masters and bonders alike, had stayed in their starships until housing had been built: strong stone buildings in the 150 acres that was Rokk, for the wardens and guards, cruder shelters outside Rokk's walls for the convicts. Though Jakkin had never been to the city, it was said those buildings still stood, two hundred years later, a testimony to the first Austarians. The worst punishment of the masters in the old days, before the shelters, had been to lock out a bonder all night. That was why Master Sarkkhan's nursery doors were never lockedâjust in case. And why the roads to the baggeries, the stews, and the pits were spotted with shelters, for late-nighters caught away from home.
Jakkin scrambled to his feet. He gazed once at the little dragon curled asleep in the sand. The cold would not bother it, not even as a newborn. He knew that. But just to be sure, he took off his shirt and wrapped it around the sleeping mite, placing the dragonling far back against the rear wall of reeds. Then, hugging his leather jerkin to him, he ran as fast as he could across the sand toward the nursery. If he kept moving, he thought, he could keep warm. If he ran fast enough, he could make it back before the worst of the cold struck. He would not bother about brooming his footsteps, but trust to the wind and pray to whatever god still watched over bond boys. Certainly the masters' god would not recognize him yet.
The sand seemed to slip away from his feet, making running even more difficult. Several times he stumbled and one time went crashing to his knees. It was hard to keep moving in the cold. The metal bond chain
around his neck felt as if it were on fire, it was so cold, and the metal eyelets on his jerkin felt as though they were burning small holes wherever they touched his skin.
The cold made him want to stop and snuggle down in the sand, to build himself an earth mound and sleep. Yet he knew such a sleep would be the sleep of death.
Dark-After, nothing after,
he reminded himself, his feet moving even when his mind willed them to stop.
And then his feet were running on packed earth, and he realized he was on nursery property. But the cold befuddled him, and he was not sure where he was. His breath plumed out before him. He felt he could almost break it off and use it as a pick. Stick it on his forehead and break his way out of the egg of cold that surrounded him. He was sure his skin was becoming as hard and scaled as any lizard's. If blooded, he would roar. He found himself roaring, roaring, roaring, and he fell hard against a stone wall.
A gloved hand pulled at him, and. he was suddenly wrapped in someone's downer.
"Hush. You're found. But the cold has snapped you. Just come along."
He thought he knew that voice. It came from another dream he had had.
A door opened and shut and the warmth made him hurt all over.
"Akki, what are you doing in here?" A sleepy voice.
"Bringing home a body."
"Why, it's Jakkin. Hey, Errikkin, look. It's Jakkin."
"Wonder where he's been all night."
"Look at his chest. Wonder what her name was?"
"Does he look different?"
"Like a man, you mean?" someone snickered.
"Was he coming from town?" A laugh. "You know."
A woman's laugh. "Yes, from the baggeries. Can't you see? His bag is only half-full."
"Or half-empty." More laughs.
"I heard him roaring outside the hospice. I grabbed a blanket, threw on my own thermals, and ran."
"Lucky for him."
"He's all luck. It's a wonder he's a bonder."
Jakkin opened his eyes. His body was too
hot now. He threw the blanket off. He stared at Akki, who gave him a wry smile.
"Yes," she said, staring at him. "He's had himself quite a night." She winked.
They led him to his bed and he fell asleep, murmuring, "Beauty. You beauty." He heard them laugh once again before he was totally out.
9
M ORNING SEEMED TO come too swiftly. Summoned by the clanging breakfast bell, Jakkin could scarcely rise and had to be dressed by Slakk and Errikkin. They did it
Jakkin scrambled to his feet. He gazed once at the little dragon curled asleep in the sand. The cold would not bother it, not even as a newborn. He knew that. But just to be sure, he took off his shirt and wrapped it around the sleeping mite, placing the dragonling far back against the rear wall of reeds. Then, hugging his leather jerkin to him, he ran as fast as he could across the sand toward the nursery. If he kept moving, he thought, he could keep warm. If he ran fast enough, he could make it back before the worst of the cold struck. He would not bother about brooming his footsteps, but trust to the wind and pray to whatever god still watched over bond boys. Certainly the masters' god would not recognize him yet.
The sand seemed to slip away from his feet, making running even more difficult. Several times he stumbled and one time went crashing to his knees. It was hard to keep moving in the cold. The metal bond chain
around his neck felt as if it were on fire, it was so cold, and the metal eyelets on his jerkin felt as though they were burning small holes wherever they touched his skin.
The cold made him want to stop and snuggle down in the sand, to build himself an earth mound and sleep. Yet he knew such a sleep would be the sleep of death.
Dark-After, nothing after,
he reminded himself, his feet moving even when his mind willed them to stop.
And then his feet were running on packed earth, and he realized he was on nursery property. But the cold befuddled him, and he was not sure where he was. His breath plumed out before him. He felt he could almost break it off and use it as a pick. Stick it on his forehead and break his way out of the egg of cold that surrounded him. He was sure his skin was becoming as hard and scaled as any lizard's. If blooded, he would roar. He found himself roaring, roaring, roaring, and he fell hard against a stone wall.
A gloved hand pulled at him, and. he was suddenly wrapped in someone's downer.
"Hush. You're found. But the cold has snapped you. Just come along."
He thought he knew that voice. It came from another dream he had had.
A door opened and shut and the warmth made him hurt all over.
"Akki, what are you doing in here?" A sleepy voice.
"Bringing home a body."
"Why, it's Jakkin. Hey, Errikkin, look. It's Jakkin."
"Wonder where he's been all night."
"Look at his chest. Wonder what her name was?"
"Does he look different?"
"Like a man, you mean?" someone snickered.
"Was he coming from town?" A laugh. "You know."
A woman's laugh. "Yes, from the baggeries. Can't you see? His bag is only half-full."
"Or half-empty." More laughs.
"I heard him roaring outside the hospice. I grabbed a blanket, threw on my own thermals, and ran."
"Lucky for him."
"He's all luck. It's a wonder he's a bonder."
Jakkin opened his eyes. His body was too
hot now. He threw the blanket off. He stared at Akki, who gave him a wry smile.
"Yes," she said, staring at him. "He's had himself quite a night." She winked.
They led him to his bed and he fell asleep, murmuring, "Beauty. You beauty." He heard them laugh once again before he was totally out.
9
M ORNING SEEMED TO come too swiftly. Summoned by the clanging breakfast bell, Jakkin could scarcely rise and had to be dressed by Slakk and Errikkin. They did it
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