Dragon's Kin

by Anne McCaffrey

  Kindan wiped his tears and drew breath, but his throat was still choked up with grief and anger. Master Zist raised a hand to stop him and went into the cottage’s kitchen. He returned with a cup of warm tea.

  “Drink this, it’ll ease your throat,” he said in a much kindlier and more subdued voice. While Kindan was drinking, Master Zist said, “I drove you too hard, lad. I have never driven a student so hard. I shouldn’t have done it to you, either. It’s just that—that I want this to be the best day for your sister and your father. I want to give them that.”

  “So do I,” Kindan said.

  Master Zist lowered his head toward him and nodded. “I see that you do, lad. I see that you do.” He held out his hand. “So, let’s start over and we’ll do the best we can, together, eh?”

  Kindan placed the cup beside him and shyly put his hand in the larger hand of the MasterHarper. “I’ll do my best,” he said.

  “That’s all I will ask of you,” Master Zist promised. “And, with your voice, I think we’ll both be proud of the result.” He looked out the window. “We haven’t much time, however, so we’d best concentrate on what you know, hadn’t we?”

  Kindan nodded in agreement, but his expression was bemused. Master Zist grinned at him. “Why don’t we work ‘The Morning Dragon Song’ into the ceremony instead of that solo?”

  Kindan’s eyes widened. “Could we do it just as Dask flies over?” he asked enthusiastically. “It’d be perfect!”

  “The watch-wher can fly?” Zist was surprised.

  Kindan nodded.

  “Can all watch-whers fly?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Kindan answered honestly. “But weren’t they supposed to be made from fire-lizards, the same as dragons?”

  “Not much is known about watch-whers,” Master Zist said. “For example, we know that they don’t like light. But some people say that it’s because of their big eyes while others say that they are nocturnal. Their wings look too small to support them.”

  “I’ve only seen Dask fly when it’s late,” Kindan said. “My father said something about how the atmosphere condenses at night, and air gets thicker.”

  Master Zist nodded. “That’s so. I’ve heard the dragonriders say that it’s dangerous to fly too high at night—the air has gotten thinner there. Perhaps the watch-whers are adapted to fly at night, and have smaller wings because the air is thicker then.”

  Kindan shrugged. The Harper made a note to himself to pursue the matter with the Harper Hall.

  “Well,” the Harper continued, “I think it would be marvelous for you to sing ‘The Morning Dragon Song’ when Dask flies over.

  “Are you ready to begin now?”

  “I’m ready, Master Zist.”

  At the end of two hours, Kindan’s back was drenched with sweat. Master Zist’s instructions were more cordially delivered and Kindan obeyed them more readily than before, but they were still doing hard work—both of them, Kindan noted, as Master Zist wiped beads of sweat from his brow.

  They were interrupted by a knock on the cottage door.

  “Get the door, lad,” Master Zist said in a kindly tone. “I’ll make some tea. Unless I miss my guess, that’s your father come to be sure that you’re still alive and with your good clothes as his excuse.”

  Master Zist was not wrong.

  “I’ve brought your clothes,” Danil said. His face broke into a huge grin. “Ah, lad! This will be a grand day, won’t it?”

  Coming from his father, the words were practically a speech.

  “Master Zist’s gone to get some tea,” Kindan said. “He says that it’s good for the throat.” He didn’t add that Master Zist had said that it was good for the nerves, as well.

  “I’ve been with Jofri all day,” Danil told his son. “We’ve got the wedding platform properly raised and the whole square ready for the party.”

  “Where will the bride and groom spend the night?” Master Zist asked, entering the room with a tray. There were not just three cups of tea, but also some dainty pastries.

  Danil blushed. “Oh, there’s a trader custom that a bride and groom must spend the night in a caravan. Apparently Crom’s MasterTrader instructed the journeyman in charge of this caravan to be sure that Terregar and Silstra followed their custom.”

  “Of course,” Zist added with a wry look and a shake of his head, “anyone marrying cross Hold would be relying on a trader to move them, so no one would dream of upsetting them on that matter.”

