Kindan nodded, looking at the other dragonrider with increased interest.
“How could we test it?” J’lantir wondered aloud.
“I’ve been thinking about that, my Lord,” Nuella responded. “I thought maybe if we got a hot stone and a glow—”
“What a marvelous idea!” J’lantir exclaimed. “I think I would go with more than one glow, one dim and one bright, and maybe the same thing for the stones.” Very soon he and Nuella were engrossed in designing a complete test of the watch-wher’s sight.
“We could just ask her,” Kindan said to himself.
M’tal smiled at him. “But then it’d take away all their fun.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Nuella said with her usual lack of deference. She put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry—I meant, my Lord.”
“She’s like that with everyone,” Kindan murmured.
“She’s got good hearing, too,” M’tal agreed, with a twinkle in his eyes. He turned to Nuella. “Nuella, I think that we all will be working together quite a great deal, so I think it best if we dispense with formalities and just get on with things—what do you say?”
Nuella’s eyes got very big. She nodded, speechless.
Kindan was no less amazed. “Do you mean you want me to call you by your name, my Lord?”
“It only seems fair,” J’lantir told them. “Besides, I’m not used to all this ‘my Lording.’”
“J’lantir is usually either flying upside down or is off somewhere reading,” M’tal said, clapping the other dragonrider on his shoulder. He leaned down to Nuella and whispered, “I heard once that he lost his whole wing for a week without noticing.”
“Only three days,” J’lantir corrected unflappably. He winked at Kindan. “It was quite peaceful.”
Kindan’s eyes widened at the thought of the dragonrider losing his wing of dragons, but then he grinned back, realizing that he was being let in on a joke.
“That couldn’t happen,” Nuella said, mostly to herself. “Dragons are telepathic!”
J’lantir smiled and wagged a finger at her; then, realizing that she couldn’t see it, he gently tapped her nose. “Very astutely observed, my Lady.”
The curtains of the shed rustled and Master Zist entered. Zenor followed, carrying a pot and some mugs.
“Ah, Master Zist, I have heard a lot about you,” J’lantir said, whirling to face the Harper. “J’lantir, rider of Lolanth, Wing-leader of Ista Weyr.”
Master Zist bent his head and said, “My Lord.”
J’lantir waved away the honorific. “I was just telling your Nuella that I prefer simply to be called J’lantir by my friends,” the dragonrider said. He looked earnestly at the Harper and added, “And I hope we’ll be friends.”
“I’m sure we will,” Zist replied with a grin. He looked over at Nuella. “Your father will be coming down shortly to greet the dragonriders.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know about me,” Nuella told the dragonriders. “Please, let me hide until he’s gone.”
Both M’tal and J’lantir reacted with grave, concerned looks.
“It’s a secret he wants to keep,” Kindan added. “Master Zist tells me that some people need to keep secrets.”
M’tal looked grave. “A secret is never a good thing,” he said.
“Please?” Nuella begged. “It would hurt him a great deal, and he would be very angry with me.”
J’lantir gave M’tal a look. Unhappily, M’tal nodded. “We will keep your secret for now, Nuella,” he said. He cocked an eye at the Harper. “I will want to talk to you about this later, Master Zist.”
The Harper nodded. “I am not happy with this secret,” he said, “but I think it is not too harmful for the moment.”
J’lantir made a shoving motion toward Nuella, then stopped, a rueful expression on his face. “Go! Hide!” he said to her. “We’ll let you know when he leaves.”
“You won’t need to,” Nuella said as she turned to burrow into a thick pile of straw in one of the corners of the shed. “I’ll hear him leave.”
Natalon arrived not long after and stayed long enough to ensure courtesy all around. Then, sensing that the dragonriders wanted to work with Kindan and Kisk alone, he withdrew as soon as etiquette allowed.
“I could send something down from the kitchen, if you’d like, my Lords,” he offered as he was leaving.
M’tal shrugged a question to Kindan, who replied with a fervent nod.
“That would be excellent, Miner Natalon,” M’tal said. “Whatever you have—we don’t want to put you out.”
“Could you have some hot bricks sent down?” J’lantir asked.
Natalon frowned. “If you’re cold, my Lord, I think there’s a grate here someplace. We could start a fire.”
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” the dragonrider said. “Just some bricks, if you don’t mind.”
“I could carry them,” Zenor offered.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Natalon said, shaking a finger at him. “You’ve got work tomorrow, and I don’t need you all worn out.”
Zenor looked so crestfallen that Natalon grinned at him, shaking his head. “Besides, I think you might be imposing on Kindan’s hospitality.”
Zenor shot Kindan a pleading look.
“I’d be happy if Zenor could stay, my Lord,” Kindan said instantly.
Natalon glanced at the men. “If it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, it might be a good idea to have someone else be familiar with the watch-wher,” he suggested.
“Of course!” M’tal said, waving the issue aside. “Besides, another body would add to the warmth in here.”
J’lantir nodded vigorously.
“Very well,” Natalon said. “But no more than an hour, Zenor—unless my Lords say otherwise.”
“All right,” Zenor said, looking both very pleased and somewhat unhappy at the same time.
“Well, come along,” Natalon said to him. “You’ve volunteered to carry those bricks back down.”
Zenor nodded and turned to follow the head miner back to his hold.
“You know, you could just ask her,” Kindan repeated after Zenor and Natalon had left.
“Ask her what?” Master Zist inquired. Kindan started to relay Nuella’s observation, but was interrupted with a correction from Nuella, which then opened up a general conversation.
“You know,” the Harper said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “the human body generates a lot of heat.”
“Are you thinking to perform a simple experiment with human bodies and glows?” J’lantir wondered.
Kindan pulled a glow out of its holder and held it up.
“Kisk, which is brighter to you, me or this glow?”
The watch-wher hesitated, then butted her head at Kindan’s midriff.
“There, I think we have our answer,” M’tal said.
“Hmm,” J’lantir murmured, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Well, we know one thing—a watch-wher is much smarter than a fire-lizard.”
“More patient, too,” Master Zist added drolly. “I hope Zenor brings back some food for her.”
“She just ate,” Kindan told him. He looked at the Istan dragonrider. “J’lantir, do you know how much they should eat?”
“Well, actually, I’ve only just started my investigations a fortnight ago,” the dragonrider confessed. “I met Master Aleesa”—his tone conveyed how the encounter with the prickly WherMaster had gone—“and decided that perhaps I should pursue other avenues.”
Master Zist bit back a laugh. J’lantir rewarded him with a pleasant nod.
“I have, of course, spoken with the wherhandler at Ista Hold,” he continued. “And I was surprised”—he cocked an eye at the Harper—“to discover that the Harper Hall had very little information on watch-whers.”
“None at all, from what I’ve found,” Master Zist agreed.
“C’rion decided that seeing as we’re getting nearer the next Pass, it would be a good idea to gather every scrap of information that might help us tending dragons during times of Thread,” J’lantir said. “I was assigned to learn about watch-whers.”