He said as much to the door servant, and his lordship’s steward, and the servant who came to bring him into his lordship’s presence. He was enthusiastic in his praise of Orest, which made all three servants smile, for Orest was a great favorite among them.

“Kiron, rider of Avatre!” Lord Ya-tiren greeted him, with a smile, as he entered the workroom where Ya-tiren was perusing a pile of letters. His lordship had a brazier burning beside his table to chase away the cold. On his table stood a fine alabaster lamp burning sweetly scented oil. The sound of the rain outside was muffled by the thick walls of his workroom, which were painted with scenes of duck hunting with cat and falcon. Kiron recalled Aket-ten telling him how she “spoke” to her father’s cats and birds to make sure they were in good condition for just that sport. “Come and sit, and tell me how my son gets on!”

It was rather flattering to be invited to sit, as if he was an equal of Ya-tiren, both in age and in rank. He wasn’t going to let it go to his head, though. He wasn’t either of those things, and he had no intention of pretending that he was. He did take the proffered chair, though, and waited patiently while Ya-tiren finished the scroll, gave his scribe some instructions, and sent the man out of the room.

“Orest is flourishing, my lord,” Kiron began. “He is most diligent in his duties.”

“And in his studies as well, praise Te-oth; his tutors have never been so pleased. I was beginning to despair over him until he seized on this desire to become a Jouster, but it seems that being rewarded with his wish has given him the motivation he had been lacking until now,” Lord Ya-tiren said, with a smile, and without changing either his expression or his tone of voice, went on, “and you were right to be concerned about my youngest. There have been visits and—pressure—which you were correct to anticipate. I was taken off guard. I shall not be so unwary again.” And then, without missing a beat, he continued, “So when is the egg due to hatch? I assume that once it does, I shall not see much of Orest.”

Lord Ya-tiren’s eyes flicked, ever so briefly, to the door. Kiron took that as a warning that there might be someone listening there. “That is quite true, my Lord,” he replied, as cheerfully as he could. “And I believe that the eggs will begin to hatch at the end of the rains, or thereabouts. You would be welcome to visit him, of course, if your duties permit you the leisure. The youngsters need a great deal of comforting from their surrogate mothers until they are old enough to begin amusing themselves with play.”

“Play? Dragons play?” said Ya-tiren, momentarily diverted.