Tia was a desert land, and the desert was as cold by night as it was hot by day. Now the hot sands where Kashet rested were a source of comfort, a radiating warmth better than the wall Vetch used to sleep beside, for this warmth wouldn't fade before the night was half over. Vetch was happy enough to spread out on his pallet and settle down beside the lightly snoring dragon. The dragon was fast asleep in his wallow, and it didn't look as if Vetch could have awakened him if he'd tried. With no torches in here, once Vetch's eyes had gotten used to the darkness, he looked past the awning over his head to the stars.
In the darkness of his old sleeping place in Khefti's back kitchen, Vetch had spent many an unhappy night on his pile of reeds, shivering in his rags. This pallet was, he thought, made of a thick mattress of straw inside a covering of fleece, all of that covered with heavy linen. There were two blankets as well, and an Altan pillow rather than a Tian headrest. It felt strange to stretch out and not have scratchy straw sticking into him, or feel the stone through the straw. It felt as if he was stretched out on a cloud.
He carefully put his food packet near at hand, but inside an upturned bucket that he vermin-proofed with a brick to hold it down. Then he laid himself down on his pallet, warm, full, and trying to figure out what he had done to warrant this sudden change in his fortunes. He looked up at the stars for a clue, but the stars weren't in the mood to answer, it seemed.
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.
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."