After all, it was only a dream. And it was a dream of things he’d gone through many times before this, and would do so many times in the future. He wasn’t a Winged One, to have dreams of portent.
In fact, right now, he was altogether glad that was the case. It would have been much too heavy a burden to carry.
And this time, there was someone from among the rescued of last night waiting for him when he gathered all of them for their meeting, a lady with more of the air of a Queen about her than Nofret.
Someone Aket-ten clearly knew very well. “Wingleader Kiron, I make you known to Winged One Ma-an-ed-jat,” she said, with utmost formality. “She is the High Priestess of all of the Winged Ones of Alta.”
Kiron bowed about as much as he did to Lord Khumun. The lady lifted a sardonic brow, but gave him a little smile of approval. “Not afraid, I see.”
He shrugged. “Fear of you would serve no purpose, and we need to keep our wits about us. How many Winged Ones are left to be rescued?”
“No more than a handful,” the High Priestess said. “You’ll have them out on your first trip. The rest are all servants and—” she hesitated, then said, “—servants and friends. But I came to tell you that the Magi suspect something. I am Far-Sighted, and I have been bending my will to see what I may see this day. They’ve brought their private guards there now, and it looks as if they’re planning to break down the doors.”
Before Kiron could say anything, Oset-re laughed, although it did not sound as if what he was about to say was something he considered humorous. “Much good may it do them. My last man said you people have moved everything movable and packed the antechamber behind every door solid. They can break the doors, but they won’t get in until they clear the place.”
The woman nodded. “But our time is short,” she told them all. “That is what I came to say, and to thank you, and to tell you that I know that not only will you and your dragons do their best, I also know that no one anywhere would put as much of themselves into this as you have.”
She bowed—deeply—to all of them, then turned and left the training ground without a backward glance.
Huras broke the silence, laughing shakily. “I feel as if I have just had Lady Iris appear, pat my head, and tell me I have been a good boy and to finish cleaning my room and run along now,” he said, which made them all laugh.
“The ways of gods are strange, and the ways of their servants even stranger,” Ari said briskly.
“She’s exhausted,” Aket-ten said doubtfully, looking after the woman. “I’ve never seen her so thin and drained-looking.”
“So the sooner we finish this thing, the sooner she’ll have no people back in that temple to worry about,” Kiron replied, putting a bit of a whip-crack into his words. “You heard the Winged One. Let’s get into the saddle and into the air. Either the Magi will spot us, or they won’t, and in either case this is the last night, and we’ll be gone before they can do anything about it.”
“From your mouth to the ear of Haras,” Menet-ka said, earning himself a swat from Oset-re.
“Haras helps those who help themselves,” Kiron reminded them. “Into the sky, Jousters! We’ll be seeing our own beds again by midmorning!”
Which reminder was enough to put fire into the most tired of them, after all.
SEVENTEEN
BUT as they approached the temple this time, it was clear that something was very different. There was a lot of light on the horizon, and a red glow in the sky. It looked like a fire—
As they got nearer, what had looked like a building on fire resolved itself into a scene of purposeful activity. Armed men with torches swarmed the grounds, and there were bonfires burning under the walls, the light reflected in the pale stone from bottom to top. Smoke rose into the air in clouds, making his nose itch.
No one would be escaping over the walls by ropes tonight.
His heart sank a little. He could only hope that anyone willing to get out that way had, last night.
How many were left? No one had given him a number.
Maybe no one could. Or maybe no one was going to, to spare him knowing it was not going to be possible to get them all out before daylight. They dared not fly by day, or those on the ground would see where they went, leading the Magi straight to Aunt Re.
The dragons didn’t like the smoke and the fires, but they were bred for cavorting in and around sulfurous springs. The smoke was going to bother their riders a lot more than it would trouble them. It was a still night, and the smoke rose into the air and hung there like low clouds; though it made his eyes burn, it might not be a bad thing; they might be able to use it to hide behind. There was one thing; the extra light would make it easier for the dragons to see where they were going.
He kept Avatre high as they came in behind Aket-ten, forming the square well into those clouds of smoke. He glanced behind to see if the next rider caught the hint and was gratified to see that the others were following his lead.
At least there will be more light to land by.
Re-eth-ke descended into the smoke to the square defined by torches on the roof of the Temple. There were a lot of torches up there now, more than there had been last night. More than enough for all those men on the ground to notice.
Well, it’s not as if it’s going to make any difference.
Incredibly, no one on the ground saw the dragon landing on the roof. But then, Re-eth-ke was a flickering shadow in the smoke, indigo with a confusing touch of silver. When she rose again with her double burden, she was still barely visible among the shifting shadows in the smoke, and there was no outcry.
Not so for Avatre.
As she fanned her wings to land, he heard the cries from below, and ducked instinctively as arrows whistled through the night sky. As his helpers handed his next passenger up behind him, and tied them together with rope, he saw that they all had improvised wicker shields strapped to their backs. A moment later, he understood why, as a clatter of spent arrows bounced off the shields or the rooftop. One or two had a little more energy and stuck in the shields.
His young female passenger shook with fear; no older than Aket-ten, surely, and just as surely had never personally seen a shot fired in anger, much less had one directed at her. Those who helped tie her in place were made of sterner stuff.
“Clever story they’re putting out about you,” said one of those men he’d thought he’d recognized last night. “Evidently you’re Tians, come to steal us away.”
“Really?” He gave the rope a good hard tug to test it, and coughed as he breathed in a little too much smoke. “I don’t suppose they’ve got an explanation as to why you’re tying yourselves onto our dragons.”
“Not yet,” came the reply, and a sardonic sneer. “But I expect they’ll think of something soon. They’re shooting to kill us, you know. I overheard the Captain of Tens giving the orders. We’re better off dead than in your hands, according to him.”
A muffled wail behind his back made it very clear what his passenger thought of all this.
“Then we’ll just have to be where the arrows aren’t,” he said, keeping his tone confident. The helpers stepped away, and he sent Avatre up.
His passenger alternated distraught sobs with coughs the entire way back; he tried to get some answers out of her, but she replied with nothing but weeping. He tried not to be too irritated with her, but it was difficult; he desperately wanted to know how many people were left in that temple, and she was about as sensible as a terrified hare and just as articulate.
As he approached the temple the second time, he saw that there were archers not only on the ground, but on the roofs of nearby buildings, trying to keep up a steady barrage of arrows. Most fell short, but there were enough that were reaching the roof of the temple that he felt a thrill of alarm. But when he landed this time, instead of the clattering of falling shafts, or worse, the sound of arrows striking nearby, there was nothing, and he wondered why—