Dragon's Kin

by Anne McCaffrey

  Kindan didn’t know what to say and the silence between them stretched out interminably. Finally he opened his mouth to speak, only to see that Nuella had held up a hand and cocked her head in the direction of the curtains at the doorway to the shed.

  “You may as well come in,” she said out loud. “You’ve heard too much already and I just don’t care anymore.”

  After a moment the curtains rustled and a small figure could be seen in the dim glow light.

  “You look just like Dalor,” the figure exclaimed. It was Renna.

  Nuella sniffed, breathing in the scent of the newcomer, and nodded her head in comprehension. “You must be Zenor’s sister,” she answered. “He has some of the same smells.”

  “It’s Renna,” Kindan confirmed. He looked back and forth between the two. “Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”

  “Yes,” Renna said, “but Jori owes me.” She looked at Nuella. “I saw someone coming down from the hold and—”

  “You followed me because you thought I was Dalor, didn’t you?”

  Renna’s blush showed that Nuella’s guess had hit the mark. Kindan remembered that Nuella had once blackmailed Dalor into helping them get into the mines because, as she’d said, “I happen to know who he’s sweet on.” From Renna’s blush, Kindan guessed that the feeling was mutual.

  Suddenly Kisk raised her head, chirped, and butted Kindan. He closed his eyes in concentration, accustomed now to passing images with Kisk.

  “It’s J’lantir and Lolanth,” he said a moment later. Kisk chirped at Kindan again. Obligingly, he closed his eyes once more, concentrating on the images the watch-wher was trying to form. The images were a quick series: a heat-rainbow shape being pulled backward by an arm, the same heat-rainbow shape running so fast that the legs were a blur, the same shape banging its head repeatedly, bowing low, and, finally, running again. With a smile, he told the others, “He says he’s sorry he’s late. He’ll be here as quick as he can.”

  “A dragonrider?” Renna squeaked.

  Kindan nodded.

  “Here?”

  Kindan nodded again.

  “Now?”

  “Right now, in fact,” J’lantir agreed as he stepped into the shed. His cheerful look changed to startlement when he realized that the speaker was not Nuella. Then he cheered up again, looking at Nuella. “Your secret is out. Good! I was afraid—”

  “Her secret is not out,” Kindan said, shaking his head. “Just compromised.”

  J’lantir’s face fell. “Well, that may make things more difficult,” he said. “You see, the reason I’ve been gone so long—no, rather the reason why I’m back now is because things aren’t going well.”

  “What do you mean?” Nuella asked.

  “Wait a minute,” Kindan said, forestalling her. He turned to Renna, whose eyes were as big as saucers. “Renna, please go inform Master Zist that J’lantir is here. He may want you to bring refreshments, too, but please tell him that I’ve asked you to come back. Don’t say any more to him—tell him we’ll explain later.”

  “I’ll be all ears,” Nuella murmured, her face gleaming with her usual humor.

  CHAPTER XI

  Watch-wher, watch-wher, guard us all

  With your dragon-summoning call.

  ...and Renna was already here when J’lantir arrived,” Kindan finished explaining to Master Zist. The Harper’s color had returned to a more normal shade from the bright red of rage it had been when he had first found Renna in Kisk’s shed.

  He had been ready to tear Kindan’s head off for letting Renna in on the secret—he had a few hot words for Nuella, too—but Kindan had managed to get the first word in and refused to be silenced until he’d finished telling the full tale. Master Zist let out a long sigh. “J’lantir was just about to tell us why he had come when I sent Renna off to get you.”

  “Hmmph,” the Harper said at last. “My Lord J’Lantir, first let me apologize for delaying you in delivering your message—”

  J’lantir waved aside the apology. “No need, Master Zist, no need at all,” he said graciously. Then he wagged a finger at the Harper, adding, “And I thought we’d agreed to dispense with the formalities.”

  “But you call me Master,” the Harper protested, “I could hardly not return the honor.”

  J’lantir laughed. “I only do that because your young charges here all go blue in the face if I don’t.” He added conspiratorially to the Harper, “You must tell me how you do it, someday. It’s a trick I’d like to use on some of my riders.”

