Chap. 324 The Knife

Chap. 324 The Knife

He could see a cloud of dust behind the cavern barn, so he knew someone was riding.

It was his sister, at the moment aboard a handsome chestnut pony. The dust the pony had kicked up settled. Everything about the pony said he was determined to keep from doing what Glyena was asking. Her face was equally determined-but politely, saying that, yes, he would. He could see her hands were soft, but the pony had it’s ears flattened and a truculent look on its face.

The surface of the pen was plowed deep from his galloping. He was sweating. Glyena was not.

She cued him to trot. The pony lunged forward, attempting to gallop. She stopped him and allowed him to calm down. Then she repeated her request for a trot. Again, the pony jumped into a gallop, and again she stopped him. He angrily swished his tail and began to back up. She allowed him to back as far as he wanted, and then when he wanted to stop, she kept him backing. She made an entire circuit, backwards, insisting he do it in a straight line. She allowed him to stop. After several moments, she asked him to step off into a walk. He was about to gallop, then thought better of it and walked. After a half circuit she asked for a trot. He stopped, tossing his head, and jumped sideways. “No problem,” Glyena said, turned his head so that he was forced to turn in fast, tight circles. He stopped and tried to pull the reins from her hands. She kept them. The pony ground his teeth, his tail slashing his sides in anger.

K’ndar could see the pony weighing his options. His heart swelled at Glyena’s patience. She is a gifted rider, he thought, better than me. Better than even Dad. Look at that little turd, he is trying every thing and she is meeting it with a gentle but firm, no.

“He’s a real pain the ass,” said a voice behind him. He knew who it was before he turned to face Nyala.

“He looks it. Hello, Nyala, Harlan.” The Herdmaster’s husband was with her. He was reminded once again how big the man was, and how the muscles in his arms looked like oak trees.

“Good to see you, mate,” the man said.

Mate! Like I’m a grown up, K’ndar thought. I remember the first time we spoke, you scared the living piss out of me, all because I was infatuated with your wife. Who at the time I had no idea was married to YOU.

“Harlan, I’m sure you remember K’ndar? He made my choker out of my palomino mare’s tail, remember?”

Harlan nodded. “I remember. You did a beautiful job on that choker, K’ndar. You have an amazing talent. Nyala treasures it as if it were gold.”

“I’m not wearing it now, K’ndar, mostly because it’s too precious for everyday wear. I hope you don’t mind.”

K’ndar felt relief that Harlan apparently had forgiven his being smitten by Nyala. That was ages ago, he thought. What red blooded, breathing male could not be smitten by Nyala? Not only did she have a lovely disposition, she was beautiful, her smoky dark skin the same color as his favorite color of horse-dark bay.

“Of course I don’t mind, Nyala. I understand.”

Glyena asked for a walk. The pony squealed, tossing his head, but he obeyed. Grudgingly.

Nyala giggled. “By the stars, he’s pigheaded,” she said, “But Glyena’s got his number.”

“He’s definitely that. How long have you had him?”

“Maybe a week? I let him get acquainted for a couple of days, then tried to see what he knew. He’s too small for me, so I asked Glyena to ride him. It’s been a trial from the first saddling. Today, she’s been asking for a trot.

Apparently his manhood-which he lost early on, by the way, is being threatened by trotting. He wants to run. It’s a balance thing, I’m sure you know, he’s being a turd because learning to balance under a rider, even as good a rider as Glyena, is a scary thing to any green horse. So he speeds up to get away from her. He’s done about a hundred kilometers at full speed today. Now he’s tired, and hopefully, will begin to listen,” Nyala said.

“Where is he from? I didn’t think the Weyr was breeding ponies.”

“We’re not. We lost our schoolmaster pony a few months ago. Not a great loss for us adults, mind you, although I do miss him, he was a sweetheart and the perfect mount for the wee ones. I’ve learned that a good, old horse, too old for hard usage anymore, is still a perfect mount for the children to learn on. But I liked the looks of this pony, even though he came with baggage. He’s got a good brain, and I think, once we get through that wall of resistance, he’ll turn into a really nice pony.”

The pony stamped again, and instead of moving forward, swung his butt from side to side.

