Dragonsblood (45 page)

young harper looked ready to pursue his rebellion. Slowly the color drained

from his face and he calmed down.

“Weyrleader, Weyrwoman,” he said with a half-bow from his chair, “my

apologies. The song has me perplexed,” he explained. “But I will respect

your
orders
”—he laid a slight emphasis on that word—“and return to more

traditional lays.”

“Very well then,” Tullea replied. She waved a hand at him imperiously.

“Continue, Harper.”

Kindan gave her another half-bow, signalled to his accompanists, and stood

to sing in a strong, martial voice:

“Drummer, beat, and piper, blow,

Harper, strike, and soldier, go.

Free the flame and sear the grasses

Till the dawning Red Star passes.”

“Go see to Lorana,” M’tal said to Salina as soon as he was sure that the

situation was back under control.

Salina found Lorana in Arith’s weyr, her arms wrapped around her dragon’s

head.

“He means me, doesn’t he?” Lorana asked as Salina entered. She didn’t

look up at the ex-Weyrwoman. Her voice was choked with tears.

“I don’t know,” Salina answered honestly. “But I hope he does.”

“You hope?” Lorana asked incredulously, turning to face the Weyrwoman.

“How can you?”

“Because that song—if it has anything to do with what’s happening to us—”

“How can it? When was it written?” Lorana demanded. “It’s probably just

some old harper song written by someone who’d drunk too much.”

“It could be,” Salina admitted honestly. “And, now that you mention it, that

makes the most sense.”

“So why did he sing it?” Lorana cried angrily.

“You think it was about you?” Salina asked.

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Salina told her. “You’re not a healer, we know that.”

Lorana shook her head angrily, fingering one of the silver pieces of

brightwork on Arith’s harness.

“Do you see this?” she asked, pulling the piece off and waving it at Salina.

“Do you see how it’s marked? A healer’s mark.”

Salina gasped, startled.

“Exactly!” Lorana cried, turning back to replace the brightwork on Arith’s

riding harness. “And everyone will know that, too. So what will they think,

Salina?”

“What do you imagine?”

Lorana took a steadying breath and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I think

that the riders will believe that I brought this sickness here with me,” she

said slowly.

Salina felt as if she’d been struck in the stomach. She slumped down to her

knees as the full impact of Lorana’s words struck home.

If Lorana
had
brought the sickness, then it was her fault that Breth had died.

For a moment Salina felt anger rise up in her and she knew that her face

showed it, even without seeing Lorana’s stricken reaction. It would be so

much easier, such a relief, if she could blame
someone
for her loss. But

then her brain overcame her emotions, and Salina realized that Lorana

stood to lose her own dragon, too, long before her time.

“My fire-lizards,” Lorana continued, unable to control herself, “I think they

got sick. And—” She stopped, eyes going wide with astonished fear. “J’trel

and Talith—they went
between
forever.” She gulped down her tears. “I was

so sure that it was me. I was going to leave, but then I Impressed Arith. I

couldn’t leave her—I didn’t know what to do.”

“You’re right,” Salina said, “you couldn’t leave her. And as your

Weyrwoman, once you’d Impressed, I would never consider asking you to

leave the Weyr. We will solve this problem together.”

“Of all the stupid, ill-considered, blockheaded, unthinking—”

“Don’t stop,” K’tan told Kindan as the harper poured out a litany of

self-contempt. “You forgot fardling.”

“—fardling, moronic, imbecilic—” Kindan paused, groping for more words.

K’tan shook his head sadly. “A harper at a loss for words when they’re so

desperately needed.”

“Why did you do it?” M’tal asked, joining the other two.

Kindan let out a deep sigh, shaking his head ruefully. “It just came to me,”

he said. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He punctuated each word by banging his

head with his hand.

“How’s Lorana?” K’tan asked M’tal. “I noticed you sent Salina after her.”

“I have no way of knowing,” M’tal answered with a grimace.

“You could ask Arith,” Kindan suggested hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” M’tal answered frostily. Kindan grimaced and dropped his

head.

