From somewhere in the distance came the sounds of a celebration in progress, and the occasional note of a flute or throbbing of a drum. He wondered what was being celebrated.
Not another Tian victory—
But no one had said anything about it, so perhaps it was something else. Maybe it was nothing more than a party. When you were as rich as these people were, you could have little feasts and celebrations all the time, for no particular reason.
He felt odd. He wanted to hate the Tians, even the ones here.
After all, weren't they taking the place of dozens, even hundreds, of warriors? Weren't they the reason why the conflict was going so badly for the Altans?
Oh, he wanted to hate them! But that meant hating Jouster Ari, who had saved him from Khefti, and Haraket, who had been decent to him.
But the stars were very bright, and very distant, and though he tried to open his mind and heart to the gods for guidance, he heard nothing counseling revenge. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, and wriggled his toes, sleepily. The pallet beneath him was soft and wonderful, so superior to a pile of reeds that there was no comparison.
He yawned. Yes, he would hate the Tians. All of them.
Tomorrow…
He closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep, with Kashet snoring in his ears. And for once, he did not dream.
Chapter Five
HARAKET came to rouse him in the morning, as Nofet, the Goddess of Night, was just pulling in her skirts to make way for Re-Haket, the Sun God. He woke at the first sound of a footfall and all at once; it had been Khefti's habit to wake him with a kick to the ribs, if he were not already scrambling to his feet when his fat master lumbered into the kitchen courtyard. For all that Khefti was lazy, he still rose with the first light, in order to get the most possible work out of his serf and few servants and apprentices in the course of the day. So Vetch slept lightly, and the soft sound of Haraket's step woke him completely. He was not confused as to his whereabouts, though; he knew perfectly well where he was the moment he opened his eyes, and as he unwound himself from his blanket and set his gaze on Haraket's unlovely face, his heart lifted. There would be no beatings today, no empty belly, no burdens too heavy, or work too much for his strength. He was a dragon boy, now, and had the sort of life he could not have dreamed of having even this time yesterday. He felt his lips stretching involuntarily, and for a moment, did not understand what his face was doing. He was startled, an instant later, when he saw a slow, slight smile on Haraket's face, to realize that he was smiling, and Haraket was smiling back.
How long had it been since he had last smiled? He couldn't remember… feeling extremely odd, he covered his confusion by bending to fold up his blankets and roll up the pallet.
The barge of the sun god was not yet above the horizon, but the beams of his light were streaking the sky. The air was cold enough to make Vetch shiver, the kamiseen already whining around the tops of the buildings. Soon enough, though, Lord Re-Haket would begin to hammer his power down upon the land, and upon anyone not fortunate enough to be able to remain in shade or indoors.
Re-Haket was not the chief god of the Tians, as he was for the Altans, perhaps because although he gave life to this land, he also brought death in the dry season. Tians' greatest deity was Hamun, the ram-headed Lord of Storms and the Stars, said by them to be the father of all the gods. Among the Altans, Hamun was nothing more than the god of the shepherds.
"Up with the sun lord, are you?" Haraket said, with a lift of one corner of his mouth. "Well, good. Today, I want you to try and make your way through your duties without me. You ought to be able to; for one thing, you can follow the others around if you need to find things. For another, the corridors are clearly marked."
Vetch nodded, though his stomach fluttered a little with nervousness. He did not really want to follow the others about. He had the feeling that they would make things hard for him if he tried. Maybe they wouldn't be allowed to hurt him, but they could do other things to make his life difficult. "Yes, sir," he replied, and hesitated. There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask, a hundred reassurances he wanted to beg for.
Haraket read all that in his face, and shrugged. "Somebody will put you right if you ask. You'll have to learn quickly, but you aren't stupid, boy. You can manage."
Vetch didn't much like the sound of that, but it wasn't as if he had any choice in the matter.
Well, actually, he did. He could make a mess of his duties, and be sent back to Khefti.
But he was just one serf, after all, a single unimportant serf. How could he expect an Overseer to devote any amount of time to herding him about in his duties? Haraket had already spent an incredible amount of time on him yesterday, and that was probably only because he was making sure he would not have to send Vetch away. If he was to succeed, he would have to be better, smarter, and more diligent than the freeborn boys here.
Haraket's face took on an expression Vetch didn't recognize. "Look, boy, I can't lead you around as if you were a Palace brat needing a nursemaid. If 1 do, it'll only make things difficult for you with the other boys; they'll think I'm playing favorites, and then there'll be hell to pay. You're in a bad place, and so am I, and you'll just have to jump into the river and hope Lord Haras' amulet protects you from crocodiles."
Vetch swallowed, but this, he understood. Haraket was right.
"Now, listen, you know what to do in the afternoon—so these are your morning duties. The very first thing you do every morning is to feed Kashet. That is of first importance; Kashet will have gone all night without eating, and you should know by now how much a dragon has to eat; he'll be starving as soon as he's thoroughly awake."
