Joust (30 page)

Still, beast he was, for he showed no signs of the thinking ability of a man. Nor did any other dragon; well, if they had been that clever, they’d have all slipped their chains and flown far out of reach a long, long time ago.

But he could hardly begrudge Kashet his preening; he’d earned the right to preen. It had been an amazing thing that he and Ari had accomplished, and even the fact that it had been attempted at all was astonishing.

“I won’t neglect you for Coresan, handsome one,” he told the dragon, as they paced back to Kashet’s pen, side by side. Kashet curved his sapphire neck, bringing his head down to Vetch’s level as they walked. Vetch reached up and smoothed the skin of Kashet’s golden nose and forehead, and the dragon breathed into his hair. “And I won’t neglect you for—” He didn’t say it—
my egg, my dragonet
—he didn’t dare think that far. “—for anything else either,” he promised. “As long as I’m here, I won’t neglect you, I’ll see you get the treatment you deserve.”

As long as he was here. He could not promise more than that.

For though he tried not to think of it, because he did not want to give himself too much hope, too many dreams, to hatch and raise a dragon meant more than just echoing Ari’s achievement. Ari was Tian; by raising Kashet, he had won an automatic place within the ranks of the Jousters. If you had a dragon, you were a Jouster, it was a simple equation. Tian custom, so resistant to change, had worked for Ari in that instance.

But Vetch was Altan, a serf, and not born into captivity; he had no loyalty to any Tian, and no reason to fight for the Tians. In fact, he had many, many compelling reasons to fight against them. So no matter what happened, if anyone discovered he had a dragonet, it would be taken from him; no sane Tian would leave such a dangerous weapon in the hands of an enemy.

That was the first, and most all-encompassing difficulty he would have to face, every moment of every day from the first instant of claiming an egg for his own. But if he could raise a dragonet to fledging—and teach it to carry him, so that, like Ari, his dragon’s first flight was with him on its back—

—he could escape. And no one would be able to stop him. Not even another Jouster, if he could contrive for the flight to take place when they were all out on patrol.

He tried not to think of that. One step at a time, and be primed for disappointment. After all, if he failed, he would be no worse off than he was now. And there were so many ways in which the plan could fail, so few that would lead to success.

The first step: get an egg. And not just any egg; a
fertile
egg.

He went to sleep at night with his mind full of prayers for success.

For the next three days, he gave Coresan double rations, which (more than the
tala,
he suspected) greatly improved her temper. She swiftly put on weight until she was sleek again, and her scales shone with health and good care. On the second day, she stopped looking up when the other dragons flew overhead; she began to dig in her sand, as if she was looking for some perfect spot to nest. She had plenty of opportunity to do as she pleased, since she only left the pen with Vetch to be groomed. The rest of the time she was on a long leash and left to her own devices when he wasn’t feeding her or trying to gentle her. He still had Kashet to tend, after all, and that left her plenty of time on her own.

She began taking him for granted, as a part of her landscape. It was tolerance rather than acceptance, but it was enough. She suffered him to clean her pen while she was in it, which was a mercy; the scheme would swiftly have fallen apart if he’d had to ask Haraket to get someone to clean the pen while he took her out of it. No matter what happened, he couldn’t actually take an egg until after nightfall, which meant that it would have to stay in the pen from the time that she laid it until sundown. If someone else had been required to help him, then farewell secrecy!

After living the good life for several days, Coresan still snapped at strangers, and that agile tail of hers was guaranteed to deliver painful blows to the unwary. But she seemed to have decided that making life difficult for him was not going to change what she was being asked to do, and would only delay the rewards of food and grooming that she wanted. In fact, there were only two or three more attempts to intimidate
him
rather than strangers, and even then, the attempts were halfhearted, as if she didn’t care if he didn’t react. He had to wonder, then, what that fool of a Sobek had done with her, that she had gotten so ill-tempered.

