When Nuella returned home, it felt like she had been gone a lifetime, even though it was only a fortnight. She had smelled the sea. She had tasted exotic fruits. She had drunk the best Benden wine—watered down, just the way it was served to the young Lord and Lady; she wasn’t sure she liked it but she had kept that to herself. She had been introduced to fire-lizards and found them charming but too flighty. Watch-whers were much more her sort of person. And dragons, of course. Beneath her, Lolanth rumbled in amused agreement.
She simply had not gotten used to being called “my Lady.” And the people who had said it to her! It was bad enough that M’tal, Weyrleader of Benden Weyr, had said it, but the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman of Ista Weyr had also called her that.
C’rion had even presented her with a gold necklace especially made just for her!
It was formed of links in the shapes of dragons, fire-lizards, watch-whers, and dolphins. Seeing the latter, Nuella had fearfully entertained the notion that the Istan Weyrleader might want her to teach watch-whers to talk to dolphins, too. Fortunately, as she hadn’t the slightest idea how to go about it, that wasn’t the case—C’rion had merely wanted to give her something as a mark of the Weyr’s gratitude.
The training had been easy after Renilan. And Nuella had loved every exhausting second of it. The warmth of amazement from both watch-wher and wherhandler as they learned to communicate with each other and with the dragons of Pern was something she would cherish in her heart forever. And she admitted to herself that it was an accomplishment no one could take away from her—and no one else could have done. She had to be blind to see the way the watch-whers did.
Nuella realized how much she had learned herself. As she worked with new watch-whers, it had become easier, much easier, to create a rapport with them, to get a feel for what they were feeling and “see” their images.
She had also learned an incredible amount of watch-wher lore. She couldn’t wait to tell Kindan that Risk’s name had been predetermined—that watch-whers picked a name that matched their human’s, and that their names always ended in “sk”. Or that the watch-whers of the major Holds always named themselves after their Holds and always bonded with someone of the Hold’s bloodline. Or that watch-whers sometimes outlived their humans and could re-bond with another human—or maybe she wouldn’t tell him that, she thought with a frown. It might upset Kindan too much to realize that if he had only known better he might have saved Dask. Well, she decided, perhaps not. From all she’d heard, Dask had been too injured to re-bond and was too determined to carry out Danil’s wishes to obey anyone else.
She wondered if Zenor would be there to greet her. They were arriving late, but not too late for him to be up for a special occasion. She wanted to show him her necklace. She wanted to show her father, too. And her mother. Her mother, whose faith in her had never flagged, who had never allowed Nuella to feel held back in the least by her blindness, who had always shown her ways to make it into an asset, to use it to her advantage. And little Larissa. Maybe—Nuella crinkled her nose—she could get out of having to change the baby’s diapers for a bit, perhaps two or three days.
She felt the impact as Lolanth landed softly on the meadow outside the first mine shaft. She’d asked J’lantir to land there so that her arrival wouldn’t be noticed. She hoped her father would appreciate her thoughtfulness.
She felt J’lantir hop down. “Come on down, my Lady,” he called from below.
“It’s lucky it’s night and there’s no one about or we would have had to use the watch-heights to avoid the coal carts.”
Nuella threw her leg across Lolanth’s neck and slid down off his side into J’lantir’s waiting arms. She had gotten quite fond of that drop, falling free, knowing that someone would be there to catch her. J’lantir twirled her around once and then lightly set her on her feet.
“All back, safe and sound,” he announced gaily. Then he added in a slightly puzzled tone, “Although the welcoming party seems to have become somewhat mislaid.”
Eagerly, Nuella sniffed the night air, hoping to catch a scent of new arrivals before J’lantir’s eyes saw them. She listened, drinking in the night noises, sifting through them for the sound of approaching feet. With a triumphant smile she found them—a pair approaching, just coming into view about—
“Ah, there they are,” J’lantir announced. “Not quite as many as I would have expected, but perhaps it’s the late hour.”
“No,” Nuella said, suddenly feeling chilled. “Something’s wrong.”
“Nuella?” Zenor called out in the night.
Nuella took a relieved breath. “Zenor, what is it? Where’s Kindan? Kisk?” Nuella reached out for the familiar wispy touch of her favorite watch-wher and got back saddened darkness. “What happened?”
“There’s been an accident,” Renna said, walking up beside her brother.
“It’s all my fault!” Zenor cried in a tear-choked voice.
“A cave-in,” Renna said.
“Kindan? Kisk? Are they okay?” Nuella asked in panic.
“They’re in the shed,” Renna said. “Kindan tried to go but Tarik forbade him and punched him when he tried to get in anyway.”
“Tarik?” Nuella repeated blankly.
“He’s no miner,” Zenor snarled. “I told Natalon when I saw their joists. He—your father went to look for himself. He was furious when he saw the state of Second Street. He made Tarik switch with him.” He took a deep breath and said in a rush, “I think they were shoring up the tunnel when it collapsed.”
“Father?” Nuella cried.
“And Dalor—all their shift,” Renna told her tearfully.
“Tarik,” Zenor said venomously, “said that the cave-in was too long to dig them out.”
“Toldur tried anyway,” Renna added. “But they couldn’t get more than a meter. Toldur said that at least ten meters of the tunnel’s caved in. That’d take weeks to dig out.”
“Tarik put guards on the shaft after Kindan tried to bust in,” Zenor said. “There’s only a pump crew there now, trying to get clear air into the mine.”
Nuella started walking down the hill toward the camp.
“Nuella,” J’lantir called after her, “what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see Kindan,” Nuella shouted over her shoulder. “I’m going to rescue my father.”
Kindan’s eyes snapped open as someone nudged him awake. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the day’s events had left him battered, bruised, and more frazzled than he had realized. A soft hand felt his forehead and pulled away quickly from the large bump and half-dried scab.
“He hit you hard, didn’t he?” Nuella asked as he sat up. “Can you walk?”
“Nuella...” Kindan groped for words.
Nuella shushed him with a finger on his lips. “Zenor told me.”
“I tried, Nuella,” Kindan said with new tears rolling down his cheeks. “Kisk and I tried.”
“I know,” she said, her throat tight with pain. “I know.” She felt her warm tears run down her face and hugged Kindan tightly, and for a moment both of them were lost in their grief. After a long while, Nuella felt the tightness in her chest ease and she drew back from Kindan. “Can you try again?” she asked after a moment.
The curtain at the entrance rustled and someone stepped into the shadows.
“I have an axe.” It was Cristov.
“Cristov?” Nuella said in surprise. Her mouth hardened. “You can’t stop us.”
“Nuella,” Kindan began, warningly.
“I won’t stop you,” Cristov said with a grim smile. “I want to help.”
Nuella gasped in surprise.
“I won’t stop until we get them out,” Cristov said fiercely. “Alive or dead.” He looked at Kindan. “Your father taught me that. A miner never leaves his friends.” He added dejectedly, “Only, I don’t know how to get past the guards.”