at least order Haraket to beat him.
But after an inspection of the harness, Ari gave a brief nod to Haraket, handed the Overseer his lance, and slapped Kashet on the shoulder. Without a command, Kashet extended his foreleg to the Jouster; Ari used it as a step, and with its aid, vaulted into the saddle. Haraket handed the lance back to Ari, and the Jouster set the lance into the socket at his belt, and took a firm grip on the handhold at the front of the saddle.
Warned now by his own experience, Vetch shielded his eyes; Kashet spread his wings and leaped upward, and in a storm of sand and hot wind that buffeted Vetch and made him shelter his face in the crook of his elbow, the dragon vaulted into the clear blue of the heavens. The dragon and rider wheeled above the pen for a moment as Kashet gained height, looking like a jewel-bright painting against the cloudless blue of the heavens.
Then, abruptly, they side-slipped to the north and were gone.
“Don’t just stand there gawking, get that shovel!” Haraket barked, and Vetch hastily looked back down and saw where the overseer was pointing. “Once Kashet’s out of the pen, you clean it, clean it thoroughly, and immediately!”
At Haraket’s direction, Vetch got the shovel and the barrow he’d used to bring the meat, and began the cleaning. Kashet used a second pit cut into the earth and rock to one side of the huge wallow, smaller than the wallow and not nearly as hot, for a privy. Like a cat, perhaps, for the droppings were neatly buried and the smell minimal. Not unpleasant either; they smelled a bit acrid, but not fetid. The droppings themselves, black, hard as stones and round, were about the size and weight of a melon.
“Don’t touch those with your bare hands,” Haraket warned, as he carried one in the shovel to the barrow. “Something about them burns the skin.”
He took Haraket’s word for it, though he was surprised, and couldn’t imagine what could do the burning. The droppings were actually cooler than the nesting sand, so it evidently wasn’t heat that would burn the skin. Perhaps it was something like natron, only stronger.
“This stuff is worth its weight in silver,” Haraket said warningly, as Vetch pushed the barrow at his direction. “You account for every dropping to me, and I account for it to the priests; whatever they use it for, it’s important to them. There’s a tally board where you’ll be taking it.”
So there was; Vetch unloaded his barrow, and put a mark on the board for every dropping before he went back for a second load. There weren’t nearly enough droppings piled in the courtyard where he upended his barrow, given all of the dragons that were here; someone must come and take the stuff away pretty promptly.
Vetch didn’t ask what dragon dung was good for; if it was priestly business, it was just as well not to know, and that was doubly true when the priests were Tian. They were likely to take an innocent question poorly if it came from someone like him.
The sun, which had been directly overhead when he began the task of cleaning out the pen, had traveled westward, and the corridors were now shadowed by the high walls. That certainly made his job a little easier, although the kamiseen managed to drop down and began to scour its way through the complex, bringing the fire of the desert with it. Still, he was not looking forward to nightfall, for it was as cold at night during the dry season as it was hot during the day. Once the sun god left for his nightly journey through the underworld, he took all of the warmth with him.
I wonder where I’m to sleep? he thought, suddenly, when it occurred to him that the day was more than half spent. He hadn’t seen anything that looked like a sleeping pallet since he’d arrived here. He really didn’t want to sleep where the rest of the dragon boys slept; he’d lie awake all night waiting for them to do something to him. But he probably wasn’t going to get a choice about
But after an inspection of the harness, Ari gave a brief nod to Haraket, handed the Overseer his lance, and slapped Kashet on the shoulder. Without a command, Kashet extended his foreleg to the Jouster; Ari used it as a step, and with its aid, vaulted into the saddle. Haraket handed the lance back to Ari, and the Jouster set the lance into the socket at his belt, and took a firm grip on the handhold at the front of the saddle.
Warned now by his own experience, Vetch shielded his eyes; Kashet spread his wings and leaped upward, and in a storm of sand and hot wind that buffeted Vetch and made him shelter his face in the crook of his elbow, the dragon vaulted into the clear blue of the heavens. The dragon and rider wheeled above the pen for a moment as Kashet gained height, looking like a jewel-bright painting against the cloudless blue of the heavens.
Then, abruptly, they side-slipped to the north and were gone.
“Don’t just stand there gawking, get that shovel!” Haraket barked, and Vetch hastily looked back down and saw where the overseer was pointing. “Once Kashet’s out of the pen, you clean it, clean it thoroughly, and immediately!”
At Haraket’s direction, Vetch got the shovel and the barrow he’d used to bring the meat, and began the cleaning. Kashet used a second pit cut into the earth and rock to one side of the huge wallow, smaller than the wallow and not nearly as hot, for a privy. Like a cat, perhaps, for the droppings were neatly buried and the smell minimal. Not unpleasant either; they smelled a bit acrid, but not fetid. The droppings themselves, black, hard as stones and round, were about the size and weight of a melon.
“Don’t touch those with your bare hands,” Haraket warned, as he carried one in the shovel to the barrow. “Something about them burns the skin.”
He took Haraket’s word for it, though he was surprised, and couldn’t imagine what could do the burning. The droppings were actually cooler than the nesting sand, so it evidently wasn’t heat that would burn the skin. Perhaps it was something like natron, only stronger.
“This stuff is worth its weight in silver,” Haraket said warningly, as Vetch pushed the barrow at his direction. “You account for every dropping to me, and I account for it to the priests; whatever they use it for, it’s important to them. There’s a tally board where you’ll be taking it.”
So there was; Vetch unloaded his barrow, and put a mark on the board for every dropping before he went back for a second load. There weren’t nearly enough droppings piled in the courtyard where he upended his barrow, given all of the dragons that were here; someone must come and take the stuff away pretty promptly.
Vetch didn’t ask what dragon dung was good for; if it was priestly business, it was just as well not to know, and that was doubly true when the priests were Tian. They were likely to take an innocent question poorly if it came from someone like him.
The sun, which had been directly overhead when he began the task of cleaning out the pen, had traveled westward, and the corridors were now shadowed by the high walls. That certainly made his job a little easier, although the kamiseen managed to drop down and began to scour its way through the complex, bringing the fire of the desert with it. Still, he was not looking forward to nightfall, for it was as cold at night during the dry season as it was hot during the day. Once the sun god left for his nightly journey through the underworld, he took all of the warmth with him.
I wonder where I’m to sleep? he thought, suddenly, when it occurred to him that the day was more than half spent. He hadn’t seen anything that looked like a sleeping pallet since he’d arrived here. He really didn’t want to sleep where the rest of the dragon boys slept; he’d lie awake all night waiting for them to do something to him. But he probably wasn’t going to get a choice about
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