weren't paid anything so far as he could tell; the generous allowances of food, clothing and (presumably) lodging would be more than most apprentices could dream of, and apprentices weren't paid anything either.
But perhaps dragon boys didn't count as apprentices, or more likely, once they got older, perhaps they—the freeborn ones, anyway—were counted among the servants. In which case, they would get a wage. All but Vetch, of course. Serfs worked for nothing.
So perhaps that was another reason why Ari had plucked him from Khefti's grip; the Jouster wouldn't have to part with wages for his dragon boy.
That put a bit of a change in the complexion of things… if true.
Still, Vetch was the only serf here, and it didn't seem as if having a serf as a dragon boy had ever been a common thing among the Jousters. So maybe saving money wasn't the reason, or at least, not the whole of it.
He kept thinking that there were uglier reasons for Ari taking him on, but he kept coming back to the conclusion that it was nothing more than he'd been told. Ari wanted a reliable boy who wouldn't leave, and was prepared to give him the same treatment every other boy got.
And he'd seen Ari's quarters; the man lived frugally, yet he didn't strike Vetch as being a miserly sort. So what, if anything, was he saving money for by having a serf to serve him? No, money probably didn't enter into it.
He finished his meal and hurried back to Kashet's pen; if his timing was right, this was just about the point yesterday when Ari had turned up at Khefti's cistern. So he and Kashet should be returning at any moment.
He was, in fact, not far off. He did a bit of sweeping and tidying around the pen, when he heard the clatter of claws on stone in the corridor, and saw Kashet's head rising above the walls of the pens, looking alertly toward his own. Shortly after that, the dragon, with Ari walking at his shoulder, strode into the pen and positioned himself next to the saddle stand.
And at that, Ari, though clearly weary and nursing a bruised shoulder—and carrying a broken lance—laughed aloud. 'Well, Vetch, I think you've passed Kashet's test. He doesn't line up alongside the stand for anyone but me. Not even Haraket gets that sort of cooperation.'
Vetch was already ducking under Kashet's chest to undo the bellyband when Ari's words made him blink. How was he supposed to respond to that?
The words were out of his mouth before he thought about them. 'I like Kashet, sir. Animals can tell when you like them.'
'So they can.' Ari tossed the useless lance aside. 'Which means I can leave you both in safe keeping.' With an affection slap of Kashet's shoulder, the Jouster strode out, without even looking back to see if Vetch was doing everything properly.
Vetch looked after him with mouth agape for a moment.
Never, once, in all of the time that he had served Khefti, had the Fat One ever left him unsupervised after only two times at a task.
But Kashet's snort into Vetch's hair quickly recaptured his attention. The dragon's breath was very hot; hotter, in fact, than the sun on his skin. It was just short of painful; Vetch took that as a rebuke and hurried to divest Kashet of harness and saddle.
Other dragons were coming in now, and with irritated hisses and whines, they paraded past Kashet's pen, their dragon boys keeping them on the shortened chains that would choke them if they tried to get away. Meanwhile Kashet paid no attention to their protests; with the harness off, he dove into his sand wallow, where he rolled and writhed, as if he itched.
Well, if he was putting on a growth spurt, perhaps he did. Maybe his skin felt too tight. Did dragons shed their skins as they grew, or not?
Which reminded him, though Kashet had not been so unmannerly as to do so himself—he needed to get Kashet's food!
He hurried off to the butchers; Kashet would have a good, long nap in the heat of the day, so this might be the time to give him that extra feeding.
Haraket was there, monitoring the amount each boy took in his barrow and the amount of tala he mixed in. 'Two barrows for Kashet, sir?' Vetch asked diffidently, as he rolled his own barrow past the tala bin.
'Hrmm. Yes. He'll have a chance to sleep most of it off,' Haraket replied, and the briefest of smiles crossed his face. 'Just a bare day here, and you're acting and thinking like a seasoned hand! Keep this up, boy, and it'd take the Great King's personal order to pry you away from me and out of Ari's service.'
Well, Vetch had no particular objections to that. If he had to serve his enemies… at least this lot of enemies wasn't striping his back until it was raw, and fed and housed and clothed him well.
