Dragon Harper

CHAPTER 14

While Bemin distributed the fruits first to the standing able-bodied and then sent out patrols to distribute them to the rest of the Hold, Kindan returned to tending the ill in the Great Hall.

As he had half guessed, the arrival of fresh food meant the arrival of more patients, newly freed from the back rooms of the Hold by the roving parties that Bemin had sent out.

Kindan worked tirelessly through the rest of the day and the night. At some point he drifted off, falling asleep half over a cot.

A hand shook him gently awake much later.

“Healer,” a woman’s voice called. “Healer Kindan, are you all right?”

Kindan stirred and pulled himself upright.

“I’m Merila,” the woman said. “I’m sometimes midwife,” she explained. “Lord Bemin sent me to help you.”

“The illness?” Kindan asked her.

“I was way back in the apartments,” Merila said. “The others all died and I was near the same until the men brought me that fruit.”

“What do you know about the illness?” Kindan asked, pushing himself to his feet. He wobbled and Merila deftly inserted a hand under his shoulder, helping him up.

“Nothing much,” Merila said. “I had it and I got well, others died.”

“Those in their prime,” Kindan told her.

Merila’s brow creased in thought, then she nodded. “That was the way of it,” she agreed. “Couldn’t see it until now.” She looked at him. “Do you know why?”

“Their lungs were coughed up,” Kindan said. “From the inside. Like their bodies fought so hard, they coughed up their own lungs.”

“People’ve two lungs, did you try putting them on one side?”

Kindan nodded. “I tried that with”—he found his throat tightening—“with”—he couldn’t say her name, it hurt too much—“with the Lord Holder’s daughter. It didn’t work.”

“It was worth trying, all the same,” Merila replied judiciously. She gave Kindan a probing glance and looked ready to ask him another question, but changed her mind. “What can I do to help?”

“Have they got everyone from the back rooms?” Kindan asked.

“Not all,” Merila replied. “They’re just starting.”

A group of holders marched by, carrying a woman; they were trailed by a small group of children.

“There’s many a mother who’ll die of starvation,” Merila said, shaking her head. “They gave their food to their children.”

“We’ve got fruit,” Kindan said.

“But for how long?” Merila wondered.

“The dragonriders won’t let us down,” Kindan assured her.

Merila snorted and waved her hand around the Hall. “I don’t see any dragonriders here, harper.”

“If they catch the plague, they’ll infect their weyrfolk,” Kindan explained. “The last time a plague like this spread over Pern they did just that and it took nearly twenty Turns for the Weyrs to recover.”

“Twenty Turns?” Merila repeated in surprise. “But Thread’s coming—”

“Exactly,” Kindan said with a firm nod. “If the weyrfolk were to die from this illness, there’d be no support for the Weyrs, and not enough dragonriders fighting Thread.”

“And when the illness passes, what then?” Merila asked. “Will they come then?”

“Who can say when the illness has passed?” Kindan asked her.

“That would be you,” she told him. Kindan gave her a startled look. “You’re the only healer I see here.”

“And when you’re done there, check the stables,” Bemin called to a workgroup as he entered the Great Hall from the courtyard. “If we can hitch up a wagon, we can bring food down below and the ill back up.”

“Aye, my lord,” Jelir called, gesturing to the group of four men behind him as they turned to head back outside.

Bemin saw Kindan and walked stiffly over to him.

“I can’t be here, there’s too much work to do in the Hold,” the Lord Holder said. “Can you manage on your own?”

“I’ll help,” Merila declared.

“And Neesa will keep the food going,” Bemin added.

“If only we had some klah,” Merila murmured.

Bemin cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll bet we can find some bark down in the village.”

“That would be great, my lord,” Kindan said, thinking wistfully of the brew’s restorative powers.

“We’ll make it our second priority,” Bemin declared. “Right after tending the sick.”

Kindan nodded in agreement. Bemin turned but seemed reluctant to leave.