  Danil picked up one of the dainties off the tray and bit into it. “This is good! And still warm! Did Jenella send them?”

  Master Zist nodded. “Aye, they were just delivered.” Kindan remembered that he’d heard the sound of a door opening shortly after his father had entered the front room.

  Danil nodded. His face had gone serious. “Kindan, step outside for a moment,” he said.

  “Take your tea and a dainty with you,” Zist said. Kindan scooped up one of his favorites, grabbed his tea, and headed outside.

  Milla, who did all the baking and cooking up at Natalon’s hold, loved making the tiny little snacks she called dainties. Milla’s dainties were always different; sometimes they were confections, other times they were small, meat-filled pies, and yet other times they were deliciously spiced vegetables. The warm dainty Kindan had scarfed was made of spiced meat wrapped in a flaky pie crust.

  Outside, the sun was well past noon, but its warmth did little against the fall chill that had settled into the valley. He shivered. It would be a cold evening, even with warm klah and hot mulled wine to keep him warm. He swallowed the rest of the dainty in one bite to give him both hands to wrap around the warm cup.

  He could hear the rise and fall of voices from inside the cottage but couldn’t make out the words. Bored, he walked over by the walled herb garden that separated the Harper’s cottage from Natalon’s hold. Natalon’s place was too big to be called a cottage. Besides, it was built properly of stone. When the time for Thread got nearer, it would be turned into the entrance for a proper Hold dug into the cliffside—perhaps one day even as large as Crom Hold.

  Kindan and the other youngsters had lived at Crom Hold for the better part of a year while Natalon, Danil, and the other original miners had sought out, found, and begun working the new mine.

  Crom Hold was a vast set of tunnels and rooms dug into the side of a high, majestic cliff. Kindan had spent a lot of time running through—or cleaning—the vacant rooms that would again house most of those who looked to Crom’s Lord Holder for protection when Thread started to fall from the sky.

  Kindan shivered at the thought. Thread. Shimmering, long silvery strands that fell from the sky whenever the Red Star drew close to Pern. Thread. Burning, eating, destroying everything it touched—wood and limb alike. No green would be allowed to grow near the Holds when Thread returned. The mindless Thread could grow incredibly fast, or so Kindan had been taught, and wipe out whole valleys in a matter of hours.

  Kindan squinted his eyes, trying to imagine how Natalon’s hold would be converted into a proper Hold dug into the cliffside. It certainly would have a great view of the lake below. But Kindan wasn’t sure that he’d like being cooped up inside for the next fifty Turns.

  Deep down, Kindan wasn’t sure that he even wanted to be a miner. He squashed the thought firmly. His father was a miner and a wherhandler. Kindan should consider himself lucky to get a chance at either.

  Miners were vital to Pern’s survival. Without the firestone provided by other miners, dragons could not breathe fire; without those flames, dragons could not destroy Thread as it fell from the sky. The coal that Camp Natalon produced burned the hottest and produced the best steel. Still other mines mined the iron ore that went into the steel which made ploughs, shovels, picks, nails, screws, buckles, and countless other things which were vital to life on Pern. Yet others found the copper, the nickel, and the tin, which were blended together to make brass for ornaments and tableware. Indeed, the miners in the great s
alt mines of Southern Boll and Igen supplied all Pern with salt.

  Watch-whers in mines were a recent addition, and Kindan knew that his father had done more with watch-whers and mining than any other. Dask, his father’s watch-wher, not only could warn the miners of pockets of bad air, but was adept at digging and hauling ore. Kindan suspected, from snippets of conversations he’d overheard between his father and his older brothers, that Danil had even greater plans for the use of watch-whers in the mines.

  While people were at their most alert during the day and slept at night, watch-whers were the opposite, sleeping during the day and awaking at night. That was why they were used to keep watch in the great Holds during the dark hours of the night. In the mines, the night shift could do more excavating of new shafts than any of the day shifts because of the watch-whers.

  But really, not much was known about watch-whers. Even his own father was largely self-educated—through his experience with Dask.