They both looked over their shoulders at that; Kashet was barely stirring, and raised his head to blink sleepily at them. Obviously, he was not thoroughly awake yet.
"Once you've done that, then saddle and harness him," Haraket continued. "Jouster Ari will be here as soon as he thinks Kashet will be ready; he's the first in the air, you can count on him for that. Once Ari and Kashet are away, then you can get your breakfast, and follow the other boys and do what they do."
"Yes, sir," he repeated, and Haraket strode off on some duty of his own. Kashet had put his head back down and had gone back to sleep, torpid despite the rising sun.
So it looked as if he had some breathing space before Kashet started looking for his food.
Vetch gave himself a good stretch, shook out and rewrapped his kilt, then went to fetch Kashet's breakfast of meat. But this time he found himself showing up at the butchers along with many other dragon boys. Haraket was already there, and while Vetch was waiting his turn for a barrow, he kept one eye on the Overseer.
Haraket watched each boy fill his barrow with a critical eye; twice he stopped a boy from leaving without truly filling his barrow, and once he stopped a boy who was trying to stagger off with too much. He scooped half of the meat into another boy's barrow, with the admonition, "Dump that in front of her and come back for a second trip, Waset. If you hurt yourself trying to carry too much, you'll get no sympathy from me."
Vetch had to line up for the butchers once he got his barrow, but once he had it, and loaded it up with as much as he could carry safely, Haraket waved him past a station where the other boys were scooping powder atop the meat and mixing it in.
"That's the tala," the Overseer warned. "Remember, not even a touch of tala for Kashet. Ari would have my hide, and I'd have yours."
Well, Vetch didn't doubt that one bit.
Haraket left him in the next moment, to go and scold yet another boy for loading his barrow too lightly. Vetch could still hear him roaring at the other lad as he pushed his barrow away down the corridor. "How dare you short your dragon because you're too lazy to carry him a full meal! How dare you overseason with tala to make up for it! You young bastard, are you trying to kill your Jouster? Don't you know what will happen? If his dragon—
The sense of the words was lost as Vetch pushed his barro
w around another corner, but he wondered what would happen to an underfed, overdrugged dragon. Would it be so weakened that it couldn't fly properly? Would it just not have enough energy to fly a combat? Would too much tala make it drunk, or stupid? Or if it got really hungry, would it turn on its Jouster? Wild dragons could and did eat humans…
He shuddered a little, and hurried on. The east was getting brighter, with long streaks of light shining up across the blue sky, the hands of the God reaching out to touch the land. He found himself humming the morning hymn to Re-Haket for the first time in so very long… perhaps for as long as it had been since the last time he remembered smiling. He was smiling now as he whispered the words of the hymn to himself. How beautiful are Thou, bringer of life, shining-winged one… how beautiful with morning's banners, streaming forth in glory.
Kashet was restive and a little waspish after the long night without food, but in the other pens, Vetch heard hisses and whines, the snapping of jaws, and the curses of the dragon boys. He knew then that he was very lucky to have Kashet as his dragon. All Kashet did was to play his favorite trick for snatching meat from the barrow, snaking his head around the corner again once he spotted Vetch coming from his vantage point over the wall. Vetch been more than half expecting it, so this time he didn't jump. In fact—the dragon gave him such an amusing sidelong glance as he grabbed his treat that Vetch had to laugh.
So that was three things he hadn't done in… forever. He had smiled, sung, and laughed, all in the same morning, before breakfast. He felt a little dizzy with amazement. Yesterday, he had nothing to look forward to but misery. Today—
How beautiful art Thou, radiant with banners!
Kashet ate faster than he had at the two previous meals, probably because he was so hungry. He tossed the meat chunks down his throat as fast as he could without choking, and the barrow was already half empty.
Watching how much Kashet was eating, Vetch made a decision; he dumped what was left in the barrow on the ledge beside the sand wallow, and went back for another half a load. Haraket was still there, and gave him a surprised look and a raised eyebrow when he saw Vetch again. "Kashet's really hungry," Vetch said diffidently to the Overseer. "I thought—should I bring him extra?"
"Not just before a flight—but feed him extra when he comes back in, as much as he'll take," Haraket decreed, with a thoughtful nod. Then he muttered, as if to himself, "Huh. He may be putting on a growth spurt; they never actually stop growing, after all."
Vetch waited; he had the feeling that Haraket was making up his mind about something.
"Hmm," Haraket mused, then did make up his mind. "Wait a moment, boy—Notan!"
The Overseer waved at one of the butchers. "Bring me a basket of hearts for this boy!"
The butcher nodded, and brought over what had been requested, dumping the organs into Vetch's barrow.
"Now, you go give those to Kashet," Haraket ordered. "If he's really putting on a growth spurt—that's not impossible, even though he's mature—even though he's going to be flying shortly, we need to do something about it. So whenever he starts eating like a pig, but he's going to be going straight out, you ask for a basket of hearts. That's dense meat; it'll give him strength without weighing him down. Now, off with you—and Vetch?"
