Anne Mccaffrey_ Dragonriders of Pern 20 Page 4

  Vaxoram peered down at him consideringly. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Kindan’s temper snapped. In a move that surprised him, he swung his arm swiftly, palm open, and slapped Vaxoram hard on the cheek.

  “I challenge you,” he declared.

  “Kindan, no!” Nonala cried.

  But a hot, burning anger had overcome Kindan and her words didn’t even register.

  “Challenge me? Do you think the Masters will permit it?” Vaxoram snorted. He bore down on Kindan. “No, I’ll beat you to a pulp here and now, and you’ll not tell anyone, or I’ll do it to you and your friends.”

  Some of the other apprentices looked at one another apprehensively.

  “Kindan,” Nonala pleaded. Kindan heard her worry for him, but he also felt her concern for the long-term repercussions. She knew as well as he did that if he gave in now, Vaxoram would not only torment him more but would also see it as permission to harass both Nonala and Kelsa. He couldn’t allow that, no matter what.

  “No, you won’t,” he said. “And if you beat me, I’ll still be here and I won’t give in.”

  “Let’s see,” Vaxoram said, slamming a fist down into Kindan’s nose and lips, pulping them.

  Kindan felt his teeth rip into his lips and swallowed the hot blood that spewed from the tattered inside of his mouth. It only made him angrier. He swung, but Vaxoram had stepped back, smirking, admiring his handiwork. Then Vaxoram bore in again for another blow to Kindan’s jaw, but before he connected, a voice rang out. “Hold!”

  Everyone in the room froze as Weyrleader M’tal stormed into the room.

  “What is going on here?” the dragonrider demanded, turning from Kindan to Vaxoram, his eyes narrowing as he took in Nonala’s distraught, teary-eyed face.

  “I challenge Vaxoram,” Kindan said, his words slurred with blood and pain. “I call him a coward and a bully and a man who would use his strength to have a woman.”

  There were gasps from the entire room, including M’tal and Nonala. Eyes locked onto Kindan. In front of him, Vaxoram’s anger was a palpable thing; the older lad’s breathing was ragged and outraged.

  Kindan had issued the harshest condemnation possible of a man on Pern—that he would use his strength to overpower a woman.

  “I demand the right of cold steel,” Vaxoram responded through clenched teeth, his eyes tight, beady, and glaring angrily down at Kindan’s bloody face.

  “You shall have it,” Kindan replied, matching the taller lad’s glare. He caught the look of surprise in Vaxoram’s eyes and, deeper under it, a flash of fear.

  “Kindan!” Nonala shouted. “No! He’ll kill you.”

  “Are you certain of this, Kindan?” M’tal asked intently.

  “Yes,” Kindan said.

  “And if you prove your claim?” M’tal asked. In a duel such as this, if Kindan prevailed, he had the right to exact whatever penalty he desired, given the severity of the claim.

  Kindan stared up coldly into Vaxoram’s eyes and saw the fear grow there. Kindan could have Vaxoram banished from the Harper Hall. Kindan knew that before coming to the Harper Hall, Vaxoram had been the son of a minor holder. If banished, Vaxoram would certainly not be accepted back by his family, particularly under such shame. Banishing Vaxoram would be worse than Shunning him, and Kindan had seen enough of Shunning. His thoughts turned to C’tov and his Shunned father.

  “He’ll serve me,” he said.

  “Never!” Vaxoram roared.

  “Heard and witnessed,” M’tal declared, overriding Vaxoram. He looked at the older apprentice. “And what is your penalty?”

  Kindan met Vaxoram’s eyes. He could see clearly that the older apprentice intended to kill him. He was pretty sure that if Vaxoram succeeded, he’d be asked to leave the Harper Hall anyway—no one would tolerate a killer in their midst. Something else flickered in Vaxoram’s eyes, then he said, “He’s to be banished.” He gave Kindan a gloating look. “For lying.”

  “Very well,” M’tal said. “I’ve heard and witnessed both claims.” He turned to Vaxoram. “You are to report this to the Masterharper.” He glanced at Kindan and Nonala. “Selora told me that she sent you to the baths. Get going now.”

