Dragon Harper

CHAPTER 7

It’s just a lot of useless old Records!” Conar complained, sniffling mightily as he flounced around in the small room designated as their work area. “Honestly, Kindan, I’ll fall asleep going over them.”

“Don’t,” Kindan told him. “Master Resler has a quick hand for those he finds slouching.”

“He does,” Vaxoram agreed, stretching in his chair and bending back to his Record. Kindan noticed that once again, Vaxoram’s eyes hadn’t moved from the top of the Record. He made it a point every day to surreptitiously check on the older apprentice’s work, not having figured out yet what to do with his knowledge of Vaxoram’s problem. But that was for later, Kindan reminded himself.

Kindan bent more closely over his Record, ignoring the older boy. Resler had already berated him twice for slackness and Kindan could think of no way to tell the Master that he had been working, particularly when half his time had been spent either listening to Conar moan or cajoling the older Vaxoram to work.

“You’ll want to take slices from each of the various Hold Records,” Verilan had told him when they’d started. Verilan had stayed only long enough to get them properly started before Resler had put him onto the task of recopying the Records that had been so inauspiciously destroyed by Kindan’s earlier accident.

The Archive Room was a huge cavern dug into the base of the cliff that overlooked the Harper Hall, crammed full of Records. Glows provided light for the room, although it seemed to Kindan that there were never enough to clear out the darkest shadows. Even as huge as the room was, Kindan had been surprised that the Harper Hall had so many of the Holds’ Records.

“Of course we do!” Verilan had snorted in surprise when Kindan had mentioned it. “Harpers usually make copies and send them to us as a matter of course,” Verilan had explained, surprised that he even needed to explain the procedure. “Holders rarely keep Records for more than fifty Turns, so they send us those, too,” Verilan had continued, adding with a shake of his head, “when they remember.” Kindan gave him a quizzical look and Verilan explained in a horrified tone, “Sometimes they actually destroy their old Records.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Conar had asked sourly, punctuated with another cough. “They’re nothing but useless old relics.”

“They’re Records,” Verilan had replied, offended to the very depth of his being. “How would anyone know what had happened in previous Turns without them?”

Conar had given Verilan a scornful look and turned away.

Now, a sevenday after they’d been given the assignment, Kindan could partly agree with Verilan—and partly with Conar. The Records were a collection of the most boring things he’d ever read coupled with tantalizing sections that made Kindan wish for more. Why, for example, when the Lord Holder of Igen had first discovered that his wells were running dry, hadn’t he started planting hardier, more drought-resistant crops instead of foolishly reducing his acreage and ultimately starving his entire Hold? What had happened that caused the traders to start charging Bitra Hold—and only Bitra Hold—a surtax on all goods delivered?

Neither of those questions had come from a strict reading of the Records but from Kindan’s memory and interpolation. He remembered reading about the lowered water levels and then about the reduced plantings; he noticed suddenly that there were entries in the Bitra Hold Records regarding the trader surtax and noticed that there was no mention of them in the Records of Lemos nor Benden.

“Well, how do you know that Lemos and Benden hadn’t been paying the tax for Turns already?” Conar objected when Kindan had mentioned his findings. “And why wouldn’t the Lord Holder of Igen keep planting his best crops? How could he know that they were in a drought?”

Kindan, torn between astonishment at Conar’s obtuseness and his desire to press on with their work—and avoid Resler’s complaints—replied noncommittally, turning to a new Record.

Conar set aside the Record he’d been perusing and began noisily to examine the next.

“Huh! Someone left a scribble, here!” Conar exclaimed. “And here! Neither look like proper Records.” He turned to Kindan. “I can’t see how you expect to find anything from Records when the Harper Hall keeps the works of children.”

Kindan’s initial angry look dissolved into a frown as he recalled that Conar was going through the old Benden Hold Records. He got up from his workdesk and strode over to Conar’s.

“We’ll switch off,” he said, gesturing for Conar to change seats with him.

Conar rose eagerly, happily seating himself in front of Kindan’s much smaller pile. With a frown, he warned, “You’ll want to catch up before Master Resler returns.”

Kindan nodded in agreement, turning to the Records. Conar was right, the writing of the Records was very poor. He turned back two Records and saw that the writing was far more legible: a fairly large print that Kindan could read easily by the light of the glows surrounding his new desk.

He looked at the top of the page for the author’s marks: Harper Bellam, Benden Hold, Second Month, year 389 After Landing.

The next page had no marks. Kindan frowned and turned to the page after it. It had author’s marks: Lord Kenex, Benden Hold, AL390.5.

Lord Kenex? Kindan thought.

“Conar, look at this,” he called. Conar jumped up and stood behind Kindan, peering down at the Record.

“Could you imagine a Lord Holder with such poor handwriting?” Kindan asked. He knew already that Conar’s writing was not very good, but even it was far better than the scrawling on the page in front of him.

“That is odd,” Conar agreed. He traced some of the writing with his finger. “It looks like either the person had a bad stylus or they weren’t very used to it.” He cocked his head to one side. “A child?”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Vaxoram chimed in from his stack. “That’s written on paper, right? That’s too expensive to let a child have.” There was an awkward silence; Conar had been allowed to use paper for his drawings. Vaxoram noticed it and added, “I mean for writing, of course.”

