The two of them entered the children’s room. The little ones were still slumbering. If they had heard the noise of the blast at all, they must have thought it was thunder and rolled over and gone to sleep again.

“Seth is a land of humans,” Sorrow said, her mouth dry, her throat tightening.

“Yes,” Ven replied. “But they might understand.”

As he stood gazing down at the sleeping children, he left his mind open to her, and Sorrow saw a little boy crouched in a cave. His legs were covered in ill-fitting woollen trousers, his feet hidden by over-large leather boots. He sat in the middle of the cave, in the darkness, his arms hugging his small body. In the distance, a woman’s voice called out his name. The little boy did not answer.

“You should hurry,” Ven said. “It won’t take the warriors long to organize and come after us.”

Sorrow hesitated one more moment, wanting, wishing this not to be. All her magic could not make that wish come true, however. She placed her hand on the youngest child’s forehead, smoothed it, and said in a voice that shook, “Draga, time to wake up.”

The child opened his eyes. He was about two years old, with a human head and torso, dragon arms and legs, and a small tail. He blinked his eyes and stared at Sorrow in sleepy unrecognition. His face puckered and he seemed about to wail, but Sorrow hushed him.

“It’s all right, Draga. Everything’s all right. Sit here quietly while I wake the others.”

She went from child to child, waking them, and coaxing them out of their warm beds. She tried to discipline her thoughts, to keep them cool and tranquil blues and greens, but red fear bubbled up from beneath the surface, with the result that her colors were an ugly sludge of purple and brown. The children’s thoughts blended with hers, and they were frightened, but they also sensed the danger and the urgency, and were quiet, for the most part, and did what they were told. By the time all the children were roused, Lucien had returned with several large bags containing what food he had been able to scrounge.

Ven stood back, keeping his distance. He was obviously uncomfortable around the children. Sorrow and Lucien moved among the group and soon, without fuss or clamor, the dragon’s children had formed a line, the older children carrying the younger on their backs.

Sorrow lifted up Draga. The child clasped his hands tightly around her neck. Lucien hefted the last of the children. Ven carried the food.

“Move quickly now, children,” Sorrow said, guiding them out the door and into the dark corridor. “Follow Ven. He knows the way.”