Oh, yes, this was certainly a case of the right chickens coming home to roost.
On the other hand, if a Jouster couldn't master a dragon like Coresan, at least with Beskela he could get patrolling done and wouldn't get anyone else in trouble.
Vetch went back to work, his jealousy fading. Coresan had a good Jouster, it seemed, one of whom Haraket approved. For that, he was grateful. Coresan was no Kashet, but he had been getting rather fond of her.
Still, it rankled, to be treated as if he was nothing more than a mobile saddle rack, and otherwise ignored.
When Coresan came back in, it was very clear that her new Jouster was going to continue ignoring Vetch, and it was only because he had gotten to like Coresan that Vetch didn't go straight to Haraket and demand to be put back on his old duties, serving Ari only. This was like the treatment he had gotten from the other dragon boys, only worse. Why, he didn't even learn the Jouster's name for three days, and then only discovered it when he overheard another Jouster asking, "Well, Neftat, and how do you like our prime virago, Coresan? Or do you wish you had Beskela back?"
Neftat asked him nothing about Coresan—though he did examine every inch of her every time he took her out. He continued to act as if Vetch was a mere convenience, of no import except that he kept the dragon fed, watered, clean, and comfortable.
Still, he treated Coresan well, and paid as much heed to her moods as an attentive lover would have. She was out of shape, and he was putting her back in shape on a reasonable schedule, being neither too demanding nor too lax. He was a good rider for her.
But.
Finally, he couldn't stand it. He went to Haraket.
But once he got the Overseer's attention, he hesitated. How could he, a mere serf, complain about a Jouster?
He decided that it wouldn't be a complaint, exactly.
"Overseer," he said, choosing his words with the greatest of care, "What is my—my relationship to be to Coresan's Jouster?"
"Relationship?" Haraket asked, with a lifted brow. "None, and I told him as much. You aren't Coresan's boy—you're Kashet's. I don't want him giving you orders that may conflict with something Ari's asked you to do, so I told him to leave you alone while I find Coresan a good boy."
Suddenly, Vetch was very glad that he hadn't voiced an actual complaint, for he would have looked very stupid. "Thank you, Overseer," he said, with utmost politeness. "I—ah—wasn't sure what I should be doing, with regard to Jouster Neftat." And he bowed properly, and got out of Haraket's way as quickly as he could, thanking the gods that he had learned to think before he blurted something out. How much less trouble he would have been in, if only he had kept his mouth shut over the years! He took care to smile at Neftat from then on, even if the latter didn't appear to take any notice.
At least with both Coresan and Seftu back on patrol, Ari could stop doing double-duty. Vetch had the idea that he was sleeping a good deal. Certainly Kashet was!
Haraket was as good as his word, too. By the time the planting season was over, in fact, within a moon, Haraket found another dragon boy for Coresan, another serf from a stolen farm like Vetch.
Presumably, having found that Vetch was such a good worker, Haraket was willing to try another of the same type.
Haraket brought the replacement in one afternoon, without any fanfare, though he had taken the time to get the new boy cleaned up, kilted, and all before he brought him to the pen. With any dragon, that was a good idea; they were used to Jousters and dragon boys in their uniform kilts and kit, and dragons were creatures of habit. Even the few servants like Haraket and the slaves wore pretty much the same uniforms, which varied only in quality of materials. Presumably a dragon couldn't tell the difference between coarse linen and fine, and the similarity of costume told the dragons who "belonged" here, and who didn't.
However, just the previous day Coresan had reacted poorly to the presence of a pretty woman friend of Coresan's Jouster, Neftat. The bright fluttering gauze of her gown, the high voice, the jangling jewelry—whatever it was had made Coresan rear up and hiss angrily, her tail giving one of those vicious lashes that Vetch had not quite managed to train her out of.
Neftat had in his turn reacted as Vetch would have wanted, shooing his lady friend outside. This was one of the only times when Neftat actually spoke to Vetch.
"Keep her company for a moment," he'd ordered (rather than requested). The tone made Vetch grind his teeth, but he obeyed, though he had no idea how to amuse a lady. He listened to Neftat soothing his dragon with one ear, while he directed the lady's attention to the carvings on the walls, the construction of the pens, even the dragons peering over the pens with interest at them— babbling foolishly whatever came into his head in an effort to distract her.
Fortunately, Neftat finally came out and apologized to the lady. Vetch hadn't even waited to hear what he said.
But now—it looked as if his patience wasn't going to be on trial for much longer.
"Vetch, this is Fisk," Haraket said shortly. "He's a serf; I want him for Coresan's boy. If you can train him to take Coresan, do it." And he left, with the two boys staring awkwardly at one another.
It was Fisk who made the first move, though. "Ah," he said, ducking his head in unconscious submission. "Could be you'd give me your name?"
Vetch had to smile, then; he knew in part how Fisk must be feeling, but poor Fisk knew nothing about his would-be mentor, perhaps not even that Vetch was a serf! The hair should tell him, but Fisk might not know that only Altan serfs wore their hair long as a sign of their indentured nature. "Vetch," he replied. "And I'm a serf, too." He looked the other boy up and down; could it be that Fisk had been a farmer's boy, too? "Well, if I'm to teach you about Coresan, what do you know about animals in general?"
"Ah. Mostly I've tended goats," Fisk ventured, and looked up at Coresan, who looked curiously down at him. "That be a mighty big goat…"
For a heart-stopping moment, Vetch thought the other boy was feeble-minded, but then he saw the slow grin, and realized with relief that Fisk was joking.
And it soon was apparent that Haraket had chosen well, so far as Coresan was concerned, for Fisk was not afraid of her, and had more experience with intractable creatures than Vetch ever had. For one thing, he was two years older than Vetch—and what was more, Fisk had actually been a goatherd in charge of a large number of animals, and goats could be the most stubborn and evil-minded domestic creatures ever created; he might not be very bright, but he was eminently practical, and he had a good rapport with beasts. Unlike Vetch, he hadn't had a family to lose, as he was already an orphan when the Tians came, tending the herd of goats for a surly uncle. As a consequence, life in the Jouster's compound was more than an improvement, it was an improvement without any previous loss attached. He had never really known what it was like to be free or to have a close-knit family, for his father was dead and his mother had been her brother-in-law's servant. While she loved her son, she had been able to give him nothing but her love while her brother-in-law worked her to death and bid fair to repeat his treatment with her son.
Now, with only a single, nonwandering creature to be in charge of, good treatment, and much better food, Fisk was convinced he'd fallen into a honey pot. He'd understood exactly what Vetch meant when he described Coresan's quirks and personality, and he didn't let her bully him.