Dragon Harper (8 page)

Vaxoram took the blade and hefted it consideringly. Kindan could tell that the older lad was wondering what he could do to Kindan armed with two swords against his none. Kindan shook his head just fractionally and Vaxoram nodded in acquiescence—sword or no, Kindan would win, and Kindan knew that Vaxoram could see it in his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Vaxoram said.

“No, call me harper,” Kindan ordered. Vaxoram nodded and started off on his chores, ignoring the sympathetic calls from his former cronies.

“Come!” Masterharper Murenny called immediately upon Kindan’s knock. Kindan entered the room and was not surprised to see that Master Detallor and Weyrleader M’tal were already present.

“You could have killed him,” M’tal said with no preamble.

“That would have not been a good idea,” Kindan replied.

“Explain,” Murenny said, waving his hand to turn the terse word into an invitation.

“If I had killed him, the rest of the apprentices would have decided that perhaps Vaxoram was right, that there should be no girl apprentices because they caused trouble,” Kindan said. Murenny nodded in agreement. “And they might also decide someday that I deserved retribution.”

“What will you do with him now?” M’tal asked.

“Can he still take classes?” Kindan said, turning to the Masterharper.

“Certainly.”

“Then, in his free time he’ll serve me,” Kindan replied. “I’ll have him do any chores Selora needs, help guard the bath, and make sure that the other apprentices behave themselves.”

“Do you trust him with the girls?” M’tal asked Murenny.

“Do you?” Murenny asked, turning the question over to Kindan.

Kindan frowned in thought before nodding. “Yes,” he said. “I think that he will be trustworthy. In time he’ll realize that if he wants a mate, he’ll need to seem appealing to women, and that his good behavior is his only chance to do that.”

Murenny nodded.

“I think he has seen the error of his ways,” Detallor agreed, his face set in a wry smile.

“We shall keep an eye on him, all the same,” Murenny said. Kindan noticed the way the Masterharper regarded him and felt that there was something that remained unspoken.

“I had three older brothers,” Kindan said. “I won’t treat him badly.”

“Good,” Murenny said. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“I won’t need it,” Kindan told him. The Masterharper raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Kindan explained, “Vaxoram lost, fair and square. He won’t cause trouble now.”

“You seem quite certain,” M’tal observed.

“He’s acknowledged his loss in front of the whole hall,” Kindan said.

“But he tried to attack you again!” M’tal protested.

“I’d be worried if he hadn’t,” Kindan replied. “Now, he knows for certain that I’ll beat him, so he won’t try.”

“You’re saying that now that he knows his place, he won’t cause any more trouble?” Murenny suggested.

“Yes,” Kindan replied.

Murenny pursed his lips, his eyes half-closed in thought. Finally he looked up at Kindan and nodded. “I think you have a good understanding of his character,” he said. He wagged a finger warningly at Kindan as he added, “Make sure you don’t forget.”

“I won’t, Master,” Kindan said. Taking the Masterharper’s nod for a dismissal, he turned to M’tal. “Thank you for helping me.”

M’tal snorted. “Do you think you were the only one I was helping?”

Kindan shook his head. “Thank you for helping my friends, and Vaxoram.”

M’tal nodded. “You’re welcome.”

With a final nod, Kindan left the room. Just after he closed the door, he heard Murenny’s voice carrying clearly: “Zist will want to know.”

Master Zist had been the harper at Kindan’s mining home, and the one who had recommended him to the Harper Hall. Since he had been at the Harper Hall, Kindan had learned that Master Zist was respected by all the Masters, this information usually being relayed in the form of a groaning question, “And you are
sure
that Master Zist recommended you, Kindan?”

“Verilan’s much better,” Kelsa filled Kindan in at lunchtime. “He’ll be so disappointed that he didn’t get to watch the fight.” She cast her eyes toward Vaxoram, who sat at the end of their table, eating distractedly. She glanced over to Kindan, her expression making it plain that she wished he hadn’t invited Vaxoram to sit with them. Kindan gave her the merest frown in reply and gestured for her to continue with her story.

“He’s still coughing a bit,” Nonala said, not missing any of their exchange of expressions. Her glance toward Vaxoram was thoughtful, almost pitying. “But Master Lenner says he’ll be released later on today.”

“What herbals did he get?” Kindan asked, mentally developing his own list of herbals. At the beginning of his second year at the Harper Hall, Kindan had been offered the chance to become a healer and declined, feeling that he wasn’t suited for the duties. He’d meant it when he’d said that he didn’t want to be a healer, but he also knew that harpers had to know some healing: They were often called upon to assist the local healer or expected to provide remedies when no healer was available.

As Nonala recited the list in a singsong fashion, Kindan could see Kelsa nodding approvingly and only once frowning, as though she would have ordered the words more melodically. Kindan wondered when “Herbs for Colds” would be sung around the Harper Hall.

