Alta

A tightly packed bundle of reeds the size of a dragon’s chest had been put in the center of a courtyard. Ropes had been strung through enormous eye bolts driven into the stone in each corner of the yard at the top of the wall. The ropes were then brought to the center of the yard and tied to the bundle. A dragon saddle was put on it, one of the boys strapped himself into the saddle, and then eight muscular slaves pulled on the ropes to heave the whole contraption into the air until it was suspended above the court, and the boy with it. A thick pile of loose straw with straw-filled mattresses atop that was positioned beneath the bundle.

And then the games began.

The object of the boy in the saddle was to remain in the saddle and relatively in control of the situation, which translated as keeping his balance no matter what happened. The object of the slaves was to unseat him. At first, this had been limited to imitating the sorts of movements that a dragon would make while flying—the swooping up and down of wing-beat flying, pitches to the right or left. Once those were mastered, though, all bets were off, and the slaves were given leave to make the mock dragon do anything they could manage, whether or not a real dragon would be capable of the motion. And although Kiron had done his best to make sure the mock dragon wouldn’t actually flip upside down, the slaves had managed to find a way to make it do what it wasn’t supposed to.

The boys came off at first, of course, restraining straps or no restraining straps. They had plenty of bruises to show for it. And they got sick at first. Not anymore.

As a consequence, he was reasonably certain that the two desert dragons would not be able to do anything to rid themselves of their brand-new riders.

“I think that’s a reasonable idea,” said Lord Khumun. “It doesn’t tax the dragons, you’ve got safeguards in mind. And then what will you follow this with, once your wing is comfortable with the two desert dragons?”

“I want them to all take the same sort of warm-up flights on the swamp dragons, so that all of them go up, twice a day, every day.” This wasn’t as dangerous as it might have been before the swamp dragons had been retrained. And there was a big advantage that the swamp dragons had over the desert dragons in this case; they were smaller, so they were less inclined to try violent maneuvers to rid themselves of an unwanted rider.

Once again, Lord Khumun nodded. “I like that. If anything, the swamp dragons need warming up more than the desert dragons do, especially in the morning.

Do you think that once your riders have mastered the swamp dragons, their own will be near fledging?”

“I don’t know, my Lord,” Kiron said honestly. “But if they are not, I propose sending one or two out with a senior Jouster on border-patrol flights, once a day. Not fighting, but simply patrolling. If you choose to replace injured or exhausted Jousters in this way—well, just because the rider is injured or exhausted, that doesn’t mean the dragon is, and there is no reason to let the dragon laze about his pen and get out of condition.”

“I see your point, and although I would like to consult with the senior Jousters on that idea, even this last phase of your plan has its merits,” Lord Khumun acknowledged. “Very well. You can put the first stage of your plan into action, and the second as well. We will then see if we actually need to proceed to the third stage when the time comes.”

Kiron bowed deeply out of overwhelming gratitude. “Thank you, my Lord. I do not believe you will be less than happy with the results.”

When he rose again, Lord Khumun was smiling. “I can see why you made a poor serf,” he said softly. “It was the same reason why you make an excellent leader. Go on with you. I’m sure your wing is waiting to hear the results of your request to me.”

Kiron bowed again, and—well, he didn’t run, but he wanted to. He satisfied dignity with a very brisk walk to the area the senior Jousters had begun to call “the Nursery.” Not that anyone really minded the name—the place was full of baby dragons, after all, and though the senior Jousters might have looked on Kiron’s wing with a certain level of patronization, it was paternal patronization. And all they had to do was to look at Avatre and the things she could do to know what the future held for the rest of the babies in the Nursery.

The others all knew what he was going to ask, of course. They’d all been talking about the idea for the last several days. They were too wise to wait for him anywhere near Lord Khumun’s quarters, but they pounced on him as a group the moment he entered the corridor nearest the Nursery.

Before they could start chattering at him, he held up his hands in the victory sign, and the corridor echoed with their cheers. He had to smile at that. Oh, they were so eager to get into the sky, even the ones who’d been sick on the mock dragon. How easily they forgot!