  Master Zist chuckled appreciatively. “I’m afraid it comes from all my years at the Harper Hall, intimidating young scamps worse than Kindan here.” Then he frowned. “Well, maybe only just as bad as him.”

  Renna returned at that moment, bearing a pot and several mugs. “They sent me down with some hot klah,” she told the group. She glanced apprehensively at Master Zist, then looked to Kindan and Nuella for comfort. Kisk butted at Kindan and gave Renna a cheerful mrrp, at which point the girl visibly relaxed.

  “Well, pass the cups around, child,” Master Zist barked at her. When she jumped and nearly dropped the pot, he added calmly, “I’ve heard the whole story now and I won’t bite. But I’m sure I need a warm cup of klah, and I wouldn’t doubt our dragonrider friend here is still chilled from between.”

  Kindan and Nuella both moved before Renna’s panicked reaction spilled the pot. Kindan retrieved the pot and mugs, while Nuella put a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder and pulled her out of the way. With a flourish, Kindan poured klah for the dragonrider and the Harper.

  Nuella held her hand out, saying, “I’m more parched than anything, but I’ll also be glad for the heat.” Kindan filled a mug and carefully guided her hand to it.

  Shortly they were all settled on the straw floor, gathered in a semicircle facing J’lantir. Renna had been as polite as her awe of the dragonrider permitted when she had been introduced, and J’lantir, for his part, had gone out of his way to make her feel more comfortable.

  “So,” he said at last, “you probably want to know what’s been happening.” He paused. “I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, but things got rather out of hand. Weyrleader M’tal had hoped that I could train the watch-whers that look to Benden the same way that we’ve managed to train Kisk here.”

  He nodded politely to the watch-wher, who blinked happily at him and nodded back. J’lantir and the others chuckled at her behavior. Kisk reared her head and chirped mournfully to Kindan until he reached up and scratched her eyeridges, saying, “It’s all right, they’re just proud of your good manners.” Kisk glanced around at all of them, decided that Kindan was correct, and settled back down, making noises of self-satisfaction.

  “Such a well-behaved watch-wher,” J’lantir agreed. Then he drew a breath and continued, “Sadly, we did not get the reaction we had expected. Many of the wherhandlers could not believe that their watch-whers would talk to dragons, and still others refused to believe that there was anything that any dragonrider could teach them about their friends.”

  He shook his head sadly. “And the truth of it was that they were right,” he told them. “For all that I tried, for all that Lolanth tried—” He smiled fondly at the mention of his dragon. “—we couldn’t get any of the watch-whers to work with us.”

  “Whyever not?” Nuella wondered. “You had the scrolls Master Zist wrote for you, and the training is fairly straightforward. Were they just too simple to understand?”

  “I think that the underlying problem was that there was too much telling and not enough showing,” he replied. “M’tal and I had several long talks on the topic, and we came to realize that the best way to teach wherhandlers was to have someone who hadn’t Impressed a dragon but who had taught a watch-wher show them how to do it. Someone who wouldn’t intimidate them.”

  He looked straight at Nuella.

  “He’s looking at you, Nuella,” Renna whispered.

  “Of course,” Nuel
la agreed. “He wouldn’t be looking at Kindan because he has to stay with Kisk, and it’s not like she’ll be able to go between to follow him.”

  But then Nuella proceeded to marshal all the reasons why it wouldn’t work. “J’lantir, I’m afraid that that’s not a good idea. I’d love to do it, but my father—”

  “Nuella, this is your chance to do something,” Kindan interrupted her. “Training the watch-whers will help save lives, Weyrleader M’tal said so.”

  Nuella ducked her head in acknowledgment but persisted, “My father doesn’t want anyone to know about me. He’s afraid that once they find out I’m blind, no one will want to marry Dalor or Larissa and—”

  Kindan had been watching her with narrowing eyes ever since the dragonrider had made his proposal. Closing his eyes in thought while Nuella spoke, he reached a hand casually to rub Kisk, only to stop as he felt a jolt of fear travel from the watch-wher to him. He gave Nuella a look of surprise, whispering in awe, “You’re afraid!”

