'No one seems to have worked out that your people have nothing left to lose,' Ari had said, only last night, 'And that is a position you never want to put someone in. When you've nothing left to lose, there's no reason not to try whatever you can to win something back. The Heyksin learned that lesson from us, to their cost. I find it difficult to understand why we have not made the connection for ourselves.'
Vetch thought about that all during his chores, and wondered just what he might have tried out of desperation, if he'd still been under Khefti, and was older. Probably just about anything, for nothing short of death could have been worse than the conditions he'd been living under.
Maybe that was why the other boys would have nothing to do with him. Under their taunts, they were afraid. They didn't know what he might do; they didn't realize that there wasn't a chance that he would jeopardize what he had here. He was worse than a wild dragon to them, unpredictable and possibly dangerous.
In a way, that cheered him up a little, and yet, for some reason he could not understand, it also made him— sad.
'I've been doing some reading in the law scrolls,' Ari said that night, with the great delicacy he always used when he was going to talk about Vetch's past, 'Perhaps a bit dry, but it seemed to me that I ought to make certain what protections the law provides you, given what your former master attempted to try. It seems that there are laws about the Altan farmers—that there are treaties, that we can't just come in and confiscate land unless there's proof that the landowner in question fought against us or harbors and gives protection to enemy fighters.'
'Those laws didn't protect my father,' Vetch replied bitterly.
'And it doesn't sound as if they are protecting anyone else either.'
'Well, you know, if I were someone unscrupulous and I wanted a rich farm in a recently-annexed territory,' Ari said, after a long silence. 'I believe that I would bribe the Commander of Hundreds to send out some Captain that was a friend of mine to investigate farms and farmers on newly-won lands. And I believe I'd tell that friend that it would be to his advantage if, on one particular farm, there happened to be an incident. After all, if a farmer flies into a rage and attacks the Captain of Ten in full view of his own men, well… at that point the law doesn't protect him, and his lands are clearly going to be legally confiscated.'
'I suppose,' was all Vetch replied, feeling the all-too-familiar knot in his stomach. Then Kashet gave him a reason to change the subject to a more comfortable one, by making a peculiar, hollow whistle in his throat, a mournful sound that made both of them jump. 'Why does he do that?' Vetch asked.
'I think,' Ari replied, as an answering whistle came from the next occupied pen, 'it's so that they all know where each of the dragons in the flock are, even at night when they're asleep. Ah, Vetch, speaking of knowing where someone is, I won't be coming tomorrow afternoon, but I'd like you to come clean my quarters anyway. I'm going into the Mefis markets to get a few things. It won't be long before the rains stop, the Flood comes and goes, and we have to go back on full duty.'
Ari didn't said anything more on the subject of the laws regarding farms in conquered land, but that had left Vetch wide awake and staring at the stars of Nofret's Robe long into the night. It made sense; it made hideous sense. And, in a curious way, it settled his mind, for if this was the true answer, it wouldn't have mattered how hard Kiron tried to keep his temper when the soldiers came. No matter what happened, the whole scene had been scripted beforehand. No matter how reasonable he had tried to be, it was fore-ordained that Vetch's father would be forced into a position where he would have to attack the officer. The provocation would have gone on until the desired result was achieved.
Maybe Kiron had even sacrificed himself for the good of his family, or thought he had. Vetch really didn't know (other than the insults) everything that had been said to his father on that fateful day. Maybe the Captain had threatened awful things to Vetch's mother and sisters. Maybe the insults had just hit Kiron on a raw nerve. Vetch would never know.
But the next afternoon when he returned from cleaning the Jouster's quarters, he found that Ari had brought something back from the market that wasn't for himself or for Kashet, and had left it under the awning where Vetch kept his few belongings.
It was a funerary shrine, a tiny thing no bigger than the box that held a scribe's tools and also served as a desk. With it was a small sebti-figure painted like a prosperous Altan farmer.
It wasn't a Tian shrine either; it was Altan. Such things were not outlawed, after all, for it would be futile to try and prevent even a conquered people from worshiping the gods they'd known all their lives. Futile and stupid, for doing so would guarantee that the worship would go on underground, and probably would result in riots eventually. Besides, the Altan and Tian gods were hardly incompatible; in some cases they differed only in name, and that slightly.
But the Tians believed that a dead man's body must be preserved in order for him to enjoy his life across the Star River, and that grave goods here meant possessions there. For the Altans, even if the body was not preserved, nor given a proper funeral, all could still be well if one of the family or friends saw to it that there was a shrine, a sebti figure properly named, representations of offerings, and the proper prayers. All of which, of course, had been denied to Kiron.
Until now, that is.
Vetch stared at the beautifully made object with his mouth dropping open. Step by step, he ventured to his corner and squatted beside the little shrine. It was basically a box, with a hinged lid, and a series of compartments inside. One held a sarcophagus to put the sebti in, another a set of farming implements in miniature, then came a pair of oxen, an entire herd of goats, a flock of geese, another of chickens, tiny beer jars, minuscule bread loaves, cheeses, bunches of onions, sacks of grain, even a pair of blank-faced nameless shapti-figures to serve as servants.
