Joust (27 page)

Vetch knew better than to blurt out his conclusion, though. Nor did he blurt out his reaction—that what Ari had done, he, Vetch, could do. “You should rest, Master,” was what he said instead. “Your room is ready; Haraket has already seen to that.”

“And whatever Haraket sent you to tell me originally is now of minimal importance, compared with the impact all of this will have on affairs in the entire compound,” Ari said, and shook his head, crossly. “Evil spirits plague Reaten with boils! I’ll have to take his patrols now, doubtless, while he lies abed, being made much of by all his noble friends!”

Then, perhaps, he bethought him of what Vetch had told him, and his irritation eased a little. “Or perhaps not. It’s an interesting thing with noble friends; when your star is rising they are all for standing near you and bathing in your reflected glory. But when your star falls, no one can escape from your vicinity fast enough.”

Vetch just nodded; agreeing was harmless enough, but he must not say anything that could be construed as criticism of his masters.

Ari patted Vetch on the head. “Get Kashet an extra treat; you know, bullock hearts, if there are any. He more than deserves them. Then go to the kitchen and tell them I want my dinner in my room.”

“Haraket’s seen to that, sir,” Vetch said. “And he said something about a hot bath and a massage slave.”

Now Ari smiled, just a little. “Good old Haraket! Well, I’ll take him up on all of it; I’m for a cool swim first, in the Atet pool, and perhaps after that I’ll feel less like strangling Reaten, then finding Horeb, ripping off his arm, and beating him to death with it.” The corners of his mouth turned up a little more. “After all, it would be ill-done of me to deprive both the Commander of Dragons and Haraket of that privilege.”

He levered himself up off the edge of the sandpit, and as he stalked off out of the pen, Vetch noticed that he was favoring one leg. He must have injured it somehow—either in the rescue, or when he and Kashet were bringing Coresan to earth. Typical of him not to have mentioned it.

Haraket will have had a massage slave sent,
he remembered.
And perhaps that will help.

Vetch did as he was told, and while he was getting Kashet’s treat, he heard that, not unexpectedly, the request for someone to bring Ari his supper and someone else to see to a massage nearly brought on a fight among the servants over who was to have the honor. Ari’s very self-effacement in
not
lingering to be made a hero of, had had the effect of making him more of a hero than he would have been if he
had
stayed about to preen rather than bringing Coresan in. Or at least that was true among the servants. What those wealthy spectators had thought of Ari’s heroic efforts today—well, Vetch couldn’t begin to guess.

But there was another repercussion to all of this. When Vetch went back to the butchers to return the barrow for Kashet’s feed and his treat, there was a drama being enacted right in the center of the court.

It was Sobek, Reaten’s dragon boy, who was causing all the fuss. With all the other boys around him, he refused, sweating and trembling, to go anywhere near his charge. He described, at the top of his lungs, to an enraptured and credulous audience in the butcher court, how she had snapped at him and—so he claimed—nearly taken his leg off.

“Like a mad thing!” he cried, his voice cracking. “Mark me, she’ll eat anyone she gets hold of! She nearly ate me! I swear it!”

“That is because she mistook you for a goat, with all of your silly bleating,” Haraket boomed from the door to the courtyard, where he stood, legs braced slightly apart, arms crossed over his chest, a fierce and disapproving frown on his face. Vetch shrank back against the wall, but already his mind was a-whirl with a possible idea. “What is all of this foolishness, Sobek?” Haraket continued. “
And
disobedience—saying you will not tend to your dragon—”

“And I won’t!” Sobek cried hysterically, both hands clenched into fists, his face a contorted mask of fear and defiance. “I won’t, you hear me! My father is a priest in the Temple of Epis, and he’ll have something to say about this!”

“Your father is a cleaner of temple floors, and you may go back to him in disgrace if you say one word further,” Haraket thundered dangerously, his eyes flashing and his brow as black as a rainy-season storm. Vetch sucked in a breath; Haraket annoyed was dangerous enough, but Haraket enraged?
Was
he about to see Sobek beaten? If so, it would be the first time he’d seen anyone beaten, even the slaves, since he came to the compound.

