Dragon's Kin

by Anne McCaffrey

  “What?”

  “Well, Lolanth tells me that this girl is in constant darkness,” J’lantir replied in a puzzled tone.

  “Trapped? Is she in danger?” M’tal pressed.

  “I don’t know. Lolanth seemed to think that the girl had been that way for some time,” J’lantir replied.

  “You don’t suppose she’s blind?” M’tal wondered softly.

  “Maybe that’s it,” J’lantir agreed. “What a pity, to be so gifted and not able to Impress.”

  Their voices grew fainter as they headed down toward the watch-wher’s shed.

  “This Camp looks to Telgar—and D’gan won’t Search,” M’tal said after a moment. “I think we shouldn’t mention this to anyone.”

  “I think you’re right,” J’lantir agreed.

  “Ah! We’re expected,” M’tal said with a laugh. “Gaminth tells me that Kisk is curious about your Lolanth and wants to come out.”

  “Well, at least we know she can talk to dragons,” J’lantir replied with a chuckle. “I’ve told Lolanth to say ‘later’ to her.”

  The two dragonriders ducked into the shed and their faint voices were cut off from Renna’s hearing. She ignored the sounds of the dragons splashing in the lake below as she recalled the conversation. For one thrilling moment, she’d hoped that perhaps they had been talking about her, and that she might be the one who could ride gold. Did they mean a gold dragon—a queen dragon? Wouldn’t that be marvelous, Renna mused. But then she’d heard M’tal saying that maybe the girl was blind. Renna ran through the list of girls in the Camp. She knew of no blind girl. Perhaps they were thinking of a baby or something. But if they were, she mused, wouldn’t their dragons be able to tell them? Maybe the girl was hidden someplace—but who would keep a person hidden away? Anyway, where could anyone hide someone here? In the mine? She shook her head. That would be too dangerous. But she couldn’t think of anywhere else, and she’d been everywhere in the Camp! She creased her brow in thought. Everywhere . . . except the second floor of Natalon’s hold.

  Renna spent the rest of her watch in thoughtful silence. She didn’t even grumble when Jori arrived back half an hour late.

  “Nuella, this is Lord M’tal, Weyrleader of Benden Weyr,” Kindan said as the two dragonriders entered the shed. He looked at the other one. “My Lord—”

  “J’lantir, rider of Lolanth, Wingleader at Ista Weyr,” the second dragonrider supplied deftly.

  “You must be Kindan,” he went on jovially, holding out his hand. Kindan shook it quickly. J’lantir turned and held out his hand to Nuella. Kindan started to sidle unobtrusively over to her, to give her a nudge but stopped when he saw J’lantir and M’tal exchange a thoughtful look.

  Before the silence grew too large, Nuella raised her hand. J’lantir quickly moved to grab it.

  “I’m Nuella,” she said. She quirked an eyebrow at him and then her face fell. “You moved, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” J’lantir admitted. “How did you know?”

  “I can feel it in the angle of your hand,” she replied. She moved closer to him, letting go of his hand and raising her own. “Would you mind if I touched your face?” she asked very nervously. “That’s the way I get to know people.”

  “Not at all,” J’lantir replied gallantly.

  Nuella raised her hand up, hesitantly. Her fingertips touched his chin, then traced his jaw, his lips, his nose, eyebrows, and forehead.

  “You’re sunburned,” she said with surprise. “Is it still warm at Ista, my Lord?”

  “Sometimes the sun can burn worse on cloudy days,” J’lantir admitted. “However, in my case it comes from flying above the clouds, where the sun is still shining. At Ista the clouds sometimes gather very low.”

  “You fly above the clouds?” Nuella repeated, awed.

  “I do,” J’lantir affirmed.

  M’tal stepped beside him. “I am M’tal,” he said to Nuella, reaching out to her. She found his hand and shook it and, with his permission, traced his face.

  “Do you have a good Harper at Benden Weyr, my Lord?” she asked when she had finished.

  “A good Harper?” M’tal mused. “Why yes, we do. Why do you ask?”

  “It seems to me that your face laughs a lot,” Nuella answered. “I thought maybe that was because your Harper was funny.”

