Natalon glared for a moment at Kindan, then at Nuella. Jenella tightened her grasp on his arm and shook her head. “I have always wanted to hear the pipes played,” Natalon said after a moment’s thought.
Dalor, who had been behind his mother and father and not quite concentrating on their conversation, suddenly stiffened as he noticed Nuella and then relaxed again as he digested the conversation in front of him.
“She plays very sweetly,” he declared. He gave Kindan a look that was part thanks, part warning. Kindan nodded in acknowledgment.
“Well, I must get back to my duties.” Kindan inclined his head toward Natalon and Jenella and strode quickly back to the musicians’ table.
As Nuella’s song came to an end, Kindan whispered to her, “That went well.”
“Not from what I heard,” Nuella whispered back. Kindan blushed at the thought of her hearing what he’d said—not so much for the words but for his ham-fisted way of saying them.
Chagrined, he turned back to the crowd. People were growing restless, waiting for a new song. Instead of reaching for the drum, Kindan opened his mouth and sang the first song to come to his mind. It was “The Morning Dragon Song.”
Partway through the first verse, a haunting counterpoint joined in. It was Nuella on the pipes. Kindan nearly stopped singing, he was so surprised by the beauty of her melody. Instead, he raised his voice slightly and let her weave her pipes through the song.
As the last words faded away, Nuella’s piping chirped a last response and faded, into a silence that Kindan hadn’t heard all evening long. Then there was a thunderous applause. Kindan was thrilled to see Master Zist on his feet clapping as loudly as the others. Even more astonishing was Nuella’s voice in his ear: “Can we do another?”
In the end, they did six more duets before the night was over. Zenor even managed, with Kindan’s connivance, to sneak a dance with Nuella.
“She’ll follow your lead,” Kindan told him. When Zenor looked balky about dancing, Kindan said, “It’s either her or one of your sisters, you know that.”
Nuella was radiant as Kindan handed her down from the table into Zenor’s arms. Kindan suppressed a smile as he saw Nuella school her expression before Zenor could see it. With matched let’s-humor-Kindan looks they took their places on the floor.
Master Zist joined Kindan on the musician’s table with his fiddle for a rollicking song that challenged the dancers to keep up. Kindan smiled as he watched Nuella and Zenor navigate their way through the song—with the occasional squeak over a squashed toe.
“They’re too young to match, and you’re too young to be matchmaker,” Master Zist whispered in Kindan’s ear when the song was over.
“They’re friends,” Kindan replied. “And at a Gather the only thing they can do together is dance.”
When Nuella returned to the table, she was tired but exhilarated.
Master Zist waved Kindan off with a meaningful look. “You take a break, lad. This young one and I will see what a fiddle and a pipe can do.”
Kindan nodded back and walked over to the banquet table. There were none of Milla’s dainties left and scant else to eat, but there was good clear water, mulled wine, and klah for the taking. Kindan’s stomach grumbled as he wolfed down a few vegetables, but he really wanted the water more and it was a while before his thirst was slaked enough to let him wander the room.
He was pleased at all the praise he got from trader and miner alike for his singing. However, he knew that Master Zist was expecting him to do more than bask in praise, so he made himself small and wandered toward the knots of people he’d noticed from the musician’s table.
“So the watch-wher didn’t come?” Kindan heard a voice say. “What of it? Can’t recall much good ever coming from one.” The voice belonged to Panit, one of Tarik’s men.
The other men in the crowd weren’t so sure, it seemed. Several wondered why the apprentice with the watch-wher had decided not to come. Kindan heard an undertone of worry in their voices.
“Been too many cave-ins,” one voice grumbled.
“Lazy people, that’s what it is,” Panit replied. “They get lazy, thinking a watch-wher will save them. They get careless. We’re better off without ’em.” There was a pause. “But it bothers me that Natalon’s so keen on having one.”
Kindan snuck away, troubled. He knew that watch-whers were important. Shards! Wasn’t it Panit himself whom Dask had pulled out of the mines? If people were bothered about working without a watch-wher, why not get more? And why would Panit want people to think Natalon was lazy? If they thought the head miner was lazy, would they want to stick at working the mine? Or would they leave like that unnamed apprentice and his watch-wher?
After the Gather, when Kindan and Master Zist had trundled back to their cothold, the Harper called Kindan into the study to talk.
“You and Nuella did a remarkable job on ‘The Morning Dragon Song,’” Master Zist said.
“Thank you.”
“I’d like to work with you on some other vocal pieces,” Master Zist continued. “I think we should try a duet.”
“What about Nuella?” Kindan asked.
Master Zist shook his head sadly. “When the traders leave, she’ll have to ‘leave’ with them.”
“But you teach her, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Master Zist allowed, “and I am very careful in how I schedule her lessons.”
“I don’t understand why Natalon wants to keep her a secret,” Kindan said, his face reflecting all the injustice he felt.
Master Zist shook his head. “I cannot tell you why—that is Natalon’s secret.”
“Nuella told me. It seems like a bad secret,” Kindan replied.
“Your drumming was good tonight,” Master Zist said, changing the subject. “I will start you on learning drum sequences, and you can start training some of the other youngsters—”
“I’m as old as Zenor!”
Master Zist raised a cautioning finger to his lips. “As I was saying, some of the other youngsters who are too impetuous and could use the exercise to burn off some of their excess energy.”
Kindan accepted this new assignment with a shrug. “What happened with the trader?”
Master Zist smiled. “I thought I did rather well, there. I asked her about the state of the trail up here, and when she told me how muddy it was, I suggested that she could do with a delay of a few days to let the roads dry out more.”
His eyes twinkled. “Naturally, she caught on immediately that we wanted the delay for some reason and we commenced to bargaining.”
As Master Zist explained, Trader Tarri tried to negotiate a lower price for their coal, but Master Zist countered by pointing out the risks of losing a fully loaded coal-dray on the slippery trail back down to Crom Hold. That would not be good for the trader’s profits at all. He pointed out that it also would not do for the trail to Camp Natalon to get a reputation as dangerously slippery. So Master Zist offered that the camp would pay half their food and board for an additional day. Tarri demanded that the miners send out parties to spread gravel on the worst parts of the trail, saying that it would benefit the miners more than the traders. Master Zist countered with an offer of enough gravel to spread over the difficult parts but the traders would have to do it themselves.
“She said, ‘Done.’ And that was that.” Master Zist sat back in his chair looking quite pleased with himself. “And how did you get on with settling in the new apprentices?”
Kindan explained where he’d found lodgings for all the new apprentices.
“I suspect you’re right about Tarik’s reaction to housing four,” Master Zist said when Kindan had finished.
Kindan snorted derisively. Master Zist raised an eyebrow inquiringly.
“Did you hear what Tarik’s men are saying about Natalon?” Kindan asked.