“What does it mean?” Conar asked.

Kindan shrugged. “I’ll see what it says,” he replied, peering down at the Record.

Conar returned to his own table, but a moment later he let out an exclamation. “There’s bad handwriting here, too!”

“What year?” Kindan asked.

“Year?” Conar repeated blankly, then looked down. Once again, he snorted. “There isn’t a year.”

“What about the Record before?”

Conar gave him a dirty look but turned back to the previous page, scanning the top quickly. “Journeyman Metalar, Bitra Hold, Third Month, year 389 After Landing,” he read. He looked up at Kindan and shrugged. “So?”

But Kindan was already moving to the desk that Verilan had abandoned when called away by Master Resler. Piled on the desk were the records from Lemos Hold. Kindan turned quickly until he came to entries from the year 389 After Landing.

“What are you doing?” Conar demanded, craning his neck around to watch Kindan. “Master Resler will know which stack you were working on.”

“It’s not working,” Kindan returned tetchily, “it’s researching.”

“‘It’s makework, best left to unemployed drudges,’” Vaxoram said, quoting Resler’s sour opinion.

Kindan ignored him, turning through the Records carefully. Harper Lorkin had good handwriting; his marks were clear and easily read. Kindan scanned the pages—389, 389, 389, 389, 390—what?

Kindan peered down at the entry in surprise. The author’s marks read: Harper Lorkin, Lemos Hold, AL 390.5. Frowning he turned back to the previous Record: Harper Lorkin, Lemos Hold, Fourth Month, year 389 After Landing. What had caused the harper to so change his style? And why did he not leave any Records for a whole Turn? Kindan peered down to the contents of the Record itself.

“I write this with great regret: We are a sadly reduced Hold,” read the first line. “Fields lie fallow, huts are still empty, or, worse, home to carrion that feed on unburied bones.”

Kindan tore his eyes from the Record and sat back, stunned.

“Kindan!” Master Resler’s voice called from the entrance. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be reading the Benden Records!”

“I think I’ve found the plague,” Kindan replied, his voice sounding loud and irreverent to his ears. He gestured to the Records. “I think I know when it started and maybe where.”

“You were supposed to be reading the Benden Records,” Master Resler repeated angrily, advancing into the Archive Room, grabbing Kindan by the ear and lifting him out of his seat. “Can’t you just do what you’re told?”

“Sorry, Master,” Kindan apologized, ducking out of Resler’s grasp and turning to face him, “but I thought I was told to find any Records of a plague.”

“In the Benden Records!” Resler growled in response, gesticulating wildly to the stack beside Conar.

“I found it there, too,” Kindan said. He gestured over to the Bitra Records. “And in Bitra, too, but the Lemos Records seem the best so far.” He turned and snagged the Record from his table. “Listen to this: ‘Fields lie fallow, huts are still empty—’”

“That’s a Record of a plague?” Resler snorted angrily. “A proper Record would have dates, and times, and—”

“I don’t think they had the time,” Kindan interrupted as politely as he could. He gestured to the Record in his hand. “I think they were so shorthanded afterward that they could only press on with their lives.”

“That’s not the way of a harper!” Resler exclaimed. He glanced down angrily at Kindan. “Have you learned nothing since you left your mine?”

Kindan could feel his cheeks burning. “The Records of Benden were kept by the Lord Holder after the plague,” he said. “I think that shows that the times were such that—”

“Lord Holders don’t keep Records!” Resler chided prissily, his jaw jutting and eyes glaring.

“The Record was marked—”

“Such impudence!” Resler roared. “Go! Get out of my sight!”

“Does that include me?” Conar asked, rising to his feet.

“Yes,” Resler replied, “it includes you. It’s time for lunch.”

Conar left but waited at the entrance for Kindan who was followed, as always, by Vaxoram.

“You aren’t much of a harper, you know,” he said as he fell in step with Kindan. “You’d think you’d know how to handle a Master by now.” He cocked his head at the silent boy. “However do you think you’ll manage a Lord Holder?”

“Maybe I won’t,” Kindan replied sourly, brushing past Conar and racing to catch up with Verilan, whom he spied at the entrance to the Dining Hall.

Catching sight of Kindan’s morose look, Verilan asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I found the plague,” Kindan told him, “but Master Resler doesn’t believe me.”

As if he was listening, Master Resler, who had been following behind them, called out, “Verilan! A word with you, please.”

Verilan gave Kindan an apologetic look, then headed back to his Master.

“Something bothers me,” Vaxoram said as he finished chewing on a roll. Kindan gave him a questioning look. “Well, perhaps Bitra, Lemos, and Benden were hit by this plague, but what about Benden Weyr? Why didn’t the weyrfolk help?”

“That’s a good question,” Conar said, frowning thoughtfully.

“We’ll look at their Records next,” Kindan declared.

“What about Master Resler?” Conar asked, glancing in the direction of the irritable Archivist. “It sounds like he never wants you near him or his precious Records again.”