  “He is,” M’tal replied with a laugh. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so; I think he’ll be very pleased.”

  Nuella dipped her head in acknowledgment, only partly hiding her blush.

  “Nuella,” J’lantir said after a moment, “you had an interesting theory about how watch-whers see.”

  “I think they see heat, my Lord,” Nuella responded.

  M’tal said to Kindan, “J’lantir has been asked by his Weyrleader, C’rion, to learn all he can about watch-whers. I suggested that it might be a good idea if you and he pooled your knowledge.”

  Kindan nodded, looking at the other dragonrider with increased interest.

  “How could we test it?” J’lantir wondered aloud.

  “I’ve been thinking about that, my Lord,” Nuella responded. “I thought maybe if we got a hot stone and a glow—”

  “What a marvelous idea!” J’lantir exclaimed. “I think I would go with more than one glow, one dim and one bright, and maybe the same thing for the stones.” Very soon he and Nuella were engrossed in designing a complete test of the watch-wher’s sight.

  “We could just ask her,” Kindan said to himself.

  M’tal smiled at him. “But then it’d take away all their fun.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Nuella said with her usual lack of deference. She put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry—I meant, my Lord.”

  “She’s like that with everyone,” Kindan murmured.

  “She’s got good hearing, too,” M’tal agreed, with a twinkle in his eyes. He turned to Nuella. “Nuella, I think that we all will be working together quite a great deal, so I think it best if we dispense with formalities and just get on with things—what do you say?”

  Nuella’s eyes got very big. She nodded, speechless.

  Kindan was no less amazed. “Do you mean you want me to call you by your name, my Lord?”

  “It only seems fair,” J’lantir told them. “Besides, I’m not used to all this ‘my Lord’-ing.”

  “J’lantir is usually either flying upside down or is off somewhere reading,” M’tal said, clapping the other dragonrider on his shoulder. He leaned down to Nuella and whispered, “I heard once that he lost his whole wing for a week without noticing.”

  “Only three days,” J’lantir corrected unflappably. He winked at Kindan. “It was quite peaceful.”

  Kindan’s eyes widened at the thought of the dragonrider losing his wing of dragons, but then he grinned back, realizing that he was being let in on a joke.

  “That couldn’t happen,” Nuella said, mostly to herself. “Dragons are telepathic!”

  J’lantir smiled and wagged a finger at her; then, realizing that she couldn’t see it, he gently tapped her nose. “Very astutely observed, my Lady.”

  The curtains of the shed rustled and Master Zist entered. Zenor followed, carrying a pot and some mugs.

  “Ah, Master Zist, I have heard a lot about you,” J’lantir said, whirling to face the Harper. “J’lantir, rider of Lolanth, Wingleader of Ista Weyr.”

  Master Zist bent his head and said, “My Lord.”

  J’lantir waved away the honorific. “I was just telling your Nuella that I prefer simply to be called J’lantir by my friends,” the dragonrider said. He looked earnestly at the Harper and added, “And I hope we’ll be friends.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Zist replied with a grin. He looked over at Nuella. “Your father will be coming down shortly to greet the dragonriders.”

  “He doesn’t want anyone to know about me,” Nuella told the dragonriders. “Please, let me hide until he’s gone.”

  Both M’tal and J’lantir reacted with grav
e, concerned looks.

  “It’s a secret he wants to keep,” Kindan added. “Master Zist tells me that some people need to keep secrets.”

  M’tal looked grave. “A secret is never a good thing,” he said.

  “Please?” Nuella begged. “It would hurt him a great deal, and he would be very angry with me.”

  J’lantir gave M’tal a look. Unhappily, M’tal nodded. “We will keep your secret for now, Nuella,” he said. He cocked an eye at the Harper. “I will want to talk to you about this later, Master Zist.”

  The Harper nodded. “I am not happy with this secret,” he said, “but I think it is not too harmful for the moment.”

  J’lantir made a shoving motion toward Nuella, then stopped, a rueful expression on his face. “Go! Hide!” he said to her. “We’ll let you know when he leaves.”

  “You won’t need to,” Nuella said as she turned to burrow into a thick pile of straw in one of the corners of the shed. “I’ll hear him leave.”

