Vetch unwrapped his legs, threw the right over the dragonet's neck, and slid down even faster than he'd vaulted up. The dragonet reacted to his absence with a start of surprise, but didn't hop about this time.
And before it could get too used to him being gone, Vetch jumped back into the saddle again.
This time, it only hopped once, and when it stopped, it wasn't shaking. Now it only looked indignant, and that was a great improvement over terrified.
They played this game four more times, until Baken decreed that the dragonet's developing spine had gotten enough stress for the day. He unharnessed and freed the youngster of everything but the single chain holding him around his neck, rewarded and praised him a little more, then both of them left the pen.
Once outside, Baken slapped Vetch on the back with a hearty grin. 'By the gods, it works! I thought it might, but I wasn't sure. I'd like you here just before feeding, twice a day, so he's good and hungry, and he'll work for his tidbits; we'll play this little game on him until he takes you as easily as Kashet takes Ari, and until we've taught him 'up' and 'down,' and how you'll use both to mount, and we've taught him the use of the guide straps. Then, when he can actually get off the ground with you on his back, I'll get one of the heavier boys to help me, and work my way up until he can carry a very light man.'
Hmm. Like you, Baken?
Well, why not? If Baken wanted to add himself to the roster of trainers, why not?
Vetch nodded, seeing the good sense in the planning. Trainers did something like this, only they started much, much later, when the dragonet could carry a man, and they didn't precede it with the gentling process. They just tied the dragonet down, threw a saddle on him, and jumped on, letting the dragonet wear itself out on the ropes and 'breaking' it to saddle.
Small wonder that dragons did not love their riders…
And now, thanks to Baken, Vetch knew how to train Avatre without having to ask Ari. Exactly how to train her. Only he would be starting very early indeed, with nothing more than a few straps to get her used to things being bound around her body.
And when she flew—it would not be with ropes holding her to the earth.
Gods willing. Gods willing…
THE expected sea-witch-sent storm did not come that day, nor the next. The tension built once again; fear and anxiety becoming as much or more of a weapon wielded against the Tians than the storm itself. Finally, another one—again, with a great deal of wind and lightning, but with less rain than the last— struck on the sixth day after the last storm had ended. And the next storm arrived seven days after that.
Were the sea witches getting weary of their sport? Or were they only toying with the Jousters, hoping to set them off-guard? Vetch dreaded both, and yet at the same time, hoped this was so. That Alta at last had the strength to fight back! The sea witches had not been as numerous or as strong as the magicians of Tia within living memory. Had something happened to change this? Had they learned new magics, had their numbers increased? Or had the priests of Alta also found a way to add their magic to that of the sea witches, as the priests of every Tian god could join their forces into a massive whole?
Or was this only a brief, hectic flare of power before the end, like the dying of a fire? Something that could not be repeated?
Were the sea witches' powers once again on the wane? This was what Vetch dreaded.
The rumors spread throughout the compound, causing at least as much unease as the storms themselves. The priests said nothing, perhaps fearing that if they took credit for the weakening of the storms, the witches would turn their words to ashes in their mouths and prove their boasts to be lies.
The Jousters were reluctant to go farther afield despite the changing conditions, and it seemed that the Commander of Dragons agreed with them, for he issued no new orders. But further rumors told of convocations of