“She has the most amazing patience,” Harlan said, “She’s a born horseman.”

“I think she’s better than me,” K’ndar said.

“I’ve not seen you ride, K’ndar, but I believe you. Where you horsefolk get your forbearance is a mystery to me. I’d have adjusted his attitude with my hammer, right between the ears,” Harlan said.

“Harlan!”

“Oh, not really, you know me, Nyala. But there’s no reason for that beast being so stubborn. I would have given up on it days ago,” Harlan said, shrugging.

“He’s a pony. Despite their resemblance to horses, ponies are not domesticated animals,” Nyala said, snickering. “Adult trainers are too big to ride a pony, so they never stop being spoiled little brats until someone small, like Glyena gets into their heads and straightens the kinks out. The problem is, so few kids her age and size can train a horse. Glyena is the exception.”

“No kidding! I have to say this, he’s well built, Nyala,” there’s no coarseness in him.” K’ndar said.

“Other than being slightly parrot mouthed, he’s got great conformation. It’s his mind, K’ndar, that needs work. Glyena is doing a beautiful job. I’m almost resentful that soon she’ll be too tall to train a pony.”

She is growing taller by the day, he thought. “So what is this pony’s background? How is it he’s here?”

“One of Lord Dorn’s cotholders bred him for his little girl, and taught him good ground manners. They’re impeccable, especially for a pony. But riding him? That’s a different story. The little monster! He threw the cotholder girl three times and now she’s afraid of horses, poor thing. Honestly, her father is to blame. You don’t put a five year old on a green broke pony. Especially this one, he’s learned he can dominate a little human.”

“Pretty typical,” K’ndar agreed.

“So the cotholder sent him to Lord Dorn as a tithe! Did he mention that the little turd was unrideable? Oh, nooooooo. He’s a handsome thing, isn’t he? Lord Dorn’s Herdmaster was smitten by him. “Good ponies are worth their weight in silver,” he said. This was before they put one of the Holder’s kids on his back. Pighead pony ran away with the lad and immediately swiped him off the nearest tree.

There’s no one in Lord Dorn’s hold small enough, or experienced enough to train a pony, so he sent the beast here. He said we could keep him, because he’d sooner feed the little beast to the wherries.”

K’ndar nodded, remembering the same experience with a horse. “And so you sicced my baby sister on him. That wasn’t fair, he had no idea what he had coming,” he laughed.

Nyala and Harlan both joined his laugh.

Glyena asked for a trot. The pony started backing up, fast, fast, kicking up dust. She allowed him to back as much as he wanted. He ended up with his butt on the fence, having been drawn like a magnet to the watcher’s position on the other side. Glyena caught K’ndar’s eye but was concentrating so hard she didn’t seem to see him.

Nyala motioned for them to move away. “He’s wanting me to rescue him, ” she explained.

They put a little distance between themselves and the fence. Having lost his rescuer, the pony balked, but Glyena kept him backing.

“When he first got here, she watched him for a while, then insisted she ride him. I wasn’t too sure if I should put Glyena up on him, but I know how well she rides, and she loves a challenge. This one is really making her earn her pay. She’d do it for free, she said! Two more days, I give it, he’s pigheaded, but in two more days, he’ll be saying, yes, ma’am, you want me to trot up the side of the dragonbowl backwards?”

“That’s my sis,” K’ndar said.

“She’s so young, K’ndar, I foolishly doubted Nyala’s judgement,” Harlan said, “I was amazed, Glyena got on him two days ago and he bucked, and she stuck right to him. Oh, the look on his face! He bucked for what seemed hours, then turned his head and, I swear, looked at Glyena as if to say, “What the blazes, you’re still here?’

He rumbled with laughter. “She was laughing, by the stars, laughing! You steppe folk are tough,” Harlan said.

Yes. That’s us, sir. You might be big and strong, but steppe folk have their own strengths.

“This little beast, K’ndar, had all the tricks in the book. Knocking the Hold lad off by side swiping a tree. Running away, bucking, flipping the bit in his mouth, the whole berry pie,” Nyala said. “Yesterday, Glyena said, ‘I want to take him out of the pen.’ I wasn’t sure, but she’s proven to me that she knows what she’s doing, even at her age. So what does he do?”

