The baying of the hounds was loud enough that Ash-el almost missed the whistle in the air that signified the flight of an arrow as it flew passed his thigh. He would have missed it completely had it not been for Saltana’s startled snort and he had enough warning to shift his weight and balance to keep her reined in when she shied.

She was far too excitable for hunts, really, but she was his favourite mount, and she enjoyed them as much as he did. Her build, endurance, and stamina were also the highest in his stables, making her invaluable on any kind of hobby or pursuit that required speed.

Thor-el thundered past with a wild whoop of excitement, and Ash-el slammed his heels into Saltana’s sides, not that she needed it- she’d caught sight of her stablemate galloping past her and she was just as eager to catch up. The dogs were starting to sound frantic, and up ahead he could see Thor-el dropping his reins again to draw another arrow, notching it onto the bow and hastily trying to aim it correctly.

There wasn’t really a point, Ash-el thought to himself, shifting his weight again so Saltana could go faster. He’d either hit the deer, or a dog, or a human. All were replaceable. Still, Thor-el’s father wouldn’t be pleased if he had to have another dog trained- the humans were no worry, they bred easily and quickly enough to the point where it was hard to notice if there was a new slave from one day to the next.

They were almost upon the main knot of hounds now, the doe having predictably come to a dead stop in the small stream. The humans were wet from the splashing, eager dogs, but they knew the penalties for letting a dog get the kill first. And Thor-el might have been in the lead, but that wouldn’t last long- not if Ash-el had anything to say about it.

Jerking Saltana to a stop, he hurriedly drew an arrow from the quiver slung behind his back, pulling his bow out of the saddle holder that had been specially made for it. He had just lifted it enough to notch the bow when one of the human’s yelped, and a dog surged free, bounding for the terror stricken deer.

Ash-el cursed, but it was too late, Thor-el had already had an arrow readied by the time he had stopped, his race to the group had given him the advantage, and before the dog could leap for the animal’s neck, Thor-el’s arrow hit solidly, right behind the left shoulder. It was a clean hit, and the deer gave a moaning sound like a sigh, staggering and dropping moments before the dog was on it.

Ash-el watched the dog tearing up the doe, his stomach stirring uncomfortably enough to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Ignoring the sensation and the instinctive urge, he turned Saltana to face Thor-el, scowling. “You cheated. Nocking arrows while riding isn’t allowed.”

“But if I hadn’t,” his friend countered, “she would have been ripped apart alive.”

“Not if that slave would have kept the dogs back like he was supposed to.”

Thor-el frowned, that minor detail obviously having slipped his mind. “No, that’s true. Very well, young Lord Dyn-el, I shall win the match, and to recompensate you for your loss, I shall tell father to have the slave punished. Is that good enough?”

Ash-el opened his mouth to reply but the young slave who had let the dog go humbly crept forward, mumbling in the common tongue. Ash-el understood enough of it to know that the human was apologizing and he ignored it, turning Saltana away to continue through back to Thor-el’s lodge where they were staying.

“If I had known you were going to cheat,” he told Thor-el roundly, “I would have stayed in your library with Ink-el.”

“What, and let me have all the fun? I think you wouldn’t have been able to stand it. I do think it’s rather unusual for Ink-el to stay behind in a hunt though, did he happen to tell you why he wasn’t coming?”

Ash-el shrugged, not finding it prudent to speak of the matter here where slaves were still in hearing distance. They weren’t trained the language of the noble and the elite, but one never knew what they could pick up- he’d heard it rumoured that they were rather smart.

Rubbish, of course, mere rumours, but it was still a distant worry in the back of the mind of most dragonlings.

“I expect he’ll tell you himself when we get back,” he told Thor-el after a moment, and managed to kick Saltana into a loping gait before Thor-el could try and overtake him.

They found Ink-el, as Ash-el had predicted, in the library. He was sitting on the window seat, staring out onto the view of the forest that fringed the boundary of the little chateau. The setting sun gilded his hair a fiery shade of gold, and Ash-el wondered again how someone who looked so delicate could be so strong inside.

Indeed, sometimes he hated being around Ink-el just by merit of feeling so impossibly weak in his presence.

“There you are,” he said lightly, and the corner of Ink-el’s mouth he could see curled up in response, the dragonling looking away from the window to offer him a quiet smile.

“Yes indeed, where did you think I was?”

“Right here,” Thor-el answered, sauntering into the room to drop down elegantly onto one of the leather chairs. “Although we thought you’d be reading a book.”

Ink-el shrugged, and looked away.

Ash-el smirked to himself. “You missed a fine example of Thor-el underhanded tactics,” he told his best friend lightly, his smirk spreading into a small grin at Thor-el’s somewhat heated protest. “He nocked and shot while riding as well as letting his slave let one of the dogs loose.”

“Oh did he now?” Ink-el replied, running straight over Thor-el’s attempt at a new explanation. “Well, he should certainly forfeit.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Ash-el grinned at Ink-el, exchanging winks before turning back to Thor-el. “What have you got to give me that I could possibly want?”

“Well I don’t know,” Thor-el temporized after gaping and mouthing soundlessly for a few seconds. “I could give you a- horse? Slave? Good meal?”

