Vetch jumped to his feet as suddenly as if he had sat on a wasp. "Of course, sir!" he exclaimed. At this point, after the scene in the Dragon Hall yesterday, if Ari had asked him to fling himself into a crocodile's jaws, he probably would have done it joyfully. Well, perhaps not joyfully, but he wouldn't have hesitated.
He ran off without another word, and as usual, found that there really was not a great deal to do except that his usual chore of sweeping out had turned to one of mopping out—cleaning up the mud that had been tracked everywhere.
Given that he was being watched, he elected to clean the mud out of the courtyard as well, even though that wasn't technically his task. Not that it was a quarter as much work as the same task had been for Khefti-the-Fat… and Vetch grinned the whole time he was doing the job, startling the life out of Te-Velethat, who looked in to see that he was there and doing his job. He was picturing Khefti doing the job for himself, for surely he had not yet managed to hire a servant nor buy a slave.
No, the wages he'll offer will be too small by half, and no one will take them, Vetch thought gleefully. And the price he'll be willing to pay for a slave won't get him anything. He'll have to wait until some dealer comes by with a lot of slaves that nobody else wants, and even then, he'll end up paying twice what he wants to.
The picture of Khefti with a mop was so delicious that he undertook to move every stick of furniture and clean under and behind it, startling Te-Velethat when he came, once again, to check on Vetch's progress. Vetch didn't care what the Overseer thought, so long as he was impressed with Vetch's diligence.
Nothing could spoil his pleasure today, nor for many days to come. Khefti-the-Fat had brought Vetch's curses down on his own head with the words of his own mouth.
Life was very, very good.
AFTER that first afternoon, Ari spent time with Kashet—and indirectly, with Vetch—nearly every afternoon during the rains. The mornings, though, proceeded nearly as they had during the dry; mornings were spent in training flights, if there was no wind and no storm directly overhead. If the rain was going to stop at all, it usually did so during the hours of the morning, and training was vital for the dragons, no matter what season it was. They needed practice even though they weren't fighting, as did all warriors, but more than that, in the rains, when it was impossible for armies to move and difficult for even individual fighters, the dragons needed exercise. In the wild, dragons would be going about their business, hunting, mating, teaching their young the business of being the largest predator in the hills. Dragons in the compound didn't need to do any of those things. Their meals were brought to them, they were prevented from mating; therefore, at all times, but especially in the rains when they were confined to the area around the compound, they had to fly and get plenty of vigorous exercise, or they would get fat, spoiled, and stale.
Now, the dragons themselves were not at all in favor of this. They saw no reason to bestir themselves. Like Kashet, they hated the rain and the cold, and there was a lot of protesting from the pens as they were led out to the landing court in the morning. Kashet protested, too, but it was mostly a token.
"He takes forever to get up in the morning," Vetch noted one morning, near the end of the rainy season. "But once I get him up, he doesn't hiss and moan about flying off the way the others do. The others—you'd think they were going off to be whipped!"
"He enjoys the training," Ari explained. "He likes the training a lot more than the patrolling."
Or the fighting? Vetch wondered. Well, Kashet would truly enjoy himself for some time, then. Spring and the Flood were not far off; already the Haph priests were going down to the measuring stone three times daily, to see if the waters had begun to rise. No less than the season of rains, the season of flood was one in which it was difficult for armies and individuals to move about. And Kashet would surely enjoy the fact that the days would soon be getting longer and warmer, and the rains would stop.
Ari was giving Kashet's eye ridges a good scratch, unaware of Vetch's thoughts. "He likes the kinds of things that we do in training, and he always has."
"He probably likes being able to outfly any other dragon," Vetch observed, as he buckled a chest strap. Ari laughed.
"He probably does," the Jouster agreed. "Now, I wonder what the morning holds for us—" Ari lifted his head and took a deep breath, testing the air like a hound; he was almost as good as a priest for being able to predict weather in the short-term. "No scent of rain; we should be all right and get the full morning to work out in. Are the other boys leaving you alone?"
Vetch was getting used to Ari's sudden changes in subject, though not quite used to Ari's personal interest in him. He ducked his head to avoid looking into the Jouster's eyes. "I'm all right, he said softly. "They don't bother me."
"But they don't make friends with you either."
Vetch shrugged, as if he felt nothing more than indifference, but that was a third thing that he wasn't used to—Ari's uncanny ability to know pretty much what was going on in his life. "It doesn't matter as long as they don't bother me," he said firmly.
"Vetch, look at me," Ari ordered.
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable now, Vetch stopped what he was doing and obeyed the order. Ari had a very sharp, very direct gaze; those dark eyes seemed to look through everything. Ari's mouth thinned; it wasn't quite a frown, but it was clear to Vetch that he was not entirely happy.
When Ari had begun showing this—interest—in him, Vetch had been nervous. But Ari had never displayed anything but concern for his welfare—as if he felt responsible for Vetch in some way. Vetch still didn't understand it, and he still wasn't comfortable with the attention, but that was mostly because he just didn't like telling anyone as much about himself as Ari wanted to know. There was no reason for a Tian to want to know a serf's inner thoughts! Everything he had learned about the masters made him very nervous when they started probing. And even if Ari had never once been less than fair with him, it still made him nervous when it was Ari.
"You have no friends among them, and that disturbs me." Now Ari frowned faintly. "It isn't right; even I had a few friends when I was your age, and not just among the other scribes. You shouldn't be so alone."
"I'm not alone. I have Kashet," Vetch replied, trying to sound as if he was perfectly happy with the situation. "I didn't have any friends when Khefti was my master, and his apprentices, the boys I had to work around, were always trying nasty tricks on me. It's much better here; no one dares do anything to me, especially after what happened to Khefti. Maybe they don't think I'm the proper rank to be allowed to be a dragon boy, but they can't do anything about that as long as Haraket is satisfied. And as long as you are."
And really, he was happy, mostly. Contented, at least. He was getting enough to eat and plenty of sleep in a warm and quiet place, he was clothed well, he wasn't exhausted and cold all the time, and Ari was kind to him.
In fact, Ari was more than kind; he was learning from Ari, learning as Ari spent long hours talking to him about dragons, which was proving to be very important to him. For Vetch had conceived a passion for dragons that surprised even him. He liked them, even the dragons that were not as special as Kashet. Now and again, when their boys weren't around, he would poke his head into a pen and speak soothingly to one that was restless, or look one over to make sure it was getting properly fed. He felt a kind of proprietary interest in all of them. He had learned from Ari about every step in a dragon's development, from egg to full-grown dragon. He had learned a very great deal about Kashet specifically, which only helped him when it came to handling the great beast. And as for Kashet—well, no boy could have had a better creature to care for.