Alta

“And on that note, I will take my leave,” said Heklatis, and smiled, but this time grimly. “Lord Khumun is right about one thing; his Jousters are being flung into the fray without any regard for how exhausted they are becoming. I’ve been seeing injuries, and I expect to see more, and worse, tomorrow and each succeeding day. Good night, young friends, and remember that the worst thing that the enemy can do to us is set us at each others’ throats.”

He sauntered off into the darkness, as they stared after him. Finally it was Marit that broke the silence.

“I wonder which enemy he meant?” she mused aloud. “The Tians—or the Magi?”

Aket-ten still had not forgiven him by the next day; she glared at him every time he saw her, and it made him half crazy. He had agreed that she should go up, so what more did she want from him? It was horribly unfair, too, when all he had been trying to do was to protect her!

He said as much, crossly, to her brother, as they both unharnessed their dragons in the landing courtyard after a long, hard practice. With cooperative dragons it was easier to do it here, where their dragon boys could take the gear to a room just off the court for cleaning and mending. Having tame dragons was making for a lot of changes, most of which made the dragon boys’ jobs easier. Orest looked at him as if he really was crazy. “Honestly, I thought you were smarter than that,” he retorted, handing the neck reins to the boy to be taken away. “The last thing my sister wants is someone to protect her!”

Kiron blinked, and paused while he handed over his own kit. “But—” he said, finally, bewildered, “That day in the temple, when she came running at me—”

“Oh, yes, you would take the one time she was out of her depth and scared to death as the measure of how she is normally,” Orest replied, with a laugh. “No, really, think, would you? When, other than that, has she ever run out of danger looking for someone to protect her from it? Not her! Oh, no, she runs straight into danger, every time! If she wanted someone to protect her, do you think she’d have come here? Think about it, think of the options available to the daughter of Lord Ya-tiren!”

Kiron did, pausing with one hand on Avatre’s shoulder, and swiftly realized that if Aket-ten had wanted a protector, she could have found one virtually anywhere. She could have married some powerful lord; she could have gone to that aunt who lived past the Sixth Canal. She could have gotten herself made into a priestess of some temple other than that of the Twins. Hamun or Abydesus, for instance, or Hathen. The temples to those gods were all far from Alta City, out in the delta.

For that matter, she could have gotten herself married to some merchant prince, an Akkadian, or a tin merchant from Thyres, and taken far away from Alta. An Akkadian would have treated her with awe, as a Winged One, and a husband from Thyres, while not understanding in the least what a Winged One was, would have made her his full partner in his business, as was the Thyresian way. She would have been taken to a life of luxury or adventure—or, in the case of a Thyresian, perhaps both.

No, her brother was right. She didn’t want protecting. And under most circumstances she wouldn’t need protecting either.

“Not that I’m faulting you,” Orest continued. “Nothing like. Aket-ten was an idiot to think she could ride a dragon up into a storm without having someone along in case something went wrong. And honestly, if you think you dare risk Avatre in all those down- and updrafts, I think you ought to take her, not some swamp dragon. That trick of yours of catching a falling rider—well, that would make me feel better about her going up there in that sort of a tempest.” He shook his head. “I have to tell you, she’s like to drive me mad, sometimes. Give me a proper girl like Marit. One that knows her limits!”

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to protect her!” Kiron protested hotly.

“I’m not saying you should. Just don’t make the same mistake in the future,” Orest replied. “Or if you do, don’t be surprised when she bites your head off.”

He patted Wastet’s bright blue shoulder, and led him off to the pens, leaving Kiron staring after him.

Finally Kiron shook his head and went back to his own work—in this case, taking Avatre for her sand bath.

He thought about what Orest had said while he worked the sand over his beloved until she gleamed, every gold scale burnished like the Gold of Honor, every scarlet scale gleaming like a sacred jewel. And he couldn’t help but notice that she was a lot bigger. Nearly full grown, in fact. If anyone got a good look at her, not just glimpsed from the ground, they could be forgiven for wondering why the two of them weren’t out fighting with the rest of the Jousters, and never mind that he didn’t think they were more than half trained.

Well, that was another good reason for practicing so far away from the usual practice grounds.