Ink-el laughed, standing from the window seat and stretching, yawning wide enough to show his slightly sharper than average teeth. “I don’t know, Ash, a good meal sounds good right about now.”

“Does it occur to you that it’s my forfeit and you shouldn’t be getting anything special beyond your regular dinner?” Ash-el pointed out, but without hope of being attended to.

Ink-el shot him an innocent smile, his black eyes guileless. “Yes, but you’re going to be sharing with me anyway, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see what the big fuss is,” Thor-el cut in, standing from his chair and shaking his head in a puzzled manner. “All my food here qualifies as a good meal. It’s not like you’re going to be revolted, whatever you choose to do.”

“In that case, perhaps I should take one of your horses,” Ash-el thought aloud, scratching his chin in exaggerated contemplation. “I could always use another good animal…”

“Except none of them are good,” Ink-el teased and managed to ignore Thor-el’s stifled gasp of feigned outrage. At least, Ash-el hoped it was feigned. “You should probably stick to the meal, Ash.”

“No, wait, hang on a moment,” Ash-el continued, frowning slightly at nothing, his brows drawing over his light eyes. “My father was bemoaning the lack of a good falconer assistant three days ago, I don’t suppose he’s found one to replace the old one yet.”

“What happened to the old one?” Ink-el asked in mild curiosity.

Ash-el shrugged. “I fancy he attempted to smuggle some of the birds across the border to Salthaven. He disappeared before we could punish him, but it’s of no real concern. We still have our master falconer, but father is determined to find a new one.”

“Well, if it’s a slave you want, you can have the one who let the dog go,” Thor-el offered gallantly, and Ash-el rolled his eyes.

“Very well, if it’s the best you can offer. Do you know who he is?”

“Not in the slightest,” Thor-el replied chipperly, seemingly happy to find he wasn’t going to forfeit something of too much value. “But I’ll find out before you leave and send him with you, and I’ll tell you what, you can have a fine meal before you leave tomorrow as well!”

“You are too kind,” mocked Ink-el, grinning widely as Thor-el swept an elaborately elegant bow.

“Not at all, my good lord. Shall we eat?”

Ink-el merely smiled vaguely, moving forward to curl his arm through Ash-el’s as they followed Thor-el out of the library sedately. “I don’t think he should have given you the worst of his lot of slaves,” he murmured from the side of his mouth to Ash-el.

Ash-el merely shrugged with one shoulder. “Doesn’t really matter anyway, Father’s bound to reject the services of any slave I receive, purely as a matter of course. Thor-el’s will probably be delegated to kitchen boy or something like that.”

Ink-el made a humming noise and pursed his lips thoughtfully, but wasn’t given time for more of an answer than that before Thor-el was calling them to hurry up.

“On the bright side,” Ash-el added quietly as they sped up their footsteps a little bit, maybe Thor-el will learn not to cheat when we’re around.”

Ink-el merely laughed. “I think you’re aiming rather too high there, Ash my friend. I think you’re aiming too high.”

Breakfast the next morning consisted of ham and pork sausages, still sizzling from the cook’s pan, and eaten on the way to the stables by hand, their inherited teeth tearing into the meat easily. Saltana and Helard were already saddled and were waiting impatiently, stamping their hooves and trying to pull the reins out of the single slave’s hands.

Ash-el passed him without a second look, then hesitated as Ink-el mounted his chestnut gelding easily. There was something…

“What is it, Ash? Need more ham?” Ink-el asked him, tapping the slave on the shoulder with his riding whip in order to free the reins so he could gather them up properly.

The slave started and jumped a little, a small sound escaping, and Ash-el recognized the noise. “You. You’re my new slave.”

The human nodded, bowing his dark head in respectful submission and mumbled a few words of acknowledgement, Ash-el didn’t hear exactly what because he wasn’t paying attention.

“It’s a long ride, boy, I hope you can keep up,” he told him, taking Saltana’s reins and swinging up into her saddle. “Are you a fast runner?”

“Shouldn’t you offer him a mule or something, Ash? It is a long way,” Ink-el prompted, and Ash-el merely grunted forbiddingly.

Ink-el wasn’t to be put off. “It won’t put you out of the way too much to stop by at Kingsham to buy him a mule, only a few hours or so, and I daresay that your farmer’s could always use another mule.”

“Fine,” Ash-el agreed ungraciously, not entirely understanding how Ink-el could be so kind to something so worthless, but it was probably something to do with his blood. He was a half human after all, maybe it gave him a certain sense of sympathy or empathy or whatever the hell it was. “Hear that, boy? You can run along behind until we get to Kingsham.”

Ink-el shot him a pleased smile, but Ash-el was too busy frowning at the slave boy to return the favour. “And I can’t keep calling you boy, what’s your name?” he continued gruffly as he walked Saltana by, not really caring enough to hear the reply properly.

“Endor-en,” the slave replied, and it was unusual enough that Ash-el halted a few steps from where he had started, turning his head and staring down at the human- no, it wasn’t a human, not with that telltale name. “Endor-en?”

“Yes, m’lord Dyn-el.”

Ash-el frowned, lifting his gaze to meet Ink-el’s quiet look.

It appeared he’d just gotten a half-breed as a new slave.

Wonderful.