Karla loved flying on a dragon’s back. It was a shame that behind her own back, was the bane of her existence, the stablemaster Blake. She wasn’t able to enjoy the experience of flight, tense as she was imagining what Blake might do. But Blake did nothing, instead, after the short flight, he simply dismounted and pulled the catgirl off the saddle afterwards.

“Alright, little miss Dragoon, let’s see what you can do.” He said with a sneer. He was playing to an audience, the other stableboys, two free humans and two other beastmen slaves were watching the drama. There was no sympathy to be had in their young faces. Even the other two slaves were jealous of Karla’s preferential treatment.

In the large open field, called the Training Yard, four dragons were assembled. There were three messenger dragons, including the one the stablemaster and catgirl had just flown. And there was also Ignatius, the war dragon, who was a thirty five year old fearsome red dragon and veteran of many battles. He had been given to Howard, the current duke, by the previous duke, Eric’s grandfather, when Eric’s father was ten years old.

“A simple test,” Blake explained, “Tell me which of these dragons hasn’t been fed yet.” he instructed the catgirl. He followed the slave as she hesitantly approached the four dragons. All four of the dragons looked a bit disgruntled, in Karla’s opinion. They didn’t like being lined up so close to each other.

Karla knew that in the wild, male dragons like these would never gather together. They lived solitary lives, only spending time together with female dragons during the mating season. War dragons, when captured, were given a human lifetime worth of servitude, then freed to the wild when their owners died or retired, since no one else could ride them. Messenger dragons were usually kept longer, but even they were released by the time they were sixty years old and became interested in finding mates. By capturing only males and releasing them before they were fully mature, it was possible to have them living together in close proximity, but they never seemed to enjoy it.

The dragons were silent, and did not react to Karla’s hesitant question, “Um, so which one of you is hungry?” She asked in a small voice, prompting laughter and ridicule from the other stableboys. Karla felt foolish, why had she thought that would work?

She tried reaching within herself for some hint of whatever magical ability allowed her to talk to Rex, but felt nothing. Finally, more out of desperation to avoid further humiliation than anything else, she tried sniffing the air. She put her sensitive nose to work, trying to discern which of the dragons did not smell like food; raw meat in Ignatius’s case, a sort of meat based kibble in the case of the messenger dragons.

Blake appeared to have been waiting for Karla to try that exact thing, for he had been watching her closely and standing very close. So he was able to deal a heavy backhanded blow to her across that sensitive nose as soon as he caught her nostrils flaring. “No cheating!” He said, gloating as Karla stumbled to the ground, her nose bleeding. “She was trying to sniff out the answer.” He told his audience. The two human stableboys booed Karla, while the other two beastmen slaves were silent.

The beastmen knew they’d have tried the same thing, but couldn't afford to disagree with the stablemaster’s cruelty, lest that cruelty be turned their way instead. Besides, they thought, this was probably being done to help Karla further unlock the ability that had granted her special status. This was for Karla’s own good. Or at least that’s the excuse they told themselves.

Karla picked herself off the ground, then said, “Forgive me master Blake,” in a choked voice, struggling not to cry here in public view, “I can’t tell.”

“Go fix yourself up. We’ll try again tomorrow and every day.” Blake promised with a grin. “Until you get it right.”

With a choked sob, Karla nodded then ran into the stable she shared with Rex, clutching her freely bleeding nose.

Rex returned from lunch to find Karla sitting on her cot with her face buried in a rag, still bleeding, still crying softly.

Rex asked via the small speakers that the robofleas has built inside Karla’s ears. He reached upto Karla and sitting on his haunches licked her face, tasting the blood and tears, cleaning her as a cat might clean another.

“Blake hit me for cheating on his test,” she admitted with a sob, “I tried to sniff which dragon was the one that hadn’t eaten yet.”

Rex muttered darkly inside his own head, where only Idea could hear him.

Idea asked, in a carefully neutral tone.

Rex hesitated before answering, He finally replied, He asked.

Idea explained. 

Rex exclaimed, but looking at Karla’s battered face, he was almost tempted. He asked Idea, wondering why the AI would suggest such a thing. Was the AI testing him somehow?

Idea admitted. Idea confessed. The AI’s anger at Karla’s treatment was an icy cold indignation that chilled Rex.

Rex asked.

Idea replied, not unaware of the irony that an accidentally uplifted dragon was the only thing keeping the AI in check.