Dragon's Fire

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Authors: Anne McCaffrey
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she had sniffed the air? The breeze was blowing to her from his direction and he knew that a good bath would not be amiss, but he was certain that no one could smell him at such a distance, particularly in a clearing full of fresh-cut flowers. Perhaps she
could
see him. But if so, why hadn’t she thrown her rock?
    The girl stayed motionless for a minute more, then dropped her rock and turned back to the camp. She paused once, turned back quickly, perhaps hoping to catch Pellar leaving his hiding place, and called, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Master Zist has quite a temper and won’t give up until he finds you.”
    Pellar stifled a snort of laughter; he was certain that he was more familiar with both Master Zist’s temper and tenaciousness than the girl was.
    He waited until his feet and fingers were numb before he sent the thought to Chitter to check the way to the camp. Chitter responded instantly, letting him know that the way was clear.
    Thirty minutes later, well past midnight, Pellar was ushered into Master Zist’s kitchen and handed a mug of warm
klah.
Affectionately, the Master also tossed some small rolls in Chitter’s direction; they were caught midair by the hungry fire-lizard.
    “Was that you that Nuella ran into at the grave site?” Zist asked as soon as he saw Pellar rest his mug on the kitchen table and pull out his slate.
    Pellar didn’t pick up his slate but instead drew two curves in the air with his hands and then brought one hand, palm flat, against his chest at the height of the girl he’d encountered.
    “Yes,” Zist agreed drolly, “that would be Nuella. She thought she’d frightened you away.”
    Pellar smiled and shook his head.
    “I’d prefer it if she didn’t find you again.”
    Pellar nodded emphatically in agreement.
    “And I think we should be very careful about your future visits,” Zist said. He jerked his head toward the front of the cottage. “I’ve got a new houseguest.”
    Pellar raised his eyebrows in surprise.
    “Kindan,” Zist explained. “One of Danil’s sons. He wanted to stay on at the Camp and as none of his kin could take him, I”—the harper waved a hand—“agreed to take him in.”
    Pellar tried his best to hide his dismay, but Zist knew him too well.
    “My predecessor, Harper Jofri, thought highly of him,” Zist continued. “His notes show that Kindan has potential as a harper.”
    Pellar was afraid he knew what was coming next.
    “I’m thinking of taking him as my apprentice.”
    Pellar burst up from his chair, his anger and sense of betrayal overwhelming him and he pointed emphatically at his chest. “Me! Me!” he wanted to shout.
    “Shh!” Zist hissed, waving Pellar back down into his chair. “He’s got good ears—he’ll hear you and we don’t want that.”
    Pellar’s eyes flashed in an obvious response.
Let him!
he thought.
    “Jofri has gone back for his Mastery,” Zist said, looking sternly at Pellar. “And while it’s possible for a Master to have two apprentices—though rare—it’s more common to promote one to journeyman.”
    The color drained as abruptly from Pellar’s face as his anger did from his heart and he sat down loudly in his seat.
    “Better,” Zist said. He cocked his head at Pellar and waggled a finger in his direction. “Although after an outburst like that—” He broke off abruptly and shook his head.
    “The truth is that you’re still a bit too young to be rated a journeyman,” Zist admitted with a sigh. “You need two, maybe even four, more Turns of experience.” He caught Pellar’s eyes squarely with his own. “But you know everything you need to know—”
    Pellar interrupted with a wave of his hands, pointing to his throat.
    “Singing, or even speaking, isn’t everything,” Zist answered waspishly. He glanced back to the rooms at the front of the cottage and added, “In fact, I rather suspect in a short while I’ll come to regard your quiet ways with more than a little

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