Vetch was already halfway to the door, but he turned obediently at that. "Sir?" he asked.
Haraket was actually smiling, broadly. It quite transformed his face. "Good lad. You're thinking. Keep it up. Ask me first, before you do anything with Kashet, but keep thinking."
"Yes, sir," he said, feeling a flush of pride warming his cheeks and ears. He all but ran back to the pen, pushing the much-lighter barrow before him.
Kashet dove on the hearts as if he hadn't just eaten a full barrow load of meat. Clearly, they were a great treat for the dragon. Vetch had to laugh, though, at the playful way he would pick one out of the barrow, toss it into the air, and catch it before it hit the ground; Kashet seemed to enjoy the sound of his laughter, too, for he curved his neck and regarded his dragon boy with a sparkling eye that seemed, at least to Vetch, to have a great deal of good-natured humor in it.
Kashet ate every scrap of meat that Vetch had brought, but the last few hearts he ate daintily, taking time to enjoy them. Vetch saddled the now-sated dragon, and the Jouster arrived just as he finished tightening the last of the straps. Kashet cooperated beautifully, dropping and rising on Vetch's commands as if he had been doing so for years. Once again, Vetch could overhear what was going on in the nearer pens, and it seemed that the other dragons were finally being less obstinate, but only just. Presumably the tala made them more obedient. But the other dragon boys had to shout their orders over and over before the dragons obeyed, so Vetch was quite finished long before they got their dragons all buckled and cinched down.
Ari didn't say anything, but he did give Vetch an abstracted nod when he arrived; after a brief and approving inspection of the harness, Ari patted Vetch on the back in an absentminded way and climbed into his saddle, and a moment later, he and Kashet were hardly more than a little dot in the sky.
By now, the sun was well up and it was beginning to get warm; not all the heat was coming from the sand in Kashet's wallow. The kamseen whined around the tops of the walls, bringing with it the scent of the desert, and overhead, a vulture circled. And Vetch was beginning to get hungry, despite the packet of bread and meat and honey cake he'd been given last night.
Well, the sooner he got the pen clean, the sooner he could get something to eat.
He got to work, not only cleaning out the droppings, but giving everything a good stir about with a rake that he found. Yesterday at this time, he'd been hauling water and clay and river mud for Khefti's pottery and the brick yard, with nothing more than a loaf end in his stomach. He'd have done ten times the work he'd done this morning, with more in front of him, and the promise of no reward at all.
This—well, he got to judge the size of his loads, the tools were the right size for someone as little as he, and the raking was no work at all compared with anything Khefti set him to do.
At last, with the sun now well above the walls of the compound, and casting long slants of golden light on the sand of the pen, he put the rake away. The light had not yet made its way down into the corridors between the pens, but certainly he had done enough by now to justify getting his breakfast.
Had no trouble finding his way to the kitchen court this time. Just as he got there, one of the girls was pulling the awning across the courtyard and he watched with curiosity. Now he realized what that bunched canvas was across the top of one of the walls of Kashet's pen—it was a similar awning! But it couldn't be to shelter the dragon from the sun, not when they needed and craved heat so much…
Maybe it's to keep the rain off? That actually made sense. It wouldn't be dry season forever. Soon enough the winter rains would start; however the sands were heated, rain wouldn't do them any good.
When the serving girl was done, he sat down at what was beginning to be his usual seat at the farthest end of the farthest table, and got his breakfast of hot bread and barley broth with the other boys. Once again, there were others besides the dragon boys eating there, and they were the ones who sat at his table. Many appeared to be servants or craftsmen of one sort or another.
There were a great many of them; more people than lived in both his old village and Khefti's combined.
He thought about that as he ate, watching the others at the tables around him. He finally decided that it probably took a lot of people to keep this place running: servants for the Jousters and Overseers; leather craftsmen for the saddles and harnesses; wood workers to supply furniture and do repairs; weapons makers to make the lances and clubs that the Jousters used; laundry women; cooks and bakers; seamstresses; stonemasons and brickmakers… this place was a little world unto itself.
The other dragon boys, however, had not softened their attitude toward him. Free and Tian, and so far above him that he might as well be a b
eetle for all of the attention they were carefully not paying him, they were very blatantly excluding him from their company.
Except that they kept looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, and whispering to each other as they did so. It made the wonderful, soft bread form a lump in his throat. He could tell that they would neither forget nor forgive his inferior race and status.
He was an interloper among them, unwelcome. There would be no friends here.
Once again, he got that hollow feeling as he watched them chatting and laughing with each other, and pointedly closing him out of their circle.
He should not have expected anything else, and in his heart, he knew that.
Not even slaving for Khefti had he felt quite so alone. It was worse than having tricks pulled on him. They were all doing the same job, after all, he and they. It wasn't as if he was going to be doing less than any of them. It wasn't as if he was going to be especially favored by any of the Overseers. If anything, he could count on Te-Velethat being harder on him than on anyone else! Why couldn't they at least be willing to talk to him, a little? He hadn't had a real friend in so long…
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