  Kindan had heard that originally there had been two other watch-whers at Camp Natalon. One had died, and the other had left along with his handler. Kindan had heard his brothers complaining about it, and about Tarik’s sour opinion of watch-whers.

  Kindan knew that he would be extremely lucky if he were ever considered for a watch-wher egg.

  Still, he really liked singing.

  Kindan turned away from Natalon’s hold to look down toward the lake and the cottages.

  The cottages were built with rough-hewn stone to window height and timber the rest of the way. They were covered with long, high-peaked, overhanging roofs. It was possible that the roofs could be covered with slate and built to withstand Thread, but most people would feel safest in a “proper Hold.”

  “Kindan!” Danil’s voice interrupted Kindan’s reverie. He turned and followed Danil’s beckon back to the Harper’s cottage.

  “I’ll see you at the ceremony,” Danil said to him. Then, to Kindan’s surprise, his father leaned down and hugged him tight. “I love you, son.”

  Kindan fought back the tears in his eyes as he said, “I love you too, Dad.”

  Danil strode off briskly with a little trailing wave of his hand. Kindan returned to the cottage, his chest swelling.

  Inside the cottage, Master Zist gave Kindan a long, penetrating stare.

  “Your father’s quite a man, lad,” he said at last. “Quite a man.”

  Kindan nodded.

  “One more time through ‘The Morning Dragon Song’ and then we’ll go through the whole lot,” Zist said to him. He held up a restraining hand as Kindan swallowed a lungful of air. “No! Not like that, lad. Remember what I told you.” Zist placed his hands on his own sides and pressed them into his diaphragm. “From down here. Breathe up and down, not in and out.”

  The wind tore through the Camp’s main square as Kindan accompanied Master Zist down to the wedding platform. Both were dressed in their best clothes, Master Zist looking completely regal in his Harper blue. Kindan tried not to think too hard about how he looked, fearing that the rest of the Camp’s kids would fill him in painfully on his appearance in many future encounters.

  Master Zist must have guessed how Kindan felt for he chose that moment to say, “You look great, lad.”

  Traditionally, the marriage ceremony was performed in the morning, timed so that as the couple completed their marriage vows, the sun would rise, signifying the warmth of the new relationship and how it would lighten not only the bride and groom but also all those associated with them.

  However, such a ceremony would mean that Dask could not attend. So Jofri had come up with the idea of performing the ceremony with the setting sun, instead, and lighting a bonfire as the final vows were made. Master Zist had seen no reason to contradict that.

  Everyone in the Camp was gathered in the main square. The dining tables had been pushed to the edges of the square, while the benches had been arranged in rows in front of the wedding platform, which would be used after the ceremony by the musicians.

  Kindan could smell fresh-cut branches of pine piled on the unlit bonfire. The wind died down as the sun continued its downward arc in the sky.

  It was time.

  Master Zist, holding Kindan’s shoulder, guided him to his place on the platform. Kindan sketched a quick grin to Zenor, who was dressed in similar finery and stood on the opposite end of the platform. Seated next to Zenor was Journeyman Jofri, with his drums in front of him and his guitar placed beside him within easy reach. Master Zist moved slightly away from Kindan to stand next to his own pipes and guitar; Kindan guessed that Jofri must have set them up for the Master.

  At a nod from Master Zist, Jofri began a long flourish on the drums. The people in their seats grew quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, Kindan could see his father and a radiant girl dressed in a marvelous gown standing at the back of the benches. Kindan realized with a start that the girl was Silstra!

  Jofri changed his beat and the sound of Master Zist’s pipes joined in. Everyone stood as Danil led Silstra down the aisle. At the same time someone lit the long row of torches that had been placed on either end of the benches.

  A beam of light burst out from the sky above Silstra and followed her as she made her way down the aisle.

  “Kindan, what is that?” Zist hissed in between his piping.

  “That’s Dask,” Kindan said proudly. “He must be flying with a glow in his claws.”

  “Even as I see it, I can scarcely believe it,” Zist whispered in awe. “Truly amazing.”

