Dragon Harper (21 page)

“The Records spoke only of weyrfolk, not riders,” Koriana protested.

“The Records weren’t very accurate,” M’tal said. He turned back to K’tan. “The Records Room should also be quarantined. We believe this illness does not affect dragonriders, but we can’t be certain.”

“How long does it last?” K’tan asked.

“We don’t know,” Kindan replied. “It seems to incubate in two to three sevendays.”

“Then wait a month, at least, to be safe,” K’tan said.

M’tal nodded. “I’ll see you in a month!”

He gestured for the others to precede him to bronze Gaminth.

“We’ll be waiting,” K’tan replied, bowing over his dragon’s neck.

CHAPTER 9

With yellow and black over hall and hold

Perils and pains do then unfold

Harper, crafter, holder pray

That you may live another day.

H
ARPER
H
ALL

A
s Gaminth burst from
between
into the early morning over Fort Hold and the Harper Hall, Kindan leaned out over the dragon’s neck to peer down below looking for any signs of life. He saw none. His throat tightened as he turned his attention to Fort Hold’s main walls, searching for any sign of guards on the parapets. His grunt of relief was echoed by the others as they all spotted a tiny guard moving purposefully along the walls. But their relief was short-lived.

“Look!” Koriana called as the first hints of morning wind flickered through the valley, blowing on the Hold’s tall flagstaff. A small yellow pennant with a black dot fluttered in the breeze.

“Quarantine,” Kindan said, his shoulders slumping. The illness was in Fort Hold. He turned his attention to the Harper Hall’s flagpole—it, too, had a yellow pennant fluttering from it and, although he couldn’t see it, he was sure that it also bore the black dot of quarantine.

A bellow from the meadow greeted them, and as Gaminth circled back toward the Landing Meadow, Kindan spotted a small blue dragon rearing up.

“J’trel is still here,” Kindan said.

“I wonder why?” Koriana said, her voice carrying over Vaxoram to Kindan’s ears.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Vaxoram said.

In a moment Gaminth was on the ground. M’tal handed Vaxoram down, who aided him in helping Koriana, then Kindan dismount. Finally M’tal leapt down himself.

They started off toward the Harper Hall but hadn’t gone a few steps before J’trel’s blue, Talith, bugled warningly at them. Seconds later, they heard J’trel shouting, “Stay there!”

M’tal glanced toward the blue rider who was running out from under the archway of the Harper Hall, carrying something in a carisak cradled against his chest with one hand. With the free hand, J’trel urged them to stand still.

“I’m going to drop the drum out of the sak,” J’trel called. “You can use it to communicate.”

“Very well,” M’tal said. He turned to his dragon. “Gaminth, ask Talith what is going on?”

A moment later M’tal seemed to stagger, then catch himself as Vaxoram rushed to his aid.

“The sickness has reached both the Harper Hall and Fort,” M’tal said. As they already knew that, Kindan waited for the other strand. “Three people in the Harper Hall have died.”

“Died?” Koriana cried.

“Many more are ill,” M’tal continued. “The Masterharper is coughing, which is the first sign.”

J’trel stopped a good dragonlength from them, knelt, and gently upended his carisak so that a small drum fell out. He then backed away.

Kindan and the others moved forward. When they reached the drum, Vaxoram gestured to Kindan, saying simply, “You’re better.”

Kindan picked the drum up and was surprised to see that it was one of his own making, the second he’d ever made. It wasn’t perfect but was sturdy and serviceable.

Harper ready,
Kindan rapped out with one hand. Then, thinking better of how long he might be drumming, he sat down on the cool, damp ground with his legs crossed and the drum cradled just above the ground so that its sound would carry better.

Do any of you have fever?
A message boomed back. Kindan could tell by the other’s style that the drummer was Masterharper Murenny himself.

No,
Kindan responded, as he relayed to the others, “Master Murenny asks if any of us have fever.”

Do any of you have a cough?
Murenny asked.

“None of us have been coughing recently, have we?” Kindan asked, turning to glance up at the other three, standing behind him.

“No,” M’tal said. “And no one at the Weyr, either.”

No, and none at the Weyr,
Kindan rapped back.

You are probably free from infection,
Murenny responded. Kindan thought that his drumming sounded a bit weaker than before.

“He says we probably don’t have the infection,” Kindan relayed. He turned to M’tal. “You should go to back to the Weyr.”

M’tal bristled. “I don’t take orders from a—” he cut himself short and shook his head apologetically. “You’re right, I apologize for snapping at you.” He gestured toward the Harper Hall. “Ask him what the Weyrs can do.”

Kindan beat the message out and waited. Then he frowned and added a longer message, explaining about the dangers to the Weyr.

They can do nothing,
Murenny responded after a long silence.
We cannot risk the Weyrs.

“Master Murenny says for you to do nothing,” Kindan said.

“You told him about the Records at Benden,” Koriana remarked.

“Of course.”

M’tal pursed his lips, clearly not liking the answer.

“If your riders come into contact with the contagion, there’s no way they can avoid bringing it back to the Weyr,” Kindan reminded him.

“I know that,” M’tal said with a touch of acerbity in his voice. He looked away, back toward his dragon for a moment and then said, “J’trel suggests that perhaps we could drop food.”