  Natalon arrived not long after and stayed long enough to ensure courtesy all around. Then, sensing that the dragonriders wanted to work with Kindan and Kisk alone, he withdrew as soon as etiquette allowed.

  “I could send something down from the kitchen, if you’d like, my Lords,” he offered as he was leaving.

  M’tal shrugged a question to Kindan, who replied with a fervent nod.

  “That would be excellent, Miner Natalon,” M’tal said. “Whatever you have—we don’t want to put you out.”

  “Could you have some hot bricks sent down?” J’lantir asked.

  Natalon frowned. “If you’re cold, my Lord, I think there’s a grate here someplace. We could start a fire.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” the dragonrider said. “Just some bricks, if you don’t mind.”

  “I could carry them,” Zenor offered.

  “You’re supposed to be asleep,” Natalon said, shaking a finger at him. “You’ve got work tomorrow, and I don’t need you all worn out.”

  Zenor looked so crestfallen that Natalon grinned at him, shaking his head. “Besides, I think you might be imposing on Kindan’s hospitality.”

  Zenor shot Kindan a pleading look.

  “I’d be happy if Zenor could stay, my Lord,” Kindan said instantly.

  Natalon glanced at the men. “If it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, it might be a good idea to have someone else be familiar with the watch-wher,” he suggested.

  “Of course!” M’tal said, waving the issue aside. “Besides, another body would add to the warmth in here.”

  J’lantir nodded vigorously.

  “Very well,” Natalon said. “But no more than an hour, Zenor—unless my Lords say otherwise.”

  “All right,” Zenor said, looking both very pleased and somewhat unhappy at the same time.

  “Well, come along,” Natalon said to him. “You’ve volunteered to carry those bricks back down.”

  Zenor nodded and turned to follow the head miner back to his hold.

  “You know, you could just ask her,” Kindan repeated after Zenor and Natalon had left.

  “Ask her what?” Master Zist inquired. Kindan started to relay Nuella’s observation, but was interrupted with a correction from Nuella, which then opened up a general conversation.

  “You know,” the Harper said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “the human body generates a lot of heat.”

  “Are you thinking to perform a simple experiment with human bodies and glows?” J’lantir wondered.

  Kindan pulled a glow out of its holder and held it up.

  “Kisk, which is brighter to you, me or this glow?”

  The watch-wher hesitated, then butted her head at Kindan’s midriff.

  “There, I think we have our answer,” M’tal said.

  “Hmm,” J’lantir murmured, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Well, we know one thing—a watch-wher is much smarter than a fire-lizard.”

  “More patient, too,” Master Zist added drolly. “I hope Zenor brings back some food for her.”

  “She just ate,” Kindan told him. He looked at the Istan dragonrider. “J’lantir, do you know how much they should eat?”

  “Well, actually, I’ve only just started my investigations a fortnight ago,” the dragonrider confessed. “I met Master Aleesa”—his tone conveyed how the encounter with the prickly WherMaster had gone—“and decided that perhaps I should pursue other avenues.”

  Master Zist bit back a laugh. J’lantir rewarded him with a pleasant nod.

  “I have, of course, spoken with the wherhandler at Ista Hold,” he continued. “And I was surprised”—he cocked an eye at the Harper—“to discover that the Harper Hall had very little information on watch-whers.”

  “None at all, from what I’ve found,” Master Zist agreed.

  “C’rion decided that seeing as we’re getting nearer the next Pass, it would be a good idea to gather every scrap of information that might help us tending dragons during times of Thread,” J’lantir said. “I was assigned to learn about watch-whers.”

  “When I told J’lantir about Gaminth being able to communicate with Kisk,” M’tal said with a wave at the attentive watch-wher, “he asked if he might be able to work with us.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to work with a watch-wher hatchling,” J’lantir said.

  “Oh, she’s hardly a hatchling at this point,” Master Zist said.

  “She’s over four months old now,” Kindan put in.

  “She’ll be five months in a fortnight and three days,” Nuella corrected with precision.

  “The youngest watch-wher I’ve seen is over three Turns,” J’lantir said. He asked M’tal, “You think they mature faster than dragons?”

