Sanctuary

By this time, it looked as if the inevitable conflict between Tians and Altans was about ready to explode, though the presence of the Eldest Healer and her seniors, and several High Priests from major Altan temples was mitigating things so far as the Altans were concerned.

Kaleth dismounted first; the Tians probably had never seen a living Mouth of the Gods before, but there was no mistaking the aura that hung about him. He’d had that look from the moment that Kiron had come to get him and the Tian priests, but now it was so powerful that even those who were not particularly sensitive to such things were staring at him open-mouthed.

There was also no mistaking the fact that the most senior of all priests of Tia were deferring to him with profound humility.

The crowd cleared a path for them as they marched—with as much grace as middle-aged men and women who have just endured a long and somewhat uncomfortable trip can muster—toward Ari. Meanwhile Nofret landed on her own, putting her dragon down right beside Kashet, but remaining in her saddle.

As they reached Ari, Kiron was halfway expecting some sort of portentous announcement, a “Hail, Great King of Tia and Alta” sort of thing.

Instead, Kaleth paused for a beat or two, then with great deliberation, gave Ari the Bow of Equals, which the others echoed, and which Ari returned.

“We come at your summons, Great King,” Kaleth said simply. “How may we serve you?”

There it was; the implied blessing, not only of the gods of Alta, but of Tia as well. There was a stirring throughout the ranks as word of what had happened was passed from man to man.

At that point, Nofret dismounted from her dragon and joined him. He reached out to her, and the two stood side by side, a somewhat foreign sight to the Tians, but a comforting and familiar sight to the Altans.

Ari’s reply was equally simple.

“Help us build a kingdom from these two shattered lands,” he told them, more than loudly enough to be heard.

“Then, Great King, perhaps we could begin with a double crowning,” said the High Priest of Haras, and so, with a lack of pomp and ceremony that was somehow more impressive than all the chants and processions, all the clouds of incense and weighty speeches possible, it was done.

It was at that point that Kiron signaled to the rest of the wing, and with a lifted chin, suggested they take themselves elsewhere. Lord Khumun and Lord Ya-tiren would be coming in a more conventional fashion along with whatever others of rank wished to appear, and Ari and Nofret had the all the support they needed for right now.

They took themselves to a sand blow from which all the water had drained, and which had absorbed sunlight and was now satisfactorily, by draconic standards, hot. The dragons promptly made themselves wallows, and Kiron looked with longing at a patch of lush grass shaded by date palms nearby.

Gan yawned. “I could sleep for a week!” he exclaimed.

“Me, too,” Orest agreed, as Aket-ten and Kiron exchanged a glance and hastily looked away. But Orest—observant, for once—caught it.

“Oh, here,” he said gruffly, giving his sister a shove so that she stumbled and ended up in Kiron’s arms. “Stop mooning at each other. You thought you’d never see each other again, and now everything has turned out fine! Or—well, fine for us! Act like flesh-and-blood people for a change and do something about it!”

Kiron felt himself flushing and grinning at the same time. “I don’t know,” he said to Aket-ten. “Should we really give him the satisfaction of following his advice?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “It’s the first time he’s ever given good advice on anything. We’d better take advantage of it while it lasts!”

She put her arms around him, and he held her while the others sauntered pointedly away. This was not going to be easy. In fact, they were going to have a long, hard slog to get to that attractive future Kaleth had promised. Two enemies were being united into a single people, and that alone was going to make for a thousand problems.

But for now, there was a little peace, and someone to savor it with.

“You’re right,” he said to the pair of merry brown eyes turned up to look into his. “We should. Good advice from your brother is too rare to squander.”

“Hmm,” she replied, and raised one eyebrow. “Shall we let this lot of sluggards loll about while we go take a flight?”

A flight—a flight where they were not hunting, not scouting, not doing anything but fly, together. As if responding to their very thoughts, Avatre and Re-eth-ke heaved up out of the sand wallow and came trotting over to them, making eager little noises.

“I think,” he replied, with his heart already soaring into that free, blue sky as he looked down into those eyes, “that would be perfect.”