they had thought.
“That can only be good,” was all he said, and Toreth nodded.
The talk might have gone on long into the night if they had no one to think about but themselves—
—but of course, they didn’t.
“I have a hungry dragonet to feed in the morning,” Orest said, getting to his feet and stretching.
“As if the rest of us didn’t?” retorted Gan. “You’re right, though; morning is going to come far too quickly.”
The rest of them said their good nights and went back to their pens. All but Toreth, who lingered for a moment.
“Were you thinking about the Magi?” he asked, coming straight to the point.
Kiron nodded. “But don’t forget, they aren’t to be trusted,” he warned. “They could find some other means of gathering years. They haven’t resorted to outright, cold-blooded murder yet—”
“—that we know of—” corrected Toreth.
Kiron shivered involuntarily. “That we know of,” he agreed. “Still. If they were desperate—”
“Then we have to deal with them before they realize they are that desperate,” Toreth replied grimly. “Just so you know.”
And with that, he returned to his pen as well, leaving Kiron to put out his lamps and climb into his own cot.
His mind played host to some very disturbing thoughts before sleep finally claimed him.
“Father says they’ve taken the spy out of the household,” Aket-ten announced happily, the next time he came to visit her. “And the priest in charge of all of the Far-Sighted Winged Ones came to visit him right after.”
“Really?” he said. “I’ll tell you what, let’s take this into your garden. Just to be on the safe side.”
With the coming of good weather, it was possible to actually enjoy that courtyard with its latas pool that lay just outside her room. It was his considered opinion that she spent far too much time in the library, or otherwise indoors.
She nodded, and opened the door into the green space. It was a distinct improvement over being inside, especially on such a warm, pleasant day, with the scent of blooming latas in the air. The courtyard was covered in grass, not pavement, and the two of them were able to sprawl at their ease in the sunlight. Aket-ten brought a bread loaf out with her; it wasn’t long before she was breaking off crumbs to feed the fat carp that lazed in the pool.
“Now. This important priest came to see your father. Is that good or bad news?” Kiron asked warily.
“Good news,” she assured him with a laugh. “He told Father that none of the Winged Ones had sensed anything from me, and they were sure that if I still had my powers, I would have made every effort to Speak from afar with my teachers.” She giggled; he sensed it was because she was a little giddy with relief, rather than that she actually thought it was funny.
“So they don’t know that you don’t trust them anymore. Good,” he replied.
She nodded, and dusted the last of the crumbs from her hands. “He offered Father his condolences; Father said it made for an interesting conversation. It seemed as if—Father said—that he was disappointed and relieved, all at the same time.”
“Maybe he was,” Kiron said, thinking aloud. “If he’s really unhappy about the way that the Magi are using the Fledglings, he could be relieved that they aren’t going to be able to use you anymore. But on the other hand, since everyone thought you were going to be so strong in your powers, and now they think that you aren’t, he’s disappointed.”
“Well, he can just go on being disappointed,” she replied tartly—and resentfully. Not that he blamed her. He’d have been resentful and holding a grudge if he had been in her place. “And if he’s upset about the way the Fledglings are being used, why doesn’t he stop them? Anyway, Father thinks it’s safe for me to go back.”
Kiron sucked on his lower lip a moment. “It could be. But let’s think about how. I wouldn’t bet that the Magi are going to take the word of the Winged Ones as true. I don’t think the Magi trust anyone. I think that as soon as you are back in your home, they’ll send someone to have a look at you.”
“So?” she asked, hesitation creeping into her voice.
“So I think you ought to be ready to give them a show,” he told her, and he pushed himself up out of the grass. “Let’s go find that crafty Akkadian Healer of yours, and see what he thinks.”
The