  M’tal nodded. “That was my guess.”

  “I’d say you’re right,” J’lantir agreed. He walked up to the watch-wher and put a hand out, palm up and open, for her to sniff.

  “It’s okay, Kisk,” Kindan told her. Kisk cocked her head toward him, then sniffed J’lantir’s hand again and licked it shyly.

  “May I touch you?” J’lantir asked the watch-wher with a polite half-bow. Kisk whuffed back at him. J’lantir looked at Kindan. “Was that a yes?”

  Kindan nodded. “Although maybe your dragon could talk to her,” Kindan suggested as an experiment.

  “She’d like that,” Nuella agreed.

  J’lantir brightened. “That’s a good idea,” he said. His face took on the abstracted look of a dragonrider talking to his dragon. Kisk watched him appreciatively, then gave a slight start and a chirp, and then a second gleeful chirp. She walked right up to J’lantir, positioning her shoulder under his hand, her neck craned back toward him to see if her position was satisfactory.

  The group chuckled.

  J’lantir dutifully ran his hands over her body, checking every muscle and gently exploring the shape of her back, belly, head, and tail. “Alike, yet unalike,” he commented to himself. He looked over at M’tal. “All the watch-whers seem much more muscled than dragons.”

  “I’ve noticed that, too,” M’tal replied.

  J’lantir touched Kisk’s wing, gave her an inquiring look, and then said, “Lolanth, please ask Kisk to spread her wings.”

  Kindan realized that the dragonrider had spoken out loud in order to warn everyone that Kisk would be moving.

  The watch-wher chirped happily and ruffled her wings.

  “The wings are awfully small,” J’lantir noted. He looked at Kindan. “Your father actually flew his?”

  “Late at night,” Kindan affirmed.

  “Amazing,” J’lantir exclaimed. “No one, even Master Aleesa, claimed that watch-whers could fly.”

  “It appears that harpers aren’t the only ones who have forgotten about watch-whers,” M’tal said with a teasing glance at Master Zist, who just shrugged. The dragonrider turned back to J’lantir, saying, “What I was wondering was if we could teach watch-whers to talk to our dragons.”

  “But d
idn’t Kisk here just talk to your Lolanth?”

  “Indeed she did, but she was responding to being spoken to. Can she address one dragon by name? Say, in an emergency?” M’tal said.

  J’lantir pursed his lips in thought. After a moment he looked at the Benden Weyrleader with widening eyes. “So watch-whers could alert us to Threadfall? What a marvelous idea! Perhaps that’s why they were bred—”

  “It won’t work,” Nuella interrupted.

  “Pardon?” J’lantir was taken aback.

  “Watch-whers are nocturnal,” Nuella said. “They could hardly send a warning during the day.”

  “Perhaps in an emergency . . .” J’lantir suggested.

  M’tal shook his head. “No, I suppose not,” he said.

  “But they could still call for aid in emergencies at night,” Kindan pointed out.

  M’tal nodded. “That could be useful. They could tell us about the weather, too.”

  “An excellent idea,” J’lantir agreed.

  “Merely being able to tell a dragon that help was needed would be a great boon to some of the outlying minor holds,” Master Zist said.

  “Some of the minor holds that were snowed in had watch-whers,” M’tal said. His eyes grew sad. “If the watch-whers had been taught how to reach our dragons, lives would have been saved.”

  “Well, then,” J’lantir said briskly, “this sounds like a worthwhile endeavor. When do we start?”

  “I’d like to start as soon as possible,” M’tal said, with a nod to Kindan. “If that’s okay with you, Kindan. I know you need your sleep—”

  Kindan burst out laughing. “I don’t sleep at night, not anymore.”

  M’tal nodded, looking somber. “Ah, but I do. And my night comes to my Weyr hours before yours.”

  “So does mine,” J’lantir added ruefully. “But I can probably arrange a chunk of time to work with Kindan and Kisk without causing too much of a disruption at Ista Weyr.”

  “And you cannot,” Master Zist said to M’tal.

  “But spring will be upon us soon enough,” M’tal protested. “If we can teach the Benden watch-whers before then, many lives will be saved.”