“He’s not the Masterharper,” Vaxoram said, glancing at Kindan to see his reaction.

“But Conar’s right,” Kindan objected, “I have to learn how to work with him as well as the other Masters.”

“Maybe you could—” Vaxoram began, but a faint booming sound silenced him, as it did everyone in the Harper Hall. It was a drum message.

Emergency! Sickness in Keroon. Please help.

“It’s spreading,” Conar declared in a flat voice. No one contradicted him.

“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.”

“But Koriana—”

“She’s your problem,” Vaxoram declared.

“What do you mean?” Kindan asked.

“You know what I mean,” Vaxoram replied. “The two of you practically burn the air with your stares.”

“But—”

“She likes you, Kindan,” Vaxoram told him frankly. “Perhaps more.” He smiled. “And it’s obvious that you love her, too.” His smile faded as he added with a shake of his head, “It’s a pity she’s the Holder’s daughter. It’ll never work.” Before Kindan could respond, Vaxoram’s mouth opened in a great yawn. “If you’ll let me,” Vaxoram said, “I’m going to bed. I’m no good to you the way I am.”

“Sure,” Kindan agreed.

“And send Conar up, too,” Vaxoram said in a tone that was half-order, half-suggestion. “He’ll be useless without some rest.”

“But that will just leave me and Koriana,” Kindan protested.

Vaxoram nodded, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Yes, it will, won’t it?”

“I spoke with him,” Kindan called as he reentered the Archive room. “He’ll be all right.”

Conar glanced up at him and nodded, then yawned in exhaustion. Koriana smiled at the younger boy, then surprised herself with a yawn. Sure enough, just as she finished, Kindan yawned himself.

“Conar, you should go to sleep,” Kindan ordered.

Conar blinked at him then shrugged and started to tidy his pile of Records.

“Leave them, just get some rest,” Kindan added.

As the young boy left, Kindan glanced over at Koriana.

“I’m staying,” she declared resolutely.

“You should get some sleep, too,” he said.

“So should you,” she replied, turning over another ancient Record.

“I will if you do,” Kindan declared. “Otherwise, I feel duty-bound to keep you company.”

Koriana didn’t respond, her attention fixed on the gleaming Record in her hands.

“This is odd,” she said. She gestured for Kindan to come over. Kindan approached slowly, his eyelids feeling heavy. “Have you ever seen a Record like this?”

As she turned to hand him the Record, their hands touched briefly. It was as though sparks had flowed between them. Kindan found himself looking not at the Record but at Koriana’s brilliant blue eyes. He reached for her other hand, pulling her up out of her seat. Koriana rose and let him take it, her eyes locked on his. Her lips parted and he felt her breath gently on his face. He placed the Record carefully back on the table and drew her toward him. She came willingly, her eyes level with his.

Koriana closed her eyes and their lips met and Kindan wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. Then he closed his eyes and felt only the touch of her tongue and the softness of her lips. He heard only her breathing, heard when it altered to a faster pace, felt when her arms squeezed him against her, felt his hands in her hair, her hands in his, the supple warmth of her body against his.

“Oh, Kindan,” she cried when they finally broke the kiss. She buried her head against his and he turned and kissed the soft folds of her neck. Her breath coming faster, she pushed him back and looked at him with tear-spangled eyes, “What are we going to do?”

Kindan hugged her tight to him again and she responded willingly. “I don’t know,” he whispered into her ear. “All I know is that I love you, Koriana.”

She pressed herself tightly against him, then pulled back and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I love you, too, always and forever,” she told him fervently. They kissed again, long and slow, savoring the sweetness of each other, hands moving tenderly over each other’s body.

Emotions swelled up in Kindan that he’d never had before. Immense tenderness, overwhelming desire, deep passion. They amazed him as much as they frightened him. At long last, his body still quivering with passion, Kindan pulled back from Koriana, who murmured in protest, then nuzzled against him once more.

“We need rest,” Kindan said, pulling back and tracing the line of her cheekbones with his hands. Koriana opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“It’s too long to walk back to the Hold,” she said. “Where shall I sleep?”

“You can sleep with me,” Kindan said impulsively.

Koriana lowered her hands to his waist and pulled him tightly against her body. “I like that!” she declared with a devilish look in her eyes.

Kindan turned, holding on to one of her hands, and led her from the Archive Room, glows still unturned.

In the cold night in the courtyard, Koriana draped herself on him for warmth. Kindan had to shush her as they entered the apprentice dormitory; she was giddy with emotion and Kindan was afraid that everyone would hear them, but he finally got her into his bunk and pulled himself in alongside.

“I’ll get too hot with these clothes on,” Koriana declared, pulling off her trousers. Kindan was scandalized, he’d never been in bed with a woman before, let alone in the apprentice dormitory. But Koriana was right and Kindan found himself pulling off his trousers, also. Koriana nuzzled against him and Kindan thought to kiss her once more, but he spied a gleam in the dark—Vaxoram was looking at him impassively. Kindan froze for a moment, then nodded toward Vaxoram in understanding. Vaxoram held his eyes for a moment longer, then nodded himself and rolled over.

