All eyes went back to Kiron, who was still in a cold sweat. “I don’t know,” he said finally, “but at practice today, I started to wonder something. What if they wanted to replace all of you with their own men? I mean—Heklatis thinks that the Eye can’t be used on cloudy days or at night, and it’s not really good enough to get one person—but a dragon and rider are. What if he wanted to replace all of you with men who would—follow orders, and if those orders were to use your dragons on Altans, would do it without question?”

Silence again, but this time, utterly stunned. The injured man sat down with a thud.

“Blessed gods,” said one.

Heklatis looked as if he had swallowed a sea urchin. “The theory fits,” he said, with so much barely-suppressed rage in his voice that those nearest him took a step back. “And what a fine way to besiege a place and prevent anyone who might help from coming near it! Such as—the Temple of All Gods?”

A gasp met his words, but no one disagreed with him. That this violated everything every Altan believed in was so obvious that it didn’t need saying.

It was Lord Khumun who broke that third silence, by turning to Kiron, removing his sash of office, and offering it to Kiron. “It is your plan, young Lord Kiron,” he said, simply. “Lead us.”

Kiron stared at the sash, then into Lord Khumun’s face. All he could feel was panic; all he could think of was, I don’t want to be a leader!

But his hands took the sash by themselves, his mouth opened, and words came out.

“I think that this will work—”

Above the wing, nothing but sky. Below the wing—so far below that they looked like fancifully colored little songbirds—were the dragons of Alta.

“You have ordered all the Jousters into the sky, my Lord Magus. We are not the best, but we are ready.”

For the past two days, the dragons had been restive as the old tala wore out of their systems. By now, the larger dragons of Tia must be getting very touchy indeed. Their dragon boys would be giving them higher doses of the false tala. It would hold for a while, but not long. Certainly not long enough to get them through what Kiron’s wing was about to inflict on them.

The Magus stared at him, then smiled. He looked exactly like a crocodile. “Well done, Jouster Kiron. I will commend your loyalty and zeal to serve to the Great Ones.”

Somewhere out there in the desert, he hoped, Kaleth was waiting.

Whether they would all survive to reach him was another story. These were not fellow wingmates that they were about to harass. These were full-grown desert dragons, all wild-caught, and now, all of very uncertain temper.