Re-eth-ke descended into the smoke to the square defined by torches on the roof of the Temple. There were a lot of torches up there now, more than there had been last night. More than enough for all those men on the ground to notice.

Well, it’s not as if it’s going to make any difference.

Incredibly, no one on the ground saw the dragon landing on the roof. But then, Re-eth-ke was a flickering shadow in the smoke, indigo with a confusing touch of silver. When she rose again with her double burden, she was still barely visible among the shifting shadows in the smoke, and there was no outcry.

Not so for Avatre.

As she fanned her wings to land, he heard the cries from below, and ducked instinctively as arrows whistled through the night sky. As his helpers handed his next passenger up behind him, and tied them together with rope, he saw that they all had improvised wicker shields strapped to their backs. A moment later, he understood why, as a clatter of spent arrows bounced off the shields or the rooftop. One or two had a little more energy and stuck in the shields.

His young female passenger shook with fear; no older than Aket-ten, surely, and just as surely had never personally seen a shot fired in anger, much less had one directed at her. Those who helped tie her in place were made of sterner stuff.

“Clever story they’re putting out about you,” said one of those men he’d thought he’d recognized last night. “Evidently you’re Tians, come to steal us away.”

“Really?” He gave the rope a good hard tug to test it, and coughed as he breathed in a little too much smoke. “I don’t suppose they’ve got an explanation as to why you’re tying yourselves onto our dragons.”

“Not yet,” came the reply, and a sardonic sneer. “But I expect they’ll think of something soon. They’re shooting to kill us, you know. I overheard the Captain of Tens giving the orders. We’re better off dead than in your hands, according to him.”

A muffled wail behind his back made it very clear what his passenger thought of all this.

“Then we’ll just have to be where the arrows aren’t,” he said, keeping his tone confident. The helpers stepped away, and he sent Avatre up.

His passenger alternated distraught sobs with coughs the entire way back; he tried to get some answers out of her, but she replied with nothing but weeping. He tried not to be too irritated with her, but it was difficult; he desperately wanted to know how many people were left in that temple, and she was about as sensible as a terrified hare and just as articulate.