If he'd wanted to. But if Vetch was any judge, that was absolutely the last thing that Baken wanted. To be free, certainly! To become the Overseer of the entire compound, possibly. To become a Jouster—never. There was a look in his eyes whenever a Jouster was about, a bland look that spoke more of scorn than respect…
Well, that was none of Vetch's business. Nor was it any of Vetch's concern. He had enough to worry about without concerning himself with Baken and his plans, when he had plans of his own. Maybe that was the reason why he couldn't hate Baken; he didn't have time or energy to spare to hate anyone.
First and foremost of his concerns was Avatre, and she was his last thought at night, the first every morning. It was true enough that the older she got, the more she blended in with the growing number of dragonets. But growing older and bigger meant becoming more and more active as well. By the end of that half moon, she was no longer just eating and sleeping. Whenever he cleaned her pen, she watched him alertly, bobbing her head in a way that made him laugh. When he buffed her, she stretched and crooned and bumped her head against his hand, begging for further caresses. She was moving a little around the sand—not much, but it was a portent of things to come as she took tentative, wobbling steps. With every day, she showed more personality, and with every day, he loved her more.
He thanked the gods whenever he had a moment to spare, for surely they were protecting her. Between the storms and the influx of dragonets, there was too much going on in the compound for anyone to be paying any attention to Vetch's activities as long as he went out of his way to draw no attention to himself, in any way, for any reason. Perhaps, given his reputation of being able to handle most dragons, people assumed he was spending his free time making friends with the new dragonets and those boys that were serfs, like him. Actually, he wished that he could.
But he didn't dare; for one thing, Avatre needed every spare moment, and for another, if he made friends, he increased the possibility that a new friend would come looking for him and discover him with her, and he was Kashet's boy, not the keeper of a dragonet. It was something of a torment, actually. He'd been so lonely up until now, with the others shutting him out. If this had happened before he'd hatched Avatre—
I could have had friends. I probably would never even consider trying to run.
Well, that was how the gods had decided things. And he could put up with a great deal of loneliness if it meant having her.
Everything conspired to help him, it seemed. The butchers kept plenty of small-chopped meat on hand now, and no one seemed to notice that Vetch was taking some at each feeding, even though Kashet was long past needing anything that small.
And, luckily, no one was keeping track of the sheer amount of meat he was taking. Even Haraket was too busy to supervise the dispensing of dragon meat; he left it to the butchers to make sure that the boys were leaving with completely filled barrows. Nobody ever asked about overfilled ones.
Ari wasn't paying a lot of attention to what he was doing either. The Jouster was working so hard of late that when he turned up at night to spend time with Kashet, he seldom spoke, just sat there, wearily, caressing the dragon's head in the silence. He had been recruited by Haraket to help train the new Jousters that the Commander of Dragons was bringing in, and when that duty was added to his own training and patrols, Vetch reckoned that Ari was stretched nearly as thin as his dragon boy was. That was all to the good; it kept him from noticing that Vetch was in and out of the pen next to Kashet's all the time.
Excitement kept him from feeling too exhausted. And if his day was crowded from dawn to dusk, well, it was crowded with good things rather than miseries.
The only bad thing was that now, instead of enjoying his meals, he had to bolt two of the three as fast as he could in order to keep on his frantic schedule. Since he'd taken to delaying his evening meal until after he'd given Avatre her last feeding for the day, that was the only one where he could actually sit down and taste what he ate. It wasn't too difficult to arrange for that either. With so many new dragon boys and additional servants and slaves to support them in the compound, it wasn't possible to feed them all at once, and there was more competition for getting your meals first than last.
The influx of servants and boys and trainers—and, eventually, it must be presumed, Jousters and yet more servants—had yet another effect on the compound. New slaves and servants meant more slaves and servants that needed training, monitoring, housing, feeding. Te-Velethat was absolutely frantic, for his charge was the domestic side of the compound, and although the Great King's Vizier had made ample provision for wages and slave purchases, the new staff still had to be acquired, fitted in, and trained. And provisions needed to be gotten for them, which meant more work in the stores and record keeping. He couldn't put all of that on Haraket anymore, not when the Vizier was looking over his shoulder to be sure his accounts were honest.
Vetch almost felt sorry for the man. But he was getting his own 'come-uppance,' as Vetch's mother used to say. If he hadn't been so concerned with his own status and lording it over all of his underlings, he would have had plenty of cooperation from people who were already trained and knew their business. Look at Haraket, for instance! Though the Overseer had a wicked temper, and never hesitated to use his tongue, fist, and very rarely, his whip where it was warranted, he was fair, honest, and never lorded it over anyone. And once you'd proved yourself to Haraket, he was perfectly ready to make allowances for your honest mistakes, or when you were just having a bad day. As a consequence, Haraket's people were falling over themselves to take on extra duties and train the new people.
On a clear night, six hands of days after that first horrible storm, Vetch put Avatre to bed with a full belly, and stayed with her until her eyes had closed and she was breathing deeply. The last of the sun god's radiance was gone from the sky; to the west, it was a lovely azure, to the east, the color of fine lapis, and overhead, stars were beginning to come out. A clear night meant that the sea witches would probably conjure a storm tomorrow, or next day at the latest; which meant that the Jousters would go out after more dragonets and there would be yet another influx of youngsters. Vetch headed for the kitchen court, feeling slightly melancholy.
The slaves and serfs who served the latecomers, when things were slower and mistakes easier to rectify,
