Dragon Harper

CHAPTER 4

It was only as Kindan felt the last of the cold of between seep out of his bones as the great bronze dragon, Gaminth, spiraled on down to the landing meadow outside the Harper Hall that he finally realized how he could win the upcoming fight on his own terms. A fierce smile animated his lips and remained there all the way back through the archway and into the courtyard of the Harper Hall.

“Are you ready, Kindan?” Master Murenny asked as he approached.

“Could I have some time to practice?” Kindan asked. The courtyard was full of harpers except for the large center expanse that was reserved for the upcoming duel. He saw no sign of Vaxoram but he wasn’t looking for him. Winning was no longer an issue in Kindan’s mind. All he wanted was to win without bloodshed.

“How long do you need?”

“Ten minutes will be enough,” Kindan replied. “And can I get some green tomatoes? Maybe half a dozen?”

“I’ll see if Selora can provide them,” Murenny replied, his eyes dancing in anticipation. Selora was happy to provide eight green tomatoes.

“What are you going to do?” Kelsa asked as she brought him the tomatoes.

“Practice,” Kindan replied enigmatically. He stepped into the vacant center of the courtyard, beckoning for Kelsa to follow him. “Throw up one of the tomatoes whenever you’re ready.”

“Toward you?”

“No, just close enough to lunge at,” Kindan replied, grabbing his blade in his left hand.

“Kindan, you’re not left-handed,” Kelsa said in surprise.

Kindan smiled and nodded, flicking his blade at her encouragingly. Kelsa swallowed hard, grabbed one tomato, and threw it up into the air. Kindan lunged, flicking his wrist as he did so, and the tomato landed, unharmed on the ground. Kelsa’s eyes grew wider, nervously. Kindan gestured for her to try again. Again she threw, again Kindan flicked and again the tomato reached the ground whole.

“Excellent,” Kindan said over the growing hubbub of surprised apprentices. He knew that to them it looked as though he had missed twice, but he didn’t care. He had seen what he wanted with the tomatoes: on each he had left a thin scar. Now it was time for Vaxoram to be scared.

“Throw up two at once, please,” Kindan said, loud enough to carry over the murmurings. The noise fell immediately. Kelsa pleaded with her eyes, but Kindan merely nodded to her. She threw two tomatoes into the air, unable to control their arcs, and they separated. Kindan lunged twice and both tomatoes fell to the ground—neatly cut in half. Around him the crowd gasped.

“And again,” Kindan instructed Kelsa. She looked at him with unmasked surprise and grabbed two more tomatoes. Kindan lunged twice more and severed both tomatoes before they hit the ground.

“One more time,” Kindan said, his voice carrying clearly in the silent courtyard.

Eagerly Kelsa threw the tomatoes in the air, their courses diverging far more energetically, but it didn’t matter: Kindan lunged toward one, recovered, twisted, and lunged toward the second before it hit the ground. Both were severed.

“I’m done my practice, Masterharper Murenny,” Kindan called loudly. He pivoted on one foot to view the whole courtyard, seeking out Vaxoram. He spotted him and stopped, gesturing with his other hand for Kelsa to rejoin the crowd.

“Good luck,” she called softly to him.

“Vaxoram!” Kindan shouted loudly, his voice echoing off the walls of the Harper Hall. Vaxoram looked up at him, his blade held loosely at his side. “Do you yield?”

“Hah!” Vaxoram shouted back, tromping into the center of the courtyard.

Masterharper Murenny and Master Detallor strode after him.

“Are you determined to do this?” Murenny asked Kindan and Vaxoram in turn. Each nodded, although Kindan noticed that Vaxoram was swallowing nervously, his eyes wide with fear. Kindan locked onto Vaxoram’s eyes until the other glanced away. Kindan kept his eyes on Vaxoram’s face, meeting his eyes every time the older boy glanced nervously in his direction. Kindan was certain that Vaxoram had seen the tomato demonstration, just as he was equally certain that Vaxoram thought that Kindan had missed the first two tomatoes.

“Very well,” Detallor said. “If that’s the case, I shall check your blades.” Both Kindan and Vaxoram reversed their blades, proferring the hilts to the Defense Master. This was a mere formality, as both blades belonged to the Harper Hall. Still, in all solemnity, Detallor took Vaxoram’s first and examined it carefully before flexing it and handing it back. He repeated the same inspection with Kindan’s blade and returned it in the same manner.

Kindan was glad to get his blade back in his left hand, and managed not to smile when he saw Detallor’s look of surprise—at least the Defense Master had paid attention. Kindan had counted on Vaxoram not to care which hand Kindan fought with.

Detallor stepped back, his own sword at his side.

“Salute each other,” Detallor said.

Vaxoram and Kindan raised their blades in the salute, then lowered them again.

“You may begin,” Murenny called loudly.