“Go, my lord,” Kindan told him with a wave of his hand. “We’ll manage.”

As the day progressed, Kindan found it harder and harder to “manage.” Even with the fruit and the fellis, there were over two hundred patients and only two carers, himself and Merila. Merila watched over his shoulder while he dealt with the first three patients, marveled at the usefulness of the moodpaste, then took off on her own.

Sometime after lunch, Kindan staggered and fell to his knees. Attracted by the motion, Merila rushed to his side.

“Lie down,” Merila told him.

“There are more patients,” Kindan protested.

“You’re no help to them the way you are,” she replied, gesturing to an empty cot. “Lie down. Rest.”

“Wake me by dinner,” Kindan told her, sitting down on the cot. He was asleep before she answered.

“Kindan,” Bemin’s voice called to him gently. Kindan’s nose twitched, some distant memory, some—“I’ve got klah.”

Kindan’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at the Lord Holder, who was clutching Fiona with one hand and proffering a mug with the other.

Kindan sat up and took the mug eagerly. It was warm, it was tasty, it was great.

“We didn’t find much,” Bemin explained, eyeing the mug sadly. “Only enough for a pot or two.” He bent down and kissed Fiona on the head to give Kindan a moment to finish his klah. “Merila and Neesa have made a playroom out of the laundry room,” Bemin said, adding wryly, “I nearly had to pry her away.”

Kindan downed the last of his klah and looked up at the Lord Holder, smiling. “That’s great!” He stretched, ignoring sore muscles, and said, “I haven’t felt this awake in…”

“A fortnight or so,” Bemin finished with a shrug. “I’ve lost track of time, myself.”

“Time,” Kindan repeated, his thoughts still muzzy and distracted. The klah was marvelous, but not a complete cure for weeks of sleepless toil. What was so important about time? Merila had said it, Kindan thought to himself, something about time.

“I must go to the Harper Hall,” Kindan said suddenly.

Bemin gave him a blank look.

“No one could answer the drums,” Kindan explained. “They must be even worse off than we are.” He tried to stand up but his legs wouldn’t move. He looked up at Fort’s Lord Holder. “Could you give me a hand up, my lord?”

Bemin drew a ragged breath. “No,” he said wearily. “You need to rest.”

“But they need me there!” Kindan protested, again trying to push himself up. Feebly he grabbed for the edges of the cot he’d knelt by, trying to lever himself off the floor, but his arms were no better than his legs.

Bemin waved a hand at him. “You can’t even stand on your own, lad—what help can you be?”

Kindan shook his head. “It’s my duty,” he whispered, eyes too drained to cry.

“Kindan,” Merila called from the far end of the Great Hall. “Rialla has passed on.”

“Her children,” Bemin groaned softly, clutching Fiona tightly against his chest.

“I’ll talk to them,” Kindan said. Again he raised a hand to Bemin. “Can you help me up?”

With a sigh, Bemin reached down and helped the lad up from the floor. He’s nothing but skin and bones, the Lord Holder mused. He found a sick humor in the thought that all of Fort Hold was reliant on the wits of a tall, thin waif of a lad. “Once you’re done with them, you’ll lie back down and get more rest,” he ordered.

“I can’t,” Kindan replied. “I’ve got to go to the Harper Hall.”

“You can only walk holding on to my arm,” Bemin reminded him.

“And no one there can answer the drums,” Kindan told him.

“Lad,” Bemin began slowly, dreading the question, “what if there is no one to answer to drums?”

“Then we must know,” Kindan replied firmly. “We must tell the others, the Weyrleaders—”

Bemin interrupted with a disdainful snort. “The weyrfolk of Pern are safe enough, high up in their lofty homes. But they can’t come and till our fields, harvest our grains, tend our sick.”

Kindan shifted his weight, leaning more on Bemin as he used his free hand to wipe his face.

