He quickly took his burden out, shoving it along in front of himself as fast as he could manage without spilling it. In fact, some of that damage to the dragons was proving out rather audibly, as the dragons of the compound awoke for the day. As he wheeled his barrow back to Avatre's pen, he could hear the injured dragons as they hissed and whined in pain when they tried to move. From what the other boys said, there were plenty of riders who were just as damaged, including several who would probably choose to see a Healing-Priest. In the course of that mad dash, dragons had been tossed around in the air like so many dead leaves, and some Jousters had held to their seats only at the cost of injury. And here he was divided in his emotions; he was immensely pleased that finally Alta had struck a blow against Tia, but these dragons were not to blame for what was going on, and he knew many of them personally. He hated to see them hurt.
At least their injuries were only temporary. And Ari and Kashet had come home fine. He soothed his conscience by telling himself that if Alta had sent a storm with more lightning, or could have directed it, there would be a lot worse than sprains and strains.
He fed Avatre quickly; she was more than pleased to cooperate in that regard, swallowing as fast as he popped pieces into her mouth, until the skin was tight enough over her belly to drum on. Then she gave an enormous yawn, blinked, and plopped herself down into the sand to sleep.
By then, the rain had faded to nothing, but he left the canopy over the pen anyway. It wouldn't hurt anything, no one would particularly care, and it would keep anyone flying over the compound from seeing her.
Kashet was not only no worse for wear, he was happy to see Vetch, feeling playful—and in good temper and appetite. He buried his muzzle in the barrow, and Vetch went to get his harness. Sure enough, Ari did appear, just as Kashet was finishing, his flying helmet dangling from one hand.
"No more than half of the Jousters are going out on morning patrol," Ari said. And at Vetch's worried look, he added, with a little nod, "Don't be too concerned. It's going to be a short one. We're just checking to see that no troops moved in or sabotage was done under cover of the storm."
By then, Vetch had finished the harnessing, but rather than have Vetch pull the canopy back so they could take off from the pen, Ari motioned to him to leave it alone, and led Kashet out to the landing court.
Is he thinking there is going to be more rain? He might well be, actually. But if the patrol is going to be short—
Then he'd better get busy if he was going to clean up after Kashet and Avatre, feed the dragonet again, and take care of his other chores.
He ran for breakfast, bolted it down, ran back to the pens, glad for all the good feeding he'd been getting, for he was much stronger now, even if he wasn't much taller. He cleaned the pens, filled the barrow, ran with it to the place where the droppings were left. He checked on Avatre, and he woke her to stuff her again, though her belly clearly wasn't empty. Still, his mother always said that a baby could always eat, and she was no exception to that truism. Then he cleaned her pen and ran the barrow out again, hiding the much smaller droppings among the rest, adding them to the running tally so that no one would wonder why there were more than had been accounted for. Then he was back in Kashet's pen, and just in time, for even as he checked to make certain that he hadn't forgotten anything, he heard the dragons coming back in, wings flapping heavily in the still air.
They were very early, it was a good thing he'd gone everywhere at the run…
When Ari brought Kashet in, the latter was almost as fresh as when he'd gone out. "Leave the canopies on," Ari said, as the dragon ducked his head to come in under the canvas. "We're in for a rather wet season of growing, I'm afraid—not that I think it's going to harm anything."
"It won't," Vetch replied, out of his own experience. "It'll just save farmers needing to open the irrigation ditches as often. At least, it won't as long as it's just rain."
"Let's hope, then, that the sea witches can't conjure hail out of the clouds, then," Ari said soberly. "You should be ready for us to come back early this afternoon, too. Until we're ordered otherwise by the Commander of Dragons, the senior Jousters have decided that no patrol is going to go outside of the borders established by the last truce."
Yes, and wasn't that the point of the last truce, that you weren't to fly outside the boundaries? Vetch asked in his mind, and some of that anger he'd managed to keep bottled up stirred restlessly again. Maybe if you'd stayed inside them, this wouldn't have happened? Maybe if you didn't keep pushing past those boundaries, taking what isn't yours?
He shoved the anger back down, and just nodded. It wasn't Ari's fault, and Ari was troubled, more than troubled, by the greedy land grabs among those who wanted the borders pushed back still further. "So, short patrols, then?" he asked instead, lifting the saddle onto its rack.
"Just over our own lands, looking for trouble," Ari replied, with a twitch to the corner of his mouth. Vetch cast a sharp glance at him, and it occurred to him that Ari didn't seem to be at all displeased about that.
But of course, he wouldn't say so, not where he could be overheard.
And he had to always remember, always, that no matter what, no matter how kind Ari was to him or what the Jouster confided to him, he was still an Altan serf, and Ari was a Tian Jouster. And if he wanted to keep Avatre, he must never forget that.
As Vetch labored mightily to get all of his work done and keep Avatre's belly full that day, the compound itself was full of activity, a great deal of it rather disorganized and smacking of controlled panic.
He was getting a hasty bath just before lunch when he heard chanting approaching the bathing room, and just as he started to leave, he had to duck back inside to avoid colliding with a procession of what must have been fully half the priests of the Great Temple of Haras on Temple Road. Chanting and setting spells of protection, accompanied by little priestesses with sistrums and boys with drums, it appeared that they were determined to cover every corridor of the compound, and in the process, get in everyone's way. Every priest wore a striped headcloth with the mask of Haras gleaming from the front, and a falcon pectoral in gold with a matching belt across his snowy white robe. The priestesses all were in filmy gowns of mist linen with wide collars of gold, carnelian, and lapis beads and gold cords around their waists, their wigs done in hundreds of tiny braids, each one ending in a bead, and a latas flower centered just over each one's brow with the stem trailing down her back. Behind them came six slaves bearing feather fans on long poles, though what they were supposed to do in the chill, and the damp, Vetch had no idea.
They weren't the only ones either. Racing from cleaning Ari's rooms, Vetch ran into a procession of the priests of Siris and Iris, who, not to be outdone, arrived to replicate the first effort! The same sort of procession, with music and magical chanting, only the costumes differed. The priestesses of Iris wore the horns of the moon on their brows, and their gowns were tight sheaths of red linen that ended just below their breasts, with wide bands of embroidered and beaded material that served as straps running over their breasts and shoulders, while the priests wore helmets much like the Great King's war crown and intricately wrapped kilts with heavy, beaded belts.