Dragon Harper Read Free

lass. He made his way down the stands into the Hatching Grounds, where he could see B’ralar slumped against a wall. Before he could reach him, however, he saw a lad in white robes running toward the bereft High Reaches Weyrleader, carrying a flask of wine and several glasses precariously in his hands. M’tal recognized Kindan. With a bow and flourish, the lad poured B’ralar a hefty glass of wine.
    M’tal nodded approvingly as he headed over to join them; the lad obviously had a good head on his shoulders. It was a pity he hadn’t Impressed at this Hatching, M’tal thought, but it was obvious that Kindan was more than suitable—surely it would only be a matter of time before he met the right hatchling.
    Kindan smiled when he saw M’tal and brandished a glass in his direction.
    “No,” M’tal said, waving aside the proffered glass. “It will be a long night, I’m afraid.” To B’ralar he said, “I grieve for your loss. May I offer my arm and my aid to you and your Weyr?”
    B’ralar forced his eyes to focus long enough to recognize M’tal and then he nodded silently, reaching out a feeble hand to the Benden Weyrleader. “She was everything to me.”
    A rush of cold air disturbed them and then Salina, newly arrived from Benden, rushed forward and grabbed B’ralar’s other hand.
    “She was a gracious lady,” Salina told him. “Let me escort you to your quarters.”
    “But—”
    M’tal raised a hand to deflect anything that B’ralar might say. “Rest easy tonight.” He grinned toward Kindan. “Between harper and weyr, we’ll see to High Reaches’ comfort.”
    A fleeting smile crossed B’ralar’s lips and then he bowed his head, letting Salina lead him away.
    M’tal was busy for the rest of the evening. And every time he had a chance to pause in his consolation of the distraught High Reaches riders, he heard the voice of Kindan singing a soothing song or playing a spritely melody on the pipes. Wine flowed freely and M’tal was not surprised to see the Benden mark on many of the casks that littered the tables, nor was he surprised to learn from a chance remark that Kindan had requested it.
    It was very late when the last of the wearied and wined dragonriders faded off to sleep, the weyrlings all in their quarters, and the community of High Reaches Weyr ready to recover from the loss of its only adult queen dragon.
    It was so late that M’tal was quite surprised, as he stifled a yawn, to recognize the sound of Kindan’s voice singing a slightly off-color lullaby. M’tal remembered the look on Kindan’s face earlier that evening and sought him out.
    “There will be other Hatchings,” M’tal told him, grabbing the lad’s shoulder and shaking it affectionately.
    Kindan was too tired not to answer honestly. “I’m an apprentice at the Harper Hall; I doubt I’ll see many.”
    “Weyrs have harpers, too,” M’tal reminded him.
    “Journeymen, not apprentices, my lord,” Kindan said resignedly.
    “If you’re willing, then,” M’tal declared, “when you become a journeyman harper, I’ll ask for you at Benden Weyr.”

CHAPTER 2

    They waited for their hatchlings
Lined up on the sand
They waited for the younglings
To leave hand in hand.
    H IGH R EACHES W EYR
    W ith his small roll of clothes packed tightly into his carisak, Kindan waited anxiously in the High Reaches Weyr Bowl the next morning while Weyrleader M’tal and D’vin, the bronze rider who had flown for High Reaches in the All-Weyr Games, conversed animatedly nearby.
    Kindan knew that they were arguing over which one should bring him back to the Harper Hall. He was hoping that it would be M’tal, because then Kindan could believe that the Benden Weyrleader had remembered and not regretted his promise from the night before. Surely, if M’tal accompanied him, the Weyrleader would mention his intentions to Master Murenny. What would it be like, Kindan wondered, to be a harper for a Weyr? In all his wildest imaginings, he had