  Kindan’s announcement stopped her cold. She groped for words, trying to deny his accusation, but couldn’t say anything. Kindan reached across and grabbed her hand.

  “Nuella,” he said sincerely, “you have never been afraid of anything.”

  Uncontrolled tears spilled from her eyes. “They’ll talk! They’ll laugh at me and they’ll—”

  Kindan grabbed her in a hug and patted her back awkwardly. “No,” he said softly. “No, they won’t.”

  “But I won’t know where to walk. I’ll stumble and trip over things, and they’ll know I’m blind!” she wailed. J’lantir exchanged a distressed look with Master Zist.

  “No, they won’t,” Kindan said again. “It’ll be night. Watch-whers are awake at night. You’ll stumble no more than anyone else.”

  “Zenor never said you were blind!” Renna broke in. She had listened patiently while Kindan was talking, but she realized that for all his good intentions, he didn’t get it. She turned to Nuella. “He never used your name, but I knew he was sweet on someone. He would talk about all the things he wanted in a girlfriend, and he’d smile that secret smile of his, like he knew something I didn’t.” She snorted, shaking her head at the foolishness of her brother trying to keep a secret from her. “I knew it had to be you the moment I saw you, Nuella. You are everything he was talking about.”

  Nuella looked puzzled.

  “Don’t you see?” Renna asked. “He never talked about your sight. It doesn’t matter to him.” She paused. “And I think it doesn’t matter to him because it doesn’t matter to you. You just get on with living, don’t you?”

  Nuella nodded reluctantly.

  “If it doesn’t matter to you,” Renna continued fiercely, “and it doesn’t matter to my brother, why are you being so blind that you can’t see that it doesn’t matter to anyone else?”

  Nuella sniffed a final sniff and wiped her eyes. She pushed herself away from Kindan and faced Renna. “Do you really think he likes me?”

  Renna nodded, and then said, “Of course. He’d be a fool not to.” Thoughtfully, she added, “Sometimes I don’t think he’s all that smart, but he can’t be that stupid.”

  Nuella smiled. “But my father—”

  “A secret that causes harm is a bad secret,” Kindan said.

  “I think we can still keep your father’s secret,” J’lantir offered. “I rather doubt that Telgar Weyr will want to train watch-whers to talk to dragons. And if that’s the case, then no one in Crom will ever meet you.”

  “Rumor travels fast,” Master Zist pointed out.

  “Of course, if we don’t tell him . . .” Kindan suggested.

  “No, I think there are too many secrets already,” Master Zist said firmly. He looked at J’lantir. “Natalon is a good man,” he said, “and while he may err on the side of caution, I do not believe he would do anything to hinder you in this worthy cause.”

  “Once he calms down,” Nuella corrected, her normal sense of humor having returned. She turned to Renna and said, “You will keep the secret, won’t you?”

  Renna made a sour face. “I will,” she agreed. “But I think it’s a bad idea.” She looked squarely at J’lantir. “I think people should tell the truth. All the time, no matter what the consequences.”

  J’lantir gave her a shocked look. Then he grew thoughtful, brows furrowed.

  “I think that some youngsters should mind their manners,” Master Zist said tightly. “Particularly with dragonriders.”

  Renna dropped her eyes and nodded unhappily. “I’m sorry.”

  J’lantir waved the apology away. “No harm done,” he said. Renna looked up. J’lantir grinned at her. “And perhaps some good.” They shared a look for a moment, before the dragonrider continued, “Food for thought, at least.”

  Master Zist looked up at that. “Food is an excellent idea, J’lantir,” he said agreeably. “Perhaps you and I should head up to Miner Natalon’s hold in search of some.”

  J’lantir nodded in enlightenment. “That would allow me to pay my respects,” he allowed.

  Master Zist laughed. “And bring up any matters of import at the same time.” With a groan he uncoiled himself from his cross-legged position on the straw. “You know, Kindan, you must really see about getting some chairs in here sometime. All this sitting on the floor is hard on us older people.”

