At least, no one would see her until he needed her to be seen.

And Aket-ten was somewhere below. Hurt, perhaps. Kaleth said that she hadn’t been hurt, but how could he be sure? Frightened, she was surely frightened, and mourning her dragon. Praying that help would somehow come before it was too late.

I’m here! he thought, hard, wondering if she could somehow pick it up. We’ll get you out, just hold on. . . .

It was very comfortable under the folds of that cloth. The canvas was waterproof enough that his clothing was drying out. The Thet priests said that the Magi wouldn’t sense this magic, even though it was so close to them, because the thing in the Tower was so magical already. The sail would be like a lit lantern under the desert sun at noon; you wouldn’t see the flame unless you were looking for it, and even then you would have to be practically on top of it.

How scared is she? How hurt is she? Have they already done anything to her? Was she in a bare, cold cell somewhere down below, chilled, aching, maybe hungry?

What had they been doing to her? He didn’t really want to think about it. . . .

He went over his plan in his mind. Before dawn he would have to get into place, moving while there was just enough light to see by, but not so much that anyone would be around to spot him. He hoped. There was a lot of hope involved in this. An awful lot of hope.

Avatre was already asleep. He could feel her breathing; she was very comfortable under this sail. And with the rain drumming on it, it was like the old days, back when he was just beginning the new wing of dragons, with rain drumming on the canopy that kept the water out of the hot sand.

Back when Toreth was alive. Before Aket-ten became one of them.

If they’ve hurt her. . . .

His stomach knotted, and not just with anxiety over Aket-ten.

He wished he was doing something other than just waiting.

Fear crept slowly over him, chilling his heart; he tried to drive it away by throwing himself into his planning.

There wasn’t a lot of room inside the tower; he would probably not have to face more than two people, the Magus and whoever he brought to help him. A guard, probably. He would have to get rid of both of them. . . .

Be honest. I’m going to have to kill them.

This was going to be hard. He’d never killed anyone face-to-face before, and he might have to. Would have to. Almost a certainty.