He knew from his experience with geese and Ari's stories about wild dragons that they didn't dare let Coresan go broody over her clutch.
So the very moment that eggs appeared, Haraket would, understandably, feel they had to take them as they appeared. For if she did go broody, they'd be in for nothing but trouble from her.
She might not even let them get near the eggs once she went broody. Someone might get hurt or even die trying to take the eggs, if her motherly instincts finally awoke. Hens were bad enough; all hens did was to peck the hand that tried to take their eggs from underneath them, and they frequently bruised or even drew blood. He did not even want to think about taking eggs from a broody dragon if their behavior was at all similar. Maybe you could do it at night, but given that he'd already seen Kashet awaken to accept attention from Ari long after he thought that the great beast was torpid, he wouldn't bet on a female dragon being unaware of what went on at night when she had eggs that she needed to tend.
Even if she didn't become protective of her clutch, if they waited to get her eggs away until after she went broody, they would probably have to give her infertile eggs, or dummy eggs to brood, or she would start looking for another mate with twice the energy she had used before. That was what happened in many birds, and if Coresan had been difficult before this—well, with the drive to mate in her at double strength, Vetch didn't think even he would be able to handle her.
So he could understand why Haraket would want to get each egg from her as she laid it, or shortly thereafter. He understood it, but that meant he would have to decide within a day or two what he was going to do.
Should he take this egg, for instance?
He could take the chance that the first egg would be fertile, and carry it off. He already knew when he could make his theft—at night, when the Jousters were in their quarters, the dragonboys at their recreations, and darkness would cover his actions. Coresan would be torpid, and would not notice him. More importantly, if she missed the egg in the morning, she would not know who had taken it.
And he knew where he would take it when he had it—one of the empty pens on either side of Kashet's. There were three times the number of pens than there were dragons, plenty of empty pens where an egg could incubate in the hot sands undisturbed. No one ever went into the empty pens, unless they happened to be storing something there. No one put two adult dragons next to one another, even if they appeared to get along, because of the chance that they would decide one day to fight one another. Or worse, chose one another as mates. Dragons were creatures that flocked together—sort of. They did spend a lot of time in a juvenile flock when they were young and not ready to mate, because clumsy juveniles working together were able to bring down prey that one alone couldn't manage. And when they weren't raising young, they also kept to a flock, but that could have been because natural hot places—natural sand wallows, sheltered places where the sun heated the sand, hot springs, and the like—were relatively few compared to the number of dragons. It could have been necessity that had them roosting together at night. But when they were fertile, they were like spotted hunting cats—sharing a territory just long enough to raise the dragonets to fledging, then parting again, and they would fight the dragon that had been a mate if there was a conflict over food, flock rank, or perches. So while there were plenty of extra pens, there was no need to take the risk of conflict by housing the beasts too closely together.
He would put the egg where it was easy to get to, and when it hatched (if it hatched), Kashet would probably ignore the dragonet as completely as he ignored other adult dragons. Just as he was alone among the other dragons in his affection for humans, he was alone in his indifference to his fellow dragons.
Now, instead of taking the first egg, he could wait, hope that no one noticed the growing clutch in the corner, and have his choice of eggs. Coresan could lay as many as four; he was giving her plenty of extra bone for the shells, which she would sorely need, to keep her hale and healthy. But the more eggs that appeared, the more likely it was that someone would get impatient and take a look for himself to see what Coresan was up to, and the more likely that she would go broody.
Take the first, or wait? He wavered between the two actions all day, the egg looming large in his mind the entire time. When Kashet and Ari came in, clearly tired from taking double patrols, he still had not decided. While the rest of the Jousters were still on the lighter duty of practice and patrol, they were on a full schedule; it was a good thing that Kashet was so strong and so willing.
'If I didn't know he was flying twice as far as the others every day, 1 wouldn't guess it,' Vetch said, as Ari handed him a lance and dismounted, as usual, with a pat on the shoulder for Kashet. 'He's tired, but not as exhausted as he could be. I think you're more tired than he is.'
'Well, perhaps it's because he was first-laid,' Ari said with a proud, if tired, smile. 'They hatch in order of being laid, about two days apart. First-born is supposed to be strongest and the smartest, but when the young ones are taken by dragonet hunters out in the wild, firstborn has usually fledged and gone, so they get whatever is left.'
Then Ari strode off without looking back, which was just as well, for Vetch was still standing there with his mouth open for a long moment after he was gone.
There it was, the deciding factor. Firstborn is the strongest. If Vetch was going to succeed, his dragon would have to be very big, very strong, and mature very quickly.
If that had not been enough, all of the conditions that night were perfect for him to move his egg. Most of the other dragon boys all went out that night, for it was a full moon, and the father of one of them, a fisherman, had promised to take them out for night fishing in the moonlight. The Jousters' quarters were full of music and voices; one of the others was holding festival with many of the Great King's nobles in attendance, and even Ari, as weary as he was, had consented to attend; the boys who were not out fishing had been pressed into service for the feast. The corridors outside the pens were flooded with light from the moon, and utterly deserted—and Coresan slept like a stone, probably exhausted from laying this, the first of her eggs.
