The Harper looked back and waved to show that he had heard.
“Light the beacon and show the flag for a dragonrider,” Natalon yelled.
The Harper waved his arms in acknowledgment.
Kindan’s eyes bulged wide. “We’re going to send for a dragon?”
“That’d be a first for you, wouldn’t it?” Zist asked, his face breaking into a wide grin. “We’ll have to ask for a ride—Aleesa’s hold is too far away and we’ll need swift transport.”
“A dragon! Do you think it’ll be a bronze or a blue or—” Kindan was overwhelmed with anticipation.
“We’ll be glad of whichever we get. And you’ll be doubly so.” Master Zist glanced back up the hill as they reached the clearing. “I only hope that Natalon’s as good a bargainer as he is a miner.”
That night, when he and the Master were seated for their dinner, Kindan raised the issue that he had kept in the back of his mind the whole day. “What is up to me, Master Zist? And who is Master Aleesa?”
Master Zist’s eyes glinted under his white eyebrows as his mouth curved up in a smile. “You have learned to keep things to yourself, I see.”
“You’ve taught me that there are times to listen and times to talk,” Kindan agreed.
The Harper’s smile faded. “This is a time to listen, then.
“You’ve heard how badly the Camp needs another watch-wher,” he continued. “After that wherhandler apprentice declined his assignment here, Natalon figured—rightly, I believe—that we would not get another anytime soon.”
“Is Master Aleesa the Master of wherhandlers?” Kindan asked, wondering why he hadn’t heard anything about this from his fathers or brothers.
“No more than there is a Master of fire-lizards or a Master of dragons,” the Harper responded. Kindan raised an eyebrow, mimicking Master Zist’s own questioning expression. “Master Aleesa is the wherhandler of a queen watch-wher. Her ‘Master’ is an honorary title. Natalon’s trading for an egg.”
“Blood tells...” Kindan eyes grew wide as he comprehended Natalon’s meaning.
“You want me to raise a watch-wher?” he asked in a shocked whisper. He struggled not to blurt out, “But I want to be a Harper!”
Master Zist faced him gravely across the table. “Natalon thinks—and I have to agree—that unless we can get a watch-wher soon, the mine will fail.”
Kindan took a deep breath, clenched his mouth tightly shut, and lowered his eyes from the MasterHarper’s. Slowly, he found himself nodding in agreement.
The beacon was lit and the flag flew for two whole days before there was any sign of an answer. At last a dragon appeared in the sky, swooped around the flagpole, dipped over the beacon, and then blinked out of existence—going between, to somewhere else.
Kindan, whose duties had been stretched to include manning the beacon fire, saw the dragon and waved excitedly at it as it performed its antics and disappeared. His tale was the talk of the camp with the youngsters. Zist listened appreciatively and gently guided him to crafting a better tale, so that by the end of a sevenday Kindan’s story took a full fifteen minutes to tell and left all eyes peering up to the sky, hoping for a glimpse of their own.
When not guiding Kindan in his storytelling, Master Zist was consoling Natalon, who was growing desperate for a dragonrider.
“What is taking them so long?” Natalon moaned. “How long can Aleesa wait?”
Zist shook his head. “I don’t know. Fort Weyr would have dispatched a dragonrider on the same day, even if the watch rider couldn’t land.”
“Where would a dragon land here?” Natalon asked, eyes darting around the camp. “Is that the problem? Is there no suitable landing?”
“Dragons aren’t so big that they couldn’t land here, Natalon,” the old Harper reassured him. “Only the bronzes or queens would have problems, and then they’d probably land up on the heights near the beacon.”
“Would the dragonriders walk all the way down from there?” Natalon asked, somewhat astonished at the notion of a dragonrider walking the half mile that he made all the camp youngsters take at a run.
“I don’t see why not,” Zist responded with a grin. “They do have feet.”
Natalon glowered at him, but the old Harper was unrepentant and kept grinning until finally Natalon smiled. “I suppose they do at that.”
Zist slapped the Miner on the shoulder. “They do.”
“What if they don’t come soon? What if it’s too late?”
With a sigh, Zist answered, “When you get to my age, Natalon, you learn to take things as they come.”
Natalon laughed. “When I get to be your age, Master Zist, I’m sure I’ll be able.”
That night Kindan noticed that Master Zist was unusually dour when it came time for bed. Kindan himself had been in equal parts both depressed and elated for the last two days—sometimes depressed because a dragon hadn’t yet come, sometimes elated because a dragon hadn’t come; sometimes elated that he had been chosen, and a whole year of coal traded, to get a watch-wher egg, sometimes depressed for the same reason.
“A lot’s being asked of you, lad, you know that, don’t you?” Zist said to him.
Yes.
“Your father taught you about watch-whers, right?” Zist asked.
Kindan shook his head mutely.
“You know how to hatch ’em, how to feed them, and how to rear them, right?”
Again Kindan shook his head. “My father used to say that I’d never be expected to do such things. I was too little to train, the older boys said.”
Master Zist closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he smiled. “Well, you’re a bright lad, I’m sure you’ll find yourself able.”
“I won’t let down my Hold—er, Camp,” Kindan said, despite his fears.
Master Zist pulled the blankets farther up and tucked them around Kindan. “I’m sure you won’t, lad,” he said firmly. Kindan noticed that the Harper had a troubled look in his eyes, something others likely wouldn’t have seen.
“Is something wrong?”
Master Zist raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve gotten far too good at reading my moods, youngster,” he said. He took a breath and let it out with a sigh. “There is a problem, maybe only a slight problem, but it has me concerned.”
Kindan gave him an encouraging look.
“Maybe it’s just that I’ve mixed feelings about all this,” the Harper muttered to himself. He looked at Kindan and said, “You know if you do this, you’ll not be my apprentice much longer?”
Kindan nodded solemnly. The thought had been on his mind for the past several days. He was torn between his duty to the miners—Natalon and Zenor in particular—and his own dream of being a Harper. He had held the fancy that perhaps he could do both and hadn’t tried to examine the idea too closely because, in his heart, he knew the idea was unrealistic.
“Well...” The Harper took a breath and plunged on. “Our meeting with Master Aleesa is set for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Kindan sat bolt upright. “But what if a dragon-rider doesn’t come? What if they won’t take us?”
Master Zist made soothing motions with his hands. “It may still turn out all right, even so,” he said.
“How?”
Master Zist frowned, thoughtfully. “This is a craft secret, understand?”
Kindan paused, then nodded solemnly.
“And not a harpercraft secret, a—I suppose you’d call it a dragoncraft secret,” the Harper explained. He continued, “You’ve proved you can keep your secrets, but this one especially you must not reveal.”
Master Zist took another breath and plunged into his tale. “Long ago, when I was a journeyman, I was posted to Benden Weyr,” he said. Kindan’s eyes widened in amazement. “I made many a good friend while I was there. And used all of the poor healing skills I’d ever had and learned more.”
He gave Kindan a frank look. “I was not all that good at healing—and still am not—so I was posted to copy their Records.”