Sanctuary (38 page)
“Be-ka-re at your service,” he said soberly. “The High Priest tells me you have need of magic. Tell me what you need, and I will tell you if any of us can do this.”
“A way to keep Avatre warm all night at the top of a tower,” Kiron said instantly. “And I need a way to know, from above the clouds, that the Magi’s Tower is right below me.”
Now
he had something he could do.
Now
he had something he could do.
These were simple things, and yet—so crucial, and so impossible to achieve without magic.
Be-ka-re pursed his lips, then looked up at the ceiling. Kiron waited; he got the impression that the priest was thinking hard and rapidly.
Finally, the reward for his patience.
“I think,” Be-ka-re said, “we can do this.”
As the last light faded, Kiron and Avatre circled above the clouds over Alta City. No one could see him from here; the only problem, of course, was that he couldn’t see anything. And he needed to wait until darkness fell, while people’s eyes were still making the adjustment from light to dark, and a shadow could fall from the clouds and have less chance of being seen.
In his hand was a disk made of glass, and on that disk was a glowing spot that moved as he moved. When the spot was in the center of the disk, it meant he was directly over the Tower.
So small a thing, and it would not last for long. By midnight, its power would be exhausted. But by midnight he would be on the Tower, and would not need it. Without it, he would have to come in beneath the clouds and approach the Tower from a distance, drastically increasing the chance of being seen. With it, he could drop down from directly above.
The Tower, it seemed, sent out magic. The little glowing spot was a reflection of that magic. The disk was not, as the use of the Far-Seeing Eye was, an active thing that could be blocked. It was more like a mirror, a passive thing showing only what another Magus might see merely by looking in the right way.
“Magi and those of us priests who also know the ways of magic can see this,” Be-ka-re had told him. “I merely give you a way to see what I can see.”
The last of the sun tipped below the clouds, which turned blood-red below him. He hoped it wasn’t an omen; Avatre continued to circle at his direction, though she was growing uneasy, as her frequent glances down showed him. She knew it would be dark soon, and she didn’t like to land in the dark any more than any other dragon did. But other than her glances downward, she did nothing; she trusted him.
When the last red of sunset had left the sky, and stars had begun to appear in the east, he centered the glowing spot on the disk, and sent Avatre plunging down through the clouds. She could not have been more willing; she pulled in her wings and dove, trusting to him to be her eyes. As the drop sent his heart racing and his stomach clenched, there was also a moment of eye-stinging awe that she
did
trust him so much.
did
trust him so much.
It was nothing like the wild plunges he and Aket-ten had made when they seeded the winds with the plant disease that rendered
tala
useless. There didn’t seem to be any lightning anywhere around, and if there was wind, it was too little to take note of. What there was a great deal of, however, was rain. Avatre was forced to moderate her fall, spreading her wings and turning the plunge into a tight spiral downward.
tala
useless. There didn’t seem to be any lightning anywhere around, and if there was wind, it was too little to take note of. What there was a great deal of, however, was rain. Avatre was forced to moderate her fall, spreading her wings and turning the plunge into a tight spiral downward.
He was soaked within moments of passing into the clouds, as if someone had emptied an entire bath over him. And the farther they dropped, the worse it got until, as they broke through the bottom of the clouds, he had begun to wonder if he was going to find himself swimming to the Tower.
This was the central island of Alta City, the place where the elite of the elite lived. Here, too, stood the temples to the most important gods, the Royal Palace, and, of course, the Tower of Wisdom, the tallest building on the island, and the symbol of the power of the Magi.
Though even in the semidarkness the damage wrought by Eye and earthshake on the rings was obvious, there was no obvious sign of any such damage here on the center island. There were no buildings in ruins, no burned-out places—
But Kiron didn’t have much time to look either; he and Avatre were coming straight down to the top of the Tower to avoid being seen, and the faster he got her down, the better.
And, of course, Avatre was all but blind in this light, depending on him to tell her what to do in time for her to do it.
