Dragon's Fire by Anne McCaffrey Page B

his eyes.
    Pellar was about to write a response when a knock on the side door—the one nearest Natalon’s stone house—interrupted him.
    “That will be my lesson,” Zist said, motioning Pellar into hiding once more.
    Swallowing his unhappiness, for he had hoped that Kindan’s absence would give him more time to spend with his adoptive father, Pellar retreated to his hiding place in Zist’s study. In moments the air was filled with the sound of someone practicing on the pipes. Pellar listened, imagining the fingering and scales while hearing Zist’s patient corrections and the young piper’s self-deprecating remarks.
    Pellar mentally replayed his conversation with Zist and what he’d overheard about Cristov to see if he could rise to his Master’s challenge. What did he know about the boy?
    He recalled Kindan complaining about how Cristov bragged about sleeping in Kindan’s old room and wondered if perhaps Kindan hadn’t mistaken Cristov’s intent; perhaps Tarik’s son was seeking a common ground, some mutual point of interest on which to build a friendship. Pellar knew from what little he’d heard that Cristov had felt very close to Kaylek before his untimely death; perhaps the boy had hoped in a similar way to kindle a friendship with Kaylek’s little brother.
    It was clear that Cristov respected and honored his father—in fact, most fights Cristov had been involved in had begun over comments about his father. Pellar couldn’t blame the lad for being loyal.
    Noise of a door opening and voices speaking interrupted Pellar’s musings; Zist’s lesson had left. Before Pellar came out of hiding, he heard quick steps approaching the front door and the noises of Kindan returning.
    He heard Zist quiz Kindan on what he’d learned and was pleased to hear that Kindan listed loyalty as one of Cristov’s strengths. Pellar shook his head wryly when Zist demanded that Kindan recount the contents of the cottage—he could have guessed that Master Zist would have had more than one lesson for the lad to learn.
    When Zist told Kindan that there’d be a Winter’s End celebration the next evening, Pellar fought down a feeling of betrayal, for he hadn’t heard of it before and knew that he couldn’t possibly attend.
    When Kindan had gone to bed, Zist brought Pellar back out of his hiding place, holding a finger to his lips for silence. Pellar gave him a sardonic look and pointed to his lips, shaking his head to remind Zist that there was no fear of
him
talking too loud. Master Zist glared back at him and Pellar’s teasing look faded on his face. He knew full well what Zist wanted.
    “What did you think?” Zist asked quietly.
    “About the house?” Pellar wrote back, referring to Kindan’s enumeration of the contents of Tarik’s house. Zist nodded. “No surprises, no more than most.”
    Zist nodded in agreement.
    Pellar wiped his slate and quickly added, “A sack full of marks is not hard to hide.”
    “If he had one,” Zist said. Pellar gave him a questioning look, so Zist added, “I don’t see why he’d be working here if he already had enough set aside.”
    “Snow’s melting, traders will be here soon,” Pellar wrote in response.
    “But with the mud and patches of snow on the ground, tracks will be easy to follow,” Zist said. “Some traders might wait until later.”
    “Or Tenim might create a distraction,” Pellar suggested.
    “
That,
” Zist replied, “is a disturbing notion.”
    “I could keep watch,” Pellar wrote back.
    Zist mulled the suggestion over for a long time before he nodded in agreement. “Just don’t get caught.”
    Pellar responded with an indignant look.
    “When will you leave?” Zist asked, ignoring the look.
    In response, Pellar grabbed his pack.
    “It’s late enough,” Zist said by way of agreement. “Just be careful.”

    Pellar would have never found Tenim if the other hadn’t been with Tarik. It was Tarik’s clumsy, irritated motion that had alerted him. Tenim