Alta

“And the boy will not have to wheel a barrowful of meat close to a testy dragon,” Lord Khumun mused. “I think that is a good compromise. Can you manage it?” he asked the dragon boy.

“My lord, if it will keep me out of range of his teeth, I can manage nearly anything,” the boy said fervently. Kiron could only reflect how fortunate it was that this was a swamp dragon; the pen was cleaned daily by flushing the pool, which was done from outside. If it had been a desert dragon on half rations—well, he was not sure even leaving it chained short would be protection enough for a boy to clean the pen.

“I will continue to watch his progress,” Aket-ten added. “And as soon as I think he is ready, we can put him on his full tala ration the same day.”

“Already you prove your worth,” Khumun said warmly, looking as if he was going to pat her on the head, but stopping before acting on the impulse. “Aket-ten, I am pleased to have your services; our gain is the Winged Ones’ loss. Now, I come to a question—will quarters among the female servants of our compound offend you? Your father specifically asked that you be housed here, but I have no better place to put you. I can arrange for a suite of several rooms with a bathing room to yourself, however. I can simply give you all four of the rooms around a courtyard. The quarters are plain and small, but they are clean and private.”

She grinned, and for a fleeting moment, Kiron saw the “old” Aket-ten. “Such an arrangement will not displease me at all, my Lord! I can send to my father for things to make such rooms more comfortable, if you could show me now.”

“So I shall.” Khumun looked at the boys of Kiron’s wing as if he had only just realized they were there. “Well—have you nothing to do?” he growled.

“Ah—yes, my Lord,” came a ragged chorus of voices, and they scattered before his glare like a covey of quail.

But not before several of them had cast Aket-ten a final appreciative glance; Kiron might have thought that she was oblivious to these attentions, but he caught her watching them under half- lowered eyelids, and saw the little smile of satisfaction she wore as she turned to follow Lord Khumun to her new quarters.

He groaned. That was hardly fair! Now he was going to have to compete with all the others—Oset-re with his handsome face, Gan with his glib tongue, Toreth with—with all of his advantages! No, that was not fair at all! How in the name of all the gods was he to compete with all of that?

Well, he could still do one thing that the others couldn’t, yet. He and Avatre could fly. And the servants’ quarters were just off the practice field. If she was in her courtyard and looked up, she would not be able to avoid seeing the two of them flying.

Avatre was only just big and heavy enough now to begin practicing that maneuver of Ari’s that had saved Kiron’s life, and of all of the tricks that he planned for his wing, that was the one he wanted them to master first. Yes, they practiced over the net—but so had the Tian Jousters, and an accident had happened anyway that would have ended in a death had Ari and Kashet not been there. If anyone from his wing fell from the back of his dragon, Kiron wanted everyone else to know how to catch him.

They were in the first stages of the trick at the moment. They were using a bag of barley half the weight of a man. One of the other Jousters carried it over his saddle, and let it slip off at a prearranged signal. Kiron had Avatre stationed at hover immediately below, so that the bag didn’t fall far or build up much momentum before she caught it, ducking her head under and sliding it along her neck to where he grabbed it. Even so, they missed about half the time, which might have been discouraging if Kiron hadn’t known how long it had taken Ari and Kashet to master the exercise. And unlike Ari, who had faced the scorn and amusement of his fellow Jousters right up until the moment when he actually saved someone, the Altan Jousters, who were knocked from their saddles far too often by the Tians with their bigger dragons, were well aware of the value of this “trick.” They only wished that their dragons would be willing to learn it. The fact that eventually there would be at least nine fighting Altan dragons who knew how to pluck a falling man out of the air provided a great deal of comfort to them.

So Kiron had full cooperation and help from the rest of the Jousters in the compound. It didn’t matter what they were doing at the time; when the one that was currently practicing with him had trouble with his swamp dragon growing restive over the unwelcome proximity of a desert dragon, another rider was willing to take the place of the first.

He and Avatre also practiced Jousting, of course, but he had more of a mind to take to the sky with a sling rather than a lance. Avatre would have to be full-sized before he could Joust, but he could use a sling now. The greatest limitation was that at the moment, she was not strong or fast enough to fly to the combat zones and return on the same day.

They practiced until both dragon and rider were tired; Kiron got in a little target practice while on the wing, just to keep Avatre used to the idea, then brought her in for a much-anticipated grooming and feeding.

He was not at all unhappy to see Aket-ten waiting for him in the landing courtyard when they came in. Now that Growing season had begun, and with it, warmer weather, she was wearing linen gowns instead of wool. And although it wasn’t the semi-transparent mist linen favored by the Priestess of Tia, her current gown certainly left even less to the imagination than the woolen gowns she’d been wearing during the rains. The wind kicked up by Avatre’s wings as she landed molded the front of the gown as tight to Aket-ten’s form as if it had been wet. He felt his ears grow hot.

“You two look very good,” Aket-ten said as he dismounted. She held out a hand for Avatre, who was perfectly happy to slide her head under it for a rub. “I would have expected her to be as clumsy as a puppy, trying anything that complicated.”

“It isn’t the first time,” he admitted, then added awkwardly, “You look very nice.”

The compliment sounded very flat to him, even as he spoke it, but what else was he to say? You are prettier than any of the women who chased Ari was not better! And You don’t look like a little girl anymore was even worse.

She dimpled at him. “My Akkadian friend Heklatis had some very good ideas about how I should dress and act, and made sure to help me make these things into habits, as well as rebuilding my wardrobe,” she said, with some amusement. “For a man who does not find women attractive, he has excellent taste and sound notions. I miss my tunics—but I might as well keep my child lock as stick to the things I used to wear.” She sighed. “I wish it was not the case, but he convinced me that how I will dress for the next several years will profoundly affect how people treat me. If I am to be taken seriously, and not dismissed as a hysterical child when I accuse the Magi of wrongdoing, then I must sacrifice some of my freedom and dress the part of a woman. I am quite indebted to him, actually. Even people who knew me in my cradle have been treating me as if they had just realized that I do know what I am doing, and I am not having childish tantrums.”

“They are treating you as an adult, because you look like one as well as act like one,” Kiron agreed. “Even your father was affected.” Then added, “Oh, except Orest, of course.”

“Of course.” She laughed. “When has a brother ever treated a younger sister as if she had grown up?”

Possibly when he realizes that Gan, Oset-re, and Toreth are flirting with her, Kiron thought—and the thought gave him a feeling of gloom for a moment. After all, how could he even hope to compete with the likes of them? Wealth, power, the highest breeding—

But I’m the wing leader and trainer, he reminded himself. They don’t have that. And they’re still tending babies, not flying combat training.

“Have you gone to see the dragonets yet?” he asked.

She laughed. “If I hadn’t, the others of your wing would have had seizures by now,” she said merrily. “Yes, I’ve seen all of them. And I would never, ever say this to their faces, but the poor little things look terribly unfinished compared with Avatre. However, I’ve Spoken to all of them, and I can tell you that they are all amazingly healthy and thriving. My only recommendation is to get them all toys now and get them interested in playing. They may be clumsy, and they may not be able to do more than mouth pretty colored things, but their minds need stimulation as much as their bodies do.” She pursed her lips a moment. “In fact, you had better get Bethulan and Re-eth-katen twice as many toys as the rest, and more interesting ones, because they will get bored the soonest. Perhaps systrums that they can rattle, or soft things that they can carry about and worry like puppies.”

He made a mental note to see to it. “Avatre needs a grooming,” he told her. “And I know she likes your company. Would you like to come along?”

“No, by now, the servants are back with my things,” she told him, and he bit back disappointment. “If I don’t