Ileth couldn’t think of anything else to do but hug her. “I’m so sorry for your . . . for your brother. As f-for the rest, well, endings and . . . endings and beginnings. Who knows which this is.”
14
The days passed slowly. Ileth would rise early, warm up by running over to the dragon (the first time one of the Baron’s household saw her running, they rang the fire bell but they soon accustomed themselves to her strange brand of femininity), and do her drills and fatigues. Fespanarax slept, or pretended to, through them. After asking Fespanarax whether he desired food or cleaning that day she would run back with hot muscles, wash up in cold water (in the Freesand, few had the time and money to set up hot baths), and breakfast with Galia. Then it was back to the dragon for the two of them to see to his feeding and appearance, where they spent most mornings with Fespanarax attending to his teeth and scale.
Ileth used the time to improve her knowledge of dragon care and grooming. Galia, while not exactly happy to teach her as she felt not nearly enough of an expert herself, instructed her in the art. In return Ileth improved Galia’s Galantine (Ileth’s own was being improved simply because it was in use constantly, as the servants and family relayed messages to both of them through her), and often Taf or Young Azal helped her by speaking simple commands and giving her old scrawled-up copybooks the smaller children used. Galia found the latter quite interesting, as each page was about one third filled by a woodcut illustration full of intricacy, intended to teach as many moral lessons as the artist could cram into it.
The tools involved in dragon care were closer to those needed for a smithy than, say, horse care, other than some stiff bristle brushes for scouring the dragon off and cleaning his teeth. There were files for taking burrs off a piece of scale that might irritate the dragon and a big gripping sort of thing such as was used by farriers to pull horseshoe nails that they used to pull scale. The Baron was allowed to keep any scale removed from the dragon and do with it as he liked according to the captivity agreements. Dragons regarded a scale being pulled as a minor pain, perhaps comparable to having a hair plucked, judging from the mild wince it evoked. Ileth always made sure to get the dragon’s permission and show the scale that needed pulling before doing so. They had a little sewing table with some probes and tools for removing parasites, and needles and strands of gut for rends in the wings (which he didn’t get because he could fly only under special circumstances). The only tool the Baron lacked was a reamer for the ears and nose, but they made do with a brush handle that had some soft pads such as Galantine women use as their monthly dressings stapled to it and soaked in white vinegar.
Fespanarax bore it with his usual humor, which is to say little.
Sometimes they helped out in the gardens later in the day after the sun passed its meridian. Spring seemed in a rush and there was a tremendous amount of work to do in the flower beds and herb garden, the traditional areas of the soil allotted to Galantine ladies of significance. The rest of the family played lawn games if the sun was not too fierce, and most of them wore broad hats and gloves when outdoors. The babies had sun tents. Galantine children could get sunburned only between the ages of five and puberty.
More often than not they ate with the family, and they dined in a far more extravagant fashion than they would have in the Serpentine, unless they cooked for themselves or quietly ate bread and cheese during the mysterious Galantine fast days, which came every ten days or so.
Galantine dinners for the immense family were generally served by setting up the dishes at one long side table, filling the plates from the platters and tureens, and then sitting down at another table to eat in shifts. The Baron served his wife or they had their plates brought by servants, the husbands served their wives, the older children served the younger, the governesses and nannies and nurses served the still younger children, and winds only knew who served the servants, perhaps the cats and dogs prowling about the place who would then be served by the mice, Ileth fancied. In any case, the remaining food would be brought out to Galia and Ileth most nights (the rest was carted off to the pigs, dogs, and chickens), sometimes with a decanter with a little wine left. Ileth was always careful to wash and return whatever was brought out to them by the time their cold breakfast (if there were suitable leftovers) was finished the next morning and the routine began again.
The ample, quality food seemed to start something in her body. Everything was growing out and up, from her hair to her toenails. She felt it first in her house slippers; she had to ask for more canvas to make new ones. Her reliable old traveling boots, which had been pinching in the Serpentine, finally became impossible to get into.
Most nights she would walk out to the dragon and dance. These events were more often than not attended by the servants, who leered less and applauded more when she leaped and spun. Many of them, men and women, could play little hand organs or cheap pipes and drums of one kind or another, and they knew so much lively music that she would only hardly hear the same tune twice from fast day to fast day.
Galia watched a performance now and again and tried some drills out of boredom. Sometimes Ileth could convince Fespanarax to take a walk and they would circumnavigate the great field where the dragons first landed. But Galia seemed to be suffering the boredom of captivity more than she did (Galia had never been cooped up in anything like the Captain’s Lodge) and fretted by starting and abandoning sewing projects, Galantine novels thought suitable for young ladies, and letter writing. She would avoid the wine for three days straight and then, in one night, ask Ileth for her share and make an unsteady walk to the great house and claim that they’d spilled theirs and could they have a little more.
Ileth didn’t know what to do to offer relief from the boredom. Growing up, Ileth had often heard that boredom would lead to trouble, one way or another.
It was on one of the Galantine fast days that the Baron sent them a note shortly after dawn that he wanted to show Galia and Ileth the village and some of his tenant lands, and introduce them to not one but two visitors who would hopefully stay through the fine weather of the summer.
Galia put on her Serpentine wingman uniform for the occasion and even broke out her fore-and-aft-rigged hat. Taf had been fascinated by both and improved the fit by suggestion and even considered it her duty to put a new lining in the hat, as the old one was badly stained by men’s hair oil designed to hide gray.
“And they say women are vain!” Taf had laughed, sniffing at the inside of the hat. “I’m glad to see that men are much the same all over. My father wears wigs more and more as his hair thins and changes color. Don’t tell him I said so.”
Ileth suppressed a giggle when the Baron pulled up in his two-wheel cart wearing a new and much thicker wig. The horse seemed happy in his work and gave Galia a friendly nicker as she approached.
“Hop up on my high-wheeler. Galia, would you rather squeeze on and one of you hold my traveling-cat Raffleth, or ride in the back? I do have a way to attach a seat back there.”
“Sir,” Galia said in her improving Galantine. “I have a, have a digestive difficulty. A ride often improves it, I find. I can ride a horse. But if my condition worsens, would I be allowed to return to Chapalaine on my own?”