Baken closed his eyes for a moment, and there seemed to be a pocket of unexpected stillness holding both of them. 'I know that. 1 also know why our masters will offer freedom to a slave, but not a serf, though I doubt it would be of any interest to you. Still.' He pondered a moment, then continued. 'I'll try and explain it to you, as my last, and most worthy master explained it to me. Slaves are either born that way, from those Tians who are born into slavery, or are Tians sold into slavery to pay debts, or they are brought as slaves from countries Tia has never conquered. Take me, for instance, I come from a very distant land indeed, so far that there is no chance my people could ever be the enemies of the Tians, so it is safe enough to free me. I have always been treated well, and have no one to revenge myself on. I've nowhere to go, freed—no reason to go to Tia's enemies, and every reason to stay here and continue to serve at the same place, but for a wage. Whereas you—' He shrugged. 'Serf, you are an enemy. Freed, you are still an enemy, but there is no control over you or your actions anymore. I am sorry. If I could change things, I would.'
Vetch's gut twisted a little harder. 'It's not fair,' he whispered.
'No,' Baken agreed. 'It's not. It's even less fair, because I am certain that Lord Haraket would offer you freedom if it was in his power, for how you took over the dragon Coresan and tamed her without frightening or hurting her. You are the one who has the reputation for making dragons love him.'
The knot in Vetch's gut eased. 'You know about that?' he asked. He hadn't thought Baken cared, actually. The young man had been very much involved with his own doings.
Baken smiled, and his set of large, even, and very white teeth gleamed in the torchlight; they were startling, not the least because Vetch had never seen Baken smile before. 'Lord Haraket is very much impressed with your dedication and abilities; he told me all about it when he told me why he changed his mind about having serfs and slaves as dragon boys.'
'Oh.' Now Vetch felt guilty all over again, and felt he had to defend himself. 'Well, I don't hate you, Baken. But you can't blame me for—
'Of course I can't, and I don't,' Baken replied, interrupting him. '1 just didn't want the most skilled dragon boy in the compound to be my enemy, that's all. Here. In my country, when men agree to be comrades, they shake hands.' He thrust out his hand.
Vetch shook it, gladly—and gladder still that Baken hadn't said 'friends.' Of all of the people in the entire compound, Baken was the last one he dared to have as a friend, for he was the one most likely to uncover the secret of Avatre's existence. 'I don't mind that you're getting all the attention, that Haraket's depending on you, and that—well—you've taken over the new boys,' he said, earnestly. 'Honest, I don't. The freeborn boys probably do hate you, though.'
Once again, that gleaming, toothy grin. 'Let them. The boys I've picked are all like you and me—well, maybe without our gods-bestowed gift for understanding animals, but they're just as hardworking and they like their charges. They aren't freeborn boys with plenty of choices ahead of them, and plenty of arrogance to match their choices. They already know that there are many, many worse places to serve, and they're learning that this is one of the best, and they do not want to lose their places. Pretty soon, our kind will outnumber theirs, and I know we'll outlast them. So let them stew in their own juices until they can't even stand themselves. Just so long as you and I have gotten things straight between us. There shouldn't be any animosity between men of our kind.'
Men! That was sheerest flattery, and Vetch knew it. Still, it was sweet to hear, even if it was flattery. 'You need to meet Ari,' Vetch said at last. 'He's—different. You'll admire him, you know, he's not like any other Jouster in the compound, maybe not like any other, ever.'
'So Lord Haraket says.' Baken nodded. 'He seems very different, and everything I've heard is good. He might change my mind about—
He stopped abruptly, but now it was Vetch's turn to pounce alertly on an incautious phrase. If Baken had forced him into an uncomfortable place, well, turnabout was fair play. 'About Joust-ers, you mean? Just why don't you like the Jousters?'
He whispered that; he didn't want to get Baken in any trouble, just because he wanted to know one of Baken's secrets. Baken frowned, fiercely, but he couldn't conceal his own unease.
Ha! Got you!
'What makes you think that I don't—' Baken began aggressively, but stopped, and gave a self-conscious laugh. 'You're pretty observant as well as clever, Vetch.'
'Maybe. But I want to know,' Vetch replied, not allowing himself to be deflected. 'Ari is—I don't want anyone around him who doesn't like Jousters and might do or say something that would give him trouble. Unless you've got an awfully good reason for it.'
And it had better be an astonishingly good reason.
'You have a point.' Baken studied him for a moment. 'And all right; I think I can trust you, so I'll tell you— though it isn't merely that I don't like Jousters, it goes further than that. It isn't because of what they do, it's because of what they are.' He paused a moment, and signaled to a server, who plunked down a platter of still- sizzling meat and another of onions between them, with an undisguised look of hero worship for Baken, who answered it with a wink. 'You eat, though, while I talk. You look starved enough as it is.'
'All right,' Vetch agreed—since now that his gut had unknotted, it was growling. He plucked a hot piece of meat from the platter and dropped it quickly on the bread, adding an onion slice; he waited only a few moments for
