Dragon Harper (16 page)

“Kindan!” Koriana called as he exited the dining hall. Kindan stopped and turned back to her, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Did I hear the drums right?”

“Depends upon what you heard,” Kelsa snipped from behind her; because she knew about Lord Bemin’s ill will toward the Masterharper, Kelsa wasn’t sure she liked Koriana’s interests in harpers—at the very least, it could mean trouble all around. Koriana’s smile faded and she moved out of the young harper’s way.

“Emergency. Sickness in Keroon,” Koriana said. She screwed up her eyes trying to remember the last. “Please help.”

“Yes,” Kindan agreed, “that’s what it said.”

“Is it the same as at Benden?” Koriana asked nervously. “Is it spreading?”

Kindan shook his head. “No one knows,” he said. “We only know what we hear with the drums.”

“Won’t the Weyrs go examine?” Koriana asked.

“Keroon would be beholden to Ista now that Igen’s gone,” Vaxoram remarked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Kindan said. He gestured to the others. “We should get back to the Records.”

“Records?” Koriana repeated. “What are you looking at them for?”

“Signs of the plague,” Conar blurted out. Both Kindan and Vaxoram glared at him, Kindan shaking his head at the young boy’s rashness: There was no need to add to the fears already at Fort Hold. “But Master Resler—”

“Kindan!” Masterharper Murenny’s voice called down from his second-floor study.

Kindan turned and glanced up. “Yes, Master?”

Master Murenny said nothing, merely beckoning for Kindan to come up to him. Vaxoram and Conar fell in behind. A moment later, so did Koriana.

When Kindan knocked on Murenny’s door—and one always knocked on the Masterharper’s door, because no one could ever tell when he might be in the middle of something, even if he’d called for you just moments before—he expected the others to leave him alone. However, Conar pressed himself against Kindan’s back, Vaxoram drew closer, and Koriana peered around him into the Masterharper’s study.

“I see you have some companions,” Murenny remarked as he noted the three additional heads. He said apologetically to the others, “My request was only meant for Kindan.”

“Please,” Koriana said, “if it has anything to do with this illness, I’d like to hear.”

“Me, too,” Conar added quickly. Vaxoram stood in stalwart silence.

“It may,” Murenny said, pursing his lips in consideration. After a moment he nodded. “Very well, you may come in. But remember,” he cautioned, looking directly at Koriana, “this is a harper matter.”

“Surely it’s a Pern matter, Master,” Koriana replied demurely.

Murenny smiled in response.

“Harper matters are always Pern matters,” Vaxoram remarked.

“Too true!” Murenny agreed with a snort. He focused his attention on Koriana. “My point being, my lady, that it is sometimes better not to spread news that might cause panic without first determining its truth.”

“And some remedy,” Koriana said in agreement. “That is true of a Holder, too.”

“Indeed,” Murenny agreed. He turned to Kindan. “Have you made any progress in the Records?”

“Yes,” Conar said at once.

“Maybe,” Kindan temporized, glancing at Conar quellingly. “We have some indication that there was a major incident that affected Lemos, Bitra, and Benden Holds around Turn 389.”

“Mmm,” Murenny said his eyes focused on some distant point. “I see what you mean.” He glanced back to Kindan. “What do you plan to do now?”

Kindan frowned. “I, uh,—”

“Master Resler thinks we’re mussing his Records,” Vaxoram interjected. Kindan gave him a fulminating look, but the older apprentice merely shrugged.

“I am not concerned with Master Resler’s feelings in this matter,” Murenny said firmly. “Although I would caution you not to ‘muss’ his Records as you may find yourself needing them later.”

“I think we can work with him,” Kindan said.

“Don’t let his concerns stop your work,” Murenny instructed. Kindan nodded in understanding. “But you haven’t told me what you plan next.”

“I want to look at the Benden Weyr Records,” Kindan said. “I’ll have to ask Master Resler where they are; I looked but couldn’t find them.”

“I suspect that’s because they are at the Weyr itself,” Murenny replied.

“What about copies?” Conar protested.

“The duties of a Weyr harper often preclude time to make copies,” Murenny replied smoothly. He sent a darting glance to Kindan, his eyes twinkling. “For some reason, Weyr harpers seem less inclined to make copies, possibly because their Records are so extensive.”

“But I still need to see those Records,” Kindan persisted.

“Yes,” Murenny agreed. “Do you suppose your fire-lizard is up to sending a message?”

Kindan’s eyes widened at the notion. Slowly he nodded.

“Go to M’tal, Valla, to M’tal at Benden Weyr,” Kindan said, concentrating on the image of the dragonrider and his bronze Gaminth. Valla chirped in surprise and preened himself.

“Perhaps he’s too young,” Koriana suggested anxiously, stroking her own Koriss as the queen peered intently at Valla from her perch on the girl’s shoulder.

“We’ve been training for a while now,” Kindan said. He was nervous and he knew it. He and Koriana had practiced sending the two fire-lizards
between
to each other with much success; they had even sent notes to each other. Kindan had kept the first note from her—“Kindan, this is great! Love, Koriana”—because she’d used the word “love” in it. Their other notes had been more succinct, but Kindan still felt that there was a special warmth in Koriana’s and he knew that there was a special warmth in his responses.

“Valla, go to M’tal, make sure he gets your message,” he said again, concentrating on an image of the Weyrleader carefully removing the message from Valla’s harness.

Valla chirped once happily and disappeared,
between.

“How soon until he comes back?” Conar asked curiously.

“
If
he comes back,” Vaxoram murmured darkly. Kindan glared at him; the elder boy returned his gaze impassively, but Kindan could still imagine how Vaxoram would have liked to have his own fire-lizard.

