Had no trouble finding his way to the kitchen court this time. Just as he got there, one of the girls was pulling the awning across the courtyard and he watched with curiosity. Now he realized what that bunched canvas was across the top of one of the walls of Kashet's pen—it was a similar awning! But it couldn't be to shelter the dragon from the sun, not when they needed and craved heat so much…
Maybe it's to keep the rain off? That actually made sense. It wouldn't be dry season forever. Soon enough the winter rains would start; however the sands were heated, rain wouldn't do them any good.
When the serving girl was done, he sat down at what was beginning to be his usual seat at the farthest end of the farthest table, and got his breakfast of hot bread and barley broth with the other boys. Once again, there were others besides the dragon boys eating there, and they were the ones who sat at his table. Many appeared to be servants or craftsmen of one sort or another.
There were a great many of them; more people than lived in both his old village and Khefti's combined.
He thought about that as he ate, watching the others at the tables around him. He finally decided that it probably took a lot of people to keep this place running: servants for the Jousters and Overseers; leather craftsmen for the saddles and harnesses; wood workers to supply furniture and do repairs; weapons makers to make the lances and clubs that the Jousters used; laundry women; cooks and bakers; seamstresses; stonemasons and brickmakers… this place was a little world unto itself.
The other dragon boys, however, had not softened their attitude toward him. Free and Tian, and so far above him that he might as well be a beetle for all of the attention they were carefully not paying him, they were very blatantly excluding him from their company.
Except that they kept looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, and whispering to each other as they did so. It made the wonderful, soft bread form a lump in his throat. He could tell that they would neither forget nor forgive his inferior race and status.
He was an interloper among them, unwelcome. There would be no friends here.
Once again, he got that hollow feeling as he watched them chatting and laughing with each other, and pointedly closing him out of their circle.
He should not have expected anything else, and in his heart, he knew that.
Not even slaving for Khefti had he felt quite so alone. It was worse than having tricks pulled on him. They were all doing the same job, after all, he and they. It wasn't as if he was going to be doing less than any of them. It wasn't as if he was going to be especially favored by any of the Overseers. If anything, he could count on Te- Velethat being harder on him than on anyone else! Why couldn't they at least be willing to talk to him, a little? He hadn't had a real friend in so long…
Small wonder Haraket wanted him to sleep with Kashet. At least the dragon was willing to be his friend.
He clenched his jaw, and turned to his surest defense.
Anger.
What makes them the lords of the world, anyway? Just the luck of being born Tian, that's all! If the war was going differently—any of them could be serfs, now, this moment. They don't deserve their good luck.
He filled the hollow with anger, but it was a slim bulwark against the loneliness. The bread turned as dry as old reeds in his mouth, the broth might as well have been water. It was very hard to swallow, and he stared down into his bowl to avoid their smug glances.
It had been so long since he'd had a friend… bleakness made his eyes sting and he closed them, lest he betray himself with a tear.
But perhaps—
A thought occurred to him, and his eyes stopped stinging, and the lump in his throat diminished.
Perhaps, given Haraket's tirade against one of them this morning—he might not be the only serf as a dragon boy for long. Boys could be dismissed; Haraket had made that abundantly clear. So if he did well, maybe one or more of the other Jousters would follow Ari's example?
Boys 'got airs,' and left of their own accord as well. Who was to say that a Jouster who'd been left in the lurch would not decide it would be much better to have a boy who could not leave?
That made him feel a little better; in fact, it made him feel a bit more courageous. Good enough that, although he did not trade hauteur for hauteur, he lifted his head and straightened his back, concentrating on his hands. Let them pretend they were better than he was! Haraket had shown that he approved of how Vetch was doing. It was Haraket and Ari he had to please, not them. He would do better than they; no matter what they did, he would be better at it. He would tend to Kashet until he glowed with health; he would labor at the leather work and do twice as much as any of them. He would show all of them up for the lazy louts they were, and shame them all!