At the height of a single-storied house above the top of the Tower, he signaled her to backwing and start to land. She responded instantly, fanning her wings furiously and tucking her hindquarters under, then stretching out with her back legs as she felt for the surface she trusted would soon be there. This was the moment they were most likely to be seen—or heard, as her wings pumped, creating a kind of thunder.
He felt it when a single talon touched that surface; she backwinged a little harder, and he felt her hindquarters stretching, then as she got her weight onto the surface, he felt her legs take it. She folded her wings and settled onto the Tower top with hardly more than a whisper of sound.
Kiron sagged against her neck for a moment in relief. She’d never done this in the full dark before, and yet she had trusted him, trusted him even though they had no more communication than shifting weight, hand signals on her neck, and whispered voice.
He told her fervently what a clever dragon she was, then slipped off her back and onto the wet sandstone of the Tower. He saw with relief that there was a knee-high parapet running all around the edge. So Avatre would not be immediately visible.
Of course, when dawn came, there was the little problem of a scarlet dragon perching on the top of the pale stone of the Tower of Knowledge. Not all of her was going to fit behind that parapet.
But first, she needed to be fed.
There were two bundles of food for her, in baskets on either side of her flanks. Not butchered meat; this was all whole small animals, things she could, and would, swallow whole. There would be no blood and no mess.
He emptied one pannier in front of her, and she gulped down everything while he untied the other and put it aside. He’d feed it to her in the morning, before he went—inside.
He quickly untied the bundle he’d brought from behind the saddle and shook it out as she finished the last of her meal.
It was, to all outward signs, a simple huge square of canvas, like one of the awnings that used to keep rain off the pens, or a sail of the sort you would find on any vessel moving up and down the Great Mother River and her daughters. But the moment he shook it out, this expanse of canvas began to radiate the same heat as a flat rock on a pleasant summer day.
The same heating spell that kept the sands of the dragons’ pens hot kept this piece of fabric just as warm—courtesy of the Thet priests. This was how Avatre would be able to endure the cold and rain of the night. He shook it out over Avatre and made sure that she was entirely covered, before climbing in under it with her.
His clothing quickly began to steam; this was every bit as hot as the sands. Avatre was already relaxing.
It’s a pity this is so complicated a bit of magic,
he thought, trying to keep his mind on something other than the fact that Aket-ten was somewhere below.
Well, perhaps someday . . . someday when there are more of us. And no Magi.
he thought, trying to keep his mind on something other than the fact that Aket-ten was somewhere below.
Well, perhaps someday . . . someday when there are more of us. And no Magi.
The canvas had another use besides keeping Avatre warm all night. It was nearly the same color as the sandstone; if Avatre kept her head down and her tail tucked in, chances were no one would see her from directly below. And it wasn’t likely anyone across the canal would look at the Tower long enough to notice a lump on the top of it.
At least, no one would see her until he needed her to be seen.
And Aket-ten was somewhere below. Hurt, perhaps. Kaleth said that she hadn’t been hurt, but how could he be sure? Frightened, she was surely frightened, and mourning her dragon. Praying that help would somehow come before it was too late.
I’m here!
he thought, hard, wondering if she could somehow pick it up.
We’ll get you out, just hold on. . . .
he thought, hard, wondering if she could somehow pick it up.
We’ll get you out, just hold on. . . .
It was very comfortable under the folds of that cloth. The canvas was waterproof enough that his clothing was drying out. The Thet priests said that the Magi wouldn’t sense this magic, even though it was so close to them, because the thing in the Tower was so magical already. The sail would be like a lit lantern under the desert sun at noon; you wouldn’t see the flame unless you were looking for it, and even then you would have to be practically on top of it.
How scared is she? How hurt is she? Have they already done anything to her?
Was she in a bare, cold cell somewhere down below, chilled, aching, maybe hungry?
Was she in a bare, cold cell somewhere down below, chilled, aching, maybe hungry?
What had they been doing to her? He didn’t really want to think about it. . . .
