Pta-hetop shook his head, and his expression, already mournful, saddened further. “It was cunning—and perhaps the gods gave me warning. I knew there were no Thet priests strong enough to take those jackals of darkness in their own lair. When you cannot fight, you must flee, for you cannot fight on another day if you are dead.”

Baket-ke-aput nodded—and so did Lord Khumun, Lord Ya-tiren, and Kaleth. “It took us but a single night and day to organize our flight. And since Pta-hetop was the good childhood friend of Hokat-ta-karen, the remaining Haras priest for what was left in the Jousters’ Court, and knew he could trust Haraket, he told Haraket and the dragon boys with him also, and asked if they could aid us in any way.”

“There was nothing left for us in Mefis—and priests are not accustomed to defending themselves,” Haraket pointed out. “We are. So—” He shrugged.

“I had some few acquaintances among the Bedu, as does Haraket, and we managed to gain their aid,” Baket-ke-aput concluded. “They told us of Sanctuary, but warned that we might not be well received here. We said we would take our chance that you would accept us. That is the whole of the sorry tale.”

That was not the whole of it, Kiron was sure. How they had smuggled themselves out, the long and terrible crossing of the desert, even with the help of the Bedu—that would fill a hundred scrolls, he was sure. But it was not, at the moment, as important as what had been imparted.

“But the god-touched children—” someone said from the darkness. “Why—”

“Why did we not rescue them?” Baket-ke-aput asked, savagely, his eyes flashing anger. “Because by the time we had organized ourselves, and knew what the advisers were about, we had found the last of the bodies. The eldest of the children. There are no more. We failed them, we failed in our duty to them, and we might just as well have set a knife to their throats ourselves. Now, shall I pound the ground and weep and strew ashes on my head, or will knowing that I know my guilt and know that I can never expiate it satisfy you?”

It had been a very long time since Kiron had heard that level of bitterness in anyone’s voice . . . and the last time, it had been Ari, crying out, I do not make war on children!

“We will build a shrine for them,” Kaleth said into the heavy silence. “You will give us their names, and we will build a shrine to them in the river cave, where the sand cannot etch the names away, nor time erode them. They will have in the afterlife all that they should have enjoyed among us. They will not haunt this side of the Great Sky River as hungry ghosts for much longer.”