The stable smelled of sweet grains and cedar, with only the faintest whiff of the sour odor Will had come to associate with Strider.
“This is where I’m going to work?”
“That’s right,” Jerrol said. “And if you’ll take my advice, don’t muck it up, or you’ll end up scrubbing out ashes on your hands and knees with the scullery workers.”
Will gulped.
“Ho! Gellan, are you in here?” Jerrol called. A few of the cormants jerked their heads back, startled at the noise.
Halfway down the row, one of the wooden gates slid open, and a man backed out, sliding it closed again before turning to face them with a frown.
“Jerrol, what have I told you about raising your voice in here? It frightens the birds. And you know Dancer is carrying an egg worth thousands of marks.”
“Ah, yes. My humble apologies, Stable Master,” the servant said with a slight bow. His expression looked repentant, but something about how quickly the apology came made Will wonder if Jerrol actually cared that he’d scared the birds at all. “Elder Madoc has requested that you put this boy to work. He’s an off-lander, but apparently he has some aptitude for working with cormants.”
Gellan’s eyebrows shot up at the word “off-lander,” and he looked Will up and down, as though trying to see special skills written on him somewhere. The stable master was a short man, thin, with gray hair and a bushy mustache. He eyed Will critically through wire-rimmed glasses while wiping his hands on a coarse rag. “That so?”
“Indeed. Now, I’ll leave you to it, then.” Jerrol gave another curt bow, then turned on his heel and marched back out of the stable, leaving them alone.
Jerrol’s abrupt departure didn’t seem to bother Gellan. He stared at Will a moment longer, tapping his fingers. “So, you’re an off-lander, hmm? Don’t hear about that every day. You think you can handle these birds?” He jerked his head toward three colorful cormants watching them from their stalls.
“I don’t know . . . sir.”
“And why not?”
“Because I don’t know those birds.”
Gellan tilted his head, waiting for more.
“I got along with Strider because I took care of him every day. He learned to trust me.”
Gellan nodded and folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. “Good answer. So you know some of these birds might gut you as soon as they look at you. They’re not all trained as well as Strider.”
Will nodded his head and licked his lips, eyeing the sharp curved beak on the nearest cormant.
“Well, all right then.” Gellan lifted a bucket and a rake from hooks on the wall next to him. “You can start by cleaning out the droppings from all the stalls. Scoop ’em into this bucket. When you’re done, if you haven’t been gored by the birds, we’ll see where to put you next.”
“W–what?”
“Hush now.” Gellan frowned. “No raised voices in the stables. It agitates the birds.” He thrust the bucket and rake into Will’s hands. “Now, show me what you can do.”
Of the twenty cormant stalls in the stable, only eight actually housed birds. Of those eight, only three had fresh droppings for Will to clean up, but he went into every stall to check, anyway.
Gellan said nothing, staying far back and observing Will with a blank expression. Will carefully slinked into the stalls one by one, using everything he’d learned from working with Strider: staying still if a bird stared at him, walking smoothly, and never getting too close directly in front of the birds, passing instead on the sides where they were less likely to aim a kick. Twice, he had to wait in the corner of a stall while nervous, angry cormants calmed down enough to realize he wasn’t there to hurt them. When they settled down, he continued working, reassuring the birds by speaking softly to them.
The last stall he worked on was Strider’s, and he was clearly happy to see Will. His head perked up, and he gave soft, delighted squawks when Will entered. Will had a little trouble cleaning out Strider’s stall because the bird kept nudging him with his beak and searching his clothes, looking for a secret stash of grains.
When Will completed his chore and returned to Gellan, the stable master offered him a smile. “You’ve done well. And you say you’ve never worked with cormants before?”
“Not before Strider anyway.” Will shrugged and wiped his hands on his pant legs. “I had a dog when I was younger, though. I taught him all kinds of tricks. Animals think differently than we do. They feel more than they think. If you can get them to feel comfortable with you, you can teach them almost anything.”
Stable Master Gellan nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. “Very interesting. Well, it’s getting on to time for supper now. Let’s go wash up and eat. Tomorrow, I’ll see how you do at grooming.”
Will tried to smile back as he limped out of the stable. It was one thing to enter a stall with a nervous cormant, but it was another thing to groom them. He wasn’t sure these birds would let him touch them without biting or kicking him.
After a quick supper in the crowded servants' hall—steamed buns with seasoned meat cooked inside—Will found his way up to the bedchambers where his parents were getting settled in a stuffy loft.
His father was at the window, struggling to pry it open and let in some air, when Will climbed up the steps to join them.
“Oh, there you are!” his mom said. “I was getting worried.”
“It’s hotter than blazes in here!” Will’s dad grunted as he yanked on the windowpane. “Want to give me a hand?”
“Yeah . . .” Will limped over to his dad, and together they forced the window open to let in a breeze.
“Phew. That’s better.” His dad wiped his arm across his brow. “So, how was your day?”
“They have me working in the stable with the cormants,” Will said. He sat on the thin mattress laid out on the floor for him. “You wouldn’t believe how colorful some of them are.”