Perhaps all it had taken was simple neglect, after all. Though why Sobek had neglected his charge, when Coresan had not been known for being a particularly difficult dragon, baffled Vetch. Maybe it had been fear; maybe he’d been afraid of her all along, and as a consequence, kept chaining and tying her closer and closer, so that the only time she was truly free to move was when she was under saddle. Maybe that was why she’d learned the trick of snapping her tail at everyone. Sobek hadn’t ever acted as if he feared her until the last, but then, he was a blustering sort of boy, and maybe he couldn’t have admitted his fear even to himself.

Well, in her position, as he’d thought and said before, he’d have acted the same way Coresan had. If Sobek had been chaining her short, she had certainly been partly cold all the time, since there was no way she could properly wallow on a short chain. He already knew that she’d been hungry, and that she hadn’t been properly cleaned in an age. So, cold, hungry, and itchy—it was a wonder she hadn’t tried to take off Sobek’s head, fulfilling the fears that made him ill-treat her!

Or maybe it had just been laziness on Sobek’s part, rather than fear. Certainly Haraket seemed to think so. It was a lot easier to bring a barrow full of whatever the butcher happened to put there and leaving it for the dragon to clean out, rather than carefully observing the dragon to see if it was still hungry after the first barrow. And it was easier to skimp on grooming if the dragon was fractious.

Or, just possibly, Sobek had stupidly thought that by keeping Coresan hungry, he would teach her not to fight him. Now, that was a technique that could work, but only if you made up for the short rations in reward morsels, tidbitting the dragon whenever she did something right, and making sure she got her full feed over the course of the day.

If the Overseer had thought that Sobek’s fear of his dragon (rather than laziness) was the real reason for what had happened, he still wouldn’t have hesitated to dismiss him, but it wouldn’t have been in such complete disgrace.

Haraket, so Vetch had heard, had made it known that Sobek was a shirker, a slacker, totally incompetent and the kind of boy who would find any excuse to evade doing his duty. Now the officers of the army wouldn’t have him, even in the lowliest of positions. That didn’t leave much for him but manual labor, or perhaps the scribes or artists, and Sobek had not enough patience for the former, or talent for the latter.

Just deserts, in Vetch’s mind. No dragon, no beast, could ever be successfully starved into submission.

Whether it was due to a full belly and a building layer of fat, due to the
tala,
due to kind treatment, or all three, Coresan confined her displays of temper to the most minor of outbursts with Vetch, snorts, hisses and head-tossing, spending most of her time lounging in the heat. Even those displays of pique were halfhearted, as if she was saying,
Yes, you see, I am a princess, and you are beneath me, and will render me my due or feel my wrath. See? I can punish you with my display. Now, you will fetch me some of those lambs or I will make you rue it by hissing at you again.
She was, in fact, turning into a creature that reminded him more of a spoiled, wealthy girl chit than a carnivorous monster.

Yes, tending her was a great deal of work, work he could not have done without a slave assigned to take over his other chores. Actually, his chores had been divided, with a slave cleaning Ari’s quarters, and the chores in leather workshop and armory being taken up by the other dragon boys. It was more work than Kashet caused; Coresan was difficult to move about the compound, and required extra effort when he fed her and especially when he groomed her.

Nevertheless, she did not cause him as much work as Sobek had been put to, and Vetch was convinced it had all been because of
how
he had handled her. It was easier to pause at the doorway and throw the impatient dragon chunks of meat until the edge was off her hunger than try and fight past her to put the barrow next to her. It was easier to chain her in the grooming pen and wait out her head-tossing and fidgeting than to fight to chain her even shorter. It was easier in general to work around her than to fight her, and when she didn’t get a fight, she lost interest in fighting. All perfectly logical, really.

Every morning Haraket asked if there were eggs yet. Every morning, Vetch answered in the negative, truthfully. Then, slightly more than a week after the mating, the first egg appeared; Coresan had laid it some time in the night.

He hadn’t yet given up hope, but he’d begun to wonder if, perhaps, “everyone” was wrong, and a dragon wouldn’t lay unless she’d mated more than once. But it had become habit to scan the sands of the wallow for any sign of an egg, paying close attention to parts of the pit that Coresan had been digging in the night before.