As expected, Vaxoram charged instantly. Kindan, who had been watching him carefully, waited until the last moment and sidestepped, pivoting around to whack Vaxoram hard with the side of his thin blade. He knew that the blow would at best leave a welt but would probably anger Vaxoram more. He was counting on that.

Vaxoram stopped and turned, eyeing Kindan, who waited for him impassively. Vaxoram started forward slowly, advancing in proper fencing style. When he was near enough to lunge at Kindan, he stopped. Kindan eyed him, waiting. Vaxoram’s lunge was telegraphed by the flaring of his nostrils. Kindan beat it aside and jabbed in return into Vaxoram’s right shoulder. He heard Vaxoram’s hiss of pain, but withdrew quickly and stepped back. Vaxoram retreated as well, his expression a mixture of surprise, fear, and anger.

“Do you yield?” Kindan called.

Vaxoram answered him with an angry growl and charged. Kindan parried and thrust again, but his blade slid off Vaxoram’s shoulder. Kindan retreated.

“Running away?” Vaxoram sneered.

Kindan said nothing, locking his eyes once more on Vaxoram’s. He was ready again for Vaxoram’s lunge, parried once more, but this time in his riposte he raised his blade higher and threatened Vaxoram’s face. The older apprentice jerked his head aside.

Kindan stepped back, to his right. Vaxoram stood en garde, eyeing Kindan carefully. The older boy’s sides were heaving, but Kindan thought it was from fear rather than breathlessness.

“Did you see what I did to those tomatoes?” Kindan asked. He saw a flicker of curiosity in Vaxoram’s eyes. “I can split your eyes just like that.” He saw a look of horror creep over Vaxoram’s face. The large apprentice charged blindly with a loud yell, but Kindan was ready and sidestepped, turning around to keep his blade pointed at Vaxoram.

Vaxoram stopped uncertainly. It was a moment before he turned to face Kindan. In that moment, Kindan knew that the fight was over, that Vaxoram was looking for a way out, an honorable surrender. And Kindan would give it to him.

He rushed toward the larger apprentice. Vaxoram took a step back, then held his ground, his sword in guard position. When Kindan struck, he beat Vaxoram’s blade to the side and curved back across Vaxoram’s exposed face—just below the right eyeball, leaving a thin, red welt.

Vaxoram bellowed in pain and horror. He charged, but Kindan was ready; he sidestepped once more, but this time held out a foot, tripping Vaxoram. He whirled around and stood over the fallen lad, his point coming to Vaxoram’s throat.

“Yield,” Kindan called loudly. He flicked his point up toward Vaxoram’s other eye, then back down to Vaxoram’s throat. “Do you yield?”

Vaxoram licked his lips, his eyes huge, his heart racing, his Adam’s apple wobbling, but he voiced no words.

“I won’t kill you,” Kindan declared, his eyes locked on the other apprentice’s. Vaxoram’s eyes narrowed in surprise. “If you don’t yield, though, I will blind you.” Kindan flicked his point up to Vaxoram’s left eye. “Think about that,” he said very carefully. “Think about it and yield.” He gestured to Vaxoram’s sword, still held in the apprentice’s hand. “Throw your blade away,” he ordered.

With a slight heave, Vaxoram threw his blade away. It landed not far from him.

“Now yield.”

Vaxoram didn’t move, his whole being clearly conveying defeat.

Kindan backed away and gestured with his blade. “Get on your knees in front of me and yield yourself to me,” he said, using the formal words he’d been taught by Detallor, words he’d never thought to hear spoken for real, let alone utter himself.

Slowly, Vaxoram rolled over onto his knees. As he did, one hand lunged toward his blade, but Kindan saw the motion and, with a flick of his own blade, sent the other flying through the air. He flicked his blade back toward Vaxoram once more, this time with the point resting hard on the top of the other’s back just over the left lung.

“Say you yield now,” he said, his voice rasping in anger. “Say it loud so everyone can hear, or I’ll pop your lung.”

“I yield,” Vaxoram said softly, flopping face down onto the ground.

“Get up,” Kindan ordered, nudging him with the point of his blade. “On your knees.”

Vaxoram pushed himself to his knees.

“Yield.”

“I yield,” Vaxoram said more loudly.

“Say it all,” Kindan commanded.

“I yield to Kindan, apprentice of the Harper Hall,” Vaxoram said, his voice rising loud enough to carry. “I yield his judgment on my body and I acknowledge forfeit to him.”

“What forfeit?” Master Murenny’s voice called from the crowd.

“He’s to serve me,” Kindan called back.

“For how long?”

“Until I release him,” Kindan replied.

“Vaxoram, do you forfeit?” Murenny called formally.

“I do,” Vaxoram replied, tears streaming from his eyes. He looked up at Kindan. “I forfeit. I will serve you until you release me.”