“Oh, what do they have you doing in there?” His dad’s face seemed flushed. A sheen of sweat still glistened on his brow from working in the fields.
Will chuckled sheepishly. “Well, so far, all I did was muck the stalls. But Stable Master Gellan wants me to groom the cormants tomorrow . . . if they don’t attack me, that is.”
Will’s mom shuddered. “I don’t like the idea of you working with those dangerous creatures. I’m going to find a way to get us out of here so we can go home!”
“Did they have you doing hard work today?” Will asked her.
His mom snorted humorlessly. “Not unless you think scrubbing lintels and cookware, cleaning out bedding, sweeping floors, carving up ingredients, and washing a mountain of copper pots is hard work.” She showed her sore, red hands as evidence. “And I have to start early tomorrow, too. But I heard one of the other women mention something that might help us. I’ll try to get more out of her in the morning.”
“What did you hear? Something that will help us get away from Avria?” Will tried to sound excited, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wasn’t sure why. Their life had been nothing but miserable since they had washed ashore, but part of him fell connected to this place somehow.
“Well, I’m not sure about that, but they’d at least be able to search for Uncle John if we can pay them.”
“Who could search the whole coastline?” Will’s dad asked. “I don’t know how big this place is, but considering how long it took to get here from the coast, it’s got to be huge!”
She looked at Will now with a half-smile. “I almost didn’t believe it at first. Even when you said you’d seen one.” She shook her head. “We could hire dragon riders.”
Chapter Seven
“We can hire a dragon rider! Seriously?” Will asked. His stomach flipped with a thrill of anticipation.
His dad’s mouth fell open in amazement, too. “How do we do that? How much would something like that cost us?”
Will’s mom chuckled as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. Mellie g
ot called away before she could answer my questions. I’ll ask her about it more tomorrow.” She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “There might still be hope.”
Will slumped in the corner of his bed and hugged his knees. “Do you really think so, Mom? Could Uncle John still be alive out there?” Their boat had wrecked almost ten days ago. As much as Will wanted to think that his uncle had washed ashore somewhere and found help, he was afraid that wasn’t likely. It was a miracle that he and his parents had made it to Avria. Asking for two miracles was too much to hope for.
His mom walked over and crouched on the floor next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Of course there’s still hope.” Her voice was tight with unshed tears. “You never know, your uncle could be out there, waiting for rescuers to find him. Or he could have already found someone to help him, like we did.” She sniffed and took a deep breath, giving Will’s shoulders an extra tight squeeze. “We can’t give up hope. When we find John, when we’re all back together, I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to get back home.”
Behind her, Will’s dad pressed his lips together and looked away with a quiet sigh.
The next day, Stable Master Gellan put Will to work mucking the soiled straw out from all the stalls and grooming the cormants. The giant birds slowly started trusting him as he brushed the dust out of their feathers and scrubbed the dirt off their legs.
Just as he was finishing up, Gellan brought out a bucket of metal tools, including sharp hooked clippers, and handed it to Will. “Come on. We’ve got a bird that needs its claws trimmed. I’ll show you how.”
“Trim claws?” Will asked, eyeing the clippers warily.
Gellan led him down the row to the stall of a young cormant named Slash. This bird was slightly smaller than the others, with a spray of bright-red feathers around his beak.
When Slash got a look at the tool bucket, he hissed viciously and backed into a corner, fluffing up his feathers to make himself bigger.
“That’s Slash for you,” Gellan muttered. “He knows what these tools mean and hates having his claws trimmed. I’ll tie him up and strap his leg back so we can get to his talons.”
“Wait, don’t do that,” Will said.
“Hmm?”
“Won’t tying him up make him even more scared?”
“He sure won’t like it, but he’s got to have his talons trimmed. Let them grow too long and you’ll end up with a lame cormant, and a lame cormant’s only good for feeding dragons.”
Will frowned and rubbed his neck. Then he thought of something. “Hey, I have an idea!” He looked through the tools in the bucket and selected a coarse metal shaping file. “If it works, we won’t have to tie him up, and it’ll be easier for everyone.”
“You think you know how to deal with cormants better than I do, now?” Gellan raised his eyebrows incredulously.
“Just let me try something, okay? If it doesn’t work, we’ll do it your way.”
Gellan rolled his eyes and waved a hand into the stall. “Have at it. Just don’t get yourself gored.”
In the corner of the stall, Slash pranced nervously and shook his fluffed feathers, turning his head back and forth in quick, darting movements.
“Shh, easy there,” Will said, using a gentle voice. He took a coarse leg brush from a hook on the wall and slowly stepped closer.
Seeing the brush, Slash’s feathers smoothed down a little. He lifted his head.
Will cautiously reached a hand out and stroked his soft neck feathers, then ran his hand down the bird’s knobby leg.
Slash twitched his wings and squawked, but he didn’t back away.
Will started running the coarse brush bristles back and forth along the bird’s already clean legs. Slash relaxed more. Will knew Slash was already comfortable having people brush dry mud off his legs, so this would be familiar to him.
