Mercedes Lackey - Joust

"Then the bargain is struck, Jouster," the Mouth said smoothly, apparently not in the least stung by Ari's jab. "Be pleased to accept our hospitality."

Then, and only then, as the gold jewels disappeared into the Mouth's robes, did the circle of onlookers break. Yet another of the robed creatures beckoned to both of them, and they followed, into the oasis.

There, on a wool carpet spread in front of one of the tents, they were offered dates, stewed lamb, flatbread, and water in brass cups. Their servers did not speak to them, and once they sat down to eat, the servers vanished.

Vetch, however, could not eat. He was still reeling from the shock of seeing Ari hand over his Gold of Honor to these nomads.

Ari paused with a bite of the lamb in a scoop of flatbread halfway to his mouth, and frowned. "What's wrong, Vetch?"

"The Gold of Honor," he whispered, and gulped. "You gave up the Gold of Honor—

"Which I cannot sell, nor trade, nor melt down inside the bounds of Tia," Ari pointed out. "What good did it do me? I could wear it, if I chose to flaunt myself. I could put it in a chest and keep it. I could display it on a table. Very useful."

"But won't the Great King be angry if he asks you to wear it, and you don't have it anymore?" Vetch asked, nervously.

But Ari only smiled. "I told Haraket to fetch it for me, that I was feeling guilty about your death, and I was going to leave it as my funerary gift. That, at least, is permitted—one can leave the wretched stuff in a tomb, a shrine, or as a temple offering! Haraket seemed to think this was a sensible plan, and I have no doubt that a scroll telling some fool scribe in the Palace of what I have done is on its way to the Treasury now. And the King will probably insist on replacing the wretched baubles with ones even larger and in poorer taste." Ari sighed gustily, surprising Vetch into a laugh.

"There! Much better. Now eat—" he prodded Vetch with a piece of flatbread. "You and Avatre will need strength; you'll be leaving this camp at the same time that I leave to return home."

"Indeed," said the Mouth, who seemed to materialize out of nowhere at just that moment. "It is too dangerous for you to remain here for very long. Hear what your master has bought you, apprentice. You will have safe passage across the face of the desert, and water at every oasis. You have the right to hunt and forage, and if you cannot find food on your own, then we will supply it, but as our resources are limited, you will be required to try hunting first. There will be a message going ahead of you, and a guide to the places where you will be spending your nights. Not human, no— ' the Mouth told him, anticipating his question. "Here is the first one."

He handed Vetch a cord with a blackened bead strung on it— but curiously, the cord did not hang straight, it slanted toward the east, as if something was pulling it. And when he took the cord from the Mouth, that was, indeed, what it felt like.

"At each stopping place, you will surrender your guide, and get another like this, that will lead you on to the next oasis," the Mouth said. "And if by some fearful accident, you are taken by your enemies, you must pledge on your soul's survival that you will release the bead to fly home without you!"

The Mouth was clearly waiting for an answer in the affirmative; Vetch quickly stammered agreement, and put the cord around his neck.

"As I told you, you have hunting-right, to hunt for whatever you see wild on the way, to feed your dragon and yourself. But you also have hearth-right, giving you both food from our stores if you cannot catch anything—though I will warn you. We are not a wealthy people, and you both may go hungry if you count upon this."

"I won't—" Vetch began, but the Mouth wasn't listening.

"Last of all, you have water-right, which of itself, is worth twice what this bandit bargained from me." The Mouth's tone gave the lie to his words, though. He didn't sound angry or even annoyed. "So—the message is sped, and so should you be. A man on a camel can reach the next point on your journey by full dark; you should have no difficulty."

With that, the Mouth stalked off again, leaving Vetch to stare after him.

"Don't look for friendship from them," Ari warned. "We made a bargain; that's all. The Bedu don't care for our little wars, nor our pretensions at holding dominion over the land."

"You sound as if you admire them," Vetch ventured.

"Say, rather, that I envy them. Their only enemies are the land and the weather, and they are the freest people in the world, though they pay a heavy price for freedom." He sighed. "And the Mouth is right; finish that meal, and we will both be on our separate ways."

So there it was—the moment he knew was coming. But he had never thought that it would be like this.

"Master—" he began.

"Ari," the Jouster corrected firmly. "I am no longer your master. Though I'll have a hell of a time replacing you."

Vetch winced, and hung his head. He felt horrible, leaving Ari in the lurch like this. But what could he do? He couldn't go back…

"I'd try to get Baken, but Haraket would fight me for him. I think I'll exercise my rank and purloin one of those youngsters that Baken is training," Ari continued. "Though I think not a serf, this time. If another dragon boy gets it into his head to emulate me, I at least want to get another Jouster out of the situation."

Vetch looked up, and caught a twinkle in Ari's eye, and felt a little better. Not much, but a little. "I wouldn't have run—except they'd have taken her away from me," he said softly. "And I knew it would break her heart. And mine—

"That's how you should be thinking, from this moment on. Whatever you decide, do it for her sake," Ari replied, firmly. "Nothing else. Nothing less."

"I won't," Vetch said, drawing himself up and looking Ari straight in the eyes.

"Good." There was a long moment of very awkward silence— awkward on Vetch's part anyway.

"Can't you come with me?" he asked finally. "We don't have to go to Alta—we could go east, to Beshylos—

"No we couldn't," Ari said, sadly, but firmly. "I took certain oaths, and I will do my duty. I must. I wish—well, it can't be otherwise."

"I'm sorry, Ari," he said, overcome with guilt. "I—

"Don't be. I'm not." For the very first time in all of the time that Vetch had known him, Ari broke into a broad and unshadowed smile. "It's the best thing in the world, to see a young thing fly free. I suppose—I suppose I should give you all sorts of advice now, but 1 can't think of very much." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

Finally, Vetch got the courage to ask the question that had been in his mind all along, since the first day Ari had plucked him out of Khefti's yard. "Ari—why? Why—everything?"

Ari looked at him quizzically. "I'm not sure myself." He looked up into the hard, cloudless blue bowl of the sky. "When I first saw you, so angry with me for stealing your water, I thought you were amusing, like a kitten that's ready to attack a lion for some imagined offense. Then, when that fat idiot of a master of yours came out and you turned from angry to terrified, it wasn't so amusing, and when he laid the lash on you, I knew I couldn't leave you there. And I did need a dragon boy."

"But the rest of it—" Vetch suddenly had to know, desperately. "Finding me a shrine—

"Because it was right. Because I never had a younger brother. I'm the youngest in my family. Because—" He sighed, and looked inexpressibly sad. "Because I feel guilty for all of the wretched things that are being done to Altans, and perhaps at first I thought I could assuage some of that guilt by being good to you. But after a while, Vetch, you earned your place, and everything I did for you. By the time that wretch Khefti showed up again, you'd earned it. The other boys may not have liked you, but they could never claim you hadn't earned your place. And—I don't know, but I'm a man who believes in the gods, and I've had a feeling all along that the gods have some purpose in mind for you, and I was just the means to that purpose."