Dragon Harper by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page B

father.”
    “Yes,” he agreed, “I was there.”
    Aleesa stared deep into his eyes before nodding. “You did a good thing.”
    “Thank you.”
    “And now you’re here to take Mikal?”
    “Not unless he wants to go,” Kindan replied.
    Aleesa glanced beyond him to M’tal, then back. “This dragonrider says you’re here to learn how to fight someone.”
    “Yes,” Kindan agreed.
    “Over a girl,” Aleesa said.
    “No,” Kindan corrected, shaking his head. “For women harpers.”
    “Women harpers?” Aleesa repeated, chortling. “Women harpers,” she said again, more softly, shaking her head. “What next?”
    “I’ve met many strong women in my time,” M’tal remarked.
    “Anything is possible,” Kindan said, meeting Aleesa’s eyes squarely. “When women harpers become respected, all women will be more respected.”
    Aleesa mulled this over for a silent moment. Finally, she said, her expression hardening, “You be sure you win.”
    “Yes, Master,” Kindan agreed.
    “Mikal!” Aleesa called, turning back to the cave the wherholders inhabited. “Your youngster is here!”
    “How is Aleesk, Master?” Kindan asked.
    “You can see her tonight,” Aleesa replied, turning away from him and retreating slowly into the dark cave. “She’ll be awake then, as you should well know.”
    Kindan remembered how the nocturnal behavior of his watch-wher had driven him to distraction. Aleesa’s irritability was mostly fatigue, he guessed—although he’d never heard of her being anything other than grouchy.
    A silver-haired man met her at the entrance and waved to Kindan.
    “Aleesk will send word when we’re done,” Mikal told M’tal as they got within earshot. The ex-dragonrider eyed Kindan critically, then said, “Are you prepared to get hurt?”
    “Yes, sir,” Kindan replied.
    “And you’ve brought blades?”
    Kindan nodded, indicating the long bundle on his back.
    “Good,” Mikal said. “Start now with fifty push-ups.” He walked over to a rock. “I’ll watch from here.”
    “I just want to learn to fight left-handed,” Kindan reminded the older man.
    “And I want to see you live through it,” Mikal told him, gesturing for Kindan to get on the ground. “Start with those push-ups.”
    “I’ll leave him in your hands, Mikal,” M’tal called.
    Mikal merely grunted in response, not quite meeting the bronze rider’s eyes. M’tal nodded and strode quickly out of sight. Kindan knew that M’tal had carefully landed his Gaminth out of Mikal’s sight, just as Mikal had steadfastly remained in the wherhold until the last possible moment; even the sight of a dragon was torment to a man who had lost his own.
    “Stop thinking and start working,” Mikal growled at Kindan. “You’ve only a sevenday at best.”
    Kindan got into a prone position, then, putting all his weight on his arms, lifted up and began the push-ups.
    By the end of the day, Kindan nearly wished he were dead. He didn’t know which exercise proved the greatest torment, although arguably the worst was running with a heavy rock clenched in each of his outstretched arms.
    On the second day, Mikal began fencing with him in earnest.
    “We’ll start right-handed,” the ex-dragonrider informed him, tossing a blade to Kindan and sweeping a blade up for himself. He made a quick salute, then took the en garde position.
    “But I already know how to fight right-handed,” Kindan grumbled.
    “Then show me,” Mikal said, lunging suddenly. Caught off guard, Kindan was struck on the shoulder.
    By evening, Kindan was a mass of scratches and bruises, even though the padded practice leathers had deflected the worst of the blows.
    Kindan spent the first part of the next day learning how to bruise tomatoes.
    “You’ve got to have control of your blade,” Mikal had told him, showing him how to lunge and twist in such a way that the ripe tomatoes showed only the slightest of scratches on their surface. By midday, Kindan was covered in