“If they can’t come, we’ll survive,” he declared feverishly.

“If we survive here, at this Hold and the Hall, it will be only because of you,” Bemin said. He glanced down, seeing the top of Kindan’s head. “Survive and you can have anything you ask for.”

Surprised, Kindan glanced up at the Lord Holder. “You know what I wanted most on Pern.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Bemin’s lips. “No man would have been prouder than I to have you call him ‘Father.’”

Bolstered by those words, Kindan found the strength to stand on his own and even lengthen his stride.

As he knelt down beside the two youngsters who looked uncomprehendingly at their mother’s body, Kindan turned to Merila and said, “Prepare some supplies, we’ll be going to the Harper Hall after this.” He glanced up at Bemin and said by way of apology, “I can’t rest until I know.”

Bemin sighed heavily, but dropped a hand on Kindan’s shoulder and clenched it. “I’ll go with you.”

Kindan nodded in gratitude, then turned his attention to Rialla’s children. He took a deep, steadying breath before he caught the eyes of Ernin, the youngest, and Erila.

“Your mother didn’t want to leave you,” he told them softly, reaching out and grabbing their hands. “She was very brave and she fought for days as hard as she could.”

“She did?” Ernin asked, looking at the still form of his mother. “She fought the plague?”

“She did,” Kindan affirmed. “But she was very weak and it was very strong.”

“It beat her?” Ernin asked, his eyes watering. Kindan nodded sadly. Ernin pursed his lips in desperate thought. “Can she play again?”

“No, lad, I’m afraid she can’t,” Bemin said. “She’s gone, like my Lady Sannora.”

“She’s dead?” Erila asked, shifting her gaze from Kindan up to Bemin.

“She is,” Kindan told her softly. “But she asked us to look after you, and we promised her we would.” He found it hard to speak and it was a moment before he continued, “Lord Bemin and I, we’ll keep care of you.”

“But I want to go with Momma!” Ernin wailed.

“That would be the easy way,” Bemin told the boy chidingly. “You seem stronger than that. Are you up to the challenge?”

Ernin looked up wide-eyed at the Lord Holder until his sister nudged him, and hissed, “Answer the Lord Holder!”

“Yes, my lord,” Ernin told him.

“I knew you were!” Bemin replied with a firm nod of his head. “I’ll need you two to find your way to the playroom, you’ll find it by the noise. There are others there who are ready for the challenge.” Bemin gestured to the door. “Off you go!”

As the youngsters scurried away toward the kitchen, Bemin shook his head sadly. He waited until they were out of sight, then signaled to two holders to come and take Rialla’s body.

He turned to Kindan, his features set. “Very well, harper, let’s go to your Hall.”

He drew Kindan to his side and together they walked out of the Fort Hold’s Great Hall toward the ramp that led down into the valley below and onto the road that forked to the Harper Hall.

***

Kindan’s first sight of the Harper Hall in nearly three weeks set his heart plunging into despair. The whole place had a disused, abandoned appearance, looking nothing at all like the purposeful bustling center of learning and arts on Pern.

Worse, he could see a huge mound of dirt and a bigger ditch just outside the entrance to the Healer Hall set in the cliffs far to the right of the Harper Hall. A blue dragon was working busily nearby. It took Kindan a moment to see what the dragon was doing, and then his heart nearly stopped. J’trel’s blue Talith was gently carrying bodies in his front claws and lowering them into the ditch. He could see where another ditch nearby had already been filled in.

He picked up his pace, startling Bemin.

“Valla, go ahead, tell them we’re coming!” Kindan called to his fire-lizard. The little bronze did a quick circle in the sky then sped off, chirping loudly at the blue dragon and then disappearing through the doors of the Healer Hall.

“There’s a bundle of fruit over there,” Kindan called, veering off the paved road.

“Let the dragon get it,” Bemin replied, steering them back. “We can also send down a cart later. First we must see…” he let his words trail off, unwilling to complete his sentence.