“We must go to sleep, Koriana,” Kindan whispered to her.

“If you say so,” Koriana replied drowsily, throwing her arm over him. Kindan found himself cuddling her head with one arm, stroking it softly while her breathing grew shallower and shallower as she drifted off to sleep. If anything, Kindan mused as he looked at her sleeping face, she was more beautiful asleep than awake.

“Come on, get up!” Vaxoram said urgently in Kindan’s ear the next morning. Kindan rolled over away from the noise but found his arm trapped. “Get up, Kindan!” Vaxoram said again, then disappeared.

Kindan opened his eyes and found himself looking at Koriana’s sleeping face. His left arm was asleep, trapped under her shoulder.

“Koriana,” he called softly. She jerked and then was still. “Koriana, wake up!”

She jerked again and Kindan leaned back to look at her. Her eyes were open and wide with fear.

“We’ve got to get up before the others wake up,” he told her. She nodded in understanding. Kindan looked around for their trousers and found them folded neatly on the end of the bed. He handed Koriana’s to her and she took them gratefully, trying to slide the trousers on under the blankets. Kindan motioned her to stop, grabbed his trousers, and quietly left the bed dragging them on. Koriana followed suit, the noise of her exertions masked by Kindan’s.

Dressed, Kindan motioned for her to precede him toward the door.

Outside, Koriana giggled with delight as she sprinted forward, dragging Kindan along behind her with a tightly clasped hand. She whirled around to face him and pulled him against her like a dancer. She kissed him fiercely and declared, “I’ve never felt so alive!”

They kissed again for a long moment. The dark night turned gray and they shivered in the early-morning air.

Koriana pulled away from Kindan, her expression suddenly concerned. “What will we do? Mother will know that I stayed here.”

“And Master Murenny will know that you weren’t in the journeymen’s quarters,” Kindan added with a grimace. He thought for a moment, leading Koriana aimlessly across the courtyard. Then inspiration struck. “How about if we say you fell asleep in the Archives?”

“But why didn’t you wake me?” Koriana asked, her face a mixture of curiosity and mock-outrage.

“I tried, but I couldn’t,” Kindan suggested. “You were too tired.”

“You’d fallen asleep, too,” Koriana retorted. “At your table and you didn’t notice that I was still there.”

“If that’s the case,” Kindan said, “then when we woke up we’d be heading to the night hearth for some klah.”

“Excellent,” Koriana agreed. “I could do with some klah.”

Giddily, they traipsed down the steps to the kitchen only to freeze in fright as they heard footsteps following behind.

“Kindan?” the Masterharper called as he caught sight of him. “Are you—?”

Murenny spotted Koriana and his face went inscrutable, although Kindan wondered if for a moment the Masterharper’s eyes weren’t twinkling with some diffused delight.

“Lady Koriana, I thought you had returned to your Hold,” Murenny said stiffly.

“I—”

“We fell asleep,” Kindan finished. “In the Archives.”

“I see,” Murenny said in a dry voice. He glanced back up the stairs. “And is Vaxoram still there?”

Kindan thought fast before shaking his head. “I think I sent him off to bed and then—”

“I interrupted him,” Koriana interjected. “And then we went back to the Records and—”

“Well, fell asleep,” Kindan finished, doing his very best to look chagrined.

“And now?” Murenny asked with a slight nod of his head.

“We woke up and thought to get some klah before we went back to work,” Kindan said.

“And perhaps breakfast?” Murenny suggested, gesturing for them to continue. He glanced around and asked Koriana, “Where is that marvelous gold fire-lizard of yours?”

Koriana gave him a startled look and was only saved by a triumphant squawk as Koriss appeared at the top of the stairs and flew down to perch on Koriana’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Koriana exclaimed, quickly reaching for Koriss and moving her to the crook of her arm. “Your nails are just too sharp, dear.”

Koriss looked up at Koriana, faceted eyes whirling red with growing hunger.

“We’d better feed her right now,” Murenny said, chuckling. “Then perhaps she could bear a message to your parents?”

Koriana looked skeptical. “She’s not yet quite as adept as Kindan’s Valla, Masterharper,” she temporized, looking down fondly at the small gold. “But I can try.”

“Well, I’d hate for you to lose her,” Murenny responded. A fire-lizard given poor directions could easily get lost or, worse, lost forever between.

“We’ve been neglecting her training,” Kindan said, grimacing.

“Perhaps later in the day, then, or tomorrow,” Murenny suggested.

“Oh, no!” Koriana protested. “We’ve got to keep searching the Records.” Kindan understood her concern: while it would only take a moment to send Koriss on her journey, their worry about her safety would completely distract Koriana—and Kindan—until they received news of her arrival.

They entered the darkened kitchen and made their way to the night hearth. Kindan grabbed some tongs, filled a kettle, and hung it over the glowing coals. He then went back toward the kitchen ovens and glanced inside, surprised to see bread already rising.

“What are you—” Selora’s voice bellowed from the back room as she raced out, only to stop as she spotted Murenny. “Oh, Masterharper, I didn’t see you.”