Kindan kept his eyes on the older boy who had just agreed to become his personal drudge. And he was surprised to see a sense of relief in Vaxoram’s eyes. The bully had found his place in the Harper Hall—at Kindan’s side.

***

“He’s not going to sleep with us, is he?” Nonala spoke quietly into Kindan’s ear as she and Kelsa congratulated him on his victory.

Kindan glanced over at Vaxoram who was staring steadily ahead, his eyes dull, his bleak expression marred only by the tracks of tears that had cleared paths through the grime that encrusted his face.

“Yes,” Kindan declared at once. “There’s a spare bunk nearby.”

“But—” Nonala cut herself off as she caught Kindan’s set look. “Okay.”

“Kindan!” Master Murenny’s voice cut through the noise of the massed harpers.

“Master?” Kindan called back, glancing toward the sound of the harper’s voice.

“Meet me in my quarters.”

“Immediately,” Kindan replied. He glanced toward Vaxoram. On impulse, he handed his blade to him. “Clean up the blades, then clean yourself up.”

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.”

***

Kindan was surprised to see Vaxoram interrupt his last class of the day, Archiving with Master Resler. He thought perhaps that Vaxoram had misunderstood, but instead of approaching him, Vaxoram went directly to the Master and spoke quickly, pointing at Kindan.

“Kindan, you’re excused,” Resler called. “You’re to go up to the Hold—the eggs are hatching.” Kindan started to put away his work, as Master Resler was known for his fastidiousness.

“I’ll get that,” Vaxoram said, rushing to Kindan’s side.

“Meet me up there,” Kindan replied, scuttling out of the Archive Room.

Outside, in the Harper Hall courtyard, Kindan broke into a slow, steady trot. He and the other apprentices made the kilometer run every morning, so he was used to it, but he paced himself now, so that he’d arrive ready for anything. As he ran, he tried to recall everything that he knew about the clutch of fire-lizard eggs. M’tal had said that the eggs were actually the combination of two finds, that some might hatch before the others but that he was pretty certain that there would not be more than two days between the first and last hatching.

Of the seven eggs, only two were marked for the Harper Hall, his and one other. Kindan had heard that the second was to go to Issak, one of the younger journeyman harpers. Tenelin, the senior journeyman at the Harper Hall, had already had a chance and had failed to Impress his fire-lizard. Kindan had been surprised to hear that, as Tenelin had always struck him as a kind, considerate individual. But sometimes, Kindan reflected with growing unease, that wasn’t enough for a fire-lizard. Certainly it wasn’t enough on its own to Impress a dragon.

The rising slope slowed him down only a little and soon he was under the great arches of Fort Hold and sprinting into the courtyard proper, heading for the huge doors that opened into Fort’s Great Hall.

“The fire-lizard eggs, where are they?” Kindan called to one of the guards as he sped past.

“You’d better hurry,” the guard replied, gesturing to the far end of the hall, “they’re in the kitchen.”

Kindan increased his pace to a full run, his breath now coming in gasps and his sides aching with effort.

Kindan had no sooner entered Fort’s huge kitchen, a room nearly three times the size of the Harper Hall’s, when Issak’s voice called out, “Come on, Kindan, they’re hatching! One’s already gone between.”

Unless immediately fed—stuffed senseless, in fact—a fire-lizard would go between in search of food on its own, which meant that it would go wild and never be Impressed.

Kindan raced over to the hearth and took in the scene: there were several young men, Issak, and a girl somewhat older than Kindan. At that very instant, the egg nearest her burst open and a beautiful golden queen fire-lizard emerged, creeling with fear and hunger.

“Feed it,” Issak shouted, thrusting a bowl of scraps toward the girl.

But the girl did nothing, her eyes only on the gold fire-lizard, wide with both fear and amazement. In that instant, Kindan fell in love.

“Koriana!” An older woman’s voice called. Kindan turned to follow the voice and saw an older version of the girl, dressed all in finery—Lady Sannora, Fort’s Lady Holder.

Kindan dropped to the girl’s side, grabbed the bowl of scraps, and pulled one out of it. He thrust the wet bit of meat into one of the girl’s limp hands.

“You must feed her,” he said. “Feed her and make her come to you.”

Koriana jerked at his words and looked down to the piece of meat in her hand. Kindan put his hand over her forearm and guided it forward to the mouth of the fire-lizard. The little queen saw the meat and pounced, gobbling it down. Kindan grabbed another piece with his free hand and put it in Koriana’s hand, drawing it back slightly toward her lap.

“Kindan!” Issak called. “The other eggs, you need to pick one!”

“You said one had gone already,” Kindan protested.

“That was mine,” one of the Lord Holder’s sons declared. He gestured to Kindan. “You should have a chance. After all, you seem to have brought us luck, for Koriana at the very least.”

