The cold of between was also in the air they brought with them from the Harper Hall, the moisture frozen out into a rainbow of ice crystals that surrounded Gaminth and his riders until they dropped through it when the bronze dragon dove steeply into the Weyr Bowl.
Gaminth landed deftly, but Kindan was still so numb physically and emotionally that he nearly fell from his perch on the dragon, slamming awkwardly against Vaxoram and managing to stay on the dragon’s back only with the help of Vaxoram’s steadying hand.
Mortified, he swiftly clambered off the dragon. After he helped Vaxoram down, he stood in to help Koriana only to be elbowed aside by the older harper.
“My job’s to serve you, and you’re likely to drop her,” Vaxoram told him curtly.
Hurt, Kindan stood back and watched enviously as Vaxoram gently caught Koriana in his strong arms and lowered her to the Weyr Bowl.
“Come on, I’ll show you the Records room,” M’tal called as soon as he hopped down from his dragon. He led a brisk pace up two flights of stone stairs and turned right, leading through the first doorway.
The room was stacked full of Records, with many more stacked awkwardly in dark alcoves. Dim morning light from the Bowl shone in from a window cut in the far side of the room.
“Kindan,” M’tal ordered, “come with me and we’ll get some klah and glows.”
Out of breath, Kindan turned immediately and started to follow M’tal only to be stopped by Vaxoram, who said to the Weyrleader, “I am under vow to be with him at all times.”
M’tal pursed his lips, then nodded quickly. “Very well, you may come.” He glanced toward Koriana. “Will you get started?”
“Of course,” Koriana replied, her gaze reaching out to Kindan for a moment before she turned her head quickly away and began to search through the first stack of Records.
“By the Shell of Faranth!” M’tal swore to Kindan as they trotted down the stairs toward the Weyr Bowl. “What ever could you have been thinking of, Kindan?”
“I—”
“And you,” M’tal rounded on Vaxoram. “Didn’t you duel him for much the same reason?” Before Vaxoram could respond, he continued, “Don’t you know you can re-challenge him and win your honor?”
“He did nothing dishonorable,” Vaxoram declared hotly. “They were never out of my sight.”
Kindan looked at Vaxoram in surprise and then realized that the older harper had spoken the truth.
“Then why—?” Kindan began questioningly only to be cut off by M’tal who spoke with dawning comprehension, “Forsworn, you could not provide witness to Lord Bemin.”
“Yes, my lord,” Vaxoram agreed, glancing apologetically to Kindan.
“Thanks,” Kindan told Vaxoram feelingly.
“What for?” M’tal demanded. “With your honor in question, there’s no hope of having you come here.”
No hope? Kindan thought to himself. He had no chance of being posted to the Weyr? His heart could sink no further; he felt like it had frozen, stuck forever between.
They entered the Weyr’s large Kitchen Cavern. M’tal pointed peremptorily in one direction and moved in another, toward the hearth. “Kindan, get the glows while Vaxoram and I get a tray of food and a pitcher of klah.”
A number of dragonriders and weyrfolk looked up excitedly as the Weyrleader strode by, but he waved them back to their work.
A kindly weyrboy piled him up with fresh glows and Kindan moved much more slowly to catch up with the Benden Weyrleader and Vaxoram, who was carrying a tray of food, while M’tal carried a large pitcher of klah and several mugs.
The two harpers arrived out of breath outside the Records Room.
“Set up the glows,” M’tal instructed Kindan as he gestured to Vaxoram to place the tray on a free table to which he added the klah and mugs. He turned his attention to Koriana.
“You’ll sleep in our quarters just beyond the stairs if you need to,” M’tal told her. “You can use the necessary there, too.” He looked at the two boys. “You’ll sleep in the weyrling quarters, they’re empty now, and you can use the necessary there—that’s across the Bowl, so don’t wait if you need it.”
Vaxoram and Kindan nodded glumly, daunted at the prospect of crossing the Weyr Bowl so late at night, and when they were so tired. M’tal slapped his hands together briskly and stood up. “Very well, is there anything else you need?”
