the saddle over Kashet’s neck, wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and took a quick glance at Haraket.
The overseer looked satisfied. Or at least, he wasn’t frowning. So that was probably it; but Haraket wasn’t going to give him any more clues. He would either manage to carry his orders out on his own, or—
—or back to Khefti.
But it couldn’t be that hard; it couldn’t be any more complicated than harnessing a donkey to carry a load, or an ox to the plow. It ought to be logical. There were just not that many ways that you could buckle a harness!
He didn’t think Haraket expected or wanted him to fail, either, which was a refreshing change. No, he got the feeling that Haraket merely wanted to see if he could do the job, how quickly, and how much help he would need.
Maybe, whispered that angry voice, he expects that you’re going to botch it because you’re an Altan barbarian. . . .
Well, if that was the case—Haraket would find out he was better and smarter than those freeborn Tians.
While Kashet was still crouched, Vetch took the opportunity to buckle the highest neck strap on the saddle, the one that carried what he thought was the breast strap fastened in the middle of it. Then he ordered, this time with more confidence, “Kashet! Up!”
The dragon stood, and Vetch puzzled out the straps that fastened the front of the saddle at the neck and throat. But the rest of the harness was not immediately clear, and he paused with a strap in his hand. There were a lot of straps.
Maybe there were a lot of different ways you could fasten a harness. Or, at least, this particular harness.
“Find the mate on the other side,” Haraket prompted. “And bring them under the forelegs to that breastband that’s sewn to the neckband. That’s the fat strap that should follow his keelbone. After you fasten the neckband, the straps are always in pairs.”
So Haraket was going to give him some hints! He wouldn’t have guessed that from the Overseer’s stony expression. He relaxed a little, and continued his task with more confidence.
With a few more such hints, Vetch got the harness fastened, then without further prompting, went over all the straps again, cinching them down as he recalled his father harnessing the donkey for carrying a load to market. When he glanced again at Haraket, the overseer wasn’t frowning at all; in fact, there was no mistaking his look of satisfaction.
When Vetch finished, Haraket came over and double-checked the fit of each strap. Some he tightened further, but the ones across the neck, he loosened.
“Here, the neckband—it’s more to carry the breastband than anything else,” Haraket told him. “You want it loose enough to slip two fingers under it. But here—” he moved down to two of the straps that passed in front of Kashet’s legs. “—these need to be as tight as you can pull them. This one here, too—” Vetch watched him closely, making mental notes. What he wanted was to be free of masters, but—short of a miracle—that wasn’t going to happen. Failing that, this was the best place he’d ever been in, and he did not want to be sent away.
Especially not back to Khefti, for he was fairly certain that if Khefti was ever presented with the opportunity to get his hands on Vetch again, what he would contrive for the remainder of Vetch’s life did not bear thinking about. It would be so bad, in fact, that Vetch’s previous existence as Khefti’s serf would seem pleasant in comparison.
So I will serve Kashet, and my Jouster, and they will never want another dragon boy, he vowed to himself, watching how Haraket slid two fingers between the harness and Kashet’s neck to check the fit.
Jouster Ari reappeared at that point, and Haraket stepped back abruptly. Vetch scrambled back out of the way, certain that the Jouster would find something wrong. All of this would come tumbling down, and with a word the Jouster would send him back to Khefti, or
The overseer looked satisfied. Or at least, he wasn’t frowning. So that was probably it; but Haraket wasn’t going to give him any more clues. He would either manage to carry his orders out on his own, or—
—or back to Khefti.
But it couldn’t be that hard; it couldn’t be any more complicated than harnessing a donkey to carry a load, or an ox to the plow. It ought to be logical. There were just not that many ways that you could buckle a harness!
He didn’t think Haraket expected or wanted him to fail, either, which was a refreshing change. No, he got the feeling that Haraket merely wanted to see if he could do the job, how quickly, and how much help he would need.
Maybe, whispered that angry voice, he expects that you’re going to botch it because you’re an Altan barbarian. . . .
Well, if that was the case—Haraket would find out he was better and smarter than those freeborn Tians.
While Kashet was still crouched, Vetch took the opportunity to buckle the highest neck strap on the saddle, the one that carried what he thought was the breast strap fastened in the middle of it. Then he ordered, this time with more confidence, “Kashet! Up!”
The dragon stood, and Vetch puzzled out the straps that fastened the front of the saddle at the neck and throat. But the rest of the harness was not immediately clear, and he paused with a strap in his hand. There were a lot of straps.
Maybe there were a lot of different ways you could fasten a harness. Or, at least, this particular harness.
“Find the mate on the other side,” Haraket prompted. “And bring them under the forelegs to that breastband that’s sewn to the neckband. That’s the fat strap that should follow his keelbone. After you fasten the neckband, the straps are always in pairs.”
So Haraket was going to give him some hints! He wouldn’t have guessed that from the Overseer’s stony expression. He relaxed a little, and continued his task with more confidence.
With a few more such hints, Vetch got the harness fastened, then without further prompting, went over all the straps again, cinching them down as he recalled his father harnessing the donkey for carrying a load to market. When he glanced again at Haraket, the overseer wasn’t frowning at all; in fact, there was no mistaking his look of satisfaction.
When Vetch finished, Haraket came over and double-checked the fit of each strap. Some he tightened further, but the ones across the neck, he loosened.
“Here, the neckband—it’s more to carry the breastband than anything else,” Haraket told him. “You want it loose enough to slip two fingers under it. But here—” he moved down to two of the straps that passed in front of Kashet’s legs. “—these need to be as tight as you can pull them. This one here, too—” Vetch watched him closely, making mental notes. What he wanted was to be free of masters, but—short of a miracle—that wasn’t going to happen. Failing that, this was the best place he’d ever been in, and he did not want to be sent away.
Especially not back to Khefti, for he was fairly certain that if Khefti was ever presented with the opportunity to get his hands on Vetch again, what he would contrive for the remainder of Vetch’s life did not bear thinking about. It would be so bad, in fact, that Vetch’s previous existence as Khefti’s serf would seem pleasant in comparison.
So I will serve Kashet, and my Jouster, and they will never want another dragon boy, he vowed to himself, watching how Haraket slid two fingers between the harness and Kashet’s neck to check the fit.
Jouster Ari reappeared at that point, and Haraket stepped back abruptly. Vetch scrambled back out of the way, certain that the Jouster would find something wrong. All of this would come tumbling down, and with a word the Jouster would send him back to Khefti, or
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