Kindan knew that there was no one worse than his own sister in a temper so he scuttled off immediately. He concentrated so hard on avoiding his sister’s temper that his legs took him up to the mine entrance before he realized it. Rather than turning straight back, Kindan paused, eyeing the mine entrance thoughtfully.
Usually, one of the first tasks of the day for the Camp’s youngsters was to change the glowbaskets in the mines. Today, because of the wedding, the mines were closed—except for those unlucky enough to have the job of working the pumps—so Kindan found himself in front of the mine shaft wondering whether the task had been canceled for the day. Even though no one would be mining that day and that night, Kindan decided that surely it made sense to change the glows so that the miners wouldn’t have to go down into a dark mine the next day.
Kindan heard voices coming from inside the mine. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but he could tell that one was a man’s deep voice and the other a young girl’s voice.
“Hello!” he called into the mine, thinking that perhaps some of the caravanners had gone for a look at the mine.
The voices stopped. Kindan cupped an ear with his hand, straining to hear any sounds. Late at night, when the Camp’s cook fire had burned down to mere embers and the chill winds from the mountains howled through the Camp’s square, the older boys told all sorts of scary stories about ghosts in the mine. Kindan was sure that these weren’t ghosts, but all the same, he wasn’t too interested in going into a dark cave by himself.
“Hello?” he called again, hesitantly. He certainly wouldn’t want to invite any ghosts to him.
There was no answer. Presently Kindan heard the steady sound of one pair of boots on the dirt floor of the cave. He stepped back from the entrance. A darker shadow appeared, then resolved itself into human form.
It was an old, silver-haired man whom Kindan had never seen before. The man looked haggard and his eyes were bleak, as though all the laughter had been leached from them and all the life had seeped away. Kindan took another step back and prepared to run. The child in the mine—the one with the girl’s voice. Had this specter eaten it?
“You there!” the man called out.
As soon as he heard the deep, rich voice, Kindan knew that the man was no ghost. The accent was clearly from Fort Hold, and it held the cultured overtones of the Harper Hall.
“Yes, Master?” Kindan answered, not knowing what rank the man held and guessing that it was best to err on the side of caution. Was this Harper Crom’s MasterHarper come to check on Journeyman Jofri? Or was he a Harper with the traders?
“What are you doing here?” the old man barked.
“I was here to see if the glows needed changing,” Kindan said.
The old man frowned, brows furrowed tightly. His head swung around to look over his shoulder, but he stopped the movement almost immediately. “I was told,” he said, “that no one was going to be up here today.”
“Yes, there’s a wedding,” Kindan told him. “But I wasn’t sure if Natalon wanted the glows changed.”
“Well, they certainly could do with it,” the old man said. The sound of a small rock falling behind him made him turn around and back again. “It can be quite dangerous down there. But I think—wait a minute!—are you Kindan?”
“Yes, sir,” Kindan replied, wondering why the old man knew his name. He couldn’t have known about... Kindan compiled a far too lengthy list of possible misdeeds before the old man made his next response.
“You are supposed to be at the Harper’s quarters in about fifteen minutes, young man,” the old man said. As Kindan turned to run back down to Jofri’s cottage, the old man added, “Ready to sing and not breathless!”
“I will be!” Kindan shouted back over his shoulder, running as fast as his feet could carry him.
As soon as Kindan was out of earshot, the old man turned back to the mine entrance. “You can come out now, he’s gone.”
He heard the sound of light feet approaching the cave’s entrance, but they stopped before their owner came into view.
“I know a shortcut, if you’d like.”
“Through the mountain?” he asked.
“Of course.” After a moment’s silence, sensing the old man’s reticence, the girl added, “I’ve used it loads of times. I’ll show you.”
The old man smiled and started back into the cave. “Well, with your guidance, I’ll be happy to take your shortcut,” he said, making a short bow to the figure in the dark. “Would I be right in guessing that it will get us there before the lad?”
The girl’s answer was a mischievous giggle.
Kindan arrived outside the Harper’s cottage completely breathless. Zenor was already waiting.
“Kindan, you’re just in time,” Zenor said. “If you’d’ve been a few more minutes late—” He broke off, his eyes full of dark foreboding.
“What is it?”
“The Master wants to hear us sing,” Zenor said. “He’s already told Kaylek that he can’t sing at the wedding.”
Kindan’s face lit up at the thought of Kaylek’s reaction. Kindan wasn’t surprised: Kaylek’s singing voice sounded like a gravel slide, and he had no ability whatsoever to stay in tune. Whenever pressed about it by his friends, Kaylek would swear that he didn’t like singing and that, anyway, he’d been a perfect singer until his voice had changed. But Kindan knew from tales he heard from his other brothers and Sis that neither of those statements were true; Kaylek loved to sing but had not one jot of musical ability.
Silstra had tried to figure ways to get all her siblings involved in her wedding, and her choice of Kaylek to sing was probably no more than a combination of nerves and running out of ideas.
Zenor nudged Kindan in the ribs. “Don’t you get it? If Kaylek can’t sing, who’s going to do all his songs at the wedding?”
Kindan’s eyes went round and his mouth opened in a big “O” of dreadful realization.
Just then, the door opened.
“Come in, come in, I can’t stand dawdling,” a voice growled from inside the cottage. It wasn’t Journeyman Jofri’s voice. It was the voice of the old man that Kindan had met up at the mine entrance.
Enraged, Kindan burst into the room.
“What are you doing here? It was bad enough that you went down the mines without Miner Natalon’s permission, but to barge into a Harper’s quarters—” Kindan cut himself short and a horrified look came over him. Kindan could feel his whole face burning in embarrassment. Oh no! Kindan thought to himself with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he’s the new Harper! Our new Harper!
The old man did not take Kindan’s outburst lightly.
“What do you think you are doing?” his voice boomed, filling the room not just with its volume but also with its intensity.
“Sorry,” Kindan muttered, trying with the tip of his foot to dig his way into the floorboards of the cottage in a vain hope of escaping both his embarrassment and the Harper’s anger. “I didn’t realize that you were the new Harper.”
“You didn’t think, you mean,” the old man roared back irritably.
Kindan hung his head. “Yes, sir.” If there was one thing Kindan was good at, it was at being bawled out—he’d had lots of practice.
“You seem to have a knack for that, don’t you?” the Harper noted tetchily.
“Yes, sir,” Kindan agreed, his head on his chest and his answer going to the floor.
The new Harper eyed Kindan. “You’re not related to that oaf I just sent out of here this morning, are you?”
Kindan glanced up at that, his lists clenched. It was enough to be in the wrong and caught out twice by the stranger, but only a family member had the right to call Kaylek an oaf!
“Hmm,” the old man murmured. “You say nothing, but your body shows its support for your clan.”