“I suppose I could talk to Lorana,” he said.

“No.” M’tal’s voice was firm.

“You’ve caused enough trouble,” K’tan agreed.

“I don’t know how I’ll make up for it,” Kindan said, giving M’tal a look that

begged for advice.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able,” M’tal told him grimly. “But there is one thing

that would be a good start.” At Kindan’s hopeful look, he continued, “Salina

says that she thinks the Oldtimer Rooms are hidden behind a rock fall near

the Hatching Grounds.”

“You mean? . . .” K’tan started, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

M’tal nodded. “That rockslide back by the way we used to come to look at

the eggs back when we were candidates.”

“It seemed dangerous, even when I was young,” K’tan said. “I never went

too close.”

Kindan braced to the challenge. “Well, let’s grab some glows and have a

look, shall we?”

“Tonight?” K’tan asked, taken aback.

“What better time?” Kindan replied. “While Tullea’s occupied.”

“Should we wait for Salina?” K’tan asked.

M’tal shook his head. “No, I think we might be in for a very long wait.”

Kindan groaned.

In the end, M’tal and K’tan talked him out of acting immediately, reasoning

that the job was properly one for miners, and that Kindan would best be

employed in engaging some. So with B’nik’s blessing, M’tal, K’tan, and

Kindan left at first light the next morning.

It took only moments after their arrival at Mine Natalon for Dalor to agree to

come to Benden with miners. K’tan and Kindan returned to Benden to make

preparations while M’tal arranged transport. Kindan had just finished alerting

Mikkala that there would be extra mouths to feed when he heard a shout.

“Kindan! Is it you?” the red-haired woman cried joyfully as she crossed the

Bowl along with the other arrivals. “It’s been ages!”

Kindan gave the woman a startled look and then recognition dawned: It was

Renna. Memories of his youth at Camp Natalon came back to him. This

woman was the youngster Kindan had set to keeping the watch when he’d

been put in charge of his watch-wher, Kisk, over ten Turns ago. Renna had

grown taller and broader, but she still bore the easygoing intelligence he

had seen so long ago.

Renna ran up to him and Kindan closed the remaining distance to be met

by a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, both of which he returned fully.

“You’re looking great,” Renna said, pushing him away to look him up and

down. “Life at the Weyr agrees with you?”

Kindan nodded, then broke into a grin. “I remember ages back when Nuella

said, ‘I know who he’s sweet on.’ ”

Renna blushed and laughed as Dalor, Head Miner at Mine Natalon,

clumped up beside them. He shook Kindan’s hand, then clapped him firmly

on the back.

“Thank you for coming,” Kindan told Dalor.

“For a chance to see a Weyr close up, it’s I who should be thanking you,”

Dalor responded with a snort. He took in the sight of the great Bowl with a

whistle. “Not to mention a chance to do some clean mining.” Hastily, he

added, “Not that coal hasn’t been good to us, nor that we don’t need it. But

it—”

“—gets everywhere!” Renna joined him in chorus. She turned to him and

kissed his cheek.

“But you clean up nice, love,” she said. Dalor blushed and looked down at

the ground, smiling.

Three other miners drew up beside him, waiting for orders.

“I’ll show you the spot,” Kindan said, leading the way toward the Hatching

Grounds.

As he had planned, Kindan gave them a quick tour of the Grounds and a

chance to recover from the impressive view before leading them down the

corridor toward the cave-in. They were followed by a group of weyrfolk,

mostly young boys, who were just as interested in the miners as the miners

were in them. Kindan sent some of the youngsters back to the Bowl to haul

down the miners’ gear.

“You’re right when you say this is Oldtimer work,” Dalor commented,

running his hands appreciatively along the smooth walls. He took a closer

look at the rock. “It looks like they melted their way through.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kindan agreed.

“Ah, but they weren’t so smart, were they?” Dalor went on, pausing to

glance carefully at a part of the smooth wall.

Kindan looked at him questioningly.