  “Not to mention cold,” Nuella added. She looked up at Master Zist. “Should I—?”

  “I don’t think there’s any reason for you to accompany us,” he said.

  She looked ready to accept, but thought better of it and shook her head firmly. “No,” she said slowly, “Renna’s right. There have been too many secrets. This concerns me; I should be there.”

  “As you wish,” J’lantir said, rising to his feet. “Perhaps you could lead the way?”

  Master Zist turned to Renna, who had started to get up, and looked thoughtfully at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”

  “I traded with Jori,” Renna said. “She owes me.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Then,” he intoned, “you are up far too late and need some sleep. I expect you in my class bright and early.”

  “I could bring some klah to help wake you up in the morning,” she suggested impishly.

  Master Zist drew breath to scold her, paused, then let it out, nodding his head. “I’m afraid I’ll be needing it,” he agreed wearily.

  “Are you all set, Nuella?” J’lantir called over his shoulder as they prepared to go between.

  “I’m a bit nervous,” she admitted, clutching the dragonrider tightly.

  You’ll be fine, Lolanth reassured her.

  “Remember it will take no longer than it does to cough three times,” the dragonrider added.

  “All right,” Nuella said. For a moment, nothing changed. Then she felt cold and detached from anything and everything. This is strange, she thought. She savored the moment and then it was gone. Nuella took a breath, then carefully sniffed the air. It was different from home.

  “We’re here,” J’lantir said. “You did just fine.”

  “It was great!” Nuella exclaimed.

  J’lantir laughed. “That’s not the normal reaction people have the first time they go between.”

  Nuella clutched the dragonrider tighter as Lolanth banked and started a steady spiral down to the ground. The sensation startled her, but she recovered before Lolanth said, We are landing, it’s all right.

  “Nuella, you’re here,” M’tal called, rushing up to greet them. “Welcome to Lemos Hold.”

  When she felt his hand grip hers, she swung her leg over Lolanth’s neck. Getting down was easier than getting up, particularly with M’tal’s strong arms to hold her.

  She felt J’lantir’s hand on her shoulder as he landed beside her.

  “Permit me to lead the way,” M’tal said, deftly catching her hand and placing it on his elbow, just the way Master Zist had assured her that all the great lords escorted their great ladies. Nuella
blushed at the thought, but followed M’tal gratefully.

  “Harper Inrion has managed to convince the Lord Holder to let young Lord Darel and his sister, Lady Erla, stay up with Lemosk to get your training,” M’tal explained as they walked up the steps to the Great Hall of Lemos Hold.

  “But it’s old Renilan and his watch-wher Resk that you’ll really need to train,” J’lantir added. “If you can convince him . . .”

  Nuella nodded. Her father had agreed readily enough when J’lantir and Master Zist had presented the facts to him, but he had insisted that if, for any reason, Nuella couldn’t train other watch-whers, she be returned immediately to her hold. Nuella understood, and even agreed with his thinking: It would be bad enough if she failed, but utterly unbearable if she was asked to repeat her failure time and time again.

  “I want to start with the most stubborn person,” she had said. When J’lantir had protested, she dug in her heels until Master Zist dryly informed the dragonrider that it would be very hard to find someone more stubborn than she was. Nuella wasn’t so sure, but she wanted to find out as soon as possible.

  In the days between her father’s consent and M’tal’s news that he’d set up a class at Lemos Hold, Nuella and Kisk had trained hard together, going over everything it was felt watch-whers and their handlers needed to know. Nuella marveled at how helpful and patient Kindan was, even when he mostly had to stand aside and let her work directly with Kisk.

  “She’s just a girl!” a gruff old voice exclaimed as M’tal led her into a large, echoey room. A younger voice—that of a girl Nuella judged to be younger than Renna—giggled nervously. Nuella made a note to ask everyone’s age beforehand next time. If there was a next time.

  She paused, taking a deep breath. She could smell a fire burning on the hearth and turned her head slightly toward its warmth. A pleasant scent, not perfume but a nice soap, came from where the girl’s voice had originated. A sharper, woodsy smell came just faintly from her right, away from the fire.