But Sobek had been pushed too far; his fear was no act, and he had gone over the edge from fear into panic. He snatched the eye amulet off his neck, and threw it to the pavement, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. The noise of it shattering could not possibly have been as loud as it
seemed.
It sent a shiver over all of the dragon boys and servants crowded into the court, and even Vetch was not immune. “Send me back, then!” he screeched, as the shattered pieces glittered on the stone. “Go ahead! Better that, than to be torn apart! I care not, Haraket, I will cut papyrus, I will beg for my bread, rather than go into that killer’s pen!”

But if Sobek had been pressed too far on this day, so had Haraket. And Haraket had authority.

“Out!”
Haraket roared,
“Out of my compound, out of my life!”
Step by step he advanced on Sobek, his face red with anger, so outraged by the dragon boy’s rebellion that he was about to lose control of himself. “You are
dismissed,
dragon boy,
little
boy, little
coward!
Run back to your father, pathetic scum! Go and cut papyrus for a pittance, for that is the only position you will ever hold to put bread in your mouth!”

His arm shot out, pointing toward the door. The hand trembled, with suppressed rage. “Run away like the frightened child you are, before I lose my mind and beat you black and blue to give you bruises to take back with you! Run!
Run!”

Sobek ran; bolted for his life past Haraket, bare feet slapping on the stone, fleeing for the outside world and presumed safety.

Silence fell over the courtyard, a silence broken only by the shuffling feet of the other dragon boys. Hanging in the silence was the certain knowledge that
someone
would have to take care of Coresan until Haraket found another boy to tend her. And Coresan, at her best, was no Kashet. At her worst, well, she was evidently so unmanageable that Sobek had chosen disgrace over continuing to tend her.

This was the opportunity, all unlooked-for, that Vetch had not dared to hope would be granted to him. He leaped upon it and seized it with both hands. “Overseer?” he said, into the leaden silence. “I will tend Coresan along with Kashet, if someone else will mend harness, pound
tala,
and clean Jouster Ari’s room for me. I will need that sort of help. Feeding, tending, and bathing two dragons will not be easy; it is hard enough at the best of times, but it will be much more difficult, when one of them is Coresan, a dragon newly-mated. But I will do it for her sake. There are no bad dragons here,” he added boldly. “Only mishandled ones.”

A collective sigh arose out of the huddle of dragon boys. They gazed at him in awe, and was it—in sudden respect? Yes, it was! Vetch kept his eyes on Haraket. Now was not the time to take advantage of that.

Haraket’s brow cleared a trifle. “You? Coresan is no Kashet, boy. She has always been a handful for Sobek with that tail of hers, and as you said, she is going to lay eggs, which will make her even more difficult—”

“But I have been around females about to whelp all my life,” he countered, raising his chin. “My father was a farmer. I believe that I can tame her a little. Perhaps more than a little.” He allowed scorn to come into his tone, for the first time ever. But Sobek was now, in Haraket’s mind at least, in utter and complete disgrace, just like his Jouster. Dragon boy and Jouster had both failed, and failed as badly as it was possible to fail and not die. Criticism of Sobek would fall on ears ready to hear it.

And it was such a relief to be able to abuse one of those wretched Tian boys without fear of being punished for it! Vetch waxed eloquent in his scorn. “Sobek never treated her properly; half the time he was afraid of her, and he never thought she was anything better than a dumb beast with a vicious streak. He never saw how clever she was, or treated her with any kindness. I’d have snapped at him myself, if I had been her; she’s smart enough to bully anyone who gives way to her, but she’s also smart enough to change her ways if she’s treated right.”

Haraket rubbed his shaven head with the palm of one hand, now looking worried. “Sobek was—not entirely in the wrong, boy,” he admitted. “Perhaps he neglected his dragon, but that will make her all the more dangerous. Coresan could harm you, if you are not careful.”

“Let me feed her, feed her now, Overseer,” Vetch pleaded, urgently. The plan was rapidly forming in his mind, a beautiful plan that would give him everything he could possibly want, but he could only carry it out if
he
became Coresan’s keeper, at least until she laid those eggs. “She’s hungry now, and she’ll be easier to win when she’s hungry. Please! Watch and see if I can handle her!”