“Come on,” Kindan said, jerking his head toward the Archive Room. “Let’s get back to work.”

They worked until dinner, adding Keroon, Igen, and Telgar to their list.

“It spread fast,” Koriana observed as she looked over Vaxoram’s shoulder. Going over the Records from Telgar was his responsibility, but Kindan knew that reading was difficult for Vaxoram, so he surreptitiously helped or had Koriana “read over his shoulder.” Now she observed, “Less than a month to get from one Hold to the next.”

She had grown more and more pale as the day had progressed and Kindan, Conar, Vaxoram, and she had unearthed more grim records of the plague over a hundred Turns past.

“No mention of a cure,” Conar added morosely. “They tried the Minor Green Dragon decoction at Igen, but it didn’t work.”

“They tried Major Blue Green Dragon decoction at Telgar,” Kindan added, setting the Record to one side silently.

“All those deaths,” Koriana said softly, as if just to herself. “Where were the dragonriders? Why didn’t they help?”

“I don’t know,” Kindan said, shaking his head. “Perhaps there is just no mention in the Records here.”

“How come no one tried Bronze Dragon?” Vaxoram asked. “Or Gold?”

Kindan shook his head condescendingly. “The names are ancient. Some say they came from before Landing and have nothing to do with the dragons of Pern.”

“If they’re so ancient, why don’t we look in the ancient Records?” Koriana asked. “Perhaps there are remedies that have been forgotten.”

“I doubt it,” Vaxoram replied.

“Most things that work are remembered,” Kindan agreed.

“But what if they only work against a plague?” Koriana persisted. “Wouldn’t they then be forgotten until someone looks in the ancient Records?”

“Master Resler—,” Conar began cautiously.

“
I
can handle him,” Koriana declared, turning toward the oldest stacks of Records determinedly. The others glanced at Kindan expectantly. He stood still for a thoughtful moment then shrugged; she probably
could
handle Master Resler.

She pulled out a stack and brought them to an empty table. As she sat herself down, she looked over to Kindan. “I’m sorry if this will slow down your other work,” she told him. “But—”

“That’s all right,” Kindan said. “Vaxoram will keep working.”

“But he can’t read,” Koriana declared, brows furrowed quizzically. “Didn’t you know?”

Conar gave a grunt of surprise and Vaxoram turned bright red, looking anxiously at Kindan.

“I meant to talk to you about it,” Kindan said slowly. For some time he’d guessed, which is why he’d asked the Masterharper about reading in dim light over a sevenday before. “Some people have trouble with letters. That doesn’t mean they’re dumb, some of the smartest people have this problem—” he didn’t get any further, Vaxoram ran out of the room.

“I’d better go after him,” Kindan said after a moment. He glanced consideringly at Koriana, thinking of his duties and his responsibility to avoid making trouble for the Masterharper. “Your parents will be worried about you—”

“I’ve sent a message to them,” Koriana replied peremptorily. “And shouldn’t you let Nonala or Kelsa deal with him?”

Kindan slapped his head in surprise. “Nonala and Kelsa! I hadn’t thought of them.”

Conar looked at him questioningly, his expression making clear that he couldn’t see how they could help with Vaxoram.

“They could help us search,” Kindan declared excitedly. He glanced toward the doorway and then back to Koriana, a sudden question on his mind. “Where will you sleep?”

“I was hoping to find a place near you,” Koriana replied. Across the distance Kindan could see her dimples stand out. He felt a flush of excitement roar through his veins. It was a moment before he recovered his senses. “I’d better go after Vaxoram and see if Nonala and Kelsa will help.”

Kindan found Vaxoram standing outside in the courtyard. The night air was chilly and Kindan found himself shivering as he approached the older apprentice. Vaxoram’s head was craned up to the brilliant night sky. The Dawn Sisters could just be seen and there, still faint but pulsing menacingly, was the Red Star. In less than a dozen Turns it would approach close enough to send Thread crashing down upon Pern; the only protection was the flaming breath of dragons and the courage of their riders.

“Who else knows?” Vaxoram asked after they shared a long moment of silence.

“No one,” Kindan said. “I’d noticed only recently—with the Records—but I wanted to find a way to talk with you about it.”

“Why?” Vaxoram asked bitterly. “I’m stupid, I can’t read. There’s no way I can be a harper.”

“You’re not stupid,” Kindan replied. “Master Murenny says that many people who have this problem are very smart—”

“Murenny knows?” Vaxoram asked accusingly. “I thought you told no one.”

“I didn’t,” Kindan repeated. “I only asked the Masterharper about the symptoms, I didn’t mention you.”

“He must suspect, then,” Vaxoram replied bitterly.

“He could think that it’s Conar,” Kindan said. “Lots of people with this problem are great artists.” Vaxoram cast a sidelong glance at him. “Others are great with lyrics, particularly long ballads.”

Vaxoram snorted; he was most skilled with the longer ballads.

“Master Murenny says that people can learn to work around this,” Kindan told him. “We can teach you.”

“Why would you?” Vaxoram demanded, his voice full of pain. “Why would he?”

“I think he would teach you because anyone with your problem is very smart and he values intelligence,” Kindan said slowly. “
I
want to teach you so that you can be a harper and stop hating yourself.”

Vaxoram turned to face him, his eyes picking out Kindan’s in the darkness. Kindan found no words to say but he could feel Vaxoram’s emotions. After a moment, he clapped the older boy on the arm. “Come on, we’re going to wake Nonala and Kelsa.”

Vaxoram put up a restraining arm. “No,” he said, “let’s leave them until morning. If we wake them now, they’ll just be crabby.”