Kindan continued to pass scraps to Koriana, leaning so close that he could smell the fresh scent of her hair, the warmth of her trembling body. Her hair was honey blond and her eyes a brilliant blue. A smattering of freckles showed on her arms and Kindan guessed that she also had some on her face. She was breathing raggedly.

“Calm down, it’ll be all right,” Kindan told her soothingly. “You’re doing fine. Just feed her and have her come to you. You want her in your lap. Then feed her until she falls asleep.”

Kindan started to move but Koriana made a terrified sound and grabbed at him.

A figure came from around behind him. It was Vaxoram. He looked over at the rocking eggs and back to Kindan.

“Which one?” he asked Kindan. For a moment all eyes were on Kindan. He pointed to a brownish egg and Vaxoram retrieved it, bringing it and some warm sand close to Kindan, then he retreated silently.

Lady Sannora frowned as she noticed the raw, red scar under Vaxoram’s right eye and turned to scrutinize Kindan with a tight expression that Kindan didn’t see.

“Keep feeding her,” Kindan instructed Koriana, leaning back now a little from the intoxicating closeness of her.

In front of him, the brownish shell rocked hard and cracked. Kindan tensed, grabbed a handful of scraps with his other hand, and held it above the shell. In a moment a head emerged and creeled. Kindan fed it a scrap. The fire-lizard hatchling shook its egg and burst it still further, reaching for the next scrap. Kindan fed it, then pulled his hand back.

“Come on,” he called soothingly. “There’s plenty here. You can have it all, come on.”

The hatchling burst out of its egg and took an awkward step toward Kindan and another scrap of food.

Beside him, Kindan heard Koriana speak in imitation, “Come on, you beauty, have another.”

“Come on,” Kindan said. He was surprised to see that his fire-lizard was bronze. He’d thought he’d picked a brown. “Oh, you’re such a pretty one, aren’t you?” he murmured encouragingly. “You’re so clever, too! Come on, come a little closer.”

“Come on, my beauty, come closer,” Koriana cooed. Kindan glanced at her long enough to grin and was rewarded with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. It was with an effort that he turned back to his fire-lizard.

It took only a few more minutes to get his fire-lizard perched in his lap, stuffed with scraps. Beside him, Koriana’s gold had found her way into her lap also and had curled up, fast asleep.

“What do I do now?” Koriana murmured fearfully to Kindan.

“Stroke her,” he told her. “Stay with her while she sleeps. Feed her when she wakes up.”

He looked down to his own fire-lizard and stroked the bronze beauty softly. Soon the miniature dragon had also curled up comfortably and, with a final shiver of abandon, fallen asleep. He turned back to Koriana, still oblivious to the others. “What are you going to name her?”

Koriana’s lips tightened into a frown as she thought. “Koriss,” she said finally. “She shall be Koriss.” She looked at Kindan and his heart leapt as she smiled and asked, “And yours?”

“Valla.” The name seemed right the moment he said it.

Two eggs remained unhatched and unmoving.

“M’tal said that there were two different clutches,” Kindan announced when he noted Lord Bemin and his Lady Sannora exchange concerned looks.

“But when will we know that they’re hatching?” Lord Bemin asked.

“M’tal said that they should hatch within two days of each other,” Kindan replied.

Lord Bemin looked relieved. He glanced at Kindan with his bronze fire-lizard in his lap and then at Koriana with her gold fire-lizard. A frown crossed his face as he noticed how closely the harper was seated to his eldest daughter.

“Could you stay here tonight?” Lady Sannora asked Kindan. “I’ll send word to the Hall—”

“I could go,” Vaxoram offered.

“Could you?” Lady Sannora asked, her face brightening with relief. Vaxoram glanced at Kindan, asking, “Is that all right?”

“Certainly,” Kindan replied. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“You’d trust me on my own?” Vaxoram asked with just a hint of surprise in his tone.

Kindan turned his head and probingly locked eyes with Vaxoram for a long moment before nodding.

“Go carefully, the roads can get slick at this time of night,” Issak advised. Vaxoram nodded, bowed to Lord Bemin and Lady Sannora, then left swiftly.

“That boy!” Lady Sannora exclaimed to her husband. “Did you see the scar under his eye?”

“He was fighting,” Lord Bemin replied, turning his head to eye Kindan thoughtfully. “There was a duel. He lost.”

“I don’t approve of duels,” Lady Sannora pronounced, her face set in a grimace. “What overmuscled cretin picked a fight with him?”

Lord Bemin raised an eyebrow in Kindan’s direction.

“I did,” Kindan said, meeting the Lord’s and Lady’s outraged looks steadily, though he felt the heat in his cheeks. “He had threatened to use his strength over a woman,” he explained. With a shrug, he added, “Several women, actually.”