  Kindan nodded and, numbly, trotted over to the bath rooms. He was inside and peeling off his clothes before he heard the rustle of the curtain and felt Nonala enter beside him.

  The bath room was laid out with four large baths in the middle and a row of showers along each wall. When Kindan and the others bathed, by unspoken agreement they turned away from each other as they undressed and got into their baths, respecting each other’s privacy. They never spoke until they were safely in their baths, usually covered by bubbles. When they showered, they followed the same rules, keeping their eyes on the wall in front of them and being respectful.

  Now, however, Nonala spoke while she was disrobing. “I could have taken care of myself,” she told him, her anger barely masking her concern.

  He pointed to his mangled lips. “But could you have sung afterward?”

  She sloughed off the last of her clothes and hopped into her bath, churning up bubbles with both hands.

  “No,” she admitted after a moment.

  Kindan stepped into his own bath and sank down quickly into the water. The water was only warm, not hot enough to reach the cold that had settled deep into his bones. He heard a happy groan from Nonala and looked over at her.

  “It feels so good to stop shivering,” she told him.

  A moment later, two apprentices called from the outside of the room, “Can we come in? We’ve got coals.”

  “Come in,” Nonala told them.

  They hustled in and placed the coals under the baths, then scurried out again, one of them calling as he left, “Selora says she’ll have others up with hot water in a moment.”

  “Thank you!” Nonala and Kindan chorused. As the two apprentices hurried away, one whispered to the other in a voice that carried, “Did you see his face?”

  “I heard Vaxoram plans to kill him,” came the other’s reply.

  Nonala turned anxiously to look at Kindan, her eyes welling with tears.

  “No, he won’t,” Kindan declared.

  “Kindan…” Nonala began worriedly, only to be interrupted by another voice from the outside.

  “Are you decent?” It was Kelsa.

  “Come on in,” Nonala called. “You can steal some of my coals, the water’s not that warm yet.”

  “Selora said she’ll send someone up with hot water,” Kindan added as Kelsa pushed aside the curtains and entered the room.

  Shivering worse than Kindan and Nonala had, Kelsa had trouble undoing the fastenings on her clothes. It didn’t help that her eyes were locked on Kindan’s face.

  “Shards, Kindan, you’re a mess,” she declared as she peeled off her outer clothes, her eyes still locked on his.

  “And, uh,” Kindan said in embarrassment, “you’re not in your bath.”

  Kelsa glanced down and back up at him. “So?” she asked absently.

  “Kelsa!” Nonala growled. “You’re embarrassing him!”

  “I am?” Kelsa asked in surprise. She looked back to Kindan. “Well, I suppose if you’re going to let Vaxoram kill you—”

  “I’m not going to die,” Kindan declared. Kelsa smiled at his fierceness and rushed over to him, kneeled down beside him, and planted a swift kiss on his cheek before he could even flinch away.

  “Of course, you aren’t,” she agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again. Huskily, she repeated, “Of course you aren’t.”

  Then, without another word, she sprang up, shucked off her undergarments, and settled down into the next bath over.

  Nonala glanced back and forth between the two, her look somewhat wistful.

  Kelsa caught her look. She turned to Kindan. “Kindan?”

  “Yes?” Kindan said, turning to look at Kelsa. He saw that tears spangled her eyes.

  “Kindan, I
don’t want you to die!” Nonala blurted suddenly.

  “What Nonala meant to say, Kindan, is that she loves you,” Kelsa told him. She nodded slowly. “And so do I.”

  Kindan didn’t know what to say. He liked Nonala, he knew that. In fact, he loved her like a sister. Kelsa was different…sometimes he found himself thinking of her in ways that made his throat go tight. And then he realized—“I love you, too,” he said, glancing at both of them. He smiled, even though it hurt his lips. “You’re the best friends anyone could have.”

  With a splash, Nonala sprang from her bath grabbing a towel from a nearby hook and quickly tying it around her. She rushed over to Kindan, wrapping two wet arms around his neck and planting a warm kiss on his cheek before hopping back just as quickly into her bath.

  “You know your face is really yucky,” Kelsa spoke into the silence that followed. “You should try washing that blood off.”

  “You should see the Masterhealer, too,” Nonala added.

