Mercedes Lackey - Dragon Jousters 2 - Alta

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ALTA

MERCEDES LACKEY

INSIDE FLAP

VETCH was once an Altan serf, tied to the lands that had belonged to his family before the devastating

war with Tia usurped a third of Alta's lands, and turned the few Altans who survived on them into virtual

slaves. But Vetch had been rescued from this unbearable fate by one of the very dragon-riders who had

conquered his country, and trained to be a dragon-boy.

And Vetch had been grateful—now he was well fed and cared for—no longer in danger of dying from

exposure or starvation. But no matter how grateful he was for this lifesaving turn of events, he could

never forget the family he had lost, the home that had been stolen from them, and the once-happy life

that was gone forever—a casualty of war. A war that Tia had won due to their superior number of

Jousters and dragons.

As Vetch adjusted to his new life, he slowly came to realize that Ari, the Jouster who had saved him, and

Kashet, his dragon, were very different than the other Jousters and dragons in the compound. Kashet was

naturally tame—he didn't need the tranquilizing tala plant to make him manageable, and Ari's

relationship with him was one of mutual love and respect. Kashet let Ari ride him because he wanted to,

not because he was drugged into submission. Ari's technique was very simple: he had raised Kashet

from the egg, rather than abducting him from the wild as was traditional for Jousters. He had cared for

him and hand fed him from the day he hatched, and they were deeply and naturally bonded. Vetch knew

he could do the same thing if he ever got the chance.

When his opportunity came, Vetch did not hesitate: he stole a newly laid egg and hid it in the hot sand of

an empty dragon pen. But as the weeks passed, and the egg matured and finally hatched, Vetch had no

way to prepare himself for his reaction. His dragonet was bright crimson with golden limbs, fragile and

helpless, stunningly beautiful, and completely dependent on Vetch for her survival. Vetch named her

Avatre which meant fire of the dawn, and knew in his soul that she was, and would forever be, the single

most important thing in his life. Vetch was hopelessly, helplessly in love. There was nothing he would

not have done, would not have sacrificed for his dragonet.

Avatre grew and matured under Vetch's loving care. Fierce, strong, and completely loyal to Vetch,

Avatre prospered in the light of Vetch's love. With stealth born of fear—the fear of losing Avatre—

Vetch managed to keep her existence a secret, and when she was large and strong enough, he started to

train her to carry his weight. And when she lifted her wings for her first flight, Vetch was on her back.

It was Vetch's plan to fly Avatre beyond the Tian border to lands still controlled by Alta. He knew that

he carried with him one of the greatest secrets of his world—how to tame dragons. If he imparted this

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secret to the rulers of his homeland, it might give Alta the edge it needed to throw off their conquerors

despite their lesser numbers.

But Vetch's reception in Alta was not as warm as he would have wished. He had come over the border

from Tia on a dragon raised on Tian soil. Could Vetch win the trust of his countrymen and take his place

as a leader of the Altan Jousters? Or would he find that during a war there was treachery and

wrongdoing on both sides of the border?

ALTA

MERCEDES

LACKEY

DAW BOOKS, INC.

DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, FOUNDER

375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014

ELIZABETH R. WOLLHEIM

SHEILA E. GILBERT

PUBLISHERS

http://www.dawbooks.com

Jacket art by Jody A. Lee.

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DAW Books Collectors No. 1286.

DAW Books are distributed by the Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

This book is printed on acid-free paper. All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or

any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and

punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions,

and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted

materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

First Printing, March 2004 123456789

DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

—MARCA REGISTRADA

HECHO EN U.S.A.

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

To Jemima Parry-Jones and Mozart

ONE

OVERHEAD, the stars that filled the night sky, the ornaments upon the robe of the Goddess of the

Night, seemed close enough to touch. The kamiseen wind whined in the tops of the trees of the oasis

beside him; even at night, it never completely ceased. It smelled of baked stone, with a hint of desiccated

plants.

He had come to learn that the desert was not all one sort of landscape; he had escaped over stony hills

into the pure sand of the desert dune country; now he was in yet another sort of desert, a place of

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marginal life. The sand beneath Vetch was not as comfortable to sit in as one might suppose; since this

wasn't dune country, the ground was hard beneath a surface mix of dust, sand, and pebbles. He was glad

of his bedroll now since it provided a layer of softness between himself and the ground. Strange. When

he had been Khefti-the-Fat's serf, he wouldn't have noticed how hard it was; in so short a time he had

gotten used to certain comforts.

Yes, it was the time of the kamiseen, and the ever-present wind whined over the desert, carrying with it a

film of dust and sucking away moisture. But this was an oasis, with carefully tended date palms, and

Vetch's camp was downwind of the palm grove. The Bedu camped within the oasis, permitting Vetch

the downwind side for his own camp, so the kamiseen would not trouble him much tonight.

Vetch's scarlet dragon Avatre slumbered at his back, her body warm inside the pit he had dug in the sand

and lined with stones heated in his fire. Fuel was as precious out here as water, but tonight no one

begrudged the effort of collecting it for him. Firstly, this clan of Veiled Ones boasted many camels and

could afford the dried dung for the fire. And secondly, Avatre had earned the right to her fuel and more.

She had eaten well today, taking down four of the desert gazelles. The first time had been this afternoon,

twice in rapid succession, enough to feed her well at midday. The second time had been with the help of

Vetch's sling, and enabled the two of them to provide an evening meal not only for Avatre herself but for

Vetch and the clan of Veiled Ones who were hosting him on this last evening in the desert. There was a

faint scent of roasting meat on the kamiseen tonight, the last remains of the evening feast.

He was within striking distance of the goal he had sought for so long. Soon he would cross the border

that divided Tian lands from Altan. Soon he would be among his own people, and although he probably

looked outwardly calm, inside he was afire with excitement—and at the same time, afraid. This moment

was one he had dreamed about for so long, but dreams were one thing—reality another.

Once, he had dreamed of having a dragon, too. Now he had one, and Avatre was so much more than he

had been able to imagine. She gave him freedom—and tied him to her with bonds of responsibility and

love. He had never envisaged how much she would mean to him. It was a glorious burden he would

never have given up for the world, but it meant that he was no longer beholden only to himself. In fact,

when given a choice between his own welfare and hers—and there had been many such choices on this

journey—he would always choose hers. He could not help himself. She was his beloved, after all.

Now, faced with the prospect of crossing into the land he had once thought of as his goal, he knew that

no matter what his dreams had been, they could not possibly replicate what he would encounter.

Those dreams might be better than what he actually found, or they might be worse. But they would

probably be different, and that alone was a reason for fear.

But this was as far as the talismans that the Veiled Ones had provided as a series of guides would take

him. Tomorrow, one of them would personally take him to within sight of the Altan border, the lands

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where the desert ended and the swampy delta began, and leave him there.

Tonight, unlike previous evenings, he was not alone at his fire. He shared it with one of the Mouths of

the Bedu nomads, an enigmatic and apparently sexless creature covered from head to toe in one of their

characteristic, belted blue robes and over-vest, dyed with indigo. As all of the others, the Mouth was

veiled by a drape of cloth that showed only the eyes. Both sexes wore the veils; a practical consideration

when one lived in a land where the wind never stopped, and neither did the dust. He had never heard of

any of the Bedu going without their veils, but then, he had never heard of the Bedu going outside the

desert. That the costume made the Veiled Ones even more enigmatic to outsiders was, he was sure at

this point, a source of endless amusement to them.

He still could not tell whether these Mouths were male or female. Perhaps they were neither; it was

altogether possible that they were a kind of eunuch. He didn't find that idea as discomfiting as he might

have once; if the Mouths were a sort of eunuch, it was not something that had happened against their

will. And certainly there were priests of certain obscure gods even among his own people who

volunteered for such a sacrifice. Some believed that those who had done so obtained the special favor of

their god; others that to remove sex from one's life opened one to visions, or granted great magical

power. For some, such a sacrifice was worth the gain.

This particular Mouth was regarding Vetch from the other side of a smaller fire than the one that had

heated Avatre's rocks, watching with a direct and clear-eyed gaze over the veil. The Mouth had asked

Vetch to tell his tale in full, and now had been simply regarding him quietly for some time now, but

Vetch hadn't made any effort to ask why. The Mouth would tell him—or not—in good time. Vetch still

wasn't entirely certain what role the Mouths played in the lives of the Veiled Ones; they didn't seem to

be priests, quite. They weren't exactly magicians, either, although they did work magic, the magic that

created the talismans that guided him from clan to clan, for instance. They certainly were the only ones

who spoke to outsiders, but they weren't precisely interpreters, nor were they ambassadors. All

bargaining with outsiders was conducted by them, yet they were not traders. And they weren't leaders of

their people either.

In fact, if he could have guessed anything at this point, it would have been that they were, literally, the

voices of their clans, that somehow they knew what everyone in the clan thought, or wanted, with regard

to an outsider, and they were the tool through which these wants, thoughts, and needs were expressed.

But they certainly had their own personalities, for every single one he had encountered so far was as

different from the last as any two individuals could be. Some had barely spoken at all and held

themselves coldly aloof from him; others had been positively garrulous, interested to hear whatever of

his own story he cared to impart, and forthcoming with news of the world outside the desert, if not of

details of their own lives and customs. Some had been terrified of Avatre, others treated her like a kind

of giant falcon—with the respect that talons and teeth deserved, but no fear at all.

This one was somewhere in between, but operating on the "helpful" side of the accounting. The Mouth

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