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Bemin’s eldest son, Semin, demanded.

“Because, my lord,” Kindan replied, “I believe in second chances.”

Semin was surprised at Kindan’s response.

“And because it would have done more harm than good,” Issak chimed in from the other side. He inclined his head toward Kindan. “Master Murenny recounted your thinking to me.”

Was there a hint of respect in the journeyman’s eyes?

“Well!” Lady Sannora said in surprise.

“Well,” Lord Bemin agreed, “we have offered our hospitality for the night; please do not hesitate to ask for anything you need.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Kindan replied, fully aware of the emphasis the Lord Holder had placed on “the night”—and the implication that Kindan was expected to leave in the morning.

Koriana had listened to the exchange through half-lidded eyes as though drowsing, but Kindan had noticed that she had opened them once or twice with such haste that he wondered if she hadn’t been feigning her fatigue. Now she spoke up. “Father, could you have pillows and blankets brought to us?”

“Us?” Lady Sannora repeated in surprise.

“I don’t want to disturb Koriss,” Koriana said, bending her head toward the fire-lizard sleeping in her lap. “And I might need help if she wakes in the night. I’m sure Issak and”—here Kindan felt her eyes upon him—“Kindan will keep me company.”

“Of course,” Issak declared instantly, flicking a half-wink toward Kindan. Kindan, wisely, said nothing.

“Very well,” Bemin agreed, although he had a hard time veiling an uneasy glance in Kindan’s direction. He signaled the hearth drudge to comply with Koriana’s request. Once another drudge was dispatched for the requisite sleeping gear, the hearth drudge returned to her task of carefully banking the kitchen’s great fire. Issak, Kindan, and Koriana arranged themselves comfortably when the blankets and pillows arrived.

“Good night then,” Sannora called from the entranceway as the last of the glows were turned.

“Good night, Mother,” Koriana called sleepily over her shoulder and curled her body around her gold fire-lizard. Kindan emulated her in the same direction so that they looked like a large pair of Cs shielding small fire-lizard dots.

“Good night, my lady,” Issak said formally.

“Sleep peacefully, my lady,” Kindan said.

After a moment the last of the footsteps dwindled into silence and they were left with the crackle of the coal fire, the smell of smoke, warm scraps, and scented pillows. Just before he dozed off, Kindan thought he detected the faintest smell of Koriana’s hair.

He woke much later in the middle of the night and turned quickly to see Koriana staring at him.

“She’s up, what do I do?” the girl whispered frantically.

“Feed her, soothe her, get her back to sleep,” Kindan replied softly, groping for and pushing a bowl of scraps her way. He examined the belly of his bronze fire-lizard carefully but Valla made no motions toward wakefulness.

“Help me,” Koriana whispered in despair. Kindan rolled over, carefully rolling Valla into his lap, and turned around to face Koriana. He passed her scraps that she fed her fire-lizard until, finally, the hungry gold’s eyes slowly faded in the firelight as she fell back to sleep. Kindan watched Koriana for a moment more. He was surprised when the girl reached out and grabbed his hand, clasping it with hers.

“Thank you,” she said.

Kindan nodded. Very carefully, he stretched himself out, still facing her, and rolled over, depositing Valla in the center of a bundle of blankets. Reaching behind him, he pulled another blanket over himself.

Koriana followed suit, but being taller than Kindan, she had trouble getting her blanket to cover her. In moments she was shivering. Kindan raised a finger to his lips to caution her to silence, then reached further over his shoulder and pulled more blanket over himself and on top of her. Koriana smiled gratefully at him and then snuggled closer, so close that their two fire-lizards were almost touching. Koriana leaned forward, her head resting lightly against his. Her knees brushed his. In moments she was asleep.

Kindan did not fall asleep until much later.

***

“Kindan!” a voice spoke urgently in his ear, rousing him. “Kindan, get up, now! The other eggs are hatching, the Lord and Lady are on their way.” It was Vaxoram.

Kindan sat up slowly, remembering his charge, then looked down at Koriana who was still sleeping peacefully, her fire-lizard half-clutched in her hands.

“If they see you like this…” Vaxoram said, shaking his head. “You can’t think that they’ll accept a harper for her!”

“No!” Kindan said, looking at Vaxoram in surprise. “It’s not like that.” But Kindan wondered to himself, what would it be like to wake up to such a peaceful sight every day?

“Check the eggs,” Issak ordered from the other side of the hearth. “And get some distance, muss up those pillows and blankets.”

Vaxoram jumped in with a will, ignoring Kindan’s protests for quiet.

“You don’t want to upset the Lord Holder,” Vaxoram told him. Kindan sensed that the older apprentice was talking from some past experience, but he had no time to ask more.

The remaining two eggs were rocking.