“No problem,” Murenny said dismissively. “Kindan, Koriana, and I were just trying to steal an early breakfast.”

“The rolls are almost done,” Selora informed him. She glanced sharply at Kindan. “With a bit of help,” she added, “I could have them glazed with sugar and ready to eat, if a bit hot.”

“That sounds marvelous!” Koriana exclaimed.

Kindan nodded and moved to follow Selora. “What do I need to do?” he asked as he headed toward the back room only to find the Masterharper following him.

“Many hands make short work,” Murenny called cheerfully, pushing up his sleeves.

“Too many cooks spoil the broth,” Selora responded sourly, holding up her hand. “No disrespect, Masterharper, but you’ve been banned from the kitchens for the duration.”

“Duration?” Koriana asked, brows raised.

“Of my life,” Murenny confessed unhappily.

“Burnt a sevenday’s worth of cooking,” Selora added, shaking her head in sad acknowledgment.

“Well, I can help,” Koriana offered.

“You’d be better off helping the Masterharper,” Selora said, pointing toward the hearth. “He’s the only man I know who can burn water.”

Reluctantly, Koriana accepted this suggestion and followed the Masterharper back to the hearth. Murenny contented himself with puttering around the large room, turning over the glows.

In the back room, out of earshot, Selora shot Kindan a sharp look and asked pointedly, “And where did he find you two?”

“On the way downstairs,” Kindan replied, carefully pouring some confectioner’s sugar into a cup of cold water, stirring all the while.

“And where were you before that?” Selora demanded.

“We fell asleep in the Archive Room,” Kindan said, hoping to sound convincing.

Selora snorted. “You’d better be a better harper than you are a liar.”

Kindan turned bright red.

“Let’s eat up in my study,” Murenny suggested several minutes later when Selora announced that the rolls were ready and Koriana had the klah made. With a wink, he explained to Kindan, “I wouldn’t want the other apprentices to feel that I’ve picked a favorite.”

While Kindan examined the awesome possibility that perhaps the Masterharper had picked a favorite, he and Selora quickly set out a tray and filled it with a selection of rolls, a pitcher of still-steaming klah, and several mugs.

They made their way to Murenny’s study and, at his gesture, seated themselves around the breakfast table. Kindan sat facing the window. As he was pouring his mug of klah, he spotted Vaxoram exit the apprentice dormitory, looking furtively around the courtyard in the growing dawn.

Masterharper Murenny noticed Kindan’s look, got up, and peered out the window himself. With a speculative glance toward Kindan, Murenny leaned out of the window and shouted to Vaxoram, “Why don’t you come up and join us?”

A few moments later, Vaxoram knocked on the door and Murenny invited him inside.

“Come in, come in,” the Masterharper said, gesturing cheerfully for Vaxoram to join them. He rose and pulled a free chair from his worktable over to the breakfast table, indicating that Vaxoram should sit with them. “I see that Kindan remembered to set a spare mug, so pour yourself some klah and grab one of those delicious rolls before they’re all gone.”

Vaxoram glanced nervously at Kindan before filling his mug and grabbing a roll. Then, deciding that he was safe, the older apprentice carefully began to slowly chew his roll.

Murenny waited in a genial silence until Vaxoram finished his roll and had a sip of klah before continuing, “Vaxoram, how well do you know the codes regarding dueling?”

The older apprentice gave the Masterharper a startled look. “I remember all that Master Detallor taught me,” he replied defensively.

“I’m sure you do,” Murenny agreed. “Do you remember the rules of dishonor?”

Vaxoram flushed and bowed his head. “Yes.”

Murenny shook his head. “I don’t think you’re following me, Vaxoram.”

The older apprentice glanced up, first at Kindan, then at Murenny.

“Do you remember the rules for a re-challenge?”

Vaxoram creased his brow in thought, then in slowly dawning surprise. Kindan gasped as he realized what the Masterharper was aiming at and Vaxoram turned his attention to him, consideringly.

“If the victor dishonors the cause of the challenge, the vanquished can demand a rematch,” Koriana said slowly. She glanced at Kindan, biting her lower lip nervously.

“Yes,” Murenny said, his voice completely serious. He looked long and hard at Vaxoram. “Is there reason for you to demand a rematch?”

“No,” Vaxoram declared immediately, his eyes locked with Kindan’s. He glanced back to the Masterharper. “No, Masterharper, there is not.”

Murenny nodded, then turned steely eyes on Kindan.

“Where were you last night?”

“I was in my bunk,” Kindan replied in a small voice. “Koriana was with me.”

“By my choice,” Koriana declared, reaching out to grab Kindan’s hand. Her strong grip felt feeble and distant compared against the huge hole in the pit of Kindan’s stomach.

Murenny did not so much as glance toward her, asking Kindan directly, “Did you break your word?”

Kindan’s mouth was dry and he swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. More than anything, he wished he were somewhere else, that events were different, that he wasn’t pinned under the terrible glare of the Masterharper’s wrath.

Murenny’s lips tightened in Kindan’s silence. “Were you hoping to convince us of a lie?”