“Where would you get the food?” Koriana asked. “It’s nearly winter. The livestock may starve because there’s no one to tend them.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kindan said, the color draining from his face.

“We hadn’t seen anything in the Records,” Vaxoram remarked.

“That may be because they all starved,” Koriana pointed out.

“We hadn’t looked all that far before we went to Benden,” Kindan reminded them.

“What will happen if we lose the livestock?” M’tal asked Koriana.

“The Weyrs have some herds of their own, don’t they?” Kindan asked.

“Yes,” M’tal replied. “But they’re for feeding dragons and they get replenished by Holder herds at regular intervals. We couldn’t grow back all the herds of Pern from those of the Weyrs.”

“Then we’re doomed,” Vaxoram said.

Kindan nodded solemnly. “We can save the Weyrs, maybe save some holders, but they’ll just starve later.”

“No,” M’tal replied firmly. “There has to be another way.”

“Some livestock will survive,” Koriana declared. “Not everyone will catch this illness and some of those are bound to be in the small herdholds.”

“But will enough survive to feed the survivors?” Kindan countered.

“Murenny must have thought of this,” M’tal said, glancing toward the Harper Hall. He looked back to Kindan, noting the bronze fire-lizard hovering over him. “You can have your Valla send us messages, have her drop them on the Star Stones.”

“I can do that as long as I don’t have a fever or cough,” Kindan corrected him.

“Then let’s hope you don’t get one,” M’tal replied with a ghost of a smile.

“My Koriss can learn, too,” Koriana offered, then her face fell and she glanced over to Kindan. “But Kindan still has to teach me.”

“Your father may have something to say about that,” M’tal replied. He glanced toward Fort Hold. “And I think I’d best return you to him now.”

Kindan understood M’tal’s motivation—Koriana might not be a danger to the weyrfolk, but that was not certain, and as she was a Lord Holder’s daughter, she would want to be with her family.

Koriana looked torn, clearly wanting to stay with Kindan, yet also worried about her Hold and family. After a moment she nodded glumly. “But can I ask you and Vaxoram to turn your backs for a moment?”

M’tal raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, but she met his gaze steadily. The Weyrleader’s eyes softened and he turned away, gesturing for Vaxoram to do the same.

Koriana stared at them for a moment, then turned to Kindan and gestured for him to stand up. He did so reluctantly, worried about the Harper Hall, the deaths, and whatever was happening on Pern.

Koriana closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head against his shoulder. He felt her body shake with sobs before he heard them from her throat. He hugged her tightly, and then she moved her head and her lips latched onto his and she was kissing him, deeply, passionately, despairingly.

“What about your honor?” Kindan asked as they finally broke apart, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

“What is honor without love?” Koriana replied, raising a hand and brushing it gently against his cheek. “We may never see each other again.”

“I know,” Kindan replied, the words tearing his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Koriana said, leaning forward and parting her lips once more. Their kiss this time was less frantic, more sensual and intimate. When at last they finally broke apart it was because their lungs were protesting and their hearts beating too rapidly to survive another moment in such an intense embrace.

“I’ll see you again,” Kindan declared. “And then we’ll get your father to agree.”

Koriana smiled, but Kindan could tell that she couldn’t quite believe him.

“Until then,” she said, stepping back and releasing his hand.

“I’m ready,” Koriana declared loudly to M’tal. M’tal looked back then, as did Vaxoram.

“Then let me escort you to the gates,” M’tal said, gesturing for her to precede him.

Kindan bent over and picked up his drum. He turned to Vaxoram. The Harper Hall was his home—there was no place he would rather be. “Let’s go.”

“Masterharper Murenny is ill,” Master Archivist Resler said, approaching them just as they exited the archway into the Harper Hall. “You’re to go help Master Lenner.”

“But Master Murenny drummed to us,” Kindan protested.

“And that sapped all his strength,” Resler replied testily. “You are to follow my instructions.”

Kindan looked questioningly at Resler.

“Who is the senior harper, Master?” Vaxoram asked politely.

“I am,” Resler replied, clearly irritated at such impudent questions.

“But—Master Detallor?” Kindan asked, aghast. Detallor was the next senior harper to Murenny, after Master Zist.

“Master Gennel?” Vaxoram asked, naming the third-most senior.

“Master Detallor died this morning,” Resler replied, glancing down at the ground to hide his emotions. “Master Gennel is sick in his rooms and can’t be moved.” It was clear from his tone that Resler felt that Gennel would soon follow Detallor.

“There were three,” Kindan said, waiting for the final shard to crack.

“Journeyman Issak died while attending the others,” Resler said, grimacing. “No one knew he’d caught the illness, he kept it from Master Lenner.” He glanced up at them. “He was a good man, he would have been a good Master.” High praise indeed from the crotchety Resler. Apparently Resler thought so, too, for his voice was full of bark as he roared, “Now, go!”

Kindan needed no further urging. Vaxoram stuck at his side, only falling back when they entered the cramped corridor to the Healer Hall.

“I don’t know much about healing,” Vaxoram confided as they walked in silence.

“We’re both going to learn fast,” Kindan replied. He was surprised when Vaxoram clasped his right shoulder from behind and clenched it in firm agreement.