“Come quickly, the eggs are hatching!” Issak called, cradling his fire-lizard in the crook of one arm and rushing to the kitchen’s entrance.

“What’s up?” Koriana asked muzzily as the noise roused her.

“The other eggs are hatching,” Kindan told her. “Be sure to feed yours if she wakes.”

Koriana nodded, then looked around. She glanced at the pillows and blankets spread about her, then at Kindan, her eyes intent and mouth open, but before she could say anything, her mother, father, and two older brothers strode into the room.

“They’re hatching?” Semin asked, glancing toward the hearth.

“Yes,” Kindan said.

“Sit down close by and grab some scraps,” Issak said, gesturing toward the ground close to the rocking eggs.

“Bannor, come on!” Semin called, gesturing for his younger brother to follow him. “We can’t let Koriana be the only one of us with a fire-lizard!”

Bannor laughed as he strode into the room. “No, indeed we can’t, little sister.”

Koriana waved groggily at him, then angrily as the motion disturbed her queen.

“If you wake her—”

“Perhaps you should go to another room?” Lady Sannora suggested, not quite glancing toward Kindan. It was clear that Lady Sannora was unhappy with the thought that Koriana had spent the night in his presence.

Koriana noticed the glance and smiled back at her mother. “And have a chance to miss my sibs’ triumph? Oh, no, Mother, I must be here for every moment!”

Was the girl deliberately trying to goad her mother, Kindan wondered.

“Well,” Lady Sannora said consideringly, regrouping her thoughts, “perhaps the harpers would prefer to return to their hall.”

“We are at your service, my lady,” Issak replied with a carefully choreographed bow that managed to keep his fire-lizard level throughout.

“Keep the lucky one here,” Semin said, indicating Kindan. “The others can go.”

“We could help,” Issak suggested. Vaxoram nodded mutely. Kindan couldn’t tell if the older boy was more interested in the spectacle of Impression or in fulfilling his duty to Kindan. Or perhaps he wanted to watch Kindan’s growing discomfiture in the presence of both Koriana and her mother.

“I’m hungry,” Koriana said. “I’m sure the others are, too.”

“Indeed,” Lady Sannora agreed drily. She started to say something more but caught herself and instead nodded to the harpers. “Pardon me, I’m forgetting my manners in all the excitement. I’ll have someone bring you klah and rolls.”

“It is a hectic time for all of us,” Issak said, nodding politely. “No apologies are necessary, my lady.”

Lady Sannora nodded graciously but cast a cold look toward her daughter. Koriana merely smiled back.

Kindan thought that Koriana was playing a dangerous game, goading her mother so. He realized that the tensions between the two were long-standing but felt that somehow his presence had exacerbated them.

But the two remaining eggs were now clearly hatching, so he put his thoughts on hold.

“What should we do?” Bannor asked, looking to Issak, then Kindan, then Koriana in desperation.

“Don’t panic,” Koriana told him sternly. “Just stuff its face full of scraps and talk soothingly.”

“Tell him you love him,” Issak added, looking down fondly at the brown still sleeping serenely in the crook of his arm.

“What if it’s a green?” Bannor asked worriedly.

“Then tell her,” Semin answered with a disgusted look, adding snidely, “Though why you would want a green…”

Kindan glanced at Bannor, wondering if the younger holder was hoping for a green. Gold and green fire-lizards were female, just like gold and green dragons…or watch-whers.

“You can’t be certain from the size or color of the egg,” Kindan said suddenly. “Nor from past experience,” he added as he noticed both older lads looking at him expectantly. “I impressed a green watch-wher, and now I have a bronze fire-lizard.”

“Forsk is green,” Bannor said, glancing toward the kitchen entrance. “Forsk is bound to Father.”

Ah, so it wasn’t a question of preferences, Kindan thought to himself. Perhaps it was jealousy. Perhaps Bemin’s sons envied their father his bond with the watch-wher. Clearly from the number of his offspring, there was no question of Bemin’s virility. The knowledge that Fort’s Lord Holder was bonded to a green watch-wher eased some of Kindan’s unconscious worries about himself and his prior acquaintance with a watch-wher.

“It’s cracking!” Koriana shouted, raising one arm to point at the egg nearest Bannor. “Feed it, feed it!”

“You’d best feed yours,” Kindan told her calmly, noting that the noise had disturbed the queen.

“It’s a bronze!” Bannor exclaimed. “Oh, you great beauty, you!” He started to feed the creeling fire-lizard scraps from his hand. But before the fire-lizard had stepped more than twice from its shell, Kindan’s Valla had woken up and chirped questioningly.

Suddenly Koriss hissed loudly, her voice warbling in a horrible noise and the little newly hatched fire-lizard gave one terrified squawk and went between.

“She scared it!” Bannor cried, pointing a finger at the gold. “She scared it away!”

