Joust

He was no stranger to the slaughter of farm stock but never on a scale like this, and never anything bigger than a goat.

There were carcasses of enormous cattle, goats, sheep, stacked up as casually as mud bricks, being hacked up by the butchers into hand-sized and head-sized chunks, and the sight made him feel sick and dizzy.

And for a moment, all he could think of was the last sight of his father, covered with his own blood—and the anger surged, but the fear and sickness that followed buried it, and he had to clutch the wall and put his burning back up against it to keep from fainting.

But curiously, as the shock wore off, he saw there was no blood, or very little. "This is all fresh from the Temple sacrifices," Haraket was saying, quite as if he had not noticed Vetch's reaction, as the nearest of the butchers tossed chunks of meat, bone-in, skin-on, into a barrow parked next to his chopping block. "It's a nice piece of economy when you think about it. Every day, hundreds of animals are sacrificed to the gods or cut up for divination ceremonies, but there's no use for the bodies when the blood and spirit have drained away."

As Haraket spoke, Vetch began to get control of himself again. It was only meat. No animals were being killed here. It was only meat.

Of course, the Tians believed that the gods required only the blood and the mana of the creatures sacrificed on the altars. There were so many gods, and so many people who needed their favor—he had never actually been to the Avenue of Temples in Mefis, but he had heard tales, heard that there were a hundred gods or more, and almost as many temples, and all of them got sacrifices daily. Not just the bread and beer and honey, the flowers, and the occasional fowl of the little Temple of Hamun, Sins, and Iris in the village, but live beasts, and entire herds of them.

"There aren't enough priests in the world to consume all that flesh," Haraket continued, "Even if they were as fat as houses. So it comes to us, who can certainly use it. That's why they built the Jouster's Compound on the Temple Road. So—ah, he's filled that barrow, now you take it."

The barrow was heavy and hard to push, but Vetch was accustomed to be ordered to do things that were difficult. Haraket watched critically as he grabbed the handles and started shoving, then took the lead. Vetch kept the barrow rolling, following Haraket back to Kashet's pen at a much slower pace than they had taken to get to the butchers' place. Haraket kept his strides short, although he did not bother to look at Vetch more than once or twice.

Already, though, things were profoundly different than they had been under Khefti. The Overseer was not chiding him nor punishing him for taking too long with the barrow. Not once had he been cuffed for stupidity, or had his ears boxed for asking a question. Once again, Vetch dared to hope.

Kashet was watching for them; Vetch saw the now-familiar head peering over the walls long before they got to the opening of the pen. Kashet didn't wait for him to bring the food all the way into the pen either; no sooner had Vetch gotten to the part of the corridor immediately outside the entrance than the dragon snaked his neck out of the doorway and snatched a chunk of meat from the barrow in his powerful jaws, startling Vetch so that he jumped and squeaked involuntarily.

But Haraket gave him a long and measuring look, and after a pause while his heart pounded, Vetch continued pushing the barrow forward, telling himself that if Kashet had wanted to eat him, he'd have gone down that long throat while he was still struggling with the saddle.

Kashet plucked chunks from the barrow three more times before Vetch parked it where Haraket pointed. He ate neatly, if voraciously, snatching up a chunk of meat, tossing back his head, and swallowing it whole. Vetch could even see it traveling down his long neck by the bulge it caused.

But he never so much as gave Vetch a threatening or speculative look. Haraket stood at the side of the sand pit with his arms crossed casually over his massive chest, completely relaxed. Vetch tried to copy his example, though his heart raced in his chest.

But Kashet was not in the least interested in Vetch, only what was in the barrow. And in fact, the dragon began to remind Vetch of a falcon, a little, in the neat single-mindedness with which he filled his belly.

"He's an easy charge, so long as you do well by him," Haraket said, speaking quietly. "The only time he's even offered a snap at someone was when the idiot boy forgot his evening feed and he didn't get a meal until morning. By the God Haras, I'd have snapped, too! And the fool blubbed at me after, and thought I'd feel sorry for him!" Haraket snorted. "I pitched that one out on his ear myself."

Vetch vowed never to be so much as a moment late with one of Kashet's meals.

Haraket frowned, though not at Vetch. "That was Kashet's first boy; two dragon boys we've lost now, and Kashet's the easiest beast in the compound! He takes a bit more time in tending perhaps, but by the gods, it isn't the kind of time you waste with one who's hell-bent on not going where you want him to!" The Overseer sighed. "Maybe it's Ari. He doesn't pet and praise his boys, take them along to feasts, the way some of the others do. And there's no profit to be made out of him…" Haraket turned, ever so slightly, and looked out of the corner of his eye at Vetch.

Vetch kept his mouth shut. Haraket was telling him this for a reason, and if he didn't yet know what the reason was, soon or late he'd find out about it.

Besides, that angry little voice inside him reminded him, it isn't as if you have a choice. It's here, or Khefti.

When the barrow was empty, Kashet heaved an enormous sigh, and returned to the hot sand. This time he dug himself a depression in the middle of it, and stretched his entire length within it. Within moments, he was, to Vetch's astonishment, deeply asleep.

"He'll sleep like that until it's time to go out again this afternoon," Haraket said, with a little noise that sounded like a fond chuckle. "You couldn't wake him now if you tried. Ari was back early from his patrol—so we've just enough time to get you kitted up and clean and fed before I show you the afternoon jobs." He paused, and raised an eyebrow. "And I believe we should do something about those stripes of yours, too."

Vetch almost gaped at him in shock. Never, ever, had one of his masters offered to do anything about the marks of a beating!

With that, they left Kashet wallowing in the sand, sleeping off his meal in the noontime sun that beat straight down on him, met by the heat radiating up from the sand. Haraket hustled Vetch off again, again to a room, and not an open-air courtyard, though it was not nearly as huge as the butchery. This was a very fine room indeed, with plain, honey-colored limestone walls, narrow openings near the ceiling to bring in air and light while excluding the full cruelty of the sun and the kamiseen. It even had a stone floor. The only buildings that Vetch had ever seen that were made of stone like this were temples, and he found himself trying not to gape. Along one side of this room were ranged full terra-cotta jars of water as tall as Vetch was, with wooden or horn ladles hung on their sides. There were also neatly-folded piles of fabric on shelves above the jars, what looked like smaller pottery jars of unguents and possibly soap. And to clinch that this room was for bathing, there was a drain in the center of the floor.

Haraket shoved him inside as he stood hesitantly on the threshold. "Strip," he ordered Vetch, abruptly. "I hope you know how to wash."