looked each of those in the circle in the face. “If you will have us, have our skills, have us at your side—we are your brothers, from this day.”
Lord Khumun stood up, as did Baket-ke-aput, and the two men clasped arms as equals; Kaleth put his hand over both of theirs. “Welcome to Sanctuary, brothers,” Khumun said fiercely, then softened the ferocity with a smile. “And as your brother—I advise you to rest. Tomorrow begins the real work. Tonight—may the gods give you dreams of a future we can be proud to build.”
SIX
KIRON went to sleep feeling as if he had just been through an earthshake, and woke up in much the same mood. And he had thought that he would have some time to get used to the situation before anyone rang in new changes on him.
He was, however, mistaken.
He had not been back from the morning hunt longer than it took to unharness Avatre and give her a sand buffing and oiling, when Menet-ka came looking for him.
“Ho! Kiron!” he called from above the pen. Kiron looked up, but before he could ask anything, Menet-ka answered his questioning look. “You’re wanted,” he said shortly. “In that little temple of Kaleth’s. Kaleth sent me to get you.”
Avatre was ill-pleased by the interruption, and she snorted at Menet-ka, her golden eyes flashing her displeasure. Kiron patted her shoulder, where the scales shone like armor made of rubies. “For what?” he asked. “I was going to go work on the new pens—”
Menet-ka shrugged. “They didn’t tell me, but I expect they want you as the wingleader. Anyone who’s like to be in charge of anything is there right now. I suppose they’re forming that council Kaleth was talking about, and they want you for something having to do with it.”
Well, he could see why they would be doing that now—while people were still in shock and feeling sympathetic to the Tians, it was best to make them a fundamental part of Sanctuary. Especially if more Tians were likely to be coming.
Only the priests of the temples at Mefis had reached here so far, though according to what Kiron had heard rumored this morning, warning was spreading out to the farthest-flung temples like the ripples after a rock has been thrown into a still pool. Soon every priest in every temple in Tia would know what had happened in Mefis, and if they had any sense at all, they would realize it was only a matter of time before the hands of those “advisers” stretched out for them. Or at least, any of them that had extraordinary powers.
After that, anyone Winged (or “god-touched” as the Tians put it) who had any measure of common sense and self-preservation would be fleeing. Some might choose other directions than into the desert, but some would follow the priests of Mefis. And many who were not god-touched might also choose to escape.
Then the rumors would begin to fly as priests and some of their servants and slaves vanished, the story about the dead children would eventually surface and although it might be embellished or changed out of all recognition, fingers would begin pointing in the right direction. The Magi in Tia did not have an Eye, the terrible means of enforcing their will and controlling the populace at large that the Magi of Alta did. The King’s soldiers could punish and arrest, but they could not strike from the sky—ordinary Tians might begin to look askance at the Great King’s new advisers, wonder if the rumors were true, and think about a retreat across the desert themselves.
Perhaps. There was the same difficulty there as there was in persuading Altans to flee; it was hard to leave everything you had built and sweated for, and go off into the unknown. Especially when what you had sweated for was very little. When you did not own much, every bit of what you did have was precious. A bit of land—well, it might be no more than a few rods of soil, but how could you leave it and go somewhere else where you owned nothing? A small house—but if it
Lord Khumun stood up, as did Baket-ke-aput, and the two men clasped arms as equals; Kaleth put his hand over both of theirs. “Welcome to Sanctuary, brothers,” Khumun said fiercely, then softened the ferocity with a smile. “And as your brother—I advise you to rest. Tomorrow begins the real work. Tonight—may the gods give you dreams of a future we can be proud to build.”
SIX
KIRON went to sleep feeling as if he had just been through an earthshake, and woke up in much the same mood. And he had thought that he would have some time to get used to the situation before anyone rang in new changes on him.
He was, however, mistaken.
He had not been back from the morning hunt longer than it took to unharness Avatre and give her a sand buffing and oiling, when Menet-ka came looking for him.
“Ho! Kiron!” he called from above the pen. Kiron looked up, but before he could ask anything, Menet-ka answered his questioning look. “You’re wanted,” he said shortly. “In that little temple of Kaleth’s. Kaleth sent me to get you.”
Avatre was ill-pleased by the interruption, and she snorted at Menet-ka, her golden eyes flashing her displeasure. Kiron patted her shoulder, where the scales shone like armor made of rubies. “For what?” he asked. “I was going to go work on the new pens—”
Menet-ka shrugged. “They didn’t tell me, but I expect they want you as the wingleader. Anyone who’s like to be in charge of anything is there right now. I suppose they’re forming that council Kaleth was talking about, and they want you for something having to do with it.”
Well, he could see why they would be doing that now—while people were still in shock and feeling sympathetic to the Tians, it was best to make them a fundamental part of Sanctuary. Especially if more Tians were likely to be coming.
Only the priests of the temples at Mefis had reached here so far, though according to what Kiron had heard rumored this morning, warning was spreading out to the farthest-flung temples like the ripples after a rock has been thrown into a still pool. Soon every priest in every temple in Tia would know what had happened in Mefis, and if they had any sense at all, they would realize it was only a matter of time before the hands of those “advisers” stretched out for them. Or at least, any of them that had extraordinary powers.
After that, anyone Winged (or “god-touched” as the Tians put it) who had any measure of common sense and self-preservation would be fleeing. Some might choose other directions than into the desert, but some would follow the priests of Mefis. And many who were not god-touched might also choose to escape.
Then the rumors would begin to fly as priests and some of their servants and slaves vanished, the story about the dead children would eventually surface and although it might be embellished or changed out of all recognition, fingers would begin pointing in the right direction. The Magi in Tia did not have an Eye, the terrible means of enforcing their will and controlling the populace at large that the Magi of Alta did. The King’s soldiers could punish and arrest, but they could not strike from the sky—ordinary Tians might begin to look askance at the Great King’s new advisers, wonder if the rumors were true, and think about a retreat across the desert themselves.
Perhaps. There was the same difficulty there as there was in persuading Altans to flee; it was hard to leave everything you had built and sweated for, and go off into the unknown. Especially when what you had sweated for was very little. When you did not own much, every bit of what you did have was precious. A bit of land—well, it might be no more than a few rods of soil, but how could you leave it and go somewhere else where you owned nothing? A small house—but if it
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