“He’d be just the lad,” Milla told him, pointing at Kindan. “Why don’t you get the apprentices settled, Kindan, while I go serve the traders?”
Kindan suppressed his disappointment at not being able to stay around to learn the latest gossip but admitted, with a nod, that he was outmaneuvered and outranked by the baker.
“I’m Kindan,” he said to the gathering apprentices. “I’m sure we can get you settled in. If you’ll follow me.”
In the end, Kindan managed to foist four of the apprentices, two older and two younger, onto Tarik’s Dara—mostly through fast-talking that alluded to how much esteem she’d gain in fostering the lion’s share of the new apprentices. Dara’s eyes, at first wary, grew quite appreciative as she imagined breaking the news to Tarik. Kindan, who thought Tarik would hold his privacy in higher regard, was not so sure of the miner’s reaction.
Toldur’s wife, Alarra, was glad to take in two—the older Menar and young Gulegar—while Norla happily took young Regellan when Kindan hinted broadly that he’d be on the opposite shift from Zenor, giving her a constant chance of someone who spoke “adult words” nearby.
With the apprentices all settled, Kindan went back to the Harper’s cothold to spruce up, change, and get his drums. Inside he was surprised to hear the soft sounds of someone crying in Master Zist’s study.
It was Nuella. The glows in the room were dim; Kindan realized that no one had had a chance to change them.
“What’s the matter?” he asked as he caught sight of her sitting in one of the large chairs. Nuella looked up at the sound of his voice.
“I—I—Master Zist was supposed to teach me,” Nuella said shakily. “I thought maybe I’d gotten it wrong so I went back to the hold only—only I heard him talking to someone else. So I came back here.”
“Oh, things got all mixed up because the caravan’s come in,” Kindan said.
“I didn’t hear the drums,” Nuella protested.
“Well, that’s because there’s no one at the relay yet, I expect,” Kindan said, referring to the drum relay midway between Crom Hold and Camp Natalon. “I spotted them and then got awfully busy between Master Zist and your father.”
“But it was a girl’s voice I heard talking to Master Zist,” Nuella said.
“That’s Tarri, the Trader,” Kindan told her.
“A girl can be a trader?” Nuella sounded surprised.
Kindan shrugged. “Why not? Although I think Tarri is older than that. She’s a journeyman, by her shoulder knots.”
Nuella sniffed. “I heard Milla say that a girl could be a baker or a mother, but that was all a girl was good for. She was complaining to Mother about it.”
“I can’t understand why Milla would complain,” Kindan said without thinking. “She’s a pretty good baker.”
“Mother wants to name the baby Larissa,” Nuella said in an abrupt change of topic. “She’s all worried whether the baby can see. She doesn’t want—”
Kindan realized that Nuella was telling him her secret.
“I’m sure the baby is fine,” Kindan said, sounding far more like Master Zist than himself. Nuella heard it too and frowned at him.
“Mother says that you can’t tell when they’re first born,” Nuella went on. “Sometimes it’s years before they lose their sight.” She paused and bit her lip nervously before continuing in a rush: “I could see just fine all the way until I was three. And then ... things just started to go blurry and dim. Now everything is just splotches...”
With a look of determination she stood up, steadying herself against the wall for a moment with an outstretched hand, and walked over to the door where Kindan stood. “Master Zist keeps the furniture in the same place,” she said appreciatively.
“I know,” Kindan replied. “He keeps yelling at me when I move it.”
“Father’s afraid of what the others will say if they find out,” Nuella said. “That’s why he was so glad to get Tarik to move out. Cristov almost found out once, you know.”
“Why is your father so worried?” Kindan blurted.
Nuella scowled, and shook her head angrily. “He’s afraid that we’ll be shunned,” she said bitterly.
“Shunned? But you’ve done nothing wrong,” Kindan said, wondering why the ultimate punishment—expulsion from society—could even be considered.
“Not like that,” Nuella corrected him. “His mother was blind, too. There aren’t that many blind people, you know.”
Kindan nodded, then said, “I know.”
“Well,” Nuella went on, “I heard him and Mother talking about it several times. Arguing, really. My father’s afraid that people will wonder what’s wrong with him, if his children are blind. And they won’t trust him. And he’s afraid that no one will marry Dalor.” With a catch in her voice, she added, “He doesn’t think I’ll ever get married.”
“So he wants to keep you a secret?” Kindan asked. Nuella nodded. “I don’t see how. Master Zist knows, I know, and Zenor knows. It was a wonder others didn’t figure it out the other day.”
Nuella snorted. “Some people who have perfectly good eyes only see what they want,” she said. “I usually wear clothes to match Dalor’s. Once Milla brushed right by me without even noticing.”
“And what a choice bit of gossip she’d make of you,” Kindan replied.
“She would, indeed,” Nuella agreed, adding bitterly, “And then Uncle Tarik would spread the gossip throughout the camp. ‘If he can’t make decent children, what sort of miner can he be?’ ”
Kindan considered her words carefully. He could see Tarik saying such spiteful things, and he could imagine there would be some who would listen. Certainly Tarik’s cronies would. And they’d repeat the gossip. And, if anything went wrong, like the bad air in the hold, there’d always be some who would start believing the gossip.
“All the same, you’re going to be found out sometime,” Kindan said.
Nuella nodded. “I’ve been telling Father that ever since we came up here. And I want to get out. But he keeps telling me to wait until the right time. He had hopes—before the cave-in...”
Kindan felt his throat tighten as he remembered all that had been lost in that cave-in. Master Zist had kept him so busy that it was only in his sleep—his nightmares—that he remembered the past, and his family.
“There’s a Gather tonight,” Kindan said. “I’ve got to get over there.”
“I won’t hear it if I stay here,” Nuella said, downcast. She held up her fingers, which were dotted with tiny pinpricks. “Mother says that everyone does this. I’m not sure—”
“Oh, they do!” Kindan said reassuringly. “I saw Zenor with the same pinpricks—diaper pins, right?—with his sisters.”
Kindan could tell that his words had relieved Nuella’s fears. One thing bothered him, though. “How long has Zenor known?”
“Oh, since the first sevenday we moved here,” Nuella said with a grin. “He fell off the fence when he was trying to get away from Cristov and hurt himself pretty badly.” She made a face. “I heard him crying. I couldn’t just leave him there for Cristov to find and probably kick, so I bundled him up to my room and bandaged him up and we’ve been friends ever since.”
Kindan made a rueful face. “Well, your secret’s safe with him, that’s for sure. I’m his best friend and he never told me.”
“Good,” Nuella said firmly, causing Kindan to glance up at her. “He wouldn’t be much of a friend if he couldn’t even keep a secret from you, would he?”
“Well...”
Nuella nodded. “I see, you think that because he’s your friend he should tell you all his secrets, is that it?”
Kindan’s frown grew more thoughtful. “Well...”
“But now you know that anything you’ve ever told him he’s kept secret—even from me,” Nuella pointed out.
That thought cheered Kindan up. “Wait a minute! It was you who threw those rocks when we were cleaning Dask! You warned us. But how did you know...”