The three youths shook their heads.
“Then I’ll get on with my duties,” he told them. “I’ll be back soon.”
Koriana had already pulled several large stacks of Records and arranged them in front of chairs. Silently, she, Kindan, and Vaxoram took their places in front of the stacks.
“Three eighty-nine, right?” Koriana murmured as she turned over a Record.
“And three ninety,” Kindan agreed. “The third month.”
Koriana shook her head. “The Records I’ve pulled go back to the first month, just in case.”
“That’s a lot of reading,” Vaxoram grumbled.
“So let’s get to work,” Kindan replied, nudging him on the arm. Vaxoram gave him a look that, while obedient, reminded Kindan exactly how much “work” reading Records was for the older lad. But before Kindan could respond, Vaxoram bent over his Record, bringing a thin glow as close as he could.
Silence fell and stretched, disturbed only by the occasional rustle of a turned Record, or a disappointed grunt or irritated grumble.
“I thought that Weyr Records would be better than Hold Records,” Koriana murmured at one point. “But, except for notes about dragons and flaming, they’re not all that much different.”
“Here’s one about an exploding bag of firestone,” Vaxoram said, casting a glance at Kindan. “A weyrling and his rider went between. Another rider was badly burnt but survived.”
“Sounds like C’tov,” Kindan muttered to himself.
“Who?” Koriana asked, glancing up from her reading.
“C’tov,” Kindan said, looking back at her and shifting nervously in his chair. “He was the one who found the proper firestone.”
“He Impressed a dragon?” Vaxoram asked, giving Kindan a hurt look for not spreading such juicy gossip sooner. “Thanks for sharing.”
“I thought everyone knew,” Kindan said. “It happened such a long time ago.”
Vaxoram grunted and looked back down at his Record. Koriana gave Kindan a sympathetic smile which he returned in full. They held their gaze for a few moments more before, by mutual consent, they turned back to their work and silence descended once more.
The silence stretched on endlessly, became a companionable thing punctuated by the turning of musty Records and the creaks as they moved in their chairs or changed the way they rested their elbows on the table. At some point the silence became seductive, warm and enveloping, begging for rest and sleep.
A noise startled Kindan and he looked up to see Koriana’s head resting on the table, her blond hair covering her face. One of her hands had slid off the table, sliding a stack of Records with it. It was their rustling fall that Kindan had heard. He looked over to Vaxoram to find the older apprentice regarding him through sleep-lidded eyes.
“What do we do?” he asked Kindan.
“We can’t leave her here,” Kindan said. “We’ve got nothing to put over her to keep her warm.” He looked toward the Holder girl and called softly, “Koriana.” She made no motion. Louder he called, “Koriana.” She stirred, then settled once more. “Koriana!”
“Huh?” Koriana lifted her head blearily, then leaned back in her chair, a chagrined look on her face. “I’m all right, I must have dozed—”
“You should go to sleep,” Kindan told her.
“But the Records!” Koriana protested, bending down bleary-eyed in a feeble attempt to read.
“They’ll keep until the morning,” a voice called from the door. Koriana, Kindan, and Vaxoram whipped their heads around in surprise to see a woman in a nightgown standing in the doorway. She gesture
d toward Koriana. “I’m Salina. M’tal sent me to bring you to bed.”
Kindan rose instantly, and gesturing for Vaxoram to follow suit, bowed respectfully. “Weyrwoman,” he said hastily, “I had no idea—”
Salina cut him off with a smile and a shake of her head. “It’s far too late in the night for formalities, harper.” She gestured again to Koriana. “Come along, dear, you must be exhausted. “It’s nearly dawn.”
“Dawn?” Koriana repeated in surprise. “It doesn’t feel like it, my lady.”
“That’s because your body is still thinking it’s back at Fort Hold where the hour is only midnight,” Salina said. “Though that’s still late enough for all of you.”
As Koriana joined her, Salina told the other two, “Be careful going down the stairs and across the Bowl. It’s darkest before the dawn here, with the Bowl still in shadow.”
Kindan nodded.