“Yes, Master,” Kindan answered feebly, feeling totally ashamed.

“Then how can you hope to be a harper?” the Masterharper asked, his voice challenging.

Kindan could only shake his head mutely. “I don’t know,” he confessed finally. He felt torn between getting up then and there, packing his things and leaving the Harper Hall, or just leaving. He had never felt so dejected.

Murenny turned his attention to Vaxoram.

“Why did you permit this?” Murenny asked. The older apprentice shook his head mutely and Murenny pressed him, “Who woke them in the morning?”

“I did,” Vaxoram confessed.

“Why?” Murenny asked him, his face full of curiosity. “Why did you not report this? With Kindan dishonored, your honor would be restored.”

“He was not dishonorable,” Vaxoram said, meeting the Masterharper’s eyes frankly. He glanced to Kindan. “I will not betray you.”

Kindan could only nod glumly, too numb to appreciate the depth of Vaxoram’s admission.

“Masterharper Murenny,” Koriana interjected, “I love Kindan. I would never let him do anything that would cause him dishonor.”

“Yet you have,” Murenny snapped. He gestured at the hand clasping Kindan’s and Koriana dropped it as though stung. “You have dishonored him, your father, me, your Hold, and the Harper Hall.” Murenny shifted his gaze to include Kindan. “Both of you.”

“I love her,” Kindan responded, reaching out to regain Koriana’s hand with his own.

“More than your honor?” Murenny asked relentlessly. “More than her honor?” He did not wait for their response before continuing, “What sort of love is it that demands dishonor and lies to even exist?

“How,” and his voice filled the room with its strength, “can any of you think for an instant that this stained emotion can last?”

“But I love him!” Koriana protested, breaking down into tears and burying her face in her hands.

Murenny shook his head, with a sad expression on his face. “I see only need, not love.”

Koriana looked up at him in silent shock and outrage.

“And betrayal,” Murenny continued, his voice quiet but firm. Kindan glanced hotly at the Masterharper, furious that he should cause Koriana so much pain, but Murenny met his eyes sternly, as he continued, “Betrayal of your honor, betrayal of your family, betrayal of yourself.”

“But Father would never—” Koriana began in protest.

“Not now!” Murenny cut her off. “Now you will never know how he would have behaved had you come to him honestly, with your heart open, and told him your true feelings.” He glanced toward Kindan. “Nor will you ever know how I would have responded, how I might have helped you.” He shook his head. “The two of you have betrayed each other as surely as if you’d fought a duel to the death.”

The horrible silence that fell lasted only for an instant and was shattered as a brilliant splash of gold burst into the room. Koriss entered from between, bringing a crisp air into the room and filling it with her loud, raucous cries, her eyes whirling red in anger and confusion. Koriana grabbed for her, missed, grabbed again, cradling the agitated fire-lizard tight against her body. It was a number of minutes before Koriss’s red faceted eyes changed to a calmer green and the fire-lizard nuzzled against her partner, chirping concernedly.

Kindan watched the proceedings with a growing sense of unease.

“Koriana,” he asked tensely, “does Koriss have an image for you?”

Koriana gave him a puzzled look. Kindan told her, “Close your eyes and concentrate on her.”

Koriana did so, her expression still quizzical, but only for a moment as her eyes popped open again and she told them in alarm, “Father’s coming and he’s got guards with him!”

“Yes,” Murenny murmured, glancing at Kindan and Vaxoram, “just as I’d feared.”

Under the Masterharper’s direction, the four of them met Lord Holder Bemin just outside the archway into the Harper Hall.

“Lord Holder,” Murenny called in greeting, bowing low. Bemin regarded him coldly, flanked on either side by two burly guards and trailed by four more, all carrying swords. “We were just about to come to you.”

“I see,” Bemin said. He gestured curtly to his daughter. “Koriana.”

“Father,” Koriana replied, ducking her head obediently.

“Your mother was most worried,” Bemin said. Kindan thought that that was a lie; it seemed that the Lord Holder was most agitated, which made more sense if he’d ever heard rumors of Murenny’s involvement with Sannora.

“I was fine, honestly,” Koriana replied. “We were late going through the Records—we think we might have found something vital—”

“If it were so vital, why didn’t the Masterharper send us a messenger?” Bemin interjected, a foreboding look on his face. “Why didn’t he drum a message?”

As if in answer to his question, the faint sound of distant drums echoed into Fort’s valley. Kindan, Vaxoram, Murenny, and Koriana all strained to hear the faint throbbing notes.

“Emergency,” Koriana repeated as she deciphered the first code. She and Kindan locked eyes, much to Bemin’s anger. “Emergency,” she added, her eyes going wider. “Emergency.”

The noise faded and everyone strained for any new notes.

But there were none.

“Three, not four,” Vaxoram remarked in relief, only to himself.

“A major Hold emergency,” Koriana said, sounding a bit unsure. “Not a minor Hold emergency.”

“But from where?” Murenny asked, turning as if for an answer toward the repeater tower lost in the distance.

Bemin glanced nervously at each of them in turn, ending with his daughter.