Haraket took a deep breath, and Vetch felt a surge of triumph, knowing he had won—at least so far. “Very well. You may feed her, but I and my helpers will be standing by to guard you. Ari will never forgive me if I let any harm come to you. We will see—”

Vetch did not wait for Haraket to have second thoughts. Haraket left to get help, while he seized a barrow, got it loaded with meat, and was out into the corridor before anyone could blink, his own footfalls making the walls echo as he ran—but not, like Sobek, for the outside world. He had a chance; he had to make the most of it. Unlike Sobek, he had nowhere to go, nothing to lose, and the world to gain if he succeeded. . . .

Haraket and two of the biggest of his slaves, trailing a curious and apprehensive crowd of dragon boys, intercepted him on the way to Coresan’s pen. He was wheeling a barrow heaped with
tala
-treated meat, as much as he could manage, and double the ration that he usually gave Kashet. If Coresan was breeding, she’d be hungrier than usual even given the exertion of the mating flight as her body demanded the wherewithal to make eggs, and if Sobek had been neglecting her because he was afraid of her and impatient to get away, he might not have been feeding her properly for some time—and she’d be hungrier still. The way to a dragon’s heart was ever through her stomach. There was no reason, no reason whatsoever, why he should not feed her to bursting. She wouldn’t be flying any time soon—she
would
be making eggs. Why not stuff her, and soothe her with food?

Besides all of that, with a double ration of meat would come a double ration of
tala,
which, once it got into her, would gentle her even in her aroused state. With all of Ari’s instruction, he knew what
tala
did. If he could get her to allow him to lay nurturing hands on her, with a full belly that
he
had supplied, and the tranquilizing effect of the drug making her see things in a pleasant light—

He would create a mighty contrast to Sobek, and it would be right in the forefront of her mind—

Well, he might truly tame her. She would never be a Kashet, but she might become one of the better dragons.

He heard her hissing before he even reached her pen, and looking up, saw her head up above the walls, watching the corridor, swaying back and forth at the end of her long neck.

She was gorgeous; if she hadn’t been so angry, he’d have been able to appreciate her beauty more. Her color was a deep ruby, shading at the extremities and along the vanes of her wings to a turquoise-blue. But her scales looked dull, as if there was a haze of dust over them, and that made him frown.

She ignored him—except for a voracious glare down at his laden barrow. He was not Sobek; she did not expect feeding from him.

But when he appeared in the door of her pen with his barrow heaped with fresh, red meat, she reared up, her hiss of anger turning to a short bark of surprise. Then she went into a lunge that came up far short of where he stood, her chain snapping taut between her collar and the wall.

She was ravenous, and Vetch gritted his teeth when he realized that she was thin—not unhealthy, not yet, but that miserable excuse for a dragon boy Sobek truly hadn’t been feeding her nearly enough, just as he’d suspected! Hadn’t he seen how much hungrier she was?

Hadn’t her Jouster?

Like Jouster, like dragon boy, it seemed; Sobek and Reaten deserved each other, for neither of them had noticed the changes in Coresan. Seftu’s rider was evidently nearly as much in the wrong. As Ari had said, none of the trouble of this morning would have happened, if they had only been paying proper attention to their dragons!

Vetch didn’t leave the poor thing straining at the end of her tether for any longer than it took him to get up beside the barrow and begin tossing the biggest chunks of meat in it in her direction. She was quick; she saw the first one coming and snatched it right out of the air, snaked her head around to catch the second, and the third—

She paused to swallow; he kept the meat coming. Only when the barrow was half empty did she pause, for a breath, then to turn her head to take a good long drink from her trough.

While she was drinking, he moved the barrow nearer her, and perforce, himself; when she looked up, the barrow was well within her reach, and Vetch stood behind it, making sounds that Kashet found soothing, a kind of “pish, pish” noise.

Now the
tala
that had been dusted over the meat she’d bolted had begun to take effect, taking the edge off her aggressiveness and the anger that must have been born of hunger. Oh, he understood that, all too well! He felt a surge of sympathy for her. He would see to it that she never had another hungry day in her life!