He went over his plan in his mind. Before dawn he would have to get into place, moving while there was just enough light to see by, but not so much that anyone would be around to spot him. He hoped. There was a lot of hope involved in this. An awful lot of hope.
Avatre was already asleep. He could feel her breathing; she was very comfortable under this sail. And with the rain drumming on it, it was like the old days, back when he was just beginning the new wing of dragons, with rain drumming on the canopy that kept the water out of the hot sand.
Back when Toreth was alive. Before Aket-ten became one of them.
If they’ve hurt her. . . .
His stomach knotted, and not just with anxiety over Aket-ten.
He wished he was doing something other than just waiting.
Fear crept slowly over him, chilling his heart; he tried to drive it away by throwing himself into his planning.
There wasn’t a lot of room inside the tower; he would probably not have to face more than two people, the Magus and whoever he brought to help him. A guard, probably. He would have to get rid of both of them. . . .
Be honest. I’m going to have to kill them.
This was going to be hard. He’d never killed anyone face-to-face before, and he might have to. Would have to. Almost a certainty.
Actually, he hadn’t ever killed anyone—not that he was certain of. In that last fight when the
tala
ran out, he and the others had mostly just tried to make the Tian dragons angry, so they’d throw their riders. Or at least, get the dragons so agitated that they’d fight their Jousters, force them to make their beasts go to ground just so the Jouster could get off before the dragon
could
throw them. He’d wanted people dead, but he’d never done the deed with his own hands. He felt very conscious of the long knife at his hip. He was going to have to use that knife. . . .
tala
ran out, he and the others had mostly just tried to make the Tian dragons angry, so they’d throw their riders. Or at least, get the dragons so agitated that they’d fight their Jousters, force them to make their beasts go to ground just so the Jouster could get off before the dragon
could
throw them. He’d wanted people dead, but he’d never done the deed with his own hands. He felt very conscious of the long knife at his hip. He was going to have to use that knife. . . .
That, he tried not to think about. He just drilled himself in what he had to do next when dawn came, dozing off, then waking, to go over it all again. He willed himself to see every step, over and over, until, as the rain slackened just a little and the first hint of dawn lightened the sky, he shook off the last of his sleepiness and went to work.
And it felt like he had done it a hundred times before.
First, he unloaded the second pannier in front of Avatre; she wasn’t awake enough to be hungry yet, but when she was, her breakfast would be waiting right there for her and she wouldn’t have to move from under the comfortable canvas to eat it. And then, she could go right back to sleep again. She probably would.
He fastened his rope to Avatre’s saddle, pulled on it to make sure it was going to hold. Avatre opened one eye sleepily.
“Stay,” he whispered to her. “Hold.”
Not at all loath to do just that, she closed her eye again, and went back to drowsing.
He slipped over the parapet at the corner, where the rope wouldn’t dangle in front of the window, getting soaked in the process, and walked his way down the wall until he got to a window. He’d been afraid it might be a narrow squeeze, but there was plenty of room for the windows were enormous, far bigger than he had thought, and there was nothing in the way of shutters or bars on them.
Then again, why should there be shutters or bars? Who would be up here? Who would want to break into the stronghold of the Magi?
Um, that would be me.
He clambered in through the window, flipped the rope out of the way so it wouldn’t show if anyone looked out, and waited right in the opening in the darkness. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust, and he wanted to avoid betraying his presence to someone who was paying attention by dripping all over the floor and leaving patches of water there.
The room in this tower was half full of something mechanical, and it was not what he had expected. He’d thought vaguely of statues of strange gods, of a room thick with incense, of—well, now he couldn’t put a name to what he’d expected.
It stood in the middle of a “magic circle” of inlaid brass in the middle of the room. He knew it was a magic circle because he had watched the Thet priests lay out something similar when they made the canvas for Avatre—in chalk on the floor, not in permanent brass inlaid in the floor. But the construction itself looked like one of Heklatis’ little mechanical toys. Except that it wasn’t so very “little.”
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