But Ari had been right; no one rushed forward to claim an egg in order to repeat Ari's experiment.
Vetch couldn't understand it. Especially given what Kashet and Ari had done in saving Reaten. It should have been obvious to a blind man that Ari's way was the superior one. When you hatched and raised your own dragon, you got a beast that was so much easier to handle, and so much more cooperative! Why would anyone even think of taming a dragon any other way?
But no. And when he asked, cautiously, he got the same answer that Ari had given him. The Jousters much preferred the old ways—hunting the nests of dragonets about to fledge, trapping them, and confining them while they were tamed.
And it was clear, the more questions he asked, that they saw nothing obviously inferior in the way their dragons were trained, either. Dosing them with tola, training them until they were broken to the saddle and accepted a rider, and schooling them with increasingly heavy weights on their backs until they were grown enough to carry an adult Jouster, might be harder in the long run than Ari's way, but it meant that the Jousters themselves didn't have to do a thing until they were presented with a dragon already trained.
But this was hardly the way to tame a wild thing and turn its heart toward you. Even Vetch knew that.
What was more, besides knowing little or nothing about the taming, the Jousters weren't even involved in the primary training of their mounts. The poor things would pass through several hands before they came to a Jouster—one group of hunters to trap the fledglings, then a coterie of trainers to make them tractable, then a dragon boy to see to their needs. By the time they finished their training, it was yet another stranger who rode them and commanded them, Jousters who never saw them except when it was time to ride. Small wonder none of them loved their Jousters. Only Ari and Kashet had that bond of trust between them that made for more than a grudging service.
And not even a lowly dragon boy, much less a Jouster, seemed to understand how a bond like that enriched every moment of both of their lives.
But then again, Vetch had seen how the other Jousters lived, in quarters that were certainly better than Khefti-the-Fat's, with almost anything they could have wanted at their command. And in return for this, they rode patrols twice a day, fought Altan Jousters now and again, occasionally joined the Great King's armies in battle, and trained and drilled. Very light duty compared to, say, that of a spearman or a bowman. Extremely light work compared with almost any craftsman, or a laborer.
But to follow Ari's path, once the dragonet hatched, a Jouster would have to do the very considerable work of both a dragon boy and a trainer, work that would be demanding and might be considered beneath him.
Perhaps that was the real reason why none of them were interested.
But why wouldn't some other dragon boy seek to duplicate the feat?
Perhaps because, in the end, they were lazy. What had happened with Vetch and Coresan was very different in nature from taking on a dragonet. Coresan was a "productive" dragon, trained and ready for another Jouster once the eggs were laid. A dragonet would not be ready for patrol and combat for two to four years. Haraket would hardly allow any of the dragon boys to slack on their regular duties to take on the care and feeding of a second dragonet. At least, Vetch didn't think so. From Haraket's point of view, a dragon boy's duty came first, and a dragonet would be—a hobby. Something he could do if his duties permitted it, but not the sort of experiment that would permit him to shirk things like the leatherwork, the tala preservation, or the cleaning.
Even if, contrary to Vetch's expectations, Haraket did permit such a boy to devote himself only to his dragon and his dragonet, even with the other chores taken off his hands, that was still a lot of work. And as the dragonet grew, the burden would become greater, not smaller, for to those tasks would be added that of trainer. A dragon boy would have to be willing to do the work of three, which would leave him exactly no time for himself.
Yes, that might well be the answer; the others valued their own ease over the possibility of becoming another Ari, with another treasure such as Kashet.
Well, let them be shortsighted. That just made it easier to do what he wanted to do.
On that first day, as he had buffed and oiled his new charge, his mind had been entirely on what he might do and how to do it. Once it was obvious that the only thing he needed to guard against was discovery, not rivalry, nothing else particularly mattered.
The day after the rescue proved to be very interesting. With Ari off in the morning flying Reaten's patrol instead of training, Vetch devoted the time to Coresan, getting her used to being handled properly. That consisted of taking her around and around her pen on a lead, and teaching her that it was more pleasant to follow him than to fight him. He did not flinch when she snapped, he did not scream at her or prod her with an ox goad when she balked. He simply let her fight the collar, then learn that when she stopped fighting, all was well again. He took the lessons in short sessions, so as not to aggravate her, and he always ended them when she had done a complete circuit of the pen without misbehaving.
When Ari and Kashet returned, Vetch had already fed Coresan her midday meal. After Coresan had buried herself in her hot sand to drowse away her second meal of the day, Vetch fed and groomed Kashet to within an inch of his life. And before the grooming, Kashet got something he well deserved; Vetch had not forgotten his promise to Ari to reward Kashet with the treat of ox hearts. He'd gotten half a basket yesterday, and the butchers had promised Vetch more today.
With Coresan sleeping, Vetch and his empty barrow made the trek to the butchers, who practically fell all over themselves to cull out the delicacy for the dragon hero of the hour. By this time, everyone in the entire compound, from the old man who swept the corridors to the Commander of Dragons, had heard what Ari and Kashet had done; it made Vetch wonder just how much peace Ari was going to get, after all. Kashet got a full basket of his favorite treats, and he savored them; once fed, Vetch made sure that every inch of him gleamed with buffing and oil, telling him the whole time what a fine and brave, and above all, clever fellow he was.
If Kashet had been a cat, he would have purred, and not just because of Vetch's ministrations. People kept coming to the door of the grooming pens to admire him, and Vetch was sure that it wasn't his imagination that made him think there was a certain posing look about the great dragon whenever another admirer appeared. Nor did he think he was deluding himself that Kashet took care to display himself to best advantage on the side where people were.
And with every word of praise, he arched his neck a little more, and flashed his eyes at Vetch, and became even more relaxed and happy. There was no doubt that he enjoyed hearing the tone of Vetch's voice, but of late Vetch had to wonder just how much of the words he also understood. The more time he spent with Kashet, the more certain he became that the dragons were far more intelligent than any Jouster—except, perhaps, Ari—really guessed. In the happier days on the family farm, he'd seen their little donkey work the harder for praise, and admiration had doubled the number of mice laid out for inspection by the granary cat. Kashet was easily as intelligent as either beast.
Still, beast he was, for he showed no signs of the thinking ability of a man. Nor did any other dragon; well, if they had been that clever, they'd have all slipped their chains and flown far out of reach a long, long time ago.