“Ran off with her?”

“Right. Bolted before she got both feet in the irons, running flat out. She steered him down to the beach.”

“Hahahahaha!” K’ndar laughed, “Sand is awfully heavy going, I bet he wore out in five minutes.”

“Not quite. She said he suddenly realized he had no idea where he was going. He’d probably never been on a beach in his life. So he tries to slow down and she gives him a good crack on the rump to keep him going.”

I am so enjoying this, even vicariously, he thought.

“So she came to the end of the beach and steered him up the hill to the main road into the weyr. Luckily there wasn’t anyone on it. There’s a big redtree about a kilometer and a half from the weyr, you know, it’s the only tree there.”

“I know that tree very well. The last time I rode past it, there was a big needlethorn bush at its base.”

“That’s the one!”

She stopped to laugh, then regained her composure. “He’s still going at a full gallop. He sees the tree and, and you know what he decided to do.”

Oh, yes, I do, he thought.

“That sister of yours, K’ndar, she’s wicked. She knows what that pighead pony has in mind and lets him have his head. He makes a deadline towards the tree. Only he doesn’t know about the needlethorn bush. Oh, hehehehehe,” she laughed, “He’s running for the tree and at the last second, she reins him just a bit to the side, right into the needlethorn. He gets the whole bush of thorns in his butt and she gets not a one!”

“Hahahahahaaaaaa!”

“We thought he was running fast before?” Harlan roared, “He came fogging in like a green dragon in full flight, I think he could have gotten airborne!”

All three of them laughed until their sides hurt.

“Glyena,” Nyala gasped, “she’s laughing, the pony is exhausted, soaking wet and his rump is bristly with thorns. She has a grin wrapped three times around her head and says “I LIKE this little monster! He’s FUN!”

“THAT is my sister!” K’ndar crowed, so proud of Glyena he wanted to hop.

“He was so beat, he didn’t twitch when I pulled the thorns out that night. And I wasn’t too gentle,” Nyala said.

“K’ndar!” he heard Glyena call. They walked back to the pen. The pony had stopped. His head was down and he was breathing hard. He had one ear turned back towards Glyena, though. Now he is listening, K’ndar thought, now, maybe, now he’ll listen and understand.

“Look at this pony, K’ndar! Isn’t he pretty?”

“He is, but he’s a little turd, from what I hear!”

“He was. Oh, he’s so much fun, K’ndar! I want to keep him! I think he’ll listen, now. He’s figured out that if he does what I ask he doesn’t have to work. Watch.”

By the stars, she IS good, he thought. He saw just the barest shift in Glyena’s weight, and the pony lifted his head-and waited. She cued for a trot, and the pony moved out in a nicely balanced trot.

“Oh, that’s NICE,” Nyala breathed. “He’s figured it out. Look, he’s a nice mover,” she sighed.

As the pony gained confidence, he began to trot faster-but Glyena asked him to slow down. He obeyed.

“He’s smart, K’ndar! He’s not bad, he just always has been allowed to get away with doing whatever he wants,” Glyena said, as she passed them.

On the third go round, still at the trot, Glyena called, “I’m going to ask him to side pass. Watch!”

“I don’t know, Gly,” Nyala said, softly, doubtfully. But the the pony’s ears flicked forward and back, and then he trotted diagonally across the arena.

The watchers applauded. “Well done, Gly!” K’ndar shouted in glee.

Glyena halted the pony in the middle of the pen and stroked his sweaty neck. “GOOD lad, GOOD boy,” she said. The pony stood, head up, toying with the bit but no longer resisting it.

“K’ndar, give me about five more minutes?” Glyena said, looking up. “I’m quitting for the day, it’s his reward.” She swung a leg over the saddle, kicked her foot out of the iron and dropped to the ground. She immediately loosened the girth a notch. She began to pet the pony’s neck, crooning and telling him what a good boy he was. The pony turned his head and touched her elbow. There was no anger now, no resentment.

That’s what a good horseman does, he thought, allows the horse to end a lesson on a high note. What was it someone said regarding training a horse? ‘Go slowly, expect little, reward profusely.’

