“What are you doing here?” he asked, at peace with the world. “There’ll be dancing as soon as the platform’s cleared off.”
“Dancing?” the girl repeated. “I don’t dance.”
“A trader that doesn’t dance?” Kindan asked. “I could see a miner’s daughter, maybe, but not a trader. Or are you afraid of the dance platform?”
“I’ve never been on one before,” the girl admitted.
“I’m supposed to clear it off,” Kindan told her, and started on his way with a wave of his hand.
“Wait!” the girl called. Kindan stopped. “Could you bring me down to the party?”
Kindan turned back and looked at her.
“I’m a bit shy,” she offered hastily by way of explanation. She held out her hand to him. “If you could hold my hand—”
Kindan started to say no, but she raised the palm of her hand to stop him.
“Just until we get there,” she said. She drew a deep breath and a hungry look crossed her face. “The food smells so good!”
“Well, okay,” Kindan agreed. He took her hand and she stood up beside him. “I’m Kindan, by the way.”
“I kn—I’m Nuella,” she said.
“You know?” Kindan repeated. As they approached the torch-lit square he got a better look at the girl. “I’ve seen you before! You were with the Harper in the mine! You’re lucky Natalon didn’t catch you, or you would’ve been in a lot of trouble.”
Nuella nodded and made a face. “I know,” she said. “And I’m afraid he might have heard about it,” she added hastily, “so if you could keep me away from him—I’ve never seen him, you know—I’d appreciate it.”
Kindan thought for a moment as they continued their way down to the square. He realized that he probably didn’t want to be seen by Miner Natalon, either, just to avoid being sent on an errand or given a chore. Come to think of it, if he could avoid anyone who might put him to work, that’d be just fine with him.
“All right,” he agreed. “After we get our food, I know of a nice quiet spot where we shouldn’t be seen.”
Nuella giggled and said, “That sounds perfect.”
The giggle sounded oddly familiar to Kindan.
Nuella asked Kindan to explain all the dishes set out on the buffet table. “You’ve never had tuber before?” Kindan asked. “Surely you must have.”
“Oh,” Nuella responded glibly, “I’ve had it before, but I don’t think I’ve seen it prepared like this.”
“Huh,” Kindan muttered, surprised that someone had never had mashed tubers before. Shards, if it weren’t for the fact that they were still warm, he would have avoided them in favor of something tastier himself.
They got their food and Kindan guided her to his special hiding spot. But it was occupied already.
“What are you doing here?” Zenor demanded when he saw them.
“Hiding,” Kindan replied. “Just like you.” He gestured toward Nuella. “Zenor, this is Nuella.”
“I know,” Zenor replied sourly, moving over to make room for them.
“We’ve already met,” Nuella explained. She started to set her cup down beside her, but it spilled. “Oh, dear! Kindan, could you get me another cup, please?”
Kindan was reluctant to leave—his food was still warm—but Nuella had asked so nicely that, with a shrug, he found himself saying, “Sure.” To Zenor he added, “Be right back.”
Zenor waited until Kindan was out of sight before he turned to Nuella. “Are you mad?”
Nuella turned quickly to Zenor. “He thinks I’m one of the traders.”
“You weren’t where you said you’d be when I came by,” he said.
Nuella nodded. “I met Kindan while I was waiting for you. Anyway, what took you so long?”
Zenor shrugged. “I had to help set up the dance platform.”
“Kindan was talking about dancing later,” Nuella confided with a hint of wistfulness.
Zenor gave her a look of surprise and then said, “What are you going to do?”
“Well, I can’t dance,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ll get tired or something.”
“Anyway, if you tried, someone might see you and Dalor together and figure out that you were twins,” Zenor said.
“They might not,” Nuella argued. “We’re not identical twins, we look different.”
“Not that much,” Zenor said. “You’ve both got blond hair and blue eyes. You look enough like him that you could take his place.”
Nuella brightened. “Maybe that’s it! I could switch with Dalor!”
“I don’t think Kindan would want to dance with Dalor,” Zenor said, laughing.
Nuella’s expression deflated. “Oh,” she said, “you’re right.”
“Still,” she said after a moment, “he thought I was a trader girl. Maybe...”
Zenor was upset. “He’s my friend. I don’t want to lie to him,” he said miserably.
“I wouldn’t ask you to lie,” Nuella said. “But he doesn’t know—”
“And you don’t want anyone to know,” Zenor finished, having heard her views on this topic many times.
Nuella flushed. “It’s not me, it’s Father. He’s afraid—”
“He’s wrong, you know,” Zenor said heatedly. “And what’s worse, there’s no way you can keep hidden all the time—”
“I’ve done well enough so far,” Nuella retorted.
“I found you, didn’t I?” Zenor shot back.
“Actually,” she corrected, “I found you.”
“Still, you’ve been here less than six months now—”
“As have we all—”
“And I’ve already found out,” Zenor finished. “How long do you think it’ll be before someone else figures it out? A month? A sevenday?”
Nuella frowned. “It’s just until Father proves the mine—”
“Shh! He’s coming back,” Zenor warned.
Nuella tentatively reached out to Zenor, grabbed his hand, and gave it a thankful squeeze.
“You know,” he told her softly, “I could teach you to dance.”
“Not tonight,” she answered, her voice just as quiet. “But I’d like that, Zenor.” She paused and added, “You’re my best friend.”
Zenor smiled in the darkness.
The food was mostly gone when Kindan went for his fourth helping. He must have been tired, because he didn’t notice Kaylek until his older brother had grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.
“What are you still doing up?” Kaylek growled. “I thought I sent you younger lot to bed ages back.”
“Just going now,” Kindan lied, squirming away from his brother’s grip. He could feel Kaylek’s eyes boring into his back as he left, so he had no choice but to take the path that led from the camp’s square uphill to their cottage.
His legs protested as he negotiated the gentle slope, and by the time he reached the cottage, he was all ready to climb into bed. He pulled some blankets over himself and was asleep before he could turn over.
He awoke early the next morning, shivering with cold. He quickly discovered why—his brother Jakris was in the bed next to him and had pulled all the blankets over himself. Kindan briefly tried to pull his share of the blankets back before he blearily remembered that Silstra would be leaving that morning.
He heaved himself out of bed and put on a set of workday clothes before he made his way into the kitchen. The fire was out and the room was cold. Silstra was normally the first up in the morning and laid the fire and got some oatmeal simmering in a pot and klah brewing beside it.
Now, it would be someone else’s job. Rubbing his face to get the sleep out of it and some warmth into himself, Kindan decided that at least for this morning it would be him. He loaded the hearth with kindling and struck a fire. Soon he had the kitchen warm and breakfast cooking. The smell of klah filled the room.
“Morning,” Dakin, Kindan’s eldest brother, called as he strode into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of klah. “Ah, I’m glad you were up first,” he said, savoring the aroma of the klah while warming his hands around the cup.