“What does it mean?” he asked Koriana. Behind him, Kindan noticed that the Fort guards had unconsciously shifted toward each other as if for protection.

“It could be Telgar,” Vaxoram suggested.

“Or Igen or Ista,” Kindan responded.

“Even if it were two, that wouldn’t be a Pern-wide emergency,” Bemin protested. “There’d have to be something involving more than half of the major Holds for that.”

Murenny nodded but his words were not reassuring. “True, but the illness was in Keroon, so why couldn’t it spread to Igen or any of the seaward minor Holds, and then how long would it be before Ista was infected?”

Bemin responded with a sour look. “If that were so, how come we haven’t heard anything from the Weyrs?”

“A good question,” Murenny replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Well, it’s neither here nor there,” Bemin said after a moment spent fulminating. He glanced toward his daughter. “Koriana, your mother is most anxious for you.”

“My duty is here, Father,” Koriana replied resolutely.

“Your duty is where I say it is,” Bemin replied, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“Yes, my lord,” Koriana agreed with a nod of her head. “And you instructed me to be here, searching the Records, learning the drum codes, and how to control my fire-lizard.” She paused for just a moment. “So I am here, doing my duty to you and Pern.”

“Pern?” Bemin repeated, one brow arched in surprise.

Koriana nodded. “I believe, Father, that anything that we can learn about previous plagues like this will save many lives on Pern,” she replied.

“Saving lives is a job for healers,” Bemin snapped.

“And Holders,” Koriana retorted, her blue eyes flashing.

“Who told you that?” Bemin demanded in surprise.

“You did.”

“I never—”

“You said that a Holder is responsible for all the lives in the Hold,” Koriana reminded him. The Lord Holder closed his mouth with an audible click, glaring at Masterharper Murenny accusingly.

When Murenny made no reaction, Bemin turned back to his wayward daughter. “That’s correct,” he told her. “And the holders owe their lord service, even including his own children.”

Koriana opened her mouth for another retort, but before she could speak, the air above them suddenly darkened as a large bronze dragon appeared from between.

Moments later, Valla plummeted down to Kindan, pulling up just in time to land—hard—on Kindan’s shoulder.

“It would seem that Benden has gotten your message,” Murenny said, nodding to Kindan.

The Fort Hold guards, having bunched up close to their lord, now sidled discreetly around him so as to put him between them and the bronze dragon that settled in the meadow beyond the Harper Hall, his hide gleaming bright in the full morning sun.

Not a moment after M’tal alighted from Gaminth did the sky darken again. Kindan craned his neck up to see a lithe blue dragon with three riders descend to land beside the Benden Weyr dragon. Kindan spotted the rider’s Ista Weyr colors and instantly recognized the rider as J’trel.

“What’s Ista doing here?” Bemin asked as the blue dragon landed.

“That would be Talith,” Murenny responded. “J’trel is his rider. He’s been here to the Healer Hall a number of times with—”

“Ki’da’!” a young boy cried, rushing across the field.

“Druri!” Kindan called back enthusiastically. He waved toward the blue rider and nodded at the woman who trailed along behind. “J’trel, Jalenna!”

When J’trel waved back, Kindan felt that something was wrong; the older rider was usually much more enthusiastic in his greeting. Jalenna, Kindan saw, was carrying a small bundle in a sling. The bundle squirmed awkwardly; it was not usual for Jalenna to bring young Jassi with her. Kindan felt dread and urgency emanating from both adults as they approached.

“Kindan, stand away, please,” M’tal called urgently as Druri approached.

Murenny moved to intercept the young man, diverting him from Kindan, Koriana, and Vaxoram.

“Is the plague in Ista?” M’tal said to J’trel.

“Not yet,” J’trel replied. “It may be only a matter of days, however.” He turned to the Masterharper. “I’ve come to beg a favor, Murenny.”

“What’s going on?” Bemin demanded, surprised and nervous at the sudden change in the situation.

“I’ve come for Kindan,” M’tal said. “His Valla requested that he come to Benden.” M’tal glanced down at Kindan as he added, “Though I’ve no idea why.”

“We were hoping to examine your Records,” Kindan explained with a nod toward M’tal. Bemin’s reaction made it clear to everyone that he thought Kindan was being overly familiar with the Benden Weyrleader.

“Of course,” M’tal said willingly. “If it weren’t for you, our dragons would still be chewing that hot firestone and we’d never know anything about the abilities of watch-whers.”

Bemin’s expression changed; he glanced at Kindan with a look of appraisal on his face.

“I’ve come to ask sanctuary for Druri, Jalenna, and Jassi,” J’trel said to Murenny.

“I see,” Murenny replied noncommittally, still keeping a hand on the restless Druri.

The story of Druri’s debility was well known at the Harper Hall, where the dim but kindly lad had been a regular visitor for several Turns, working with the Healers as they strove to retrain a brain tragically damaged in a near-drowning nearly five Turns ago.

