“But I only really know how to drum!” Kindan protested.
Master Zist snorted. “And what were you doing at the wedding?”
“I thought you didn’t want me to sing,” Kindan said.
“Except when I tell you to, or there’s no choice,” Master Zist corrected. “And I’m telling you and there’s no choice.”
“Oh.” Kindan’s forehead puckered in thought.
“Something else is troubling you,” Master Zist noted.
“Well...” Kindan began slowly, considering his words carefully. “I’ve always been taught not to lie, and yet it seems that I’ve told an awful lot of lies recently ... I’ve always found that lies tend to come back to me.”
Master Zist nodded. “When have you lied?”
“Well, I said that you’d asked for the things to be set up for the Gather tonight.”
“And did I not send you on that task?” Master Zist asked. Kindan nodded slowly. “So you said what you said in order to do what I asked you to do, isn’t that so?” Kindan nodded. “That’s not a lie, Kindan. That’s being a good subordinate.”
“A subordinate?” Kindan repeated, unfamiliar with the word.
“Like Swanee is responsible for the supplies but works for Natalon,” Master Zist said, giving an example. “Or a shift leader working for the head miner. A subordinate is someone who has been given a task by his leader and sometimes uses the authority of that leader to accomplish it.
“If you had said, ‘Master Zist asks you to make me some bubbly-pies’ when I never did, that would be a misuse of a subordinate’s powers,” the Harper added. “A subordinate does walk a tender line between lie and truth. A subordinate is supposed to guess what his leader wants and guess correctly.” He wagged a finger at Kindan, eyebrows crunched tightly together in warning. “You don’t want to be wrong when you’re my subordinate.”
Kindan shrugged in wary acceptance. “But what about at the birthing? You didn’t ask me to see to it that Nuella was present, and we fooled Margit and Milla. If that’s not a lie, it’s certainly stretching the truth.”
“That was a difficult situation,” the Harper agreed. “You did well, by the way. Lies and secrets are related, Kindan. Secrets breed lies. Because Natalon wants to keep Nuella a secret, for reasons that I’m not allowed to tell you, you had to create some deceptions.”
“But if secrets are so bad, why do so many people have them?” Kindan asked.
“Because sometimes they are the only thing some people can truly call their own,” Master Zist answered with a sigh.
“Well, I can’t see how long Nuella will remain a secret,” Kindan said. “Both Zenor and I know about her, and we’ve been in the Camp less than a year.”
Master Zist nodded. “I have pointed out the same to Natalon,” he said. “But he has his reasons.”
“Because she’s a girl, or because she’s blind?” Kindan asked. Kindan had guessed she was blind the day he’d found Natalon’s hold full of bad air—but he wasn’t certain if that was Natalon’s reason for keeping her concealed.
Master Zist smiled at the youngster. “That was a good try—offering me a choice in hopes of getting me to reveal the secret,” he said, “but I’ve been a Harper longer than you’ve lived.
“And it was perceptive of you to notice Nuella’s condition,” the Master continued. “Perhaps from that, you can make some conjectures”—he held up a hand when Kindan opened his mouth—“which, as my apprentice, you’ll keep to yourself.”
“I would have figured it out sooner if I’d seen her any other time but when the traders were here,” Kindan remarked. “I thought she was one of them.”
Master Zist nodded in understanding.
“In such a tight community as this Camp, everyone knows everyone else and most everyone has the same things,” he continued. “Oh, there are a few special trinkets or family heirlooms, but mostly no one has more than another. So some people have secrets all their own. Or they have secrets because they’re afraid how others would react if the secret were ever known.”
Master Zist gave Kindan a wry grin and added conspiratorially, “Most of the time, other people wouldn’t care a bit for another person’s secret. But, as I said, a secret makes a person who’s got nothing else feel special. Which is why Harpers are instructed”—and Kindan heard the special emphasis on the word “instructed” as an instruction to him—“to respect the secrets of others.”
“So when is a secret a bad thing?”
“A secret’s a bad thing when it can be used to hurt others, or when it hides a hurt,” Master Zist said quickly. “You’ve an obligation, again as a harper, to expose a secret like that when you find it.”
“What sort of secret is that?” Kindan asked, mentally running through the small list of secrets he’d discovered about other people.
Master Zist made a sour face. “I once knew a man, a hard man, who when he’d taken too much wine would lose his sense and temper. When he did that, he’d beat his children.” His lips tightened. “That’s that sort of secret.”
Kindan shivered at the thought. “So a bad secret is the sort of secret that when people know it, they can help?”
Master Zist considered his words before responding. “I suppose you could say that,” he replied. He got up, finished the last of the klah he’d been sipping, and gestured for Kindan to follow. “We’ll talk more of philosophy later. Right now we’ve got work to do.”
There were six coal drays in the trader caravan. All the camp youngsters and women turned out to greet the traders who had walked up in front of the coal drays.
“You’re the first fresh faces we’ve seen in six months!” Milla exclaimed, passing out dainties she’d made especially for their arrival.
“Tarri,” a woman in her early twenties said, extending a hand to Milla and looking around at the rest of the crowd. “Journeyman Trader.”
Master Zist stepped through the crowd with Kindan not far behind. “I’m Master Zist, pleased to meet you.”
Tarri’s eyebrows went up at the sight of a MasterHarper here at this small camp, but she quickly schooled her expression and gladly shook his hand.
“I’ve seven apprentices from the MasterMiner along with me,” she said, nodding to a knot of miners clustered nearby.
Kindan smothered a puzzled look. He’d heard Natalon tell Master Zist that eight apprentices had been sent—not seven.
“We’ll be glad to have them,” Master Zist said cheerfully, waving to the group. Under his breath he said to Kindan, “Where are we going to put them?”
Kindan whispered back, “They’ll have to go where there’s the most room.”
Master Zist’s eyes widened in a combination of alarm and glee. “That’d be Tarik’s place, wouldn’t it?”
Kindan gave an imperceptible nod.
“Master Zist, would you know where the coal drays go?” Tarri asked. From her expression, Kindan guessed that she expected the Harper wouldn’t.
“If you follow the fork in the road back there, you’ll come right to the depot,” Master Zist answered calmly.
Tarri nodded thanks and turned to the other traders, issuing orders. In a moment she turned back to the Harper.
“I imagine Miner Natalon will be wanting to talk about supplies and the price for his coal,” she said.
“Miner Natalon’s on shift at the moment and has asked me to show you the courtesy of his hold,” the Harper replied, bowing and gesturing toward Natalon’s hold with one hand. “If you’ll follow me, I’m sure you’re parched from the journey and wouldn’t mind a bit of refreshment.”
The young trader nodded agreeably and strode on to the hold, side by side with Zist.
“Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” a boy scarcely older than Kindan asked of the remaining crowd before Kindan could follow the Harper.