After a while, Will lifted Slash’s foot to brush his talons. Slash shifted his weight and eyed him curiously, but the brushing sensation didn’t seem to alarm him. Will had already been brushing his legs, so brushing his talons seemed to be okay.
When Slash looked away, Will dropped the brush and started running the metal file over his long, sharp claws. He hoped that, to Slash, the sensation of the new tool wouldn’t be too different.
It worked. Slash didn’t suspect a thing. Filing the cormant’s talons took longer than the clippers would have, but when he’d finished with the first foot, Slash lifted the other one right away and let Will file his talons without complaint.
When Will finished and turned to leave the stall, Gellan was watching him in open astonishment. “Well, I’ll be a sun-struck shufflo. You did it, kid. I can’t believe it.”
Will shrugged. “It seemed like it might work. I had to do the same thing trimming my dog’s claws back home. And I’d rather the cormants learn to trust me. It’ll make things easier in the long run, won’t it?”
Gellan grunted in amusement, took off his hat, and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Well, I’m starting to think you might be right about that.” He chuckled as he tugged his hat back on. “C’mon, kid. It’s about time for breakfast.”
Will brushed dust and stray feathers from his trousers as he followed the old stable master out to the pump to wash. They’d already been at work for hours, and it was hard to believe that it was still morning.
In the servants’ dining hall, people were crowding in from all over the house, lining up to grab bowls of porridge, cream, and sliced apples. Noisy chatter filled the stuffy room, along with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor, coarse laughter, and heavy steam from the bubbling pot of porridge.
“What about some of that roast shufflo the elder had yesterday?” a young man ahead of Will in line asked. He wrinkled his nose at his bowl of porridge.
“That meat is for making pies later,” a cook said, waving a warning ladle at him. “You keep your paws off it.”
The man took an extra scoop of porridge, grumbling under his breath.
Will looked around the hot, stuffy room to see if he could find his parents. His dad was nowhere in sight. When Will peeked through the doorway into the washroom, he spotted his mom, sleeves rolled up, scouring out a giant copper pot.
He grimaced as he saw her stretch her aching back. Didn’t she get a break? She was allowed to eat, too, wasn’t she?
“C’mon, boy. Let’s take our food outside,” Gellan said, patting his shoulder. “We stay in here much longer we’ll turn into roast meat ourselves.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Will watched his mom for a moment longer before following Gellan outside. They sat under a tree near the kitchen door to eat, leaning against the cool stones of the manor. With the way the branches draped down around them, people passing in and out of the door couldn’t easily see them, so they could eat undisturbed.
“That trick of yours . . . with Slash,” Gellan said as he stirred his porridge thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“What do you mean? What trick?”
“Making him think you were brushing his claws. That was downright clever. I’ll have to remember it.”
Will felt his face warm in embarrassment. “Thanks.”
A commotion through the open kitchen door made them both look up. The head cook was shouting, and it sounded like a kid was shouting back at her.
“Get out of here, you little hooligans!” the cook yelled. “What do you mean by coming in here and rubbing your grubby hands all over our prep food?”
Three boys scurried out the kitchen door. One looked nervous, another looked amused, but the third turned back and puffed up his chest importantly.
“That meat tastes nasty, anyway!” the third boy sneered. “And I should be able to take whatever I want. We’re searching for a dragon egg, and egg holders are supposed to get free food wherever they go!”
“Oh, so you fancy yourself an egg holder already?” the cook asked in a mocking voice. “Didn’t it occur to you that you have to b
e holding an egg to take the title?”
The first two boys hid snickers behind their hands.
The third boy glowered at her.
“Why don’t you go home, Tavin?” the cook said. “Your father’s got plenty of food in his kitchen. You’ve no cause to be lurking around in here.”
“I’m here to get Slash so we can go egg hunting! But that dolt of a stable hand isn’t there to put on the saddle for me!”
Will shot an amazed look at Gellan, but the old man didn’t seem surprised at the boy’s disrespectful words.
“Of course he isn’t. It’s breakfast time, in case you hadn’t noticed. Now run off and wait for Stable Master Gellan at the stable. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”
Tavin turned and sulkily marched away with the other two boys following behind.
Gellan shook his head and sighed.
“Who is that?” Will asked.
“That’s Tavin, the son of Elder Dimuk. His lands border ours on the eastern side.”
“He came to get Slash?” Will asked, horrified.
“Slash is his cormant. Elder Dimuk bought him for the boy as soon as he was old enough to ride. They have no stable on their land, so they pay to have the bird cared for and trained here.” He let out a slow sigh. “Slash is a fine bird, but his training is hampered by the foolish handling that boy gives him. Tavin never bothered to learn more than the most rudimentary riding skills. Every time he takes Slash out, he brings him back worse off, and the boy gets more frustrated and foolish with every ride.”
“That sounds . . . dangerous,” Will whispered, trying not to imagine what a scared, poorly trained cormant might do to a small, foolish rider.
“It is. And if an accident happens, it’ll come at my stable’s expense.” He shook his head sadly. “Let’s get back to the stable and make sure that boy isn’t causing problems.”
Secret of the Dragon Egg (Dragon Riders of Avria Book 1) Page 6