  “Kindan,” Masterharper Murenny called from outside the curtain.

  “Sir?” Kindan replied, glancing at the two girls to be sure that they weren’t concerned.

  “M’tal told me what happened,” the Masterharper said. “I’d like to speak with you as soon as possible.”

  “He should see the Masterhealer first, sir,” Nonala spoke up.

  “I quite understand,” Murenny replied. “In the meantime, I’ve posted Master Detallor outside.”

  Master Detallor was the dance and defense master, a short, wiry man who moved with a limp—except when he was dancing or fighting, and then he moved like liquid fire.

  “Thank you,” Kelsa called back.

  Something about the Masterharper’s tone alerted Kindan, who said, “Did you want to talk to me about relinquishing the duel, sir?”

  “No,” Murenny replied. There was a moment’s silence before he continued. “Who will be your second?”

  “I will,” Kelsa and Nonala said in chorus. They glanced at each other, then Nonala said, “You’re taller, maybe you should go first.”

  “All right,” Kelsa said. She turned to Kindan. “If you don’t win, I’ll kill him,” she told him matter-of-factly.

  “I’m going to win,” Kindan repeated.

  “Well,” Master Murenny called from outside the bath curtain, “I’ll see you after you’ve seen the Masterhealer.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kindan replied. Murenny’s steps echoed to the dormitory door and faded away.

  “You’d better hurry up, then,” Kelsa ordered him. “You don’t want to keep the Masterharper waiting.”

  As this was obviously true, Kindan made no response.

  “The Masterharper says you challenged Vaxoram,” Masterhealer Lenner remarked as he carefully dabbed at Kindan’s split lip.

  Kindan nodded.

  “I can’t approve of dueling,” Lenner said, shaking his head. “You’d think, with these injuries, that you’d not want it.”

  “I want it,” Kindan replied. “He’s a bully.”

  “A bully?”

  “He threatened Nonala,” Kindan said. The Masterhealer’s quick intake of breath was all that Kindan needed to hear.

  With one final, gentle dab, Lenner released him. “I’ve done all I could for now,” he told Kindan, handing him a small glass vial. “Use this daily both on the wound and with your food.”

  “Arnica?” Kindan asked.

  “Of course,” the Masterhealer replied, his tone approving of Kindan’s knowledge of herbs.

  Not five minutes later, Kindan stood outside the Masterharper’s door. He paused for a moment, then knocked.

  “Come,” Master Murenny’s deep voice carried clearly through the thick door.

  Kindan entered the Masterharper’s quarters. Murenny smiled at him and gestured to a chair by a small, round table. Weyrleader M’tal was already in another seat. From his position, Kindan guessed that the Masterharper had been pacing—never a good sign.

  “There’s some herbal tea,” Murenny said, gesturing to a pot. “Selora sent it up along with word that the eggs are warm and settled.”

  Kindan took his seat and gratefully poured himself a cup of the pungent herbal mix. He knew that Selora would have laced it with restoratives and not sent it up so hot that it might inflame his cuts.

  The sound of the rain that had been lashing down earlier had dissipated somewhat, but it still could be heard falling softly around the Harper Hall.

  The Masterharper took another turn around his dayroom, glanced at M’tal, and settled himself into the third seat, nearly opposite Kindan.

  “Kindan—”

  “Masterharper, I will not yield the challenge,” Kindan interrupted softly but firmly.

  “I know,” Murenny said, nodding firmly. “I did not intend to ask that of you.”

  Kindan gave the Masterharper his full attention, setting his cup back carefully in its saucer. Masterharper Murenny looked chagrined, even apologetic as he continued, “I wished, instead, to apologize to you.”

  “Master?”

  Murenny let out a long, heavy sigh. “When Vaxoram arrived here, he was young and had the most beautiful voice,” the Masterharper explained, half closing his eyes in memory. “But it broke wrong and he lost it. I had hoped that he would find some other talent, but none seemed to come to him and it turned him bitter.” He met Kindan’s eyes frankly. “I made a mistake: I should have released Vaxoram back to his hold Turns. I’d heard enough rumors of his behavior to know that he was a problem and a bad influence on several others, as well.” He frowned in thought a moment, his head bowed, then looked up at Kindan once more, determinedly. “In fact, until you arrived, I’d made up my mind to do just that.”

