But there wasn’t, and he didn’t, and Avatre was already off the ground as he wrenched his gaze back to the direction of Alta City.

When he picked up the seventh passenger of the night, there were people bringing heavy coils of rope up to the top of the building.

And as he took off with the man—he and Ari were getting the men, of course, since their dragons were the oldest and biggest—the Winged One kept looking back. Kiron followed his gaze and saw that the rope had been tied off to some ornamental stone-work, and someone was just slipping over the edge to climb down.

“That’s a relief,” his passenger said, turning back to face forward. “I’m glad to see someone talked sense into them.”

“Talked sense into who?” Kiron asked.

“Some of the servants—young ones, who actually have the strength to go down a rope like a monkey.” The man sighed. “With two thirds of us gone, there’s no need for all of the servants, and there’s no telling what They’re up to, spying on us, I’ve no doubt. If they discover that some of us are gone, they’ll try and break the siege, and we’ve been telling the servants that there’s no odds one way or another on whether you’ll be able to get them out before the Magi and their guards turn up. Someone must have talked them around to going out over the wall.”

“It’s what I’d do,” Kiron agreed, “If I wasn’t needed.”

“They aren’t, and if the Magi guess what’s happening, they’re likely to get—” the man paused choosing his words carefully, “—vindictive.”

Vindictive.

Kiron didn’t like the sound of that. “Would they turn the Eye on the temple?” he asked, feeling his stomach sink with dread.

But the answer he got reassured him. “They can’t. Once they use it, they have to recharge it for days before it’s fit to be used again. But it would be better for no one to be here when the temple is broken into.”

That was surely an understatement.

When they landed in the beginning light of dawn, the man went off with Re’s servants without saying a thing more—but then, Kiron was so tired, he probably couldn’t have asked his questions coherently anyway.

So for the third night, he fell asleep in the curve of Avatre’s belly, more exhausted than he would ever have thought possible.

For the third afternoon, he woke in a rush, this time out of a confused dream of flying, fire, and death. He lay there for a moment while his heart pounded with anxiety, and forced it to calm.