“No, she didn’t,” Koriana protested hotly, grasping the gold tightly in her hands. “She was scared and she cried out.”

“She scared it away,” Bannor persisted, his tone both bereaved and outraged. “And now I won’t have one.”

Semin’s egg cracked at that moment and Bannor turned toward it. “Let me have yours, Semin.”

Semin saw the look of longing in his younger brother’s eyes and was startled, caught between acquiescing and taking the fire-lizard himself. The hatchling squawked hungrily.

“Feed it,” Kindan urged.

But Koriss squawked again peremptorily before the little brown had even emerged from its shell and, with a horrified yelp, the little brown went between.

“Oh, no! Now look what you’ve done!” Bannor exclaimed angrily to his brother. “You should have given him to me, you oaf.” He turned toward Lady Sannora. “Mother, I want a fire-lizard.” He gestured toward Kindan and Issak. “Make them give me theirs.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Bannor,” Koriana told him heatedly. “And how dare you say such a thing? Call yourself a Holder’s son?”

“Mother!” Bannor complained, turning back to his mother.

“Koriana, really!” Lady Sannora cried, wringing her hands. “Your brother has had a trying time here, at least you could be sympathetic.”

But Koriana looked like the last thing she wanted to be was sympathetic.

Issak stirred and asked Kindan, “Have you ever heard of such an occurance before?”

“No,” Kindan replied, surprised that the journeyman would ask his opinion.

“Nor have I,” Issak said. He turned to Lady Sannora. “My lady, if it pleases you, we will report this sad affair to the Masterharper. Perhaps he has some suggestions that would help in the future.”

“Yes, yes,” Lady Sannora said hastily as she crossed toward the distraught Bannor. “That sounds like an excellent suggestion.”

“But I still don’t know what to do with my fire-lizard,” Koriana protested, glancing pleadingly at Kindan.

“For the time being, just feed her,” Kindan replied. “And oil any patchy skin, just like the watch-wher.”

“You’re the one who had a watch-wher?” Lady Sannora asked, turning suddenly back toward Kindan. “And you gave her to that blind girl who saved her father?”

“She’s not blind, not really,” Kindan said. “But that’s about the gist of it, yes, my lady.”

“You must have been very sad,” Koriana said, looking at Kindan with renewed interest.

“Or very stupid,” Bannor snapped, glancing sulkily at his mother.

“Perhaps both,” Kindan agreed, not letting the Holder’s middle child upset him. Koriana rewarded him with an impish grin, quickly hidden from her mother.

“My lady,” Issak prompted, “with your leave…”

“Oh, do!” Lady Sannora assented, waving her hand and turning her attention solely toward Bannor. “We’ll send a messenger if we need anything.”

“We could use the drums,” Semin suggested.

“We’ll send a messenger,” Lady Sannora repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.

Issak nodded, again not jostling his fire-lizard. “As you wish.”

And with that, he signaled Kindan and Vaxoram to follow him as he led the way out of the kitchen, through Fort’s Great Hall, and down toward the Harper Hall.

Kindan had much to think about on the journey.

Nothing was said until they were once more under the arches of the Harper Hall.

“You two go to your classes,” Issak instructed. “I’ll report to the Masterharper.”

“Valla is getting hungry,” Kindan said.

Issak nodded in understanding. “By all means feed him whenever he wants,” he responded. “We don’t need to perpetuate the tragedy of today.”

Kindan said nothing but Vaxoram snickered. Issak raised an eyebrow in inquiry of the older apprentice.

“It wasn’t us and you know it,” Vaxoram replied. “It’s that spoiled Bannor and his airs.” He glanced toward Kindan. “And don’t be too certain his sister is any better.”

Kindan bristled.

“It doesn’t matter,” Issak told him, holding out a placating hand. “You’re not a Lord Holder candidate, and Lord Bemin will trade his daughter to his advantage.”

“Trade?” Kindan repeated in outrage.

“She’ll go willingly, when the time comes,” Issak said to cool Kindan’s anger.

“It’s for the good of the Hold,” Vaxoram added, gloating over Kindan’s outburst. “You must understand, you’re a harper.”

“And harpers aren’t good enough?” Kindan demanded.

“Not for Lord Holders,” Issak agreed with a sad shake of his head. He said to Vaxoram, “Help him to understand.”

Vaxoram sighed and nodded, his gleeful mood subsiding. He gave Kindan a look that was almost sympathetic, then told Issak, “I’ll tell him while we feed his fire-lizard.”

Issak smiled and strode off, calling back with a finger pointed at the fire-lizard, “Don’t forget to show him off, as well!”

Guided by Vaxoram, Kindan and Valla entered the kitchen and found Selora bustling about, overseeing several drudges as they prepared the day’s meals.

“Kindan’s Impressed a bronze,” Vaxoram declared as they entered. “Just last night, a real beauty.”