  “Me?” Kindan couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

  “When you stood up for Verilan, I thought that perhaps Vaxoram would learn his lesson and mend his ways,” the Masterharper confessed. “Even more so when Kelsa and Nonala appeared, especially as his behavior meant that releasing him of his apprenticeship would be seen as prejudiced.”

  “I’m sorry, Murenny,” M’tal interrupted, “but I don’t follow that.”

  “Consider for a moment,” Murenny replied, “what would be the effect on your wings if you had female riders.” As M’tal made ready to reply, Master Murenny added, “Women riders in your fighting wings.”

  “Oh,” M’tal said after a moment. “That would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”

  “But I do not believe that talent should be subservient to sex,” Murenny said. “Our survival depends upon our children and it always will, but it should not be at the expense of the lives of the women holders and crafters.”

  M’tal regarded him carefully for a long moment. “You’ve been thinking about this for a long while,” he decided.

  “Yes,” Murenny agreed. He looked over to Kindan. “Your friend Nuella is an excellent example.”

  “So are Kelsa and Nonala,” Kindan added loyally.

  “Indeed,” Murenny agreed. “And perhaps even more so as they will influence many others when they walk the tables and move on to mastery.”

  Kindan tried for a moment to imagine Kelsa as a masterharper and found the image difficult to merge with the ever-moving, hyperkinetic, graceful, and gawky girl he called his friend. Although, Kindan remarked to himself, if she wanted it, nothing and no one could stop her.

  “But there are too many hidebound holders and crafters,” M’tal objected. “They’ll never permit—”

  “Given the way that the holders and crafters are so loath to yield apprentices to the Harper Hall, the time might be sooner than you think,” Murenny replied. He turned to Kindan. “And women won’t be respected as harpers in hold and crafthall if they’re not respected in the Harper Hall.”

  “Then I must fight him,” Kindan declared. The Masterharper glanced at him quizzically. “Not just for Kelsa, or Nonala, but for Verilan and other people who bullies hate for their talents.”

  “Spoken
like a true harper,” Murenny said approvingly. “But—”

  “What, Master?” Kindan asked, his tone verging on a challenge.

  “If you lose…”

  “I won’t lose,” Kindan declared.

  “If you kill him, it won’t be much better,” M’tal observed.

  Murenny nodded, saying in agreement, “That will only open the door for the next bully or retaliation.”

  “I won’t kill him,” Kindan said.

  “But he means to kill you,” M’tal said.

  Kindan let out a long, slow sigh and nodded. “I know.”

  “Vaxoram has demanded the earliest possible date,” the Masterharper said.

  “I would prefer that also.”

  Murenny nodded understandingly. “I have set the date for a sevenday after your wounds have healed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “He’s larger than you, heavier than you, and has the greater reach,” M’tal declared. Kindan turned to him and nodded bleakly. “What can I do to help?” the Weyrleader asked.

  “Take me to Mikal.” Mikal was a legend at the Harper Hall: the ex-dragonrider who had found himself a home in a natural cave in the hills beyond the Harper Hall, the man who could track anyone across bare rock, who used crystals and meditation to effect healing in ways that not even the Masterhealer fully understood. He was a better swordsman than Master Detallor, himself a master of the blade. When Kindan had last seen Mikal, the man had been at Master Aleesa’s camp, tending to the sick Whermaster.

  “When?” M’tal asked.

  “Now,” Kindan replied.

  “I’ve set Menengar and Detallor to keep an eye on Vaxoram,” Murenny said. “He’s been posted to the infirmary.”

  “What about Verilan?” Kindan asked, concerned.

  “He’s in the isolation room,” the Masterharper replied. “Vaxoram would have to get past the Masterhealer before he could harm him. And there are guards beyond that.”

  Kindan nodded but his fears were still not quite relieved. “Someone might try to harm Nonala and Kelsa.”

  For the first time since the interview started, Master Murenny smiled. “They’re Verilan’s guards.”

  “What about the fire-lizard eggs?” M’tal asked.