Dragon's Kin Read Free Page A

sounds of the arriving caravan distracted him and he turned his attention to it.
             
    The faint smell of pine sap came into the Harper’s cottage on the breeze. Pine sap and something else, some subtle smells that made Nuella think instantly of—“Zenor, is that you?” she hissed.
    The sounds of a runner stopping suddenly and skidding came through the window, followed by Zenor’s voice in a whisper, “What are you doing here?”
    Nuella frowned, irritated at his tone. “Come inside and I’ll tell you,” she answered testily.
    “Oh, all right,” Zenor grumbled. “But I can’t be long, I’m Running.” Nuella heard the capital “R” in his voice and knew that he was using kid-shorthand for “I’ve got the job of runner.”
    She held her next question until she heard his feet on the front steps. She made her way from the kitchen in the back down the hallway to the front door. A breeze, scented with the lake’s moisture, wafted in as Zenor entered.
    “I thought Kindan was the runner and you had watch,” Nuella said.
    Zenor sighed. “We switched,” he said. Then, his tone brightening, he added in a rush, “He’s going to let me help wash the watch-wher!”
    “When?”
    “Tonight,” Zenor answered. “The caravan’s arrived—”
    “I heard,” Nuella said with a frown. “Do you know if the new Harper’s come? I wanted to meet him.”
    “Meet him? What will your father say?” Zenor demanded.
    “I don’t care,” Nuella answered frankly. “If I’ve got to be cooped up all the time, at least I can learn something from the Harper. Work on my pipes some more—”
    “But what if people find out?”
    “The caravan’s coming, right? There’ll be a feast tonight, won’t there? You’re going down to tell them at the square, right?” Nuella asked, and then continued immediately, “So tonight, I’ll dress up in bright and dark colors—trader clothes—and no one will know.”
    “The traders will,” Zenor protested.
    “No, they won’t,” Nuella said. “They’ll think I’m just a miner dressing up to flatter them.”
    “What about your parents, or Dalor?”
    Nuella shrugged. “You’ll have to keep me away from them, that shouldn’t be hard. Especially as they won’t be expecting me.”
    “But—”
    Nuella reached out, caught his arm, turned him around, and pushed him toward the door. “Go on now, or someone will be asking why you’re so slow.”
             
    By the time Kindan’s relief arrived hours later, he had forgotten about Zenor’s detour, his stomach rumbling with anticipation at the great smells of spice-roasted wherry rising up from the huge outdoor cooking fires below.
    Usually, every family at Camp Natalon ate in their own quarters. Tonight, there were huge fires burning in the pits placed at the center of the square, and long wooden tables with benches had been drawn around them to provide seating for everyone, camper and caravanner alike.
    Harper Jofri and several other musicians were playing lively music while the crowd ate happily.
    Kindan managed to find food and a quiet seat far away from any further chores. Munching happily on the spiced wherry meat—his favorite of his sister’s excellent recipes—and drinking fresh berry juice, Kindan nevertheless kept his eyes and ears roaming, both to avoid any interruptions, like work, and to strain for any interesting gossip.
    At the head table, in the center of all the tables, Kindan spied the head of the caravan and his lady but his eyes fixed most on his own sister and her fiancé, Terregar. The smith was of medium height but well-muscled. He wore a short, close-trimmed, dark beard that always seemed to be split by a smile made all the brighter by his twinkling blue eyes. Kindan had liked him from the first moment he’d met him.
    Terregar and Silstra—their names had a good ring to them. But to him, and indeed all of Camp Natalon, his sister would always be Sis. Kindan wondered if there