“Look here,” Dalor said, pointing. “You can see where the rock faces are

formed. They must have hoped that the two layers would never slip over

each other, or they must not have realized what they were dealing with.”

“Slip?” M’tal, who had been following along, asked.

“Aye, my lord,” Dalor said with a nod. “There are two different layers here,

see?” He pointed to the spot where the different colors were close to each

other. “You can tell by the color. The layers can slip over each other, which

happens when there’s an earth shake.”

M’tal examined the spot with renewed interest.

“Can you get through to the other side?” Kindan asked.

“Well, we don’t know how far it is, do we?” Dalor replied.

“It can’t be too far,” M’tal said. “This section can only go so far before it

comes out the far side of the Bowl.”

“There’s that,” Dalor agreed, nodding. “That’d be about five or six meters,

right?”

M’tal frowned in thought. “About,” he said. “Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit

less.”

“Might not take so long, Dalor,” another miner said. “If the rock gave at the

layers, there’d only be a meter or two falling from the roof.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, Regellan,” Dalor said. In an aside to Kindan, he

added, “It turns out our Regellan here is quite the thinker. I brought him

along in part to see what he would learn from looking over the Weyr.”

“He’s welcome to look all he wants,” Kindan told him. He remembered

Regellan as one of the new apprentices assigned to Mine Natalon just

before he’d left for the Harper Hall.

Dalor smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he replied. Then he gestured at

the cave-in. “We’ll get this sorted out first.”

Having said that, Dalor immediately began organizing the men for digging.

He politely waved away M’tal and Kindan—“You’ve no miner’s hats; we’ll call

you when we’re done”—and swiftly got his crew started on the work.

Kindan led Renna and M’tal back to his quarters. While Renna looked

around appreciatively at Kindan’s musical instruments, Kindan explained to

M’tal, “A good crew can mine about a meter of rock a shift.”

“I’d say they’ll be faster with that loose rock,” Renna put in.

Kindan made a face and waggled his hand. “It might be harder, and they’ll

have to do some shoring.”

Renna nodded. “That’s so, but I don’t think Dalor plans to be here too

long.”

“It was good of him to come,” M’tal said.

“We’re happy to help the dragonriders,” Renna said in a tone that made it

clear to the other two that the decision to help out was as much hers as

Dalor’s. Kindan and M’tal shared a fond smile for Renna’s spirit, no different

from their memories of her as a youngster, back when Kindan had first met

the Weyrleader over ten Turns earlier at Camp Natalon. Ignoring it, Renna

asked Kindan, “You say you hope to find some Oldtimer rooms beyond the

rubble? And somehow what’s in them will cure the dragons of their

sickness?”

“That’s our hope,” M’tal answered. Kindan nodded fervently.

It took the miners until lunchtime the next day to break through the cave-in.

“It’s remarkably clean,” Dalor said admiringly as he ran his hand along the

smooth walls. “Only the ceiling above gave way.”

“Your men did a great job,” M’tal commented approvingly.

“Thank you, Weyrleader,” Dalor replied, then blushed when M’tal cleared

his throat and jerked his head toward B’nik.

“I’m sure that Wingleader M’tal is appreciative,” Tullea said bitingly, “as am

I, the
Weyrwoman.
”

B’nik chose to smooth things over. “Indeed, a remarkable job, Miner Dalor,”

he said.

Tullea marched past the others and up through the newly cleared corridor, a

glow held in her hand. Suddenly, she stopped, scanning one side of the

corridor intently.

“This looks like a door,” she exclaimed. She hunkered down, peering to

either side of it. “What’s this?” she asked, seeing a square plate to the left

of the door. She pressed it just as Dalor, who had been watching her

actions with growing alarm, shouted, “Don’t touch it!”

Too late.

With a rumbling groan, the wall began to slide open and light flooded in

from the other side.

Dalor raced to Tullea and pulled her back away from the door. Even as he

did, she slumped toward the floor so that B’nik had to catch her other side

to prevent her from falling.

“What is it?” B’nik asked as they hastily withdrew toward the Hatching