“There are glows laid out in the weyrling quarters,” she told them. “Fresh-made beds, too.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Kindan replied, bowing once more. Salina smiled at him and, clasping Koriana by the hand, led the holder girl off to bed.
Kindan and Vaxoram followed them out of the Records Room and headed down the stairs, moving slowly with the aches from sitting too long in the same position. The air was cold in the Weyr Bowl and, as much as Kindan wanted to see more, he felt too tired to do more than muzzily register the notion.
“Weyrling quarters,” Vaxoram murmured to himself as they spotted the faint glow in the distance. “What would it be like to live there?”
Kindan could only shake his head in response.
Kindan woke early, when the weyrling barracks were just receiving the first rays of morning. He was still tired, but the new and different sounds of the Weyr had disturbed his sleep and piqued his curiosity. In the bunk nearest him, he could see the gleam of Vaxoram’s eyes, showing that he was also awake.
Valla was nestled up against Kindan’s back but rose into the air eagerly when he moved. With an inquisitive chirp, the fire-lizard flew out of the barracks. Off in search of food, Kindan guessed. As if in sympathy with the fire-lizard, Kindan’s stomach grumbled.
Across the way, Vaxoram rose from his bunk. They found the necessary and had quick showers, grateful that towels had been laid out for them in the otherwise empty weyrling quarters. They were even more surprised to see that clothes—slightly oversized—were hanging on hangers just below the towels. Kindan, for one, was glad that he wouldn’t be wearing the same clothes two days in a row. He was also glad to find some sweetgrass, which he rubbed on as antiperspirant.
Vaxoram, with a smug look, shaved.
They were quick enough, all the same, to exit the weyrling quarters with the sun only just a little further in the sky. As they crossed the Bowl to the Kitchen Cavern, Kindan spotted a strange shadow high up on the west side of the Bowl and turned to the east to determine its source.
“Star Stones,” Vaxoram said, following Kindan’s gaze. He pointed to a place high on the top of the western wall of the Weyr.
“I’ll bet that’s where they put the drums, too,” Kindan said.
“They’ll reverberate loudly in this Bowl,” Vaxoram agreed.
Kindan’s stomach grumbled again, as if in response to the larger Bowl’s emptiness, and the two harpers exchanged amused looks. Kindan lengthened his stride, eager to appease his stomach and get back to work.
They were almost there when Vaxoram spoke again, voicing something that had been obviously bothering him all across the Weyr Bowl. “What are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“You and Koriana,” Vaxoram replied.
“I don’t know,” Kindan told him.
“But you love her, right?” Vaxoram persisted. Kindan raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively. “I mean, I really think you love her or I would never have—”
Kindan smiled and bumped his fist on Vaxoram’s shoulder in recognition. “I never did thank you for that.”
“It was my duty,” Vaxoram answered stiffly.
“No,” Kindan corrected. “It wasn’t really.” He was silent for a moment. “So why did you do it?”
“I thought you loved her,” Vaxoram repeated.
“I do,” Kindan said, his heart fluttering. He regarded Vaxoram shrewdly and slowed almost to a stop. “So why did you do it?”
Vaxoram stifled an abrupt response, his face taking on a suffused look.
“Is there somebody you love?” Kindan asked softly, comprehension slowly dawning. “Is that why you did it?”
“That’s not why I did it,” Vaxoram said tensely.
“But there is someone,” Kindan said. He realized that that would explain much of Vaxoram’s behavior: He was trying to impress someone.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vaxoram snapped, abruptly stepping forward. “I’m as good as Shunned.”
“No, you’re not.”
“The best I’ll ever be is a bad apprentice,” Vaxoram declared despairingly. “I can hardly even read.”
“We’ll work on that,” Kindan promised.
“Why?” Vaxoram demanded. “And how?”
“There are Records in the Harper Hall or the Healer Hall,” Kindan replied. “Some of them will describe treatments.”
“Why?” Vaxoram persisted, shaking his head mulishly.
“Well, at the very least, so that you can help more with these Records,” Kindan replied.