As he stepped away, he felt a sudden shift in the weight at his waist, and heard a ‘thunk’.

“Damn,” he said, knowing what it was. Looking down, he saw his dagger had cut its way out of the leather sheath. Again.

“What’s wrong?” Nyala said. He leaned down to pick up the dagger. It had just missed his boot.

“My dagger. It keeps falling out of the sheath. This is the second one I’ve put it in.”

“It just falls out? The sheath is too big? If the leather’s worn out, you can always get another,” she said.

He picked it up. As much as it frustrated him, still, it felt like an extension of his arm. Now what do I do with it, he wondered. How in the world did Vika carry it? He examined the tip, and then wiped it-carefully-on his pants leg to remove the sand.

“No. It’s so sharp, it just cuts its way out of the sheath when I walk around.”

Harlan gasped. “Where did you get that dagger?” he said, astonished.

A thrill ran through his stomach. Am I in trouble?

“Um, it’s, well, it’s a long story, but briefly, we caught a raider last week, she threw it at Weyrleader F’mart and Lief’s men shot and killed her. This was her dagger. Raylan at Landing said I could keep it.”

“That was Bika?” Nyala asked.

“Vika. With a V, ” he said.

“We heard about the whole thing, with Vika, I heard about her right after the new cothold was discovered. Lief’s still laughing about how F’mart tricked her. You did Pern a big favor, getting rid of her.”

“Thank you, but it wasn’t just me. It was a great deal of luck, the right people in the right places, and a lot of F’mart’s bad ass courage,” he said.

Harlan’s expression drew K’ndar’s attention. His eyes were fastened on the dagger.

“Um, may I see it, please?”

Uncertain, still, he turned the knife point towards himself to allow the big man to take it by the handle.

“Be careful,” he said, “it’s sharp as blazes.”

The man turned the blade back and forth, looking at it. K’ndar had never seen such an expression on his face before. Is that envy? Harlan rubbed his finger along the flat side. Then he held it up to the sun, examining the edge.

“Do you know what this is? This metal?” he asked, searching K’ndar’s face.

“No. I know very little about metal, Harlan. I had the scanner at Landing check it, it said it’s ‘damask’ metal.” Only later did he remember the scanner had only a 35% confidence level that it was correct.

“No. It is not damask, although at first glance you’d think so. If it’s what I think it is, I, um, it’s, well, I’d like to test it, K’ndar. I don’t think I will, but if I bugger up the blade testing it, I will buy you an entire armory. But I think I’m right.”

Buy him an armory? For a knife? Nyala thought. We don’t have that kind of money, Harlan!

“What kind of test?” he said, suddenly wary. I like that knife, I don’t want you to break it, he thought. His doubt was plain on his face.

“I won’t damage it, promise. I’ll do a field test on it, I don’t have the technology in my shop to test it scientifically. No one on Pern has, if I’m right. And I bet I am,” Harlan said. He looked around, searching. “Ah. A horseshoe,” he said, almost to himself. He headed for the barn, an anxious K’ndar and perplexed Nyala at his heels. Horseshoe? Horseshoe?

Harlan reached into a wooden keg and pulled out a worn horseshoe. He braced the shoe on its edge on a stone bench, and put the dagger on the shoe’s upper arm.

What is he doing? K’ndar sucked in his breath. “Don’t, Harlan, I like that knife.”

The metalsmith looked at him with an odd expression. “Don’t worry about the knife, K’ndar. Worry about the shoe.” And with that, he pressed on the knife.

It slid through the iron shoe without a bit of resistance. The two halves of the shoe clanged as they hit the bench.

For several long moments, the only sound was that from the birds nesting in the rafters of the barn.

Harlan checked the edge of the knife and smiled. K’ndar shut his gaping mouth with an audible clop.

“What..what..”

The realization of what it was filled Harlan’s mind. Yes. It is.

He dragged his attention back to K’ndar.

“It’s not damask steel, K’ndar. It’s what is called “beskar” steel. I’ve never seen it, although every metalsmith on Pern since colonization has heard about it, talked about it, lusted for it. It’s, well, I can’t even begin to guess how much it’s worth. If you were to sell it, you could easily ask the price of a Hold twice the size of Lord Dorn’s-and get it.”