The rumors in the apprentice dormitory—always rampant if not always accurate—were that J’trel had been performing aerobatics when Druri and some other boys had been out of Ista Harbor sailing in a small skiff. Their amazement with blue Talith’s antics had caused them to neglect their navigation and the skiff hit a reef, the mast fell on Druri, cracking his skull and many precious minutes were lost before he was brought out of the water, drowned and dead. At Jalenna’s request, J’trel had taken quick action to revive the boy, but it had been too late to prevent Druri’s brain from being severely damaged. Rumors went on, wildly, to assert that J’trel had had a romantic liaison with Jalenna resulting in Jassi. Kindan tended to discount such rumors as everyone knew that blue riders preferred to partner with green riders, and that both riders were usually male.

“We should leave now,” M’tal said to Kindan, nodding apologetically to J’trel as he added, “I don’t want to risk the chance of Kindan catching the illness.”

“There’s a risk of the illness from these?” Bemin demanded, waving at the three Ista holders and the blue rider.

“I don’t think so,” J’trel replied, “or I wouldn’t have brought them here.”

“But you don’t know,” Bemin persisted.

“No, Lord Holder,” J’trel answered, his voice going stiff.

“I can’t permit it,” Bemin said. “I can’t let my Hold—”

“I make this request of the Healer Hall, not Fort Hold,” J’trel interjected.

“All the same,” Bemin retorted hotly. “I won’t let—”

“Lord Holder, I don’t know if you really have a choice,” Murenny interrupted in a soft voice.

Bemin shot him an angry look and Murenny contined quickly, “How many ships have docked at Fort Sea Hold since we received the first word of the illness?”

“But—”

“And how many have offloaded fish?” J’trel asked, guessing the train of Murenny’s reasoning. “And how many fished off Ista or Keroon? How many set in to one of those Holds or minor Holds or merely put a boat ashore to gather water?”

“But—but—we don’t know—” Bemin spluttered.

“You are absolutely correct, my Lord Holder,” Murenny agreed with a nod of his head. “We don’t know.” He frowned. “In fact, with that last drum message we don’t know if the emergency was in Igen, Telgar, or even Southern Boll Holds.” He glanced toward M’tal. “We need more information.”

The Benden Weyrleader nodded in understanding.

“We think the last plague started on the east coast,” Kindan said, inserting himself into the conversation despite the knot in his stomach. “That’s why I’ve asked to review the Records at Benden Weyr.”

“But what about the Harper Hall Records?” Bemin demanded.

“Fragments, scattered reports, nothing to give us a decent picture of what to expect,” Koriana said, meeting her father’s angry eyes with her concerned ones. “Let me go with him, Father,” she pleaded. “For our Hold, for our people.”

“Why do you have to go?” Bemin asked, his tone less belligerent than worried.

“Because I know what to look for,” Koriana replied. “And because we need to know as soon as we can.” She gestured to Kindan, Vaxoram, and herself. “We three are best at that.” She gave Vaxoram a sympathetic look before she continued, “Vaxoram has a hard time reading, Father. It takes him twice as long as it does me. If I don’t go, it will take nearly twice as long to get our answers—and what will happen in the meantime?”

“Your mother—”

“Mother would say, ‘Go, do what you must,’” Koriana predicted.

Bemin let out a long fuming sigh and nodded reluctantly. Then he turned to Kindan. “And you, have you been honorable?”

“No, my lord,” Kindan admitted. “I have not.”

M’tal gave him a startled look, a look which Kindan would have given anything never to have earned.

“We slept in the same bed,” Koriana said. “We kissed but nothing more.” She reached out toward Kindan as she told her father, “I love him.”

Bemin turned furiously toward Murenny. “No,” he said hoarsely. “This cannot be. I will not permit it.”

Before anyone could respond, another drum message rumbled through the valley.

“Emergency,” Kindan and Koriana translated in unison, their eyes locking in a rush of fear and dread. “Emergency. Emergency. Telgar Hold. Send help. Please.”

Even before the words had registered, the drums started again.

“Plague in Nabol, please help,” Kindan translated, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

“Plague in Crom,” Koriana added, turning to her father pleadingly.

Bemin looked at her for one moment more before nodding decisively. “Go!” he told her. He turned to M’tal and gestured to Kindan, “You will guard her honor?”

“My word as a dragonrider,” M’tal responded in leaden tones.

“You have my word, also, Lord Holder,” Kindan added in a small voice.

“Your word has no value to me,” Bemin responded harshly. He gestured to Vaxoram. “He’ll go with you, too, won’t he?” Kindan nodded and Bemin told Vaxoram, “You will sleep in the same room with him; never leave without him.”

“My lord,” Vaxoram agreed with a stiff bow.

“Go then,” Bemin said, waving his hand angrily. He turned to Murenny. “You and I will discuss these other matters now.”

“Come on,” M’tal said gruffly to Kindan and the others, turning on his heel and speeding his way back to his bronze dragon. He arranged for Koriana to be sandwiched between himself and Vaxoram, with Kindan seated behind the older apprentice.

Gaminth rose into the air with an urgency that seemed almost angry to Kindan, as though the dragon were reflecting the rider’s mood. As they went between, Kindan reached a hand forward to touch Koriana but dropped it as he remembered his promise.

He felt as doomed as all Pern.