shivering and began to warm up.
Kashet paused when the barrow was just about half emptied, and craned his neck over to look at Vetch curiously as the boy joined the dragon in the sand, but did nothing more than snort, then went back to his food. It occurred to Vetch then that this was an entirely unanticipated benefit of having Kashet as his dragon—some of them were very territorial about their wallows, and it would have been sheer torture to have to stand there shivering, knowing how nice and hot the sand was, and not daring to put so much as a toe into it.
Once fed, Kashet buried himself in his sand again, with his wings tucked in tightly to his body. Vetch cleaned the litter pit without Kashet even stirring. Presumably the other boys were having no more trouble with their beasts than he was with Kashet, since he didn't hear the usual cursing, hissing, and rattling chains from the pens of some of the troublemakers.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He might not care much for any of them, but one thing that the rains were going to do was leave the others plenty of idle moments, and he really would rather that nothing increased their irritation. The rains had always been the worst time for mean tricks from Khefti's apprentices, because the apprentices, too, were cold and wet and miserable, and inclined to try and make anyone inferior to them even more miserable than they were. If the other dragon boys were having an easy time of it, they'd be less likely to have anything to take out on Vetch.
He hated to leave Kashet's pen and the heat radiating up from the sand wallow, but he didn't have much choice in the matter. Perhaps the dragons weren't going to fly, but there were plenty of chores that still had to be done.
But as he reported to his various stations, he learned that he was getting a bit more leisure than he'd thought. There was no need to check over the lances, for instance, and the last few baskets of the ripened tala, the fruits of the end of the season, had to be discarded, for it could not be dried now. Nor could it be pounded to powder in weather like this; so much dampness in the air would rum it. And as for tidying the Jousters' quarters, well, that depended on the Jouster in question. Most of them did not want to be disturbed, which meant that the dragon boys got to sit around idle—though it was an enforced idleness that none of them really enjoyed. Yes, they could go out hunting in the marsh, or fishing—in the cold, soaking rain, which took all the joy out of such pastimes, and turned them into labor. They could go into the city, but even with coins to spend, there was no great joy for them there, for the beer shops were colder than their own quarters, suffered from floors that turned into mud, and were crowded with laborers who got the lion's share of attention from the serving girls and entertainers. Only the nobles and the wealthy got to spend the winter rains in an endless round of feasting and merriment indoors. The rest of the city went about its business in wet, cold misery. No one went out of doors unless he had to, and those who did were not happy about it.
So the leisure hours of the winter rains were spent confined to their courtyard, playing what games they had, huddled around charcoal braziers. So far as Vetch was concerned, charcoal braziers were a poor substitute for the hot sands. Since Kashet didn't object, just after the noon meal, he actually moved his pallet down onto the wallow, for sand in his bedding was a small price to pay for the added warmth.
Ari was one of those who had told his dragon boy not to trouble with tidying up that afternoon, which meant that Vetch would have the entire time free. After feeding Kashet at noon, Vetch stretched himself out on his pallet to soak in the heat. He might not have done as much actual work today as he usually did, but the cold was as punishing as physical labor, and he felt absolutely drained. Not sleepy, just exhausted.
In weather like this, Khefti would have him running about on a hundred tasks, mostly concerned with leaks and mud—mopping up water that came through the roof, going up on the roof to find and stop the leaks, and cleaning up the mud that Khefti, his apprentices, his customers, and his household tracked in everywhere. During the rains, Vetch's life seemed to revolve around mud, cold, and wet, adding wretchedness to the perpetual misery of his empty belly. Khefti would lurch between two moods during the rains. In his first mood, he would be pleased, because, after all, rains in a place made of mud-brick buildings would mean more business for him afterward. Rain would get past the plastering if it wasn't properly kept up, and then Khefti would get his business. Vetch sometimes wondered, if, now and again, Khefti didn't pay his apprentices to go about just before the rains and put a little damage on the homes of those Khefti determined could afford some rebuilding…
But during the rains, only the pottery was working; he couldn't make brick until the rains and the flood stopped. So in his second mood, Khefti would be glum and angry, impatient for the rains to stop so that he could get to making those bricks, angry that four of his six apprentices were idle, counting up the cost in fuel and food with no income from the brickworks coming in. Furthermore, Khefti would be as miserable as everyone else with the cold and wet, and would take it out on the nearest object, which was usually Vetch.
Which was hardly fair, but 'fair' wasn't a word that could ever be applied to Khefti.
Vetch had Khefti on his mind a great deal today, which didn't necessarily make him feel safe. There was always the feeling that Khefti hadn't finished with him.
He had just started to get warm, and to think about what he might do to occupy his time, when he heard someone at the entrance to the pen, and looked up.
It was Haraket. He sat up with a start of guilt, wondering if putting his pallet in the wallow was something forbidden, or if he had somehow forgotten a chore that should have been done. The Overseer gestured to him as he scrambled to his feet and up onto the stone verge, and his alarm increased when he saw Ari was with Haraket. Both were wrapped in dripping mantles, as if they had just come a long distance down the uncovered corridors.
'Here, boy—' Haraket thrust another mantle at him, this one adult-sized. 'Wrap up in that and come along. You've been called up before the magistrate; he's waiting at the Dragon Hall.'
What? Vetch was so shocked by that statement that all he could do was stand stark still and gape at the two of them, the mantle dangling loosely in his hands.
