Mercedes Lackey - Joust

It was farther away than Vetch had thought; distances were deceptive in the clear desert air. Which was probably why Kashet had gotten the height to enable him to glide in; laboring that far, wing beat by wing beat, was a lot harder than getting up to where he could maneuver from one thermal to another, even if it was the longer route, measured in distance.

That speck of green eventually resolved itself into trees. Not just any trees; Vetch soon recognized them for what they were. Date palms.

It was an orchard around an oasis.

And there were people there, and tents—people garbed head to toe in long, indigo-blue robes—

The Veiled Ones! he realized, as they began a final spiral down.

He didn't know much about the Bedu, but he knew that much— their customary garb, and the fact that they made their home out here, where there was nothing that a Tian would recognize as civilization. He was able to make out their flocks, now, sheep and goats, a few donkeys.

So here was his first glimpse of the mysterious desert nomads of which he had only heard, who had no king and no land of their own. He wished he wasn't so preoccupied with flying; he would have liked to pay more attention to the exotic encampment.

They didn't seem particularly surprised to see two dragons coming to land at their camping place, although there was some pointing going on down there. Vetch was just glad to see the well that irrigated the date palms. At the moment, his mouth was as dry as the desert sands they were about to land in.

Definitely, "about to land"—the ground was coming up a lot faster than he had realized. And just about the time, as Kashet backwinged to a graceful stop, he also remembered that Avatre had never landed with him on her back—had, in fact only actually landed once in her whole life—and he hadn't been on her back at the time either.

Which was just about the time when she blundered right down onto the ground, stumbling in a tangle of legs and wings, and he went somersaulting over her shoulder again, this time entirely by accident, and this time hitting the ground instead of Kashet's neck.

Hard.

Very hard.

So it was true that when you hit your head, you saw stars…

Fortunately for the shredded remains of his dignity, if any of the Bedu were laughing, they were doing so silently, behind their veils. He didn't actually break anything, although he did indeed see stars for a moment. By the time he picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off, one of the Bedu had approached Ari, apparently to act as spokesperson for the group. Male or female, there was no telling; they all dressed alike in those robes, and all wore headcloths and veils that showed only their eyes.

"I see you, Jouster of Tia," said a voice from behind the veil— either a high male voice, or a low female; Vetch couldn't tell which.

"I see you, Mouth of the People," Ari replied respectfully, briefly touching first his chest, then lips, then forehead with his first two fingers. "I come in peace."

"I greet you in peace," the Bedu answered, returning his salutation. "Do you seek aught here, from us, besides peace?"

"Water, and a bargain, in service, not goods." Ari sketched another little bow, this time in Vetch's direction. Awkwardly, Vetch copied his salute of respect. "My apprentice is of Alta."

There were murmurs from behind the veils of the other Bedu gathering around them, but no one spoke aloud but the one designated as the "Mouth."

"Of Alta." The Mouth feigned no surprise. "He has the look of it. Well, Jouster of Tia, Apprentice of Alta, what is it that you bargain for?"

Ari took a deep breath; Vetch held his. Ari looked squarely into the eyes behind the veil.

"My apprentice would go home."

Vetch had the feeling that no matter what Ari had told the Mouth of the Bedu, that personage would have at least appeared as if it was all perfectly expected and ordinary. Then again, perhaps it was. There were Seers enough in the Temples, so perhaps this person was a Seer as well as spokesperson. Perhaps he—or she— had known for some time that they were coming, and what they would ask.

Whether a Seer or not, the Mouth, however, was a shrewd bargainer, and proceeded to make it very plain that the services of the Bedu were not to be had cheaply.

Ari, for his part, made it equally clear that he expected a great deal out of the Bedu for their payment, and that he was no green goose fresh from the farmyard to be plucked.

He drank from his own waterskin, though the well was in plain sight, and stood under the broiling sun as if it were the coolest of days in the winter rains. "Passage-right, for this mere child and his beast, two debeks," Ari began.

The Mouth chuckled richly. "You take us for unsophisticated rustics, perhaps. A fugitive, with a dragon, going to your enemies? Twenty."

"Five," Ari countered. "It is no dragon, but a dragonet, and not even one that was on the roster."

"Eighteen. He will need hiding. How does one hide a dragon?"

So the bargaining went; first passage-right, then hunting-right, shelter-right, water-right, then something called lead-on, forage-and-feed, cover-right… every one of these things was considered, bargained over, hotly contested, then agreed to. And Vetch had no idea whatsoever what these things meant, how much they were going to cost, or—most importantly, how they were going to be paid for. There surely wasn't enough in that little pouch of jewelry and coin to cover even one of these "rights"! Was he expected to go into another kind of servitude to pay for his passage? But how could anything he knew be reckoned of enough worth to pay it in any reasonable length of time?

He, at least, could use Avatre as a shade, and followed Ari's example in drinking from one of the three waterskins he'd filled. He offered some to Avatre, but she wasn't interested, so he scooped up handfuls of sand and gave her a buffing as they waited and listened. The rest of the Bedu remained encircling them, watching and listening just as avidly.

Finally, after an endless amount of bargaining, while the barge of the sun god crept toward the west, Ari and the Mouth finished their negotiations.

"All rights, all guides," the Mouth said, as Ari wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his hand. "One lek, twenty alleks, seven debeks."

"Done." Ari seemed satisfied, but Vetch's head reeled. That was enough to provision an entire village for six moons! Where was he supposed to find that much money?

But Ari was rummaging in a leather pouch hanging off the front of Kashet's saddle. "I believe that you will find these are easily the equivalent of that sum," he said, stepping forward, and placing a necklet and two heavy armlets in the Mouth's outstretched hands. Vetch recognized, first the yellow glitter of gold—then, with a sense of shock, the Gold of Honor. Engraved with the Haras-hawk, and the royal vulture, how could it be anything else?

"The Gold of Honor, Jouster?" the Mouth said at the same moment. "Will the Great King not be incensed that it comes into profane hands? Will we not be courting his anger?"

"Do not seek to gull me into thinking you less than shrewd, Veiled One," Are retorted. "You will melt it down or pound it out, of course. I care not, so long as it buys my apprentice those rights."

"And has the Great King not forbidden any such thing?" the Mouth countered. "The Gold of Honor is not to be defaced, according to his laws."

"Since when have the People ever bent to the laws and will of the Great King of Tia?" Ari retorted, acerbically. "What matters it to you? There is no curse on such a thing, if you are concerned. It is law, not magic, that marks what may and may not be done with Honor Gold."

Then he raised one eyebrow, and his expression went from acerbic, to sardonic. "I had never thought to hear that the Bedu feared the wrath of Tia's King."