The egg, that precious egg, was indeed in a corner of the sand pit she had been paying special attention to last night, and if he had not been looking for it, he might not have seen it, for only the barest top curve showed above the sand. He didn’t go near it, much as he wanted to; he fed her first, wanting to get some
tala
into her before he made any attempt to investigate it.

When she was sated, she returned to her wallow. He walked around the pit cautiously, and with one eye always on her, in case she decided to take exception to his interest. But Coresan didn’t seem to notice him, or that he was interested in her egg; she was buried in sand, dozing, when he finally crouched down next to the object of his desire, and brushed the sand away from the top.

The egg was exactly the same color as the sand, and the shell even had a similar texture to sandstone; it was very hard, like an enormously thick bird’s egg, rather than leathery like a snake egg. He could get his arms around it easily enough, he thought; the question was, how much did it weigh? He uncovered it further, and slid his hand underneath it. He hefted it experimentally, with one hand steadying it and one under the shell, though he didn’t try to lift it completely out of the sand that cradled it. It was as warm as the sand, and weighed about the same as a five-year-old child. Coresan didn’t seem to mind that he handled it, perhaps because she wasn’t yet brooding.

Or perhaps it was only because this was her very first egg. With barnyard fowl, first-time mothers weren’t always very motherly.

He covered it back up again, quickly; he didn’t want to chance it getting cold. And now the reality of it came home to him in a rush.

An egg! Coresan had laid his egg! His hands shook, and his in-sides felt as if he’d eaten live fish. He could hardly contain his excitement. An egg! Here it was, what he’d been waiting for—

He forced himself to calm down; he tried to look normal, although he felt anything but normal. The first person he had to get past was Haraket, when he arrived to get Coresan’s morning feed. Sure enough, the Overseer was there, making sure the
tala
got properly measured out, that boys were getting enough meat for their charges. Haraket asked him about eggs when he dipped the scoop into the powdered
tala
to shake it over Coresan’s rations, and he just shook his head, trying to keep from looking the Overseer in the eye. Haraket took that as “there is no egg yet” and didn’t ask anything further, much to his relief. He didn’t want to lie to Haraket, not if he could help it. The gods didn’t like falsehood, and he needed the gods on his side in this. He also wasn’t entirely sure that he could lie to Haraket. He wasn’t good at lying, and the Overseer was uncannily good at knowing when someone was lying to him.

But the egg was on his mind all day as he divided his time between his two charges. He had a choice of several courses of action now, but he would have to decide what he was going to do soon. He had to get his egg before someone else decided to check Coresan’s pen on the theory that Vetch wouldn’t necessarily know what he was looking for, or that Coresan would have buried the eggs and not allowed Vetch to see them.

When it all came down to it, he was just a dragon boy and not even Haraket knew how much Ari had taught him about the great beasts. It was a logical supposition to presume that he wouldn’t know what to look for; until last dry season, he’d never even seen a dragon that wasn’t high in the sky. It wasn’t likely that Ari would have told anyone how much the Jouster had been teaching Vetch about dragons. Why should he? It would make no difference to anyone, and was no one else’s business.

They probably figured that the reason that he’d gotten Coresan to behave had more to do with being a farmer’s son and knowing in general how to handle beasts than it had to do with his newly-won knowledge of the great creatures.

He knew from his experience with geese and Ari’s stories about wild dragons that they didn’t dare let Coresan go broody over her clutch.

So the very moment that eggs appeared, Haraket would, understandably, feel they had to take them as they appeared. For if she did go broody, they’d be in for nothing but trouble from her.

She might not even let them get near the eggs once she went broody. Someone might get hurt or even die trying to take the eggs, if her motherly instincts finally awoke. Hens were bad enough; all hens did was to peck the hand that tried to take their eggs from underneath them, and they frequently bruised or even drew blood. He did not even want to think about taking eggs from a broody dragon if their behavior was at all similar. Maybe you could do it at night, but given that he’d already seen Kashet awaken to accept attention from Ari long after he thought that the great beast was torpid, he wouldn’t bet on a female dragon being unaware of what went on at night when she had eggs that she needed to tend.