Vaxoram snorted but his expression was wistful, not angry. He clapped Kindan on the shoulder. Startled, Kindan turned to face him.
“Thanks.”
Kindan shrugged and they entered the Kitchen Cavern.
Koriana was already there, seated with Salina and M’tal. She waved at them and gestured to two nearby chairs.
“Good morning, Weyrleader, Weyrwoman,” Kindan called as he approached. Vaxoram nodded in silent greeting.
“Did you sleep well?” Salina asked. Koriana poured two mugs of klah and pushed them across the table to the boys.
“Very well, thank you, my lady,” Kindan responded.
“Ready for another day’s work?” M’tal inquired.
“Yes, my lord,” Kindan told him.
Salina and M’tal exchanged amused glances.
“You have such excellent manners,” Salina remarked in response to Kindan’s worried look.
“If only our weyrlings had as much,” M’tal groaned.
“We’ve no harper to teach them, you see,” Salina explained to Koriana. Kindan dropped his head to hide his shame.
“There are some good journeymen at the Harper Hall,” Vaxoram suggested. “And one apprentice I know, Merol, should walk the tables soon.”
“Walk the tables?” Koriana repeated.
“When an apprentice makes journeyman or a journeyman makes master, they walk the tables in the Harper Hall,” Vaxoram explained.
“They walk around the tables to their new table,” Kindan expanded, seeing Koriana’s confused look. He grinned at her, sensing that she had an image of harpers jumping up on tables and kicking food and plates everywhere with gay abandon.
“It’s a special day,” Vaxoram said wistfully. “Every apprentice dreams of the day.”
“I’d like to see it,” Koriana said, glancing toward Kindan with eager eyes.
“Merol will walk soon,” Kindan told her in a tone that said that he didn’t expect to walk the tables himself.
Salina and M’tal looked at each other in a way that Kindan couldn’t quite fathom; the sort of looks that parents and elderly people exchanged when dealing with younger people.
“Have some rolls,” M’tal said, passing a covered basket to Kindan.
After breakfast they began their second day in the Records Room. They broke for lunch disconsolately, all three overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Records. Dinner came and went and still they found nothing.
“Why did she start so far back?” Vaxoram grumbled as they made their way back down the
stairs toward the weyrling barracks for the night.
“I didn’t want us to miss anything,” Koriana replied from the top of the stairs.
“At this rate it’ll be a sevenday before we find anything,” Vaxoram grumbled.
“No,” Kindan replied firmly. “Less. We don’t have much more time.”
“What do you mean?” Koriana called down, alarmed.
“From what we’ve seen, the illness is spreading from hold to hold in a sevenday,” Kindan reminded her. “If we don’t find something soon, it may be too late.”
“So let’s go back,” Koriana called, turning back toward the Records Room.
“No,” Vaxoram said.
“We’re too tired,” Kindan agreed. “There’s not enough light with just the glows and we might miss something vital.”
His response quelled Koriana’s protests and they all went off to sleep fitfully.
And so they continued for another two days, growing more anxious, and more weary.
They awoke again early on the fifth day and were back to work before the sun had lifted high enough to light the whole Bowl. Less than an hour later, Kindan turned to a new Record, then suddenly looked up. “That’s odd.”
The others stopped and looked at him.
“The last Record was for the twenty-fourth day of the third month of 389,” Kindan said. He held up the new Record. “This is dated the eleventh of the second month of 408.”
“There must be some missing Records,” Vaxoram said unconcernedly.
“I don’t think so,” Koriana replied, turning her head back to the stacks of old Records. “I checked pretty thoroughly.” She looked over at Kindan. “What’s that last Record say?”
“I read something near there,” Vaxoram said. “The illness had come and the dragonriders were helping.”
“In this one, there’s mention of the Weyrleader ordering the dragonriders to stay in the Weyr,” Kindan said, glancing back at the old Record. “That’s why I wanted to see what the next Record said.”
“They stayed behind?” Koriana asked with a horrified look. “Why would they stay in the Weyr when there were people dying of this illness?”
Anne Mccaffrey_ Dragonriders of Pern 20 Page 17