter of course,” Verilan had explained, surprised that he even needed to explain the procedure. “Holders rarely keep Records for more than fifty Turns, so they send us those, too,” Verilan had continued, adding with a shake of his head, “when they remember.” Kindan gave him a quizzical look and Verilan explained in a horrified tone, “Sometimes they actually destroy their old Records.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Conar had asked sourly, punctuated with another cough. “They’re nothing but useless old relics.”
“They’re Records,” Verilan had replied, offended to the very depth of his being. “How would anyone know what had happened in previous Turns without them?”
Conar had given Verilan a scornful look and turned away.
Now, a sevenday after they’d been given the assignment, Kindan could partly agree with Verilan—and partly with Conar. The Records were a collection of the most boring things he’d eve
r read coupled with tantalizing sections that made Kindan wish for more. Why, for example, when the Lord Holder of Igen had first discovered that his wells were running dry, hadn’t he started planting hardier, more drought-resistant crops instead of foolishly reducing his acreage and ultimately starving his entire Hold? What had happened that caused the traders to start charging Bitra Hold—and only Bitra Hold—a surtax on all goods delivered?
Neither of those questions had come from a strict reading of the Records but from Kindan’s memory and interpolation. He remembered reading about the lowered water levels and then about the reduced plantings; he noticed suddenly that there were entries in the Bitra Hold Records regarding the trader surtax and noticed that there was no mention of them in the Records of Lemos nor Benden.
“Well, how do you know that Lemos and Benden hadn’t been paying the tax for Turns already?” Conar objected when Kindan had mentioned his findings. “And why wouldn’t the Lord Holder of Igen keep planting his best crops? How could he know that they were in a drought?”
Kindan, torn between astonishment at Conar’s obtuseness and his desire to press on with their work—and avoid Resler’s complaints—replied noncommittally, turning to a new Record.
Conar set aside the Record he’d been perusing and began noisily to examine the next.
“Huh! Someone left a scribble, here!” Conar exclaimed. “And here! Neither look like proper Records.” He turned to Kindan. “I can’t see how you expect to find anything from Records when the Harper Hall keeps the works of children.”
Kindan’s initial angry look dissolved into a frown as he recalled that Conar was going through the old Benden Hold Records. He got up from his workdesk and strode over to Conar’s.
“We’ll switch off,” he said, gesturing for Conar to change seats with him.
Conar rose eagerly, happily seating himself in front of Kindan’s much smaller pile. With a frown, he warned, “You’ll want to catch up before Master Resler returns.”
Kindan nodded in agreement, turning to the Records. Conar was right, the writing of the Records was very poor. He turned back two Records and saw that the writing was far more legible: a fairly large print that Kindan could read easily by the light of the glows surrounding his new desk.
Anne Mccaffrey_ Dragonriders of Pern 20 Page 13