He patted Avatre, who walked over to Kashet and sniffed him with deep suspicion, then stood guard over him. He trudged over to where the others were gathered around Ari—well, all but Aket-ten. She was leaning against Re-eth-ke, just out of sight of the others, leaning against her dragon’s shoulder. She looked white as fine linen, and he didn’t feel much better.
He knelt down next to Ari, who was clearly in pain.
“Let me, young Kiron.”
The hand on his shoulder was attached to an arm clothed in Bedu blue; a moment later, the hand had gone to Ari’s forehead, and the Bedu was whispering a few unfamiliar words. The agony left Ari’s face, but now the pain there was of a very different sort. He looked straight into Kiron’s eyes.
“Why didn’t you let me die?” he asked bitterly.
“And years ago, why didn’t you let me?” Kiron replied without thinking.
“Because there has been enough of death on both sides, fools,” the Mouth of the Bedu said roughly. “And enough of wallowing in self-pity. Get up, Jouster, who is a Jouster no more.” And he grasped Ari’s wrist, and hauled him to his feet, turning him so that he faced into the west.
Dozens of brightly colored dots were speeding overhead, coming toward them. One shot past directly overhead, and a little later a bit of harness fell out of the sky to hit Gan in the head.
“Ow!” Gan shouted, indignantly, and shook his fist at the retreating dragon. “We freed you, ungrateful wretch! Ingrate!”
“There are no more Jousters, Ari, rider of Kashet,” said the Bedu. “Neither Tian, nor Altan. There never will be again. You are freed of your oaths.”
Ari—blinked. His lips twitched. “You, who speak for your gods, claim that?”
“No,” said Kaleth, pushing his way between Oset-re and Pe-atep. “I, who speak for the gods of both Tia and Alta, say that.”
This was not a Kaleth that Kiron had ever seen before. Leaner, browner, full of fire and energy, and with a look to his eyes as if he had seen all there was of pleasure and pain and had come to accept both as part of a greater whole. Now it was Kiron’s turn to blink.
And all he could think was, If only Toreth were here to see this. He would be so happy—and so proud. For Kaleth, who had always stood in his brother’s shadow, had come into his own.
Kaleth had something else new—around his neck was the hawk pectoral of a Priest of Haras, and on both shoulders were tattoos of the symbol of the Winged Ones.
“Priest?” said Ari falteringly.
“And Winged One of Alta,” replied Kaleth. He took Ari’s upper arm in a firm grasp. “And as both, I say to you—you are freed of your oaths, which had come to strangle you. There are no more Jousters. The dragons will answer to no bond save love. And so, you have no duty to return to. I give you the wings of the hawk, to choose your fate. You may go anywhere you choose, and leave behind everything that has caused you such pain as made you ask ‘Why did you not let me die?’ ”
“Or?” asked Ari, looking into Kaleth’s eyes.
“Or—you may accept that pain, accept the burden of responsibility once again, and help us to do somewhat that may—may—bring a cure to the disease that rots both Tia and Alta.” Kaleth’s gaze was steady. “I promise nothing. The future is in flux, and my visions are not clear. But this I do pledge; those who join us in Sanctuary are vowed with one heart to the goal of ending this wretched war and casting down those who fatten upon it. We have hands, we have plans, and we will try.”
Ari closed his eyes, and Kiron held his breath. He felt as if he balanced on the edge of a knife blade. He didn’t know why it was so important to have Ari with them—other than to himself, that is—but he sensed that it was.
And so did Kaleth. But Kaleth was giving him the choice, to stay or to go, of his own will.
Ari opened his eyes, and looked straight at Kiron—then past Kiron, to where Avatre guarded an exhausted Kashet.
And he smiled.
“Take me to this Sanctuary of yours,” he said. “I should like to try.”
EPILOGUE
SANCTUARY—
Kiron stood on the top of a squat, wind-eroded tower, and looked down at the improvised pens where ten dragons wallowed in sun-heated sand, as contented as ever dragons could