K’ndar gulped. “I don’t understand, how, why..”

“It’s almost legendary, K’ndar. It’s to metalsmiths what a winged horse would be to a horseman. Until I saw this, I seriously doubted it even existed. But there isn’t a shred of doubt in my mind, now. It can only be beskar steel.”

Something odd, a creepy feeling that he’d never felt in his life, bloomed in Harlan’s chest. He balanced the knife. It felt as if it belonged in his hand. I don’t ever want to forget how it cut through that shoe, like it was butter.

Tendrils of something almost painful arose in his mind. Never in my life have I felt this way, what IS this horrid feeling? Harlan thought. Avarice? I want this knife. I want it. I should have kept my mouth shut. I could have told K’ndar it was junk. I’m a metalsmith. I could have made him one just like it. I know how to make damask steel, you can hardly tell the difference, he’d have never known.

Until he tried to cut metal with it, said his sense of integrity. Then he’d know. And my reputation as an honest man would be gone. I’d lose my job here. I’d shame myself, my family, my wife.

Let it go, Harlan.

K’ndar was oblivious to the battle Harlan had just waged.

“I don’t know how steel is made, Harlan. Who makes it?”

Answering K’ndar’s questions made the feeling dissipate. Forever, he hoped.

“No one here on Pern, I know that.”

“What?”

“We don’t have the ore here on Pern. For that matter, even if we did, I don’t think our forges could make beskar. They can’t get hot enough.”

Jansen was right. It IS an artifact, he thought, his gut tightening. Should I turn it in as one? No. Raylan gave it to me. It’s mine. Fair is fair.

I have never felt this way about any thing, not even a book. Not even a horse. What IS it with this knife?

“So where was it made?”

“K’ndar, all I know of beskar is that it’s from somewhere else. How it got here, I don’t know. Who forged the metal, I don’t know. How they forged it, I don’t know. I don’t think it was brought from Earth, or Vulcan, or Aldebaran. I bet my boots it’s older than the Ancients. It’s certainly not from any mine here on Pern.”

“It can’t be that old. The edge is untouched.”

“That’s one of the hallmarks of beskar. That edge was probably put on it when the knife was forged, and it will never need sharpening. There isn’t a substance on this planet that can ding it.”

He touched the metal one last time, reverently. And handed it back.

Later, in the privacy of his quarters, K’ndar queried the database.

“What is Beskar steel?”

It took the database several moments to sift through millennia of data. Finally it responded.

Beskar n Advisory: all following information is anecdotal. No metallurgical assay has ever been conducted on beskar due to its extreme rarity.

Beskar, erroneously called ‘steel’, is a metal found as ore in the core of neutron stars. Its atomic weight and position on the Periodic Table of Elements is unknown. When forged, it assumes a dull gray color, with superficial striations of a darker color that appear to be laminations,similar to those found in damask steel. However, it is not laminate, nor does it alloy with any other metal, making it the only truly noble metal known to date. It is unaffected by rust, oxidation, or any sort of acid. Extremely hard, it is theorized that only ionic plasma produces the temperatures necessary to forge it. Due to its value, it is theorized its primary use is monetary, a small amount (~1 kilogram) having a value far above that of platinum (Terra), sterya (Aldebaran system) or harvolian crystals (Vulcan). When used in weapons, it easily cuts through all forms of metal, ferrous and non-ferrous, with no apparent degradation of the weapon itself. The first known sample of beskar was that found in a few weapons (n=3) confiscated from high ranking Nathi prisoners of war. It was originally assumed that culture had produced them. However, the Nathi denied that their culture/planetary system had the ore; and insisted they did not possess the technology capable of forging beskar. The Nathi testimony indicated that the confiscated weapons had possibly come from The Qhanate, an advanced, and to this date, uncontacted culture of intergalactic traders or raiders.

No other information is available.

He sat back, his jaw on his chest.

He balanced the dagger in his hand, twisting it back and forth.

Huh. Vika had a treasure on her hip the entire time and never knew it, he thought.

This knife. It’s an artifact. It’s not an artifact from any culture known. It’s from another galaxy.

As much as I like it, it’s proving to be a nuisance. What do I do with it?

He knew.