“That sounds like ‘Minor Green Dragon,’” Vaxoram murmured.

“Pardon?” Nonala asked, turning to him in surprise.

“It’s a song I learned,” Vaxoram said, looking at her uncomfortably. “It talks about different herbs and what they treat. One decoction is Minor Green Dragon—it’s used for minor colds and coughs.”

“Could you sing it to me?” Kelsa asked. Vaxoram started to answer, then turned to Kindan.

“Later, maybe,” Kindan said. “We’ve got to get to our classes.”

“And me?” Vaxoram asked.

“You, too,” Kindan told him. “You’re to keep to your standard schedule.”

Vaxoram nodded, but Kindan could see that he looked troubled.

“You still want to be a harper, don’t you?” Kindan asked him.

“But I’m not good enough,” Vaxoram protested.

“You are if you say you are,” Kelsa snapped at him. “But at least you don’t have people saying you can’t be a harper because you’re a girl.”

Vaxoram paled. “You could be a harper,” he told her. “I was wrong.”

“You’re not the only one who thinks I shouldn’t be a harper,” Kelsa snapped back hotly. She gestured to Nonala. “Nor Nonala.”

“But you can sing!” Vaxoram said to Nonala, then turned back to Kelsa. “And you can write songs I only dream of!”

“Keep saying that,” Kindan told him. “Keep telling them and anyone you meet. Maybe the others will get it.”

Vaxoram closed his mouth suddenly, his lips thin. Kindan got up from his place and walked over to Vaxoram. He leaned close by his ear, groping for the right words.

“We can all help each other here,” Kindan said at last. Judging by the twitch of Vaxoram’s shoulders, he hadn’t made his point. He sighed to himself. Maybe the next time he would figure out a better way to express himself. “Let’s get to our classes.”

That evening, Vaxoram joined them for dinner. He ate silently.

As they prepared for bed that night, Vaxoram came over to Kindan with an expectant look on his face. Kindan pointed to an empty bunk.

“You’re to sleep there,” he said. Vaxoram nodded tersely, and Kindan could tell that the older apprentice was still adjusting to his new position. “The four of us—me, Verilan, Kelsa, and Nonala—are from different years; there’s no shame in joining us.”

“Another outcast,” Vaxoram muttered resignedly, going over to his old bunk and retrieving his chest.

“You’re still the senior apprentice,” Kindan reminded him.

Vaxoram shook his head. “How can I be? I take orders from you.”

Kindan had nothing to say to that. As Vaxoram was arranging his bed, Kelsa came over to Kindan. “Does he really have to sleep with us?”

“Yes,” Kindan said. “Unless you want me to move.”

“No,” Kelsa replied hastily, shaking her head in emphasis. “It’s just that—”

“He serves me; he needs to be near me,” Kindan told her, his face set. “If that’s a problem for you, we can move, or you can move.”

“You’d better be right,” Kelsa snapped. She stomped off, casting angry glances in his direction until she finally climbed into her bunk.

Kindan settled into his bed not much later, then crawled out to turn out the glows.

“I can do that,” Vaxoram said from behind him. Kindan started to protest, then stopped himself and nodded. Turning out the glows was, after all, the duty of the senior apprentice.

“Thanks,” Kindan said when he’d finished.

“Glows over,” Vaxoram called loudly to the rest of the room. Scurrying noises showed that he was obeyed.

Kindan settled into his bunk, reviewing all the amazing events of the day and realizing with a shiver that had things gone differently, he would have been dead.

He drifted slowly off to sleep, considering all the ramifications of his actions and trying to imagine the future. He was startled awake suddenly by the one thing he hadn’t counted on: Vaxoram snored.

The next issue occurred after their run next morning, as Kelsa and Nonala cast concerned glances between Kindan and the bath room, clearly asking him what he intended to do about the bathing situation. Vaxoram, however, had an answer, rousting out the remaining laggards and handing out large fluffy towels to the four of them. Kindan kept a smile to himself as he reflected that in most ways Vaxoram was still a bully—just
his
bully.

“He’s not bathing with us, is he?” Nonala hissed worriedly toward Kindan. Vaxoram stiffened, but he continued on his journey into the bath room with them. Inside, he pulled another set of towels off his shoulder and hung them lengthwise between the front and back rows of baths.

Kindan understood at once.

“An excellent idea,” he told the older apprentice. Vaxoram gave him the faintest of grins that vanished before Kindan could reciprocate.

“The girls are getting too old for us not to respect their privacy,” Vaxoram said. He glanced at Kindan and Verilan. “And so are you.”

“But we like talking when we’re in the baths!” Kelsa complained from the far side of the towel partition.

“You can pull them down when everyone’s in their bath,” Vaxoram replied. “And when you’re ready to get out, let us know and we’ll look away while you wrap yourself in your towel.”

“That’s no fun,” Nonala protested.

“But he’s right,” Kelsa said. “We are getting older.”