  Indeed, above the pipes, Kindan could hear the watch-wher’s chirping voice in counterpoint to Master Zist’s melody.

  Zist’s pipes stopped when Silstra reached her place on the platform, facing the audience.

  Jofri began a different, more martial drum sequence and Terregar, resplendent in his craft’s colors, started his walk up the aisle, accompanied by Journeyman Veran, the trader in charge of the caravan.

  Again, Dask flew overhead, illuminating the groom from above as he had the bride.

  Terregar’s assumption of his position beside Silstra on the wedding platform was the signal for Kindan and Zenor to start their duet. Jofri introduced them with a flourish and Kindan started to sing only to realize that Zenor had not joined in.

  Kindan looked frantically at his friend but saw that Zenor’s eyes were skyward, watching Dask as he hovered over the wedding platform.

  Kindan strengthened his volume to cover Zenor’s lack until Jofri tapped Zenor on the shoulder. With a horrified look of apology at Silstra and Terregar, Zenor joined in singing the song with Kindan. A titter ran through the watching crowd.

  After they had completed their song, Master Zist stepped to the center of the platform and started the ceremony. Kindan had seen three other weddings in his life, but he’d never participated in one before. He listened carefully to the words Master Zist used to ask Silstra if she would have Terregar as her husband and to ask Terregar if he would have her as his wife. Then Master Zist spoke of the changes that each had agreed to, and the joy that their union brought those gathered here and his hope that their union would bring joy to all of Pern.

  “For now that these two are one, we are all more,” Master Zist intoned. He placed Silstra’s hand in Terregar’s and kissed each lightly on the cheek. “To Terregar and Silstra!”

  The crowd stood up and roared back: “Terregar and Silstra!”

  “Long life and happiness!” Master Zist intoned.

  “Long life and happiness!” the crowd roared back.

  Master Zist stepped back from the married couple. He waited until the shouting had died down and then nodded to Kindan.

  Kindan started his solo.

  “In early morning light I see,

  A distant dragon come to me.”

  But as he sang, he heard a strange echo. He tried not to look around and merely concentrate on his singing, but his expression must have been noticed by Master Zist, because the Harper surreptitiously pointed skyward—Dask was singing along
! Kindan broke into a grin as he continued his song, working in Dask’s counterpoint to the beat of the music and the spacing of the words. He finished with the opening refrain again:

  “In early morning light I see,

  A distant dragon come to me.”

  Kindan let his voice fade softly away. As his voice died out, Dask uttered one final, satisfied chirp.

  A huge hand grasped Kindan’s shoulder and Master Zist told him, “Well done, Kindan. Well done.”

  And then Silstra was hugging and kissing him, tears of joy streaming from her eyes. “You were wonderful, thank you!” Terregar shook his hand and clapped him on the back, and then the bride and groom marched back down the aisle. Veran gave Terregar a torch, and the two ceremonially lit the wedding bonfire, bringing the light of their union to the mining camp.

  At that, the partying started. Master Zist and Journeyman Jofri started with a reel. Kindan had never heard a fiddle played before, but he found that its pleasant tones could be very lively.

  As he leapt off the wedding platform, he was accosted by Kaylek. “Dad says that you’re to change into everyday clothes now.”

  Kindan set off immediately for their cottage, where he changed quickly. On his way back, he spotted a girl about his own age standing beside a tree, listening to the music. Kindan had never seen her before, so he guessed that she was one of the trader girls.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, at peace with the world. “There’ll be dancing as soon as the platform’s cleared off.”

  “Dancing?” the girl repeated. “I don’t dance.”

  “A trader that doesn’t dance?” Kindan asked. “I could see a miner’s daughter, maybe, but not a trader. Or are you afraid of the dance platform?”

  “I’ve never been on one before,” the girl admitted.

  “I’m supposed to clear it off,” Kindan told her, and started on his way with a wave of his hand.

  “Wait!” the girl called. Kindan stopped. “Could you bring me down to the party?”

  Kindan turned back and looked at her.