Kindan was surprised at the pride in Vaxoram’s voice.

“He would,” Selora agreed heartily, peering down to the small figure nestled in Kindan’s crossed arms. The little fire-lizard yawned and looked up sleepily at Selora. “He’ll be hungry in a moment,” she declared, kicking a stool nearer to the hearth. “Sit down and I’ll get him some scraps.”

“A strange thing happened, Selora,” Vaxoram continued as Kindan sat down, too lost in concentration on Valla to speak, “Koriana’s little fire-lizard—”

“Koriss,” Kindan interjected suddenly.

“—Koriss,” Vaxoram agreed with a playful smile, “frightened off the two hatchlings that came to her brothers.”

“Males, were they?” Selora asked, cocking her head shrewdly.

“Yes,” Kindan agreed, his eyes narrowing. “How did you know?”

“She frightened them away on purpose,” Selora said. “Didn’t want her siblings paired with her mistress’s siblings.”

“Why?” Kindan asked in confusion.

Selora started to reply but had a coughing fit instead. “You’ll find out in time, I’ve no doubt,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. She pushed more scraps toward Kindan. “Be sure to stuff him good, they don’t like being moved much in the first sevenday.”

Hastily Kindan complied, fearful of losing his beautiful fire-lizard.

“Did you know, Selora,” Vaxoram continued conversationally, “when the two fire-lizards were frightened away, Bannor demanded that Issak or Kindan give up theirs?”

“Oh, he would,” Selora declared, throwing up her hands in disgust. “Just like his father, that one.”

***

The next two sevendays passed in a blur for Kindan, who felt that he spent all his waking hours feeding or oiling Valla, despite all the help he had from Verilan, Kelsa, Nonala and, most of all, Vaxoram.

Somewhere in that time Vaxoram moved from being a brooding, vanquished opponent to being truly dedicated to Kindan. Kindan could never point to the exact moment nor quite understand why, but there it was.

“He’s changed,” Nonala remarked one evening. Kindan glanced at her and she corrected herself, speaking directly to Vaxoram, “You’ve changed.”

Vaxoram grunted in surprise, then nodded in agreement.

“But why, though?” Kelsa wondered later when she was alone with Kindan, helping him oil Valla’s patchy skin. “Why has he changed?”

Kindan thought for a moment. “Master Murenny said that Vaxoram had come to the Harper Hall with a great voice as a child. When it broke wrong, he couldn’t find any new talent to replace it. He came from a small hold, Master Murenny said.”

“So he was afraid,” Kelsa guessed, nodding sagely. “And now he’s got something to do, guarding you.”

“Maybe,” Kindan agreed. Kelsa cocked her head at him questioningly. “Maybe there’s more to it. Perhaps because the worst has happened to him, he’s realized that he has nothing to be scared of.”

“Maybe,” Kelsa replied, but she didn’t sound convinced. She changed the topic. “What about this girl?”

“What girl?” Kindan asked innocently.

“The holder girl who impressed the gold, Kindan,” Kelsa responded tetchily.

“Who told you about her?” Kindan demanded. “Vaxoram?”

Kelsa shook her head. “This is a harper hall, news travels, silly.”

“Does everyone know?”

“Yes, everyone,” Kelsa replied with a wave of her hand to include the whole Harper Hall. “So what about it? Are the rumors true?”

“I haven’t heard the rumors,” Kindan returned heatedly, “so I can’t say.”

“The rumors are that you and she were all sparks together, that her fire-lizard scared any other suitors away, that she pines for you every night, and that her evil mother and father won’t let her see you no matter what she says.”

Kindan rolled his eyes in disgust. “The trouble with rumors is that they’re mostly wrong,” he declared.

“Mostly?” Kelsa pounced. “What’s right about them, then?”

“Kelsa,” Kindan growled warningly.

“Oh, Kindan, come on,” she pleaded, making big eyes back at him and looking pitiful. “You can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Kindan said. “It’s true that the other fire-lizards were frightened between and it may be that Koriss did it. Koriana was upset and her brother demanded that Issak or I give him our fire-lizards—”

“The brat!” Kelsa interjected.

“And I don’t think Lady Sannora likes me very much,” Kindan finished lamely.

“She doesn’t like harpers, you mean,” Kelsa corrected him.

Kindan glanced at her in surprise.

“Rumor has it,” Kelsa told him excitedly, “that she fell in love with a harper when she was younger but he spurned her.”

“Which harper?” Kindan demanded. He’d never heard such a rumor.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kelsa asked him, shaking her head at his obtuseness. “Why do you think Lord Bemin never visits?”

Kindan thought about that for a moment. “Not…Master Murenny?”

Kelsa nodded approvingly. “Right the first time.” She patted his arm condescendingly. “You’ll make a harper yet.”