As they passed near the outside of the Harper Hall, a fresh breeze blew in from the valley, carrying with it the distinct odor of death and decay.

“We’ll send a party in as soon as we can,” Bemin promised.

“No, we’ll do it, our duty as harpers,” Kindan replied.

“No, as Lord Holder, I am telling you that Fort will do it,” Bemin told him forcefully. In a softer voice he added, “It’s my choice and our honor.”

“I thought you didn’t trust harpers,” Kindan snapped back before he thought about what he was saying. He instantly regretted it but Bemin laughed and waved it aside.

“You’re right: I didn’t trust harpers,” Bemin agreed. He nodded down to Kindan. “But now that you’ve produced fruit from the sky, I’ve had to revise my thinking.” He paused for a moment. “Let us clean up the Harper Hall,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that horror.”

“Very well,” Kindan said. He cocked his head up to meet Bemin’s eyes squarely. “Thank you, Lord Holder.”

Bemin started to reply, but halted abruptly as Valla flittered out of the entrance to the Healer Hall, chittering in distress, eyes whirling red.

Together Kindan and Fort’s Lord Holder entered.

***

It was a moment before their eyes adjusted to the dim light. During that moment, their nostrils were assailed with the smells of death and dying, and the sick.

Kindan walked through the entrance, turning toward the infirmary.

“Valla,” he called softly, “find J’trel.”

The rows of beds in the infirmary were full of bodies. Kindan’s heart sank.

“Something moved over there,” Bemin said, turning to the left, near a window.

Kindan rushed past him.

“Kinda’?” a young voice asked. Kindan saw Druri sitting on the floor, cradling little Jassi between his knees.

“Druri?” Kindan called. The young Istan looked tired, underfed, but no worse.

“Kinda’!” Druri exclaimed, his face breaking into a smile.

“Shh!” Bemin said urgently. “I hear something.”

The noise came from the end of the room. It was a rustling. Kindan turned to locate it, but Bemin found the source first.

“Over here,” he called softly, standing over a bed. He knelt down and pulled out a hand. “She’s still alive,” he said after a moment.

It was Kelsa. Her cheeks were so gaunt, she looked like a stick figure.

“I heard the drums,” Kelsa said. “Conar, where is he?”

A noise distracted them and a well-built haggard-looking man walked into the room and quickly took in the scene.

“J’trel, rider of blue Talith,” the dragonrider said with a quick nod to Bemin.

“You managed all this by yourself?” Bemin asked in surprise and awe.

“No,” J’trel said, shaking his head sadly. “A youngster, one of the apprentices, was helping me until yesterday.” He jerked his head toward the outside and the dirt mound. “Talith just laid him with the others.”

“Conar?” Kindan asked. “The drummer?”

“That was him,” J’trel agreed dully. He leaned closer to them and continued in a voice that only they could hear, “He skimped on his food to save the others.”

“How many are there?” Kindan asked, so numb with grief that he couldn’t imagine feeling worse.

“Five or six in this room, maybe twice that in the next,” J’trel said. He glanced sadly around the room. “I was coming in here to take the others out.”

“We’ll help,” Bemin said.

“First, the living,” Kindan told them. He leaned over to Kelsa. “It’s all right, we’re here, we’re taking you back to the Hold; we’ve got food, you’ll be fine.”

“Kindan, you’re alive!” Kelsa sobbed, grabbing his hand fiercely.

“Nonala? Verilan?” Kindan asked her hopefully.

“Over there,” Kelsa said, pointing first to the bed beside her and then to the one opposite.

Kindan felt his spirits lift—at least some of his friends were alive.

He heard a noise from Nonala’s bed and saw her looking at him entreatingly. He turned to her and grabbed her hand.

“It’s all right, help’s here,” he told her.

Her lips were dry and her throat parched. She beckoned him close enough to whisper, “Vaxoram?”

“Journeyman Vaxoram didn’t make it,” Kindan told her with a shake of his head, tears filling his eyes.

Nonala closed her eyes and turned away. Then she turned back and opened them again. “Journeyman?”

“He walked the tables,” Kindan told her. Her eyes widened. “He said that then maybe he’d be worthy. He said he loved you.”

Nonala moaned and turned away again.

“The air is better in the Great Hall,” Bemin said, looking at J’trel. “And we’ve a playroom for the children. Can your Talith carry some of the ill?”

“In shifts, he can carry them all,” J’trel declared stoutly.

“Good, let’s start now,” Bemin replied nodding to the dragonrider. “We’ve food and everything except klah.”

“There’ll be some in the stores,” Kindan said. “I’ll get them.” He turned to Kelsa. “We’re getting you out of here.” He went over to Verilan’s bed and repeated the message, but the young archivist was sleeping fitfully.

As Bemin and J’trel started moving the patients out of the infirmary, first moving Druri and Jassi into the fresh air and sunlight, Kindan steeled himself for one more, difficult task.

“Did you bury Master Lenner?” Kindan asked the blue rider.

“Yes,” J’trel replied, grimacing. “He caught the flu eight days on, and survived another three.”

“He would have made notes,” Kindan said hopefully.

“If he did, they weren’t on him,” J’trel replied. “I checked.”

Kindan nodded, relieved of the worst of his fears—that the notes were buried with the Masterhealer.

“What do you need them for?” Bemin asked.

“Lenner would have taken careful notes, they might help us understand this illness and how long it lasts,” Kindan said, heading off to the Master’s study. It was in the back, in a room too dark to see much more than shadows. He tried the desk but found nothing. Had Lenner succumbed too quickly to make any notes? Kindan shook his head, recalling how the Masterhealer had talked about the importance of good notes whenever he visited the Archives.

The Archives! Kindan thought to himself. Verilan!

Kindan left the study quickly, returning to the infirmary just as Bemin was hauling Verilan on to his back.

“Did he have anything with him, my lord?” Kindan asked as Bemin trudged by.

“A sack full of notes,” Bemin said. “But we can always get them later.”

Kindan continued back to the infirmary and found the sack. He brought it out into the light and pulled a note out at random—he recognized Lenner’s handwriting. The Masterhealer must have guessed his own fate, to stash the Records with Verilan.

Further, Kindan realized, Lenner must have figured out that youngsters were more likely than others to survive the plague. Perhaps Lenner had uncovered other secrets before the illness took him.

“We’ll take the first lot,” Bemin said, as he climbed up on Talith behind Nonala, Kelsa, and Verilan. “I’ll want to alert Jelir and get them settled. Then we’ll come back for you and the others.”

Kindan nodded, smiling at Druri as the youngster stared raptly at the great blue dragon. At Kindan’s voiceless request, Valla approached and entertained both Druri and Jassi with antics and aerobatics while Talith rose into the air and flew the short distance to Fort Hold’s great courtyard.

The blue dragon returned soon enough with Stennel and another holder Kindan didn’t recognize. Between the three men, they loaded Kindan, his notes, Jassi and Druri in no time.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” J’trel promised Stennel.

“We’ll get started in the meantime,” Stennel replied, turning to his fellow and muttering, “Did you hear that? A dragonrider’s helping us!”

“If only there were more,” the other replied mournfully.

In front of Kindan, J’trel snorted in what seemed to be agreement.

“You know why they can’t help,” Kindan said to J’trel.

“I do, lad,” J’trel replied, calling over his shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I don’t understand how the holders feel.”

Kindan nodded in agreement. The worst plague ever seemed to be ravaging the planet, and all the Weyrs of Pern appeared to be idle. But the Weyrs were duty-bound to fight an even greater menace.

“They’ll understand when Thread comes,” Kindan reassured the rider.

“If they’re still alive,” the blue rider replied sourly.