Alta

At least Tians and Altans both shared proper ideas about bathing. He’d sorely missed his twice-daily baths in the desert, and here, if he’d wanted to, he could have a bath five times a day.

“What’s that about?” Kiron asked, joining him. The servant had even brought a table and stools. How strange to be waited on, rather than being the one doing the serving.

“It’s sacred poetry,” Orest said, making a face. “All about Te-oth, the god of the scribes. Fifteen stanzas, if you please, on the glory of the god and on the superiority of those who master language and writing!”

“Maybe your tutor is trying to tell you something,” Kiron suggested, slathering honey onto some bread and taking a bite.

“He’s telling me that sacred poetry is a dead bore, that’s what he’s telling me,” Orest complained, reaching for more grapes. “But at least he isn’t making me memorize it. All I have to do is tell him in general what it’s about.” He sighed. “I hate memorizing.”

“Maybe now that you’re going to be a Jouster he’ll assign you those scrolls your sister was reading yesterday about dragons, instead of the things you have been reading,” Kiron pointed out. “Where is she, by the way?”

“Up and out before dawn, and hanged if I know how she can stand it,” Orest replied. “The Nestlings don’t have to attend Dawn Rites, but she does, and she’s wretchedly perky about it, too.” He glanced at the sun, then at a series of lines carved into the courtyard paving. It was only at that moment that Kiron realized they were the marks of a sundial that used the shadows of the courtyard walls to mark the time. The whole courtyard was one enormous sundial! No wonder the courtyard was bare! And no wonder Orest had his rooms here, if he required a reminder of the time that was so impossible to ignore. “Well, if you’re done, we might as well go take our punishment. At least you’ll be there to share it with me.”

With a great deal less trepidation than his new friend, Kiron rose and left the servants to clean up after them.

Servants! he marveled, as they left. What wonderful things servants are! No wonder everyone wants them! Oh, he’d had people to bring him food and clean his table back at the Tian Jousters’ Compound, but in everything else, he had been the servant. It was quite a different matter to be the one who was waited on.

He’d taken the precaution of having the servants bring a large kapok-stuffed leather ball, a couple of enormous leg bones, and one of the bells that were often used as wind chimes to leave with Avatre by way of toys. “I’ll be back later, love,” he called to her as he left; she gave no evidence that she was concerned by him leaving her alone, but then, she was used to being left alone by now. In fact, she seemed more interested in the leather ball than in his leaving. He hoped that she would play with it, and not rip it to bits.

They didn’t have to go far. Orest’s tutor Arit-on-senes was waiting for him in a large, airy room with good lighting from a southern-facing window that was just off the next courtyard. There were two small carpets in front of where he sat on a leather-padded stool, with a cushion on each little carpet, a lap-desk in front of it, and a jar of scrolls beside it. His appearance surprised Kiron; he wasn’t Altan or Tian. His hair was yellow and curly, and his eyes were blue. He was astonishingly handsome, and far more athletic-looking than Kiron had expected a scholar to be. His good looks were only slightly marred by the sardonic smile he wore when he saw Orest entering first, and reluctantly.

He was also clean-shaven, and his hair was cut even shorter than a Jouster’s. Kiron wondered if he was a slave—but if he was, he certainly didn’t act like one. He acted like a lord, actually.

“Well, Orest,” he drawled as they entered the room. Kiron noted a faint accent there, different from his own. “I suppose I can count on the fact that you read your assigned scroll?”

He sounded as if he meant the opposite, that he could count on Orest not having read the scroll.

“It is fifteen stanzas in praise of Te-oth, the god of scribes and the bringer of writing to mankind,” Orest replied, taking his seat on the cushion, and settling his desk on his lap. Kiron followed his example, a little awkwardly. “There are two initial stanzas about Te-oth specifically, several on how much a blessing writing and being able to write are, several more in praise of the profession of scribes and contrasting that profession with the misery of all others. I did notice that the author did not mention either Jouster or Councilor to the Great Ones as being inferior to the position of scribe, however.”

“Ah, but a Jouster is a sort of soldier, and a Councilor to the Great Ones has had to learn the craft of the scribe, so they are implied,” Arit retorted.

Orest shrugged. “The final